a/n: don’t know where this came from but here ya go!
Hey so… I am thinking about your husband, the Number One Hero Izuku Midoriya, getting home late to you, his pregnant wife.
And I’m thinking that maybe the Number One Hero has had his fill of being a hero. That perhaps he decides after the day he had—watching children die always takes a big chunk of your soul—he could just…retire early, move away with you, build a family with you.
He just can’t watch another child die because he “can’t save everyone.”
And the little holes in his soul, are mirrored on his expression.
It’s a traumatic expression, one that will haunt your dreams for the rest of your life.
It’s defeat. Pure and utter defeat. It’s the expression of a man who has nothing left. Chewed up and spit out day after day, little chunks of himself ripped away and cast to the wind until there’s nothing but scraps of himself left. Like a torn candy wrapper on a cool summer breeze.
He floats to you, still awake on the couch—obviously—and the second he feels your touch he crumbles.
You’ve watched a building come down before, caught in an explosion from your husband breaking down the walls of a building that held you captive. The debris and smoke in the air made it hard to breathe, like you were suffocating. You coughed pieces of concrete and fiberglass from your lungs. And as the shards came up your throat, the sliced at the tender akin and made your throat burn.
You can only guess that that is what your husband’s defeat feels like.
He sits on the couch with you standing between his thighs, he rests his ear on your stomach and wraps both arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.
He listens for a few minutes in the silence, and he feels a nudge against his cheek.
And then, he sobs.
Loudly. A large revving engine of sorrow as he buries his face into the fabric of your pajamas holding you tightly and trembling.
Because once again, you’ve done it.
You’ve saved him. The life you bring into his heart is unmatched. If he has you, that’s all that matters to him.
And the tiny life the two of you have created, that slumbers in your tummy will be the victory he’s happy to win.
You wrap your arms tenderly around his head, silent tears of your own trickling into his tousled green hair. You kiss his forehead over and over, and let him cry until he’s coughing and hiccuping like he’s in a collapsed building.
And as the moon moves across the night sky, a new dawn approaches for both of you.
i love you porn i love you smut i love you intricacies of human sexuality i love erotica i love you freak nasty walls of texts i love you analyzing the subconscious through the lens of sexuality i love you bdsm i love you weird fetishes . u move me
A/n: I tried working on Sleep On the Floor more while I was away but found I can’t write the same way I used to a few years ago so I ended up writing the ending and it ended up being more venty and cathartic than I imagined. Either way I’m sick of looking at it so I’m posting it and fleeing again.
Katsuki reaches a hand out to you.
“No! Don’t! Just… just don’t touch me,” you wail and flinch away from his outstretched hand.
He pauses for a minute to watch you shrink and curl into a ball. It’s the first time you look terrified, hurt, wasted away. Dark circles, tear filled eyelashes, your shirt stained with sweat under your arms and down your back.
You’re shivering, more like trembling with emotion and your bloodshot eyes bore into his. You look so fragile, like if he touches you with one finger, you’ll shatter into a thousand pieces.
“So many people kept touching me, hugging me, and looking at me. I want them to stop. I want it all to stop. I don’t want them to touch me because they’re not her. They don’t feel like her. I just want everything to stop,” You say through hiccups and labored breaths
It’s only then that he realizes you look like he did, the day you found each other in the bar. It clicks then, it’s how you knew this trip would be exactly what he needed. You knew the look, picked up on it immediately and instead of turning a blind eye like everyone else in the bar, you reached out a hand for him to take.
It’s time he returned the favor.
Your head is buried in your arms atop your knees now and your shoulder shake with every sob. Katsuki hesitates for just a moment before quickly pulling you into his arms, enveloping you completely and resting his chin on top of your head. He squeezes your face against his chest, tightening his arms around your body as if he’s holding all the pieces threatening to shatter together.
As soon as you feel him your sobs stop. Your body goes limp but he only squeezes you tighter and squeezes his eyes shut. All he wants in this one moment, is for you to feel as safe as you made him feel. It’s the least he can give you considering all you’ve given him the past few weeks.
You both sit like that for what feels like hours but neither of you move, or speak. You listen to each other’s breath, Katsuki’s calm and controlled, yours slowing to sync up with his. When you’re both breathing as one, he places his lips to your forehead and whispers comforting words to you.
“I’ll sit here as long as you need to. I’m not gonna pretend I know what to say either. You’re better at words and making people feel better, not me. And this ain’t something I can just take away from you, even though I’d give up everything to be able to. But I ain’t letting go. Not a chance,” he whispers gruffly.
You move slowly, turning to bury your face into his chest and wrap your arms around his back. You pull him closer, inhaling the scent of his shirt and sighing.
“You feel different,” you say simply. It’s muffled but Katsuki can understand you perfectly.
“Whatcha mean?” He asks with genuine curiosity.
“It’s warm. It’s not her but, it’s the closest thing to her I’ve felt in days,” you untuck your face from his chest to peer into his eyes.
Your eyes are wide, filled with tears and still red but you’re smiling up at him. Even now, he thinks you’re gorgeous. Even now while you’re hurting terribly he’s thankful for your smile.
“It’s like, when your favorite ice flavor gets discontinued. But the same company comes out with a similar flavor and you try it and it’s good. It’s really good, it reminds you of your old favorite flavor but it’s still not the same. But…you’re ok with this one because it’s good and it makes you happy. And even though you’ll never forget your favorite flavor, you still really like the way this new one tastes,” you explain while still looking at him.
Katsuki's eyes are warm when he looks at you. He raises an eyebrow playfully. “You and your fucking analogies,” he says gruffly.
He smirks a bit then puts his thumb under your chin to grab it and bring your lips toward his. He kisses you, lips dragging lazily against yours,tasting your salty tears and your mango flavored chapstick. It’s a familiar action, one you slip into easily when you wrap your arms around his neck and tangle your fingers in his hair.
When you pull back from him, you touch your forehead to his. “You know you don’t gotta hide this from me, right?” he asks in a serious voice. He peers into your eyes, demanding your full attention. You nod, his head bobbing with yours.
“And you don’t gotta hold it all in. You don’t have to be happy all the time. You wanna scream, I’ll take you somewhere to scream. You wanna cry, you can cry with me here. I won’t touch you if that’s what you want.”
When he says this your fists tighten around the fabric of his shirt and when you scoot closer and nuzzle your face into his neck, he knows you’re telling him not to let you go.
“Where do we go now?” You whisper against his neck.
He stands then and reaches a hand down for you to grab it. You look at it for a second then slip your hand into his and he pulls you up off the ground. He intertwines his fingers with yours and pulls you back toward the car with a wily smirk.
Autistic social anxiety is not "social anxiety" in the typical sense. An anxiety disorder is defined as an "irrational fear". So for example, imagine someone who is afraid to speak in case everyone looks at them and goes "what the heck are you saying you wierdo." If that person is neurotypical, then the chances are that they're very unlikely to get that response. Therefore their fears are irrational, and that is true "social anxiety". If you put an autistic person in that scenario, on the other hand, then probably the reason they're afraid of that response is because they've received it many times before. They're fear is based on repeated past experiences, therefore it is not irrational and not the simply an anxiety disorder. That's why people giving the classic social anxiety responses to autistic people is so unhelpful. "Just go out there and talk to people, it'll be fine," or "keep pushing yourself out of your comfort zone and you'll get more confident," don't work if the problem is real and not just in your head.
Didn’t you hear!? There’s a villain on the loose! Watch out, his quirk is known to have some weird side effects…
pairing: shota aizawa x reader
cw: fake relationship! aphrodisiac usage, mentions of masturbation, grinding, oral (m! and f! receiving), fingering, p in v, squirting, overstimulation, dirty talk, spit play, very slight power play
a/n: shota the love of my life, i needed to get a oneshot out bc i feel like my man doesn’t get enough attention on this app. feeling silly goofy over this one buuuuut i hope u guys like :P
wc: 11.3k
“This just in: two more civilians were attacked this afternoon by who we know as Cryptique-, a rogue criminal that’s been on the run for the last month. Today’s incident marks twelve victims in this recent week alone. Local law enforcement is still unable to identify the one behind these heinous crimes, but are working diligently to unmask the anonymous villain. All we know is that the attacks are being targeted towards couples in public spaces. While we don’t have an exact explanation of the quirk used in these attacks, we are able to share some of the documented side effects that have been released by both Jaku and Hosu General Hospitals. Dizziness, extreme fever, waves of short term nausea and hysteria, insomnia, as well as spikes in heart rate. This is not something to take lightly-”
“Oh my god,” Yamada groans at the television mounted on the wall in the teacher’s lounge. It’s the end of the school day, and you’ve run into the eccentric blonde whining out to himself about the recent news on your way out for the day. “You mean to tell me they still haven’t caught this guy!? It’s getting ridiculous. I mean- how come nobody’s coming to us to try and hunt this guy down!?” You watch his arms wave dramatically at the news anchor who definitely can’t see him raging from the side, a sense of exhaustion washing over you.
“They won’t call any pros in until there’s been a casualty or a genuine concern of casualties being caused by these attacks,” you’re leaning against the coffee bar in the corner and watch your friend’s wild green eyes turn back to look at you in confusion. “Huh!? What makes you say that!?”
You’ve been following this case closely since the first attack was recorded in Hosu, not far from where you lived.
As big and scary as these attacks sounded- you know this Cryptique person isn’t the threat everyone thinks they are.
“They’re saying all of the victims are going back to normal within two days max, even without treatment. It’s probably some form of prankster that’s taking it way too far, and law enforcement is too embarrassed to admit they can’t handle it on their own right now to ask for backup. But I bet they’re hoping one of us just magically runs into this ‘Cryptique’ person somewhere on the streets and handles the dirty work of catching them instead. Which I find highly unlikely that any of us would magically run into whoever it is, but still-”
“So you think that law enforcement is just too egotistic to ask for help from any of us?” You hear the bitter voice first and fight to not cringe when your eyes naturally glide over to the source. He’s leaning in the doorframe, looking as miserable as ever with a thick stack of papers hanging in one of his large hands. “I don’t think it, I know it. If that wasn’t the case, they would’ve asked us first thing.” You double down on your point as bloodshot eyes bore into your equally tired expression.
He strides casually into the lounge towards where you’re standing and holds out the set of paperwork towards you. “Think again, Ms. Know it All. This was just sent over this afternoon. Assigned and approved by Nezu.”
You clench your jaw to keep it from falling at his impertinence, taking the papers from him and reading the bold lettered assignment from Shizuoka law enforcement.
“You’re not the only one watching this specific case,” you’re reminded by that deep voice that constantly strikes a nerve somewhere deeper that you refuse to acknowledge. “They haven’t been able to clearly identify the type of quirk being used. Without that kind of clearance, they won’t just blindly send us all out after an already unknown target.” He’s got such a dry tone it’s hard for you to tell when he’s genuinely trying to belittle you, mock and correct you, or just simply talk to you.
Your eyes are briefly scanning the papers in hand, and you feel your stomach knot with nerves when you see this specific job is tasked to only yourself and Aizawa.
The knot only grows tighter as you read the specifications and duration of the assignment- you have to go undercover and fucking impersonate a real couple!?
What the actual fuck is wrong with the universe?
“We start tomorrow, first thing. I’ll send you a time to meet at later tonight.”
Your eyes narrow at the back of his head as he’s already walking out of the lounge. You’re glaring at his long black locks, frizzy from sleeping all damn day in that stupid sleeping bag he carries around- you hate how good he looks with messy hair.
“What’s the mission!? I wanna know!” Yamada is hopping up and already heading towards you to snatch the papers out of your hands and you quickly tuck them under your arm. “Classified, Yamada.” You’re short due to the fact you’re still processing what the fuck is being asked of you, and sigh dramatically while you pinch the bridge of your nose.
You know if the blonde got ahold of these papers and saw what was being asked of the two of you, you’d never ever hear the end of it.
A headache is already starting to come on.
You need a drink.
“So, lemme get this straight. You get a paid week off of work just to spend the week going on pretend dates with Shota!?” Nemuri, your best friend, is tickled pink as you down the rest of your second cocktail. There’s no amount of alcohol to prepare you for the week ahead of you. You can already taste your resignation letter that you’ll be forced to submit when you unintentionally kill your coworker. The two of you are always coming at one another, finding ways to correct the other or professionally stomp on each other’s toes. It’s always been like this- even since university.
You still have your moments, though. Some mornings one of you is nice enough to bring the other a coffee from the lounge when the campus is on the quiet side. You have more similarities than not- almost to an overbearing level. You live right nextdoor to one another in your apartment building, you both drink your coffee the same, have similar tastes in foods, both love cats more than people, get annoyed at similar things-, both extremely exhausted all the time.
You’d think he’s obsessed with you if it wasn’t for how fucking dry he was with you. Always picking at the littlest things about you and your work. So you always double it and reverse it where you can.
“Don’t start, please.” You groan into your hands as the two of you sit at the bar right down the street from your apartment complex. You can’t fathom why anyone would think it would be a good idea to force the two of you to play nice in this context. Even if you did find the way he always looked brooding and homeless kinda hot. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t matter. His sharp jawline covered by that full, dark scruff you always wondered how would feel scratching against your most sensitive skin doesn’t matter-
“Oh, c’monnn. You can’t tell me you don’t even feel the least bit excited~” your best friend is leaning against your side and you look at her. Her cheeks are flushed a deep pink from the sake and you roll your eyes when she makes a kissy face at you. “I can’t be excited to play house with a man that would probably rather lose a limb than actually acknowledge me or my work. His head is so far up his own ass, m’good.” You shake your head and order yourself one last drink to cap the night before starting your week of hell.
“Don’t be like that. You really think that? I know you guys like to go at it like cats and dogs when it comes to work, but think about outside of work. You both have too much in common, ever think maybe he does all that picking because he likes you?”
That suggestion almost makes you spit out the first sip of your last drink. Your cheeks burn from the accusation, and you immediately go to shake your head. “Absolutely not. We’ve known each other for over a decade, he’s just a- uh, colleague. I’d barely even call him a friend.” You scoff, not wanting to dive deeper on that subject.
Your phone buzzes in your pocket then, pulling you from the moment with your best friend as you glance at the screen in your hands.
Shota: 10 a.m, meet me in the parking garage. i’ll drive us in the morning.
Shota: don’t be late.
You huff and reach for your drink again when you feel Nemuri leaning over your shoulder to be nosy and read your convo. “Oh? He’s offering to drive? He’s never offered to drive me anywhere, n’ i’m one of his best friends! See what I mean!?” She’s trying so hard to prove her point and you tune her out while you type a response.
“M’jus saying. What if you guys decide this week maybe something real could actually work? You have a cute dynamic already- you fight like you’ve been married for a billion years. I wonder if the sex between you would be just as aggressive, maybe you guys should-” “NEMURI.” You cut her off before she can finish her suggestion- completely mortified.
It’s not like you haven’t already imagined it. Shit, your perverted little brain has imagined it more times than you’d ever admit to in your life. There’s always been a lingering tension between the two of you, and he made you the kind of angry that had your adrenaline pounding in your ears- leaving you burning with a need to rid him of that stupid lazy smirk he loves to wear when he gets an upper hand in the argument. And you’d prefer to get rid of it by simply sitting on it.
But you’ll never admit it, even on your death bed. Because that’s not something that would ever happen between the two of you.
Shota’s back at his apartment, exhausted limbs stretched out in his bed with a heavy arm tucked under his head. He’s doing his own self soothing with the bottle of whiskey on his nightstand. He can’t help reminiscing on how you reacted when you read the assignment he’d handed you.
You always had such a unique way of pressing his buttons like nobody else, carrying yourself in ways that always challenged him and made him want to challenge right back. You’ve got a real knack for being a brat, always stubbornly talking back and attempting to take control even where you were in way over your head. Since school, you’ve been like that. Like you needed to constantly prove yourself to everybody and nobody all at the same time.
He’s always found it undeniably sexy, and equally irritating.
Like on missions back in the day, you’d always be the first to jump into action without assessing the situations ahead of you. He admired your sense of urgency, your fierceness, but acknowledged they were also a downfall for you. He’s saved you from major injuries countless times over the years, always making it a point to call you out for your mistakes after the fact so that you could grow and learn from them. Of course, you never understood where he’d be coming from and took things too personally. That’s where your bickering blossomed into a constant dynamic of your relationship.
He tried playing nice when he’d realize he’s too harsh, bringing you coffee in the mornings before anybody else got to campus. You’d have plenty of quiet, soft moments in between all the fighting. Moments that made him question his own feelings, where his intentions blurred behind a lens he’s never let himself look through.
You were beautiful, there’s no denying that. He’s always found you attractive, not that he’d ever admit it before. But, there’s definitely a solid line between the two of you that neither of you acknowledge, but both steer clear of. This week is going to challenge it, he already knows. He’s equally dreading it and looking forward to it.
He takes a long swig of the warm liquor, letting it soothe the last of his nerves when his phone pings with your response. It might be nice to see you in this different lens, even if it’s just for show. Maybe this week the two of you could grow out of this routine of picking each other apart and finally come to an understanding of one another.
He looks down at his phone, and sighs deeply at your smartass response:
don’t be early and i won’t be late. try not to make this a miserable week.
Maybe not.
You’re all but running down to the garage this morning when you got carried away with picking out your outfit and realized it was already ten on the dot. You’ve never thrown clothes on and left your apartment faster in your life.
He’s gonna talk all kinds of shit and you already know it.
Honestly though, if the two of you are supposed to be fake dating, he’s gonna have to deal with slight tardiness. Call it fashionably late. Which you do look pretty fashionable, actually. Swapping out your typical taste in fashion for the incognito vibe was always your favorite part about taking assignments like this. You picked out a light grey halter top that hugged your bust just right, pairing it with a black maxi skirt that had flirtatious slits up the front and some basic sandals.
You needed to look like you were going on a date- and you sure did.
Shota’s leaning against his black sedan when he hears the doors to the elevator slide open, and bites his tongue when he sees you come out looking…… better than expected.
You look out of breath, like you definitely ran to make it on time, and he’s too busy checking you out to really say anything at all about it. You stride up to him, smooth legs peeking out of the slits in your skirt with every step and he drinks every ounce of the sight of you in. You’re too busy trying to not look so flustered, clutching your bag when your eyes drift over his striking appearance.
You’d always loved the way his hair looked in those messy waves covering his chiseled face, but the way he currently has it in a half bun? With his face completely clear and, my god, did he clean his scruff up!? You shouldn’t be looking at him like this- but you can’t help it.
You have never seen Shota Aizawa actually put effort into his appearance, like, ever. You can’t even fight the way your eyes widen and then narrow on every little detail, dedicating it to somewhere deep in your memory. He cocks a sharp brow, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black slacks. Your eyes note the silver belt buckle that shines in the dim lighting of the parking garage.
“What’s with that look?” He’s pushing already, and you notice the way his own gaze is tracking your own appearance. You fold your arms across your chest and pretend to ignore the way his eyes jump to your cleavage- “What look? Have you never been on a date before or something? I’m making sure our outfits match enough.” You’re really smooth when it comes to making up excuses for your own behavior, and it makes his jaw tic with minor annoyance.
To be fair, neither of you ever expected each other to look so good. Shota especially, never letting his mind wander beyond surface level attraction except for those rare nights- when he can’t help but wonder if your moans sound even better up close than muffled through the walls of your apartment when you’re pleasuring yourself at 2 a.m. to help yourself sleep. The same nights he’s fisting his leaky cock to the thought of you on top of him, riding his length and making those same little cries that haunt him in the quietest corners of his mind.
He shakes those thoughts away and realizes what you just said- slyly dissing him by asking if he’d ever been on a date before. He exhales deeply, “of course i’ve been on dates before. I also know you typically don’t start a date off by arguing, so-, let’s not do this so early. Get in. Let’s go.”
You’re huffing to yourself when you step to get in the car, immediately regretting every life decision when the passenger door closes and the tension hits you instantly. The confined space feels suffocating, and Shota keeps his eyes set on the road as he drives out of the parking garage and out onto the main road. You steal glances at him while he drives, specifically the prominent veins that run across his broad hand that’s resting on the gear shift.
You’ve never really looked at his hands before, nor his arms since the hero costume he practically lived in kept most of his body concealed under loose, dark fabric. A complete 180 from the snug, tan colored t-shirt that clung to his built frame he’s dressed in right now. You never realized just how beefy he truly is before this moment- and suddenly you’re crossing one of your legs over the other in the car to find comfort in the spacious seat.
That piques the raven’s interest- eyes glancing at the smooth skin of your bare thigh, exposed by the slit and he’s feeling that irritating throb of heat burn in the pit of his stomach.
The two of you start discussing the details of your fake relationship while he drives. It’s surprisingly easier than you expected it to be, he let you take the lead on most decisions and you definitely had fun with it. You discuss ground rules, what the two of you were comfortable with- which knowing each other for as long as you have there wasn’t anything off limits so long as the situation called for it. You’re about to make a joke, teasing him for using this as an excuse to freely perv on you when you’re rudely reminded of your recent conversation with Nemuri.
“I wonder if the sex between you would be just as aggressive,”
Your joke dies immediately in your throat before you can ever even get it out. You’re convinced you’re not going to make it through the week. Hopefully you’ll end up scouting this villain out early and have him put you out of your misery. You’d rather be sick as a dog than deal with this tension you’re feeling deep in your bones.
The first day goes by and you’re surprised to say it was much better than expected. Shota took you to the cat café, where of course the two of you fought over feline attention- but there was something oddly fun about it. The two of you strolled around downtown, at times with your fingers entwined to keep the appearance and you hate the way it made your stomach flutter. He took you to a soba bar after, and you found yourself genuinely feeling nervous when his onyx eyes found yours in conversation.
Shota would absolutely be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling his temperature rise whenever you’d genuinely laugh at something he did or said. The sound of your voice in such an intimate setting like this was doing something dangerous to him, but he can’t find it in him to push it away when you look so pretty smiling like that.
He didn’t find himself to be a funny person, he’s normally so dry, and still is- but somehow you’re finding him to be hilarious when the two of you talk, huddled together in the corner of the little hole in the wall restaurant. You feel a weird buzz in your chest when he’s looking over at you with a foreign, soft gleam in his still-tired eyes.
It’s hard to remember you’re on a job right now when something about this is feeling more natural than not.
“Excuse me,” an older woman is approaching the two of you now, and your guard immediately shoots up on instinct when the two of you look over at her. You still don’t have a physical description of Cryptique- so it really could be anybody.
“I couldn’t help but notice the two of you- and, well, I apologize for being nosy but I just have never seen a more perfect couple in here.” Her face crinkles up in appreciation and you feel your heart lurch in your throat over her words. You feel embarrassed for assuming the worst and Shota’s moving on queue, dropping a heavy hand to caress right above your knee in a minor act of PDA- why is your stomach fluttering with butterflies? Calm it down.
“Thank you,” Shota’s voice is soft, but warm enough to feel genuine and you play along, leaning over to nuzzle your head against his shoulder. “Thank you so much!” You grin brightly and she nods. “I’m the owner of this shop, and with business being so slow lately, i’m so relieved to know that younger love is still blossoming in here. I’ll leave you two to it, please enjoy,” she hums before bowing and stepping away.
You feel warmer than usual, but not from an unknown quirk- you know exactly what this feeling is.
“Hm, if only they knew,” Shota’s voice is murmuring against your ear, you’re still leaned against him and not entirely ready to move just yet. Your brows furrow, tilting your head back to look up at him and Shota swears he just might have to be the one to resign after this. Your soft face is so close to his and his eyes scan over your waiting expression.
“Knew what?” Your voice is barely above a whisper and he almost shivers from the feeling of your breath against his neck. He hesitates just slightly then, taking in all of your features. Your long lashes were batting up at him in what felt like slow motion, and he starts feeling a greater, genuine danger right here in the restaurant in the form of your smile.
Has he always wanted to kiss you this bad?
You’re unintentionally holding your breath when he leans his face just slightly closer to yours. You think he might kiss you right here- and that fear alone has your heart pounding like it might give out. Your eyes hold his half lidded gaze before just barely dropping to the curve of his lips that you’re just now noticing are quite soft looking.
“If only they knew how bad we want to strangle each other ninety nine percent of the time. You’re playing this better than I expected, i’m impressed.”
Your ears must be deceiving you.
Did Shota Aizawa just finally fucking compliment you!?
“Is that so?” You can feel that old lady glancing over the two of you and add to the act, bringing one of your hands to slide over top of his own that’s still holding onto your thigh and lean in closer to instill that same fear of you kissing him. You watch his eyes flit to your lips as you just did him, and it makes a grin pull at the corners of your lips before you talk.
“I’m glad you finally acknowledge that i’m good at what I do. And for the record, you’re playing this better than I expected as well. If I didn’t already know how insufferable you were, I could almost think that you actually like me,” your fingertips trace little shapes against the top of his hand and wrist. You do inevitably lean in and press your lips against him, but opt for his cheek instead and his eyes slightly widen at the blossoming heat from your lips against his face.
Your lips are insanely soft.
“This has been a great first date though. A for effort, Shota.” You’re giggling at his reaction to your peck as you pull away- letting him stew with his own thoughts. Maybe this week won’t be so bad after all, so long as you manage that never ending tension you haven’t been able to shake so far.
Making it back home that night, the two of you silently ponder the weird buzzing happening in the backs of your brains while heading to your respective apartments. You wave goodnight and agree on a time to meet and style of outfits to wear- and it’s just that. Nemuri wants a debrief as she’s been blowing up your phone all day but you ignore her, too locked in on your own confusing thoughts.
You actually liked today with Shota, and beyond surface level enjoyment. You can’t speak for him, but you honestly didn’t have to really try at all today. Everything felt so natural to you when it came to being with him. And the stark contrast in how much of a gentleman he can be under the pretension of fake dating was enough to make you wonder.
What would he be like if it were real?
Would he treat you the same? Or even better? Is he holding himself back because he knows this is nothing more than a job?
You tuck yourself into bed that night full of questions, none of which you figure will ever get answered. But you’re hopeful the remainder of the week will glide by smoothly.
The week is almost over and you’re genuinely disappointed about it. Not only have there been no traces of Cyptique- but you’re ashamed to admit you’ve grown quite fond of this fake relationship the two of you have cultivated. You’ve grown accustomed to the feeling of his touch at an alarming rate and you’re not ready to give it up after tomorrow.
The dates have been nothing short of magical, truly- you have to give it up to Shota. It’s been unreal. And he’s frighteningly good at pretending to be your boyfriend, using your history of knowing each other to his advantage and he’s adamant on keeping the act 1000% authentic. He’s planned everything and treated you to it all, and if this wasn’t assigned as a job you probably would have fallen in love with him by now.
Maybe you already are.
You’re both at the mall now, he’s leading the way while you cling to his forearm like a koala bear. You’re fighting off a heavy weight of exhaustion today, and all you want is to fill yourself with caffeine until you feel slightly normal.
“Shota, wait! I wanted to stop for a coffee!” You whine out and he exhales annoyingly, stopping in his tracks to turn and look down at you. “You just had coffee not even two hours ago. Why can’t you wait a little longer until we have lunch?” He’s beginning to chastise you and you frown dramatically at him. “Good boyfriends don’t question their girlfriends when they want something,” you cross your arms and dramatically stomp away from him in retaliation, heading towards the coffee cart you had just passed up.
You were exhausted from last night, finding yourself so frustrated with all these heavy feelings that you spent hours taking it out on your neglected cunt. The both of you had a long night it seemed, of course you had no clue that your incessant moaning and wailing kept your neighbor from sleeping, he had no choice but to stroke himself through his own frustrations because of you. You both felt groggy and irritable today, very quickly pressing each other’s buttons in very dangerous combinations.
“That’s not how that works,” he’s grabbing your wrist with one hand and hip with the other- pulling you close enough to make you gasp. He’s got you pressed against his body, and you feel that he’s already tense. God, what you’d give to lose the barrier of his clothes and feel him for real- it seems like only a prayer would grant you that sort of miracle.
“Yes it is,” your pout only grows, even though he’s beyond irritated himself he can’t fight the urge to kiss that pretty pout away. This is getting sticky, and he can’t afford to fuck not only this job up, but your personal relationship is still important to him. Even if you guys typically drive each other crazy, he won’t risk ruining it over his own selfishness.
“Listen to me,” his grip is firm on you and he’s bringing a hand to the back of your head to pull you in for a hug. To anybody else, you guys look like a lovesick couple that can’t get your hands off one another- meanwhile you’re agitated with him and he’s trying to offer alternative solutions for a single cup of coffee.
“We’re still shopping for a little longer before we go to lunch. I’ll get you whatever coffee you want if you just wait it out for a little longer. It’s peak hours and this is prime time to hopefully catch this guy. Can you please just wait?”
He’s bargaining in your ear to just wait it out, it’s funny how the way his lips are so close to your ear you’ve suddenly forgotten all about the coffee. This feeling puts you in a daze, and you dig your face further into his hard chest to run away from these terrible feelings that overwhelm you.
“Fine.”
He must not be hearing well. Did you just agree that easily? You never do that, not even when you know you’re in the wrong.
The mall is flowing with people and their abundance of shopping bags. You’re both standing right outside of a major department store. Shota moves to pull you out of the line of traffic into the entrance of the store and looks around to make sure you’re out of the way before pulling back to look at you. You look so flustered for some reason, face bright red and you’re trying to play it cool but he sees right through you. You’ve always chewed on the inside of your cheek when you’re overwhelmed or nervous- he’s known this about you for years.
“What’s wrong with you today? We’ve been good all week, did something happen?” Of course he’s worried about you, and that somehow makes it worse for you. You can’t be under a spotlight right now with him, you won’t jeopardize this job and give Shota another reason to go back to hating you after this. Not when you know how soft his hands feel when they hold your hand when you walk together, or caress your back when you sit together and talk about your memories together.
You shake your head and pull away from him, glancing around the department store to try and ground yourself before you let your emotions get in the way of what the objective is. He watches you closely, still keeping a heavy hand on your shoulder. There’s a sudden sense of unease washing over you while you glance around, and your intuition starts to kick in.
Somebody’s watching the both of you, you can feel their gaze rake up and down your body in a way that makes you nauseous. Something’s wrong, but you can’t pinpoint where this sense of dread is coming from.
Then you see it.
An employee, maybe about 15-20 feet away from where you and Shota are seemingly having a couple’s dispute. He’s a younger, seemingly well put together guy that looks to be maybe in his early 20’s. Something about the way he’s watching you is what’s setting you off, like he’s completely locked onto the two of you as opposed to his work, and not in the typical nosy way. Your brain whirrs into action and suddenly you’re throwing yourself back into Shota’s bulky frame and activating your quirk.
You have extremely heightened awareness and physical abilities with your quirk, an awareness that’s intelligent enough to even sense a person’s intentions within a certain radius, but your eyes will always give it away when you’re using it by glowing an iridescent hue. You press your forehead against Shota’s sturdy chest, concealing your eyes and reaching to clasp his hands in yours.
“I’m sorry, Sho,” you hum louder than the level you’ve been talking at, and he looks down at the top of your head with so much confusion. What the fuck is going on with you today? Are you this delirious from a lack of sleep?
Meanwhile you’re feeling Shota’s pure confusion and the aura of this kid staring you down and it’s checking every single box you were looking for. Something bad is about to happen, you can feel his urge for disruption growing- an uncontrollable wave of excitement towards committing a crime against yet another “unsuspecting” couple that he’s found an interest in.
“I shouldn’t be so inconsiderate, I know you worked a lot of overtime to be able to take me shopping for my birthday,” you’re looking up at him now while spewing some script, leaning further against him and he’s finally noticing that glint in your eyes, the way they’re glowing. You’re using your quirk, and that determined look is telling him everything he needs to know now.
You’ve caught sight of Cryptique.
You ever so slightly sway your bodies to the left, glancing over his shoulder and noticing a grin spreading across this kid’s pale face as he listens to your dialogue. Your hands slide up Shota’s toned arms that are now wrapped around the small of your waist, you have to fight the way your skin’s buzzing with nerves- this is it. He targets couples in public areas- the interviews you’d looked into described seeing a flash before the attacks, but they were too in shock from the initial blast to move at first- but you’ll anticipate the attack first.
“I love you,” you declare loud and proud, letting your eyes bore into Shota’s now attentive stare, but even he can’t ignore the way his heart leaps hearing those words leave your lips so sweetly, even if they’re fake. Your grip on his shoulders just barely tightens for a split second as you notice the kid behind Shota’s back slowly stalk around the counter he was standing behind and towards you.
He follows along- bringing one hand to cup your jaw and you fucking despise the way you falter and melt into his touch just the slightest bit. It’s so comfortable- but you have to keep yourself open and aware. “It’s alright, angel. I love you, even though you’re a pain in my ass.” He’s smirking- yet inside he’s shocked he was able to get those words out so easily. Was there more honesty beneath them than he realizes?
You notice the kid stalls a moment- and realize he’s waiting for you to truly be off guard, fuck what do you do? How the fuck do you get him to fall for the trap?
An idea hits you, and you flash Shota an apologetic smile before yanking him down by the collar of his shirt and urgently pressing your lips to his.
He’s shocked at first, completely unable to process anything past how soft you feel and how good you taste against him. It feels so right- he almost forgets what the fuck the two of you are even doing until you pull back and suddenly a blast hits the both of you from behind him.
You’re both anticipating it, you moreso than him, and fight through the sudden burning sensation that’s flooding your lungs and throat to lunge up and towards the kid that’s now running away. You can hear panicked screams surrounding you and Shota’s shortly behind you, but the purple mist that’s flooding the department store is too thick to see through. You’re coughing through it- wheezing as your feet haul you in the direction he’s running away in and you activate your quirk to lock in on his location.
You see him perfectly through the mist, even through your eyes are on fucking fire.
Shota’s stunned behind you, feeling discombobulated from the fog burning his eyes and he can just barely make out your figure sprinting after who he assumes is Cryptique and disappearing in the fog ahead. He’s beyond confident in your ability to catch up and stop him at least until he can catch up, something in his brain just can’t move past what the fuck just happened before the attack while he moves to follow you.
Why is his mind still reeling from the way you kissed him?
You’re out of the fog now and see the blonde tuft of hair belonging to the culprit take a hard left towards an emergency exit. You huff a nauseating breath before using your quirk to amplify and project yourself in a leap towards him. By the grace of whoever’s up there watching over you- you luckily tackle him to the ground and lock your limbs around him as your bodies roll towards the exit door.
“Fucking got you!” You’re huffing, completely out of breath and your poor lungs are desperately trying to cool themselves down from the burning mist. You pin the kid below you, adrenaline on high when you twist his arms behind his back and force more of your weight on him to keep him from moving.
“T-Tell me what you’ve been using,” you pant, Shota still hasn’t caught up yet and you’re growing concerned by his timing. Did it get in his eyes? The boy starts to laugh, “nothing that’ll kill you- that’s for sure.” He’s sneering back at you and you dig your knee into the base of his spine to add pressure. “Spill it, or i’ll break your f-fucking spine-”
Why are you SO out of breath?
He cries out in pain, wriggling against your weight to try and fight you off but with your quirk activated you won’t budge. “Fine! Fine! Please, it hurts!” He begs and you still don’t let up. You need Shota here for his capture weapon, you already feel like you might faint.
“I’ve been hitting couples with an aphrodisiac, this was my largest dose i’m experimenting with. You won’t just drop and die, but you and your boyfriend might end up killing each other after this.”
Your body freezes up and everything goes blank upon hearing those words.
You and Shota were both just hit with an aphrodisiac- apparently a crazy strong one based on how hard he’s starting to cackle below you. Your shock delays you just slightly, and Cryptique manages to jab one of his elbows backwards into your ribs hard enough to make you wheeze with pain. It’s enough to give him room to flip you over, and he’s suddenly spewing more of that purple mist directly over your face, before it suddenly vanishes.
You’d sigh in relief if you could breathe- you’re purposely holding your breath to keep any more from hitting your system, but you’re sure it’s probably pointless.
The next thing you know, the kid is being yanked off of you and wrapped up in Shota’s white capture weapon. You roll onto your hands and knees and start coughing hard enough to taste blood, your throat’s completely burnt from the fog. You look over to see Shota also panting above Cryptique, his eyes glowing crimson as he glares down at the kid.
You don’t think you’ve seen anything hotter in your life.
Oh no.
“You okay!?” Shota calls out to you when he hears your coughing cease- and you wipe your teary eyes to respond as security comes rushing in with handcuffs. Your heart is already starting to pound, and you feel your palms tremble with fear from the knowledge of what the fuck is starting to happen to you. By the time law enforcement steps in and takes over, your core is completely trembling and you feel fucking sick. Shota’s looking unwell too, his own eyes are wide and more bloodshot than normal. You’re scared to look at him, he still doesn’t know since Cryptique stopped talking after he admitted to you what he’d done.
It’s all over and done with within the hour, the aphrodisiac is settling in at an alarming rate and you’re now quickly striding back to Shota’s car alongside him. He notices how panicked you are and it concerns him. You both had a briefing on what to expect symptom wise- and while it definitely sucks worse feeling it than just hearing about it, he can’t make sense of why you’re so shook up.
You’re just more than ready to get home and sweat it out alone- maybe you’ll be able to sleep it off if you’re lucky.
“Can we talk about what happened back there?” His voice is mildly strained- he isn’t feeling the affects quite as bad as you just yet- but he also didn’t get a second dose of it. The gruff nature of his voice sends a sharp chill up your spine, you want to hear it closer against your ear. “What do you want to know? I just don’t feel like talking right now.” You try brushing it off as you’re getting in the car and he starts to drive, you’re so utterly petrified to tell him what happened.
How pissed is he gonna get at you for trapping Cryptique instead of just approaching and confronting? Your tactic typically is that route- but you thought for once maybe switching it to cater more towards luring with bait would be more efficient. At the end of the day, he’s caught and in custody- that should be enough.
But for some reason guilt is eating away at you.
“Do you not feel like talking because of the mystery gas? Or do you not feel like talking because you think i’m a bad kisser?” He’s trying to make light of things in his own way, and normally that would have actually made you laugh. But the reminder that you did in fact have his lips on yours makes something in your brain go haywire.
“Don’t mention that right now,” you’re burning up in the passenger seat, hands gripping at the fabric of your leggings to try and soothe yourself until you make it home. Shota feels like he struck a nerve, and can’t help but be Shota and push the envelope.
“Why? Do you? I’m kind of offended- I thought it was great,” why the fuck did he just say that!? His eyes widen in shock at his own admission. The heat licking up his spine is more noticeable- but he thought the fever wouldn’t make him so irrational so soon. Your eyes bulge out of your skull at the admission- and you’re faintly still tasting him on your lips. The faint memory of his scruff just barely tickling your face has your thighs clenching in the passenger seat.
“No, I-I don’t- ugh,” you can’t even put words together with how feverish you are. You need to get the fuck home and away from this man before you jump his bones in the car. You’re already soaked- uncomfortably so and your skin is burning from the inside out.
The drive home is short thank fuck, and you’re literally stumbling over yourself when you rush towards the elevator like you’re about to melt into the floor.
“Do we need to go to the hospital? You seem way more out of it than me, fuck- it’s hot in here.” Shota is starting to feel the burning need to rip his clothes off as he follows after you, completely confused on why you’re avoiding him like the plague. He catches up to you and when you both enter the rusty elevator, that unspoken carnal desire fills the air of the confined space.
“No, no hospital. Mmh- need to sweat it out.” You huff out as you keep to your corner, eyes locked on your feet below you. His brows raise, sweat it out? You sound like you know what’s going on- more than him.
Next thing you know he’s crowding your space, cornering you and you look up at him to push him back and…….oh.
He looks like a fucking wreck.
You didn’t think it was possible for him to be any hotter than he was. His hair is still pulled back, but strands of his bun were coming loose and falling in his flushed face. His cheeks were a deep red, pupils completely blown out but my god the look on his face has your core clenching around nothing- you’re throbbing all over with need.
His own chest is heaving above you as he leans down to get close to your face, trying to read you. “What do you know that I don’t?” His voice is so fucking low, almost a growl and you fucking whimper and drop your head to avoid his piercing gaze. You feel like you’re going to implode at any second, mortified with the sound you just made. A scalding hand reaches for your chin and forces your head back to meet his heavy eyes once more and you’re completely gone then- falling prisoner to his touch as he asks again.
Tears are stinging your lashes and you’re filled with nothing but embarrassment and pure heat- the two emotions fight for dominance and you feel your toes curl in your shoes with anticipation before the words escape you.
“H-He said it was an aphrodisiac! M’s-sorry!” you whine out as the tears finally burst and slide down your burning cheeks, unable to take your eyes off of him.
He’s in shock at first, completely frozen as he holds you in place. Then everything starts to click for him. The way you looked so shocked when he finally arrived to back you up, the way you avoided him during the quick briefing with law enforcement, you could barely talk to him in the car let alone look at him. You got so upset with the mention of your kiss. He’s been feeling out of breath, ungodly warm, and the way his cock has been aching for the entire drive home completely ties everything together.
He stares at your face, the way your pupils are also blown out beneath the layer of tears. He can feel you trembling in his hands, and he absolutely heard that whimper just now. He’s never found you more stunning, and the urge to finally act on his selfishness has never been stronger.
“So you knew what we were hit with this whole time? And didn’t want to say anything? You wanted to let me suffer through this alone?” He’s pressing you against the wall of the elevator and you squeak out in fear, feeling his grip on your face slip ever so slightly down to your throat and one of his knees pushes between your thighs. You’re so fucking close like this- sharing the same heated breaths, you immediately started freaking out. How could he think you’d want him to suffer!? It’s not like that at all!
“N-No! Nono, I-I didn’t! I didn’t want you to-”
His lips are stopping you from finishing your excuse. You moan unexpectedly against him as he slams his lips against yours, adding pressure to the grip on your throat to make you even more light headed than you already were. He’s panting against you already, kissing you deeper with his tongue slipping past your lips to assert dominance over your own. His scruff delectably scratches against you with a euphoric sensation while your hands are clawing at his biceps. So fucking good…
He feels even better against you than before, and you almost don’t want to blame the aphrodisiac while your hands reach for his wrist that’s against your throat. Your body crumples to his will, kissing him back while your hips brazenly start to grind against his hard thigh. He’s groaning at the feeling of you in his hands like this, flexing his thigh up against your burning core to give you more in the moment.
“I can’t believe you,” he’s huffing out between kisses, groaning when you bite down on his bottom lip and pull! The two of you completely forget where you are in the midst of your mutual heat until the elevator dings and he’s yanking you out with him.
Your feet are dragging against the carpeted floors of the hallway for only a few seconds before he decides to sling you over one of his shoulders instead, deeming it a quicker way to get you into his apartment.
“You’re going to take responsibility for your actions,” he’s barking out at you while unlocking his door and you’re flooding with anticipation before he’s dropping you back on your feet in the entrance of his apartment.
You’re so dizzy, hooked on the taste of him when you’re reaching to meet his lips halfway and drown in him once more. Your breaths can barely catch up to the pace you’re mouthing at one another at, tongues and teeth clashing as he’s still pushing you deeper into his apartment.
He only pulls back to rip his own shirt off and toss it, and you have to push him back to be able to tug your own up and over your head. There’s no time to be shy now- you’re both burning too hot- the only remedy is through each other.
You can’t say this is exactly what you had in mind when hoping for a successful week with Shota, but you know that Nemuri will be proud if she finds out about this and that’s enough to validate every decision you’re making as you sink your teeth into the soft skin of his neck. His groan shoots straight to your thrumming heat, urging you to suck on his sensitive skin as consolation before you feel the backs of your legs hit the edge of his mattress.
No time to think-
You activate your quirk to overpower his strength, spinning your bodies to push him down on the bed and straddle his thick lap instead. You feel that familiar jolt of resistance- opening your watery eyes to find his crimson ones glowing angrily at you. His hands are gripping your hips and tugging you down against the hardness that’s burning against the wet patch of your leggings. “Fuck, you’re soaked- you sure that’s from the gas?”
He’s grinning devilishly up at you and you moan at the feeling of him. He’s huge- way bigger than you expected and you grind your hips down against him to rub in just how turned on you are. “Y-Yeah, asshole. No fucking way you’d do this to me,” you lie straight through your teeth and his grin deepens at the challenge.
“Lying slut,” his hand cracks down on your ass from behind and you yelp at the sting. You push yourself to sit up straight and swallow when you take in the sight of him below you. His dark hair is completely disheveled now, falling across the bed in long waves while his half lidded eyes pierce yours from below. His lips are already starting to swell from all the kisses and bites, and you watch the way his bare chest rises and falls below you.
You bite your lip as you take in his bare torso, completely covered in muscle and a deep, dark patch of hair decorating the skin below his belly button and traveling down to disappear under the waistband of his pants. Your eyes drop to the outline of his erection straining against the fabric- holy fucking shit.
He’s taking you in all at the same time- eyes raking over the swell of your breasts as you hunch over with need, the black lace of your bra threatening to tear from how hard you’re panting on top of him. He’s always dreamed of having you like this but it’s nothing compared to the real thing. You’re so soft in his hands, so beautiful and you don’t even know it.
He needs to feel more of you, he needs to taste-
You’re being flipped onto your back hard enough to knock the wind from your lungs and then his lips follow to prevent you from reclaiming it at first. Kissing you deeply before pulling back and reaching for the waistband of your leggings. “I need to taste you, i’ve waited long enough.” He grits out, and you suddenly hear the sound of fabric riiipping! before he’s tugging the shredded fabric off of your legs to expose you.
Of all the days you chose to go commando….
“Hah,” he’s looking up at you with that shit eating grin while his hands grip your thighs and force them open. You’re so exposed but not cooling down at all from the cold air of his room. You’re still burning up, and he’s enamored by the sight of your bare cunt glistening with the evidence of your lust.
“No panties? You had to have known we’d be catching him today, you had to have known it was an aphrodisiac. That right? What else are you lying to me about?” He doesn’t let you answer, dropping his head to lick a fat stripe up from your entrance to your clit. You almost scream, throwing your head back against the comforter as he starts slurping up your essence like a man starved without an ounce of shame. He’s moaning at the sweet taste of you. The stimulation is all too much and still not enough at the same time- you’re writhing against his face for relief.
“N-Nawht, mmnnf, no-ot lyyyyinnnng~” you dumbly squeal out when he spits a fat glob of saliva against your clit, only to reach down and slurp it back up before repeating the lewd action. You’re dead. You must be dead. Maybe you died back in the mall after the second dose? You have to be in the afterlife somewhere from how heavenly his mouth feels.
Meanwhile he’s denying his own relief- undoubtedly still finding immense pleasure in drinking up your juices like it’ll be the last thing he ever tastes. Truth be told, he couldn’t be happier about this situation at hand, but you can’t know that of course. He has to keep the impression that he’s pissed at you, but fuck- he’s down absolutely bad for you. And honestly, he couldn’t see things going back to normal between you anyways after this week. You felt too good in his arms, against his lips, he wasn’t going to let you slip away from him that easily.
Now he has a perfect excuse to prove his devotion to you.
Two fingers are gliding in your pulsing entrance that clenches around his digits lovingly. Your eyes roll back into your skull when he starts twisting and pumping those long, thick fingers to drag against your velvety walls. His hips are starting to twitch against the mattress, longing for friction against his angry, leaky cock while he pulls your first orgasm of the night from you- curling his fingers juuust right against your extra tender g-spot.
Your thighs are squeezing the sides of his head when you cum, trembling so hard you think you might faint. He pushes you through it, replacing his fingers with his fat tongue to desperately drink up every last drop of your release. You’re breaking a sweat above him, clawing at the fabric of your bra to rip it off and the sight of your breasts breaking free of their lace confinement makes Shota’s hips rut even harder against the mattress.
Your nipples, already hard, ache with sensitivity and you’re shameless in how you grope yourself above him like he isn’t even there. He’s committing the sight into his memory, cramming his tongue deeper inside of you in retaliation- you’re unreal.
He’s had his fair share of experience with women in the past, but absolutely none of those experiences came remotely close to leaving him as feral as this one. Of course, the aphrodisiac is absolutely adding to it, but it’s also the way he’s gone completely hooked on the taste of your never ending arousal.
He needs you to be as obsessed with him as he is with you right now. Needs you cumming around his tongue and cock until you can’t breathe without remembering his shape. He’s moaning against you when one of your hands finds his head and your fingers thread through his dark roots, gripping him to grind your hips down against his the lower half of his face. The way his nose catches on your clit has you sobbing out a moan and you chase that feeling like you’re completely possessed.
He might cum from just this alone, the feeling of you using him just to chase your next high- it’s almost too much for him.
You’re suddenly losing his mouth right before you cum a second time just to feel him yank you up to your knees before laying flat on his back. Your head’s spinning when you look down at him in slight confusion- unable to keep up with the moment. “C’mon, kitty. Don’t make me do all the work myself,” his heavy voice is teasing up at you. You look around for a moment to try and process what he’s asking of you….he wants you to sit on his face!?
Does he have a secret mind reading quirk?
You don’t have the energy or time to think on it, jumping at the opportunity to swing your leg up and out, over his chest, straddling him facing his feet. You feel a flush of nerves wash over you as you look down behind you to see his darkened gaze directly on your dripping hole that’s directly above his face. The view is perfect for him. watching your needy hole clench around nothing, a mixture of his own spit with your juices completely covering you in a sloppy mess. He doesn’t think he’s seen anything prettier than your twitchy lil’ clit before in his life.
His strong arms move to wrap around your plush thighs and tug you down, forcing you to drop your weight on his waiting mouth and you’ve never felt anything more lewd in your life.
His tongue is spearing your hole sloppily enough to echo throughout the room and you wantonly moan above him before your attention is grabbed by the neglected throbbing in his pants right in front of you.
Shota’s too lost in your honeyed slick to pay you any mind until he’s feeling a scalding, wet tongue slather against the side of his stiff shaft. His fingers are digging into the fat of your ass then, definitely hard enough to bruise while you start to slobber all over his intimidating length. He was equally long and thick, with a delectable upwards curve that the sight of alone had you soaking Shota’s beard below you. You wanted- no, needed to suck him dry. You needed to drain him of everything he was worth.
That competitive dynamic that felt like second nature to you slipped back into the forefront and overpowered your mind the second you tasted him. That savory bead of precum that dribbled out of his angry tip was just enough to get you hooked. Your head’s bobbing up and down his length, stroking and squeezing what won’t fit while you’re arching your ass against his greedy mouth.
He’s unable to stop his hips from bucking up into your face to push his own length further down your tight throat. Forcing your own weight to completely smother him while he fucks your face in earnest, you’re completely stuck taking every ounce he has to offer you. Between his tongue that’s relentlessly lapping at your clit, and his fat cock that’s stuffing your mouth full, you cum unexpectedly quick on top of him.
You’re scrambling from overstimulation then, when his tongue doesn’t stop- rather when his tongue works you harder instead, your brain is turned to mush- only fixated on pleasure. Your tongue starts to work faster against his shaft now, sliding side to side against his scalding length while he’s still rutting his hips against your face. Your mouth is like a fountain, drooling all over his cock, watching it drip down his heavy balls and soaking the sheets below your bodies.
It’s a debilitating cycle of pleasure. The both of you wring out countless orgasms from one another while in sixty nine- huffing out more broken noises at one another than actual words, but neither of you are even close to having enough. Your bodies still buzz deeply with need, no matter how many thick loads you’ve taken down your throat already.
You’re gasping for air when you pull your mouth from him this most recent time- hysterical from your own recent orgasm. You’ve never squirted before now, but the way he curled his tongue against your walls while his scruffy chin started grinding against your swollen clit had you drowning Shota with your cum. You need time to recover but you can’t- you need him to stuff you until you can’t breathe~
He’s pushing you up from his face then, and you drop like dead weight on your stomach beside him, trying to calm your racing heart for a moment. Your thighs are twitching and squeezing together for relief as you lay there, but that pit in your stomach tightens when you feel Shota’s muscular thighs bracket your hips, slapping your ass with his tip like a drum. Pat! Pat! Pat!
“I could taste you all night, your pretty pussy’s way sweeter than your mouth has ever been t’me. See for yourself.” He’s leaning down and murmuring against your ear, nibbling gently on the shell. You shiver below him when you feel his burning tip just barely press into your entrance that was begging for him. One of his hands is coming around to cup your chin again, pressing two of his digits that had been stretching you out earlier past your lips to make you taste yourself. Your tongue laps at the bittersweet essence that coats his longer fingers, moaning pathetically against him in response.
You’re reduced to a complete and utter slut for this man. The same man you swore you had an aversion to. The same man that always made it a point to call out every shortcoming of yours. The man that you always fought with, that always pissed you off with how he’d correct you any opportunity he could- always harping on you for the little things, and you never understood why…
“Ever think maybe he does all that picking because he likes you?”
Nemuri’s words reverberate in your mind right as Shota’s sinking his entire hefty length inside you in one thrust.
You moan in harmony at the way he fits inside you like the perfect puzzle piece, and suddenly everything in life makes sense. You realize the grumpy, seemingly insufferable man you’ve known this entire time has never given anybody else the close attention that he’s always given you.
You realize it’s because he’s felt the exact same this entire time.
That realization has you cumming on the spot.
“Ohhh my-hah- f-fuuuuuckkk ngh!”
He’s engrossed at the sight of you convulsing with pleasure under him- the feeling of your cunt sucking him up even deeper makes him to fight off his own orgasm for the sake of his ego. His hand cracks down on your bare ass to distract himself. “Thaat’s right, that’s my girl.” He’s groaning out like a whore at the way you’re milking his cock when you cum. You’re wailing out and arching back for him to spank you again, and again, all while he fucks you through it.
And he does without hesitation.
“Fuck, you’ve really been holdin’ out on me, huh?” He’s challenging you while his hips rock in and out of you at a hypnotic pace. You rest your head on its side against your folded arms to look back at his feral expression and you feel your core throb in anticipation when he leans his face down to press a sinful kiss against your shoulder blade.
He’s mercilessly pounding into you from that point on, shifting you underneath him from prone bone to spread your legs and arch in doggy while he goes into a trance from the way your ass bounces and recoils with every thrust. You’re taking every inch like a champ, feeling his weeping tip kissing your cervix over and over again like a mantra.
You’re equally calling out to Shota behind you, begging for more- anywhere he can give it. You’re hissing out when your hair is bundled up in his fist and he decides to tug, using it to his advantage to keep you slamming back with every thrust.
“Fuuckk yes! Yesyesyes! S’deep-mngh!”
He’s so fucking deep you can feel him in your ribs-
“We have all night, kitty. Hope you’re ready to make up for lying to me. Gotta make it count, yeah?” He’s tugging your hair to pull your head all the way back so he can look into your fucked out eyes from above. You’re so pretty like this, he leans his weight over to reach down and press his lips to yours in a nasty, wet kiss. A guttural moan escapes you when he pulls back just the slightest bit to spit in your mouth- chasing it with his lips in another messy kiss.
Cryptique’s words are the next thing to replay in your mind now.
“You won’t just drop and die, but you and your boyfriend might end up killing each other after this.”
You’re confident Shota is going to kill you tonight, you wouldn’t really be surprised if you killed him either.
Regardless, you know for a fact that this is going to be the longest night of your life-
13 hours and a medically concerning amount of orgasms pass and you’re both nothing but a tangled, sweaty mess of limbs absolutely spent on his bed. You don’t remember how or when, but somewhere in the midst of all that you decided you’re definitely in love with him and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to accept it.
The fever is finally breaking, your body has finally gotten over the worst of the aphrodisiac, and you’re more than thankful. You didn’t think it was possible to cum that many times, or fuck in that many positions. But Shota naturally had to prove you wrong as usual. The raven had you under him, on top of him, beside him, against the wall, on the floor, in the shower, on the kitchen counter, fucking you relentlessly until there wasn’t a single space in his house that survived the nefarious marathon you both had just made it through.
You can’t move a muscle now, deadweight as you’re laying on your side with Shota spooning you from behind. You finally feel a sense of genuine peace like this, tucked up against his muscles while you’re floating in that wonderful space between resting and a much deeper sleep.
A warm pair of lips press against your pulse point from behind, “mmm,” you hum. Shota’s nuzzling deeper into your hair from behind. You’re so sleepy that you feel like you might already be dreaming when you hear him groggily murmur against your ear, sounding barely awake himself.
“Let’s jus’ pretend this week wasn’t for a job, kitty. M’gonna keep you like this from now on.” His proposition makes a weak laugh bubble out of your raw throat. Of course Shota would basically ask you out like this-
Wait. He just fucking asked you out!!?????
You smile softly, and lean back against his warmth with a nod in response. You’re truly on cloud nine. There isn’t a single thing that could make this moment any better, and you’re oddly thankful to that pain in the ass from the mall now. Had he not blasted you guys with so much of that gas, you wouldn’t have gotten your back absolutely blown out by the man you’ve had a secret crush on for over the last decade. And if that hadn’t happened, you’d never truly know just how good it can be with Shota.
The two of you have a lot of talking to do when you’re both fully recovered from not only the exhaustion, but the fever in general. You still feel some of the side effects, but they’re nothing in comparison to what they were earlier. You sink deeper into his strong arms, feeling more right than you ever have in your life.
You’ve got the fattest “I told you so” ever coming to you from Nemuri when she finds out about this.
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