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kirschteinsbitch · 1 month ago

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More Than Friends

Pairing: Giyuu Tomioka x Fem!Reader Summary: You take your best friend's virginity. Warnings: NSFW MINORS DNI, Modern AU, College AU, friends to lovers, alcohol, eventual smut, blowjob, spitting, unprotected sex, squirting, creampie Word Count: ~8k Author Note: first time posting on here, be nice 😭🙏🏾

Despite your completely opposite personalities, Giyuu had been your closest friend for as long as you could remember. You were a natural extrovert, always surrounded by a lively crowd, while Giyuu preferred the quiet solace of his own company. But no matter how many people clamored for your attention, nothing and no one could ever come between you and Giyuu. You'd sooner let the world fall apart than let that happen.

High school had been a blur of late-night study sessions, stolen laughter, and quiet evenings spent cuddled together on one of your couches. Rumors about your relationship were inevitable—everyone assumed there was something deeper going on between you. But the whispers were usually silenced the moment you publicly introduced your latest boyfriend.

Giyuu never made any comments about your questionable love life. He listened patiently when you vented about breakups and bad dates, never offering judgment or unsolicited advice. And in return, you didn't comment on the fact that Giyuu had never been on a date at all—or shown any interest in changing that.

It wasn't until you were 16, during one of your usual late-night hangouts, that the two of you stumbled into a conversation neither of you had anticipated.

"You know," you began, sprawled across his bed, while he sat at his desk, textbooks and notes scattered around him. "If either of us are still virgins by the time we're 21, let's just lose it to each other."

His pen came to a halt mid-scratch on the page, and he looked up at you with wide eyes. A blush crept up his neck, but he couldn't hide the curiosity in his gaze. "What?"

You propped yourself up on your elbows, meeting his stare with a playful grin. "I'm serious. It's better than hooking up with some random person, isn't it? At least we know each other."

He looked back at his desk, his shoulders stiff. "That's... a crazy thing to promise."

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment before responding. "Why? I trust you."

There was a long pause as he contemplated your words. Then, without looking at you, he muttered, "fine, then."

You'd laughed as you brushed it off as a joke, even though deep down you and Giyuu both knew that it was a promise made in all seriousness.

Still, life moved on, and the pact slipped into the back of your mind. The following year, you ended up losing your virginity to a guy you'd been seeing for a few months.

Obviously, you told Giyuu. Just like you always did. He'd been the first person you confided in about your first kiss, your first period, the first to hear all your secrets and milestones before you even thought about telling your parents.

But this time, his reaction caught you off guard. Normally, Giyuu was calm, indifferent, unshaken by even your most outrageous stories. Yet, as you casually told him the news, he went completely cold. His usually soft features hardened and his responses became clipped and distant, like you'd done something to upset him.

"Are you... mad at me?" you'd asked, half-joking but undeniably uneasy. You couldn't shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong.

"No," he replied flatly, jaw clenched as he avoided your gaze.

"You sure?" You pressed, searching his face for a crack in his armor.

"I'm fine," he said firmly, ending the conversation before it could go any further.

It was the first time you'd seen him so irritated with you, and it made you worry. Giyuu wasn't the type to get openly angry or frustrated—especially not with you.

He wouldn't tell you what was wrong, no matter how much you pushed. And eventually, you stopped trying to get answers. But from that day on, you made a silent vow to yourself: no more rambling to Giyuu about your romantic or sexual ventures. Some things were better left unsaid.

However, Giyuu's curiosity got the better of him one particular time: the night of your high school graduation.

"Why'd you break up with Shinazugawa?" he'd asked, adjusting his tie in the full-length mirror of your room.

You paused, giving him a surprised look through the reflection. “…Why're you asking that now? It’s been months.”

He shrugged, feigning indifference. “Curious, I guess." In truth, he was curious. You and Sanemi had lasted almost six months—longer than any of your previous relationships. He couldn’t help but wonder why you’d ended things when everything seemed to be going so well.

"Well," you sighed, patting your beauty blender against your cheek as you leaned closer to your vanity mirror. "Because of the way he talks about you." you explained, exasperated.

Giyuu blinked, his hands freezing mid-motion as he turned to look at you. "Huh?"

"He's fucking rude," you scoffed, rolling your eyes. "I told him from the start that we couldn’t date unless he was okay with us being friends, and I wholeheartedly meant it. But the second I mentioned you? Instant attitude."

Giyuu's eyebrows furrowed slightly. "What did he say?"

"Doesn't matter," you muttered, waving him off. "The point is, he's a prick I should've never wasted any time with."

For a moment, he just stood there, watching you blend your makeup with practiced ease, your words settling over him like a warm blanket. You hadn't even seemed to think twice about it, choosing him over your boyfriend as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"...Thank you," he said quietly, his voice so soft you almost missed it.

You glanced at him through the mirror, catching the faint blush that dusted the tips of his ears. "Don't thank me," you replied with a soft smile. "You mean more to me than any of those dumb guys."

Giyuu rolled his eyes, trying to hide the fluttering in his chest as he tightened his tie with an unnecessary force. "And why do you only go for dumb guys?"

You frowned, picking up a tube of lipgloss. "The real question is why they're the only ones that approach me." Tilting your head, you gazed at him with a wistful look. "I wish they were more like you," you murmured.

You didn't notice the way his hands stilled again, nor the faint flush that crept up his cheeks. He cleared his throat, turning back to the mirror.

"They still wouldn't deserve you," he muttered under his breath, barely audible.

"Hm?" you questioned, raising an eyebrow as you looked over your shoulder.

"Nothing," he said quickly, reaching for his cap and gown spread out on your bed. "We're going to be late."

Smiling, you brushed off his odd behavior, setting down your lipgloss and grabbing your heels. "Fine, let's go."

But even as you walked out the door, Giyuu's thoughts lingered on your words.

I wish they were more like you.

━

The beginning of college brought with it a whirlwind of changes for both you and Giyuu. You attended the same school, so the two of you decided to save money and move into a cozy apartment together.

The apartment was small, but homey enough for the two of you. There was a shared bathroom between the two bedrooms, a cramped kitchen that you somehow made work, and a living room where you would often curl up on the couch after long days of classes or work.

Despite the small space, you quickly slipped into familiar patterns. Giyuu was a morning person, usually up before the sun, while you preferred to sleep in and stay out late. You'd often stumble out of your room in the late morning, finding him already making breakfast or buried in his textbooks.

You would both go about your routines, respecting each other's space, and somehow, it was like nothing had really changed. Giyuu was still the quiet, composed person you knew, and you were still the loud, energetic one.

But there was a subtle shift, a tension that started to build over time. You started to see Giyuu in.. a different way. You couldn't tell if it was because you'd finally stopped suppressing thoughts you'd always had, or if it was because you were watching him grow from a socially awkward teenager into a more gentle, confident adult.

There was an unspoken understanding between you that neither of you addressed directly, but the lines between friendship and something more began to blur the longer you lived together.

Giyuu's 21st birthday arrived with a mix of anticipation and excitement, and it was clear from the start that he didn't want much fuss about it.

You knew him too well by now, his preference for quiet evenings over anything resembling a party. But 21 was a big deal, and you weren't going to let it slip by unnoticed, no matter how much he grumbled about it.

The party was at your apartment, living room adorned with streamers and balloons, the tiny kitchen bursting with treats. You invited only a few of your mutual friends, knowing a crowd would make him squirm.

It was supposed to be low-key, and that's exactly how you pitched it to him. You bought a cake, a couple of cases of his favorite beer, and told him you were keeping it small.

As Giyuu searched through the playlist in the living room, you took the opportunity to slip away and get dressed in your room.

Your fingers fumbled with the delicate zipper of your silk black minidress, the fabric soft against your skin. Lace detailing adorned the bust, and you paired it with dainty gold jewelry.

"Yuu!" you called out, your voice slightly muffled as you struggled to zip up the dress.

An exasperated sigh escaped your lips when it caught halfway. You glanced over your shoulder, seeing your best friend standing in the doorway, a deep flush spread across his cheeks as his eyes roamed over your exposed back.

"Sorry, could you help me zip this up?" you asked, trying to suppress a smile.

"Oh, sure," he murmured, stepping closer to you.

"Thanks," you hummed, turning around and facing your mirror as he stood behind you. His fingers brushed against your skin as he carefully zipped up the dress, the warmth of his touch making you hold your breath for a moment. The silence hung between you two, both of you aware of the closeness.

Once he finished, he stepped back, his eyes lingering on your reflection in the mirror for a second longer than necessary. "You look nice."

You smiled at the compliment, turning to him as your gaze traveled down his outfit. It was simple—an oversized black graphic hoodie paired with dark blue baggy jeans. "So do you," you said, a playful glint in your eyes.

Giyuu ran a hand through his long hair, shyly averting his gaze. "You're leaving it down?" you asked, eyes narrowing as you took in the silkiness of his dark strands.

He shook his head and reached for a hairtie on his wrist. As he raised his arms to tie his hair into a low bun, you caught a glimpse of his toned torso before he turned to leave.

He glanced over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as he rolled his eyes at your playful pout. Opening the fridge, he pulled out a cold can of beer, the can crinkling as he cracked it open.

"Hey, Giyuu," you called, "You remember that deal we made? Junior year?" you asked, slowly making your way into the kitchen.

Giyuu's eyes widened ever so slightly, then he turned to you, masking his surprise with his usual stoic expression. "What deal?"

A sly smirk tugged at your lips as you leaned over the counter, rummaging through one of the kitchen drawers. "The one about our virginities," you added casually, making sure to glance up at him. You could already see the subtle flush creeping up his neck.

"Oh," he mumbled, his voice faltering as he quickly brought the beer can to his lips, taking a long sip to avoid your gaze. "That?"

"That," you echoed, as though it was the most normal thing in the world. You found what you were looking for and closed the drawer with a soft click, then turned to face him fully. "Is it still on?"

Giyuu took a step back, leaning against the counter, his gaze dropping to the floor as he shifted uneasily. You moved closer, feeling the tension between you two building with every inch you closed.

"Do you.. want it to be?" he whispered, his grip tightening around the can.

You nodded silently, your lips curving into a small smile. The air between you seemed to thicken, your presence commanding his full attention. "But, it's your call."

He gulped as you reached behind you, pulling out a shiny tiara—silver with blue gems that sparkled in the light. It glimmered as you placed it gently on his head, reading "BIRTHDAY GIRL".

His breath hitched as his eyes flickered down to meet yours. You could see the internal struggle in the slight tremble of his fingers, but there was a hunger in his eyes, a desire that mirrored your own.

Before Giyuu could respond, the door to your apartment suddenly burst open with an almost comical force.

"Shit— I didn't lock it—" you muttered, but the sentence was cut off by the loud voices of your friends Kyojuro and Tengen. They stormed into the kitchen with enthusiasm, greeting the birthday boy like they hadn't seen him in ages.

"Happy birthday, Tomioka!" Kyojuro exclaimed, his bright smile lighting up the room, while Tengen gave Giyuu a friendly hug.

A group of their friends followed, chatting and laughing, completely oblivious to the tension that had just existed between you two. You sighed, amused but a little frustrated by the timing, casting Giyuu a knowing glance. "Later," you mouthed, the promise clear, before turning your attention to the guests.

For now, whatever was brewing between you and Giyuu would have to wait. The music cranked up a notch, drinks began circulating, and the lively atmosphere of a party took over your apartment.

Parties had never been Giyuu's scene. The idea of being crammed into a hot, noisy space with a bunch of drunk strangers was more torturous than entertaining to him. The thought of anyone willingly signing up for such chaos baffled him.

Which was why, when he did attend a party, the night often ended with you holding his hair back while he dry-heaved over the toilet. It had become an unfortunate tradition, one you were determined to avoid tonight. After all, it was his birthday, and you wanted him to enjoy it.

You kept a subtle eye on him from the kitchen, monitoring his drink count like a hawk. Thankfully, Giyuu was nothing if not responsible, so you weren't too concerned.

Your lips curved into a soft smile as you watched him from across the room. He was standing near Mitsuri and Obanai, his usual reserved demeanor softened as he laughed at one of her jokes. College had done him good, coaxing him out of his shell and introducing him to people who clearly cared about him.

"Having fun?" Tengen's voice broke through your thoughts. He leaned casually against the counter beside you, his broad shoulders brushing yours as he gave you a grin.

"Of course I am," you replied, lifting your cup to your lips. The drink burned as it slid down your throat, a sensation you'd come to appreciate.

"I'm glad," he hummed, reaching for the bottle of Hennessy beside you. His hand brushed your waist as he gently nudged you aside, his touch lingering just long enough to make you uneasy. "I've missed you."

You stepped to the side, swirling the drink in your cup as you kept your gaze low. You knew exactly where this conversation was heading. "I thought we talked about this," you murmured, your tone quiet but firm.

Tengen wasn't one to back down so easily. His fingers found their way under your chin, tilting your head up so you were forced to meet his eyes. "I can't get enough of you," he said softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a way that might've once made you falter.

You let out a sigh, glancing briefly toward the living room where Giyuu sat on the couch with Shinobu. His soft smile stirred something in you that had nothing to do with the alcohol. Turning back to Tengen, you said bluntly, "I told you. I have no interest in fucking you anymore."

His hand dropped to his side, though his composure remained intact, as if rejection was a game he'd learned to play long ago. A smirk played at his lips as he leaned casually against the counter, the bottle now in his hand. "You're into Tomioka, aren't you?" he asked, his tone casual.

You rolled your eyes, your patience wearing thin. "What's it to you?"

He tilted his head, his grin widening as if he'd just uncovered a secret. "You could have anyone you want. Why haven't you gone for him all these years?"

Your scoff was sharp as you turned away from him, irritation prickling at your skin. "None of your fucking business," you spat. Before Tengen could press further, you raised your voice, addressing the group. "Y'all down for Charades?"

Mitsuri clapped her hands excitedly. "Let's do teams! Losers take shots!"

Cheers rang throughout the living room, washing away the lingering tension from the kitchen. You slipped away from the conversation, taking a seat on the couch beside Kyojuro, grateful for the shift in energy.

Shinobu moved with precision, pouring shots into an assortment of glasses lined up on the coffee table. "Rules are simple," she declared, her tone almost too sweet to be trusted. "One minute per turn. If your team can't guess, you all drink."

Drunk Charades was a beloved tradition in your friend group, despite you and Giyuu's shared distaste for overindulgence. Somehow, though, it was always fun with this group.

Teams formed quickly: you, Obanai, and Kyojuro on one side, while Giyuu, Mitsuri, and Tengen joined forces on the other. Shinobu naturally declared herself gamemaster, already scribbling prompts down.

Giyuu went first, his cheeks tinged pink as the group chanted "Birthday boy!" when he stood. Shinobu handed him a slip of paper with a sly smile.

His brows furrowed as he read the prompt, glancing at her in clear confusion. She only shrugged, eyes fixed on the timer on her phone. "One minute starts now."

He hesitated, then raised his arms in a wide circle above his head. "Circle? Sun! Clock!" Mitsuri guessed eagerly, practically bouncing off the couch.

Giyuu's frown deepened as he repeated the motion with more emphasis. "It's clearly a halo," Tengen said smugly, giving Mitsuri a teasing glance.

Shinobu shook her head. "You have thirty seconds," she announced smoothly.

With an exasperated sigh, Giyuu dropped his arms and began walking in place, taking slow, exaggerated steps. Realization hit you instantly, but you stayed quiet, secretly enjoying the show.

"Uh... giant?" Tengen tilted his head, increasingly lost.

"Oh! Oh!" Mitsuri gasped, clasping her hands together. "Astronaut!" Giyuu's eyes lit up, nodding vigorously before repeating the large circle motion with renewed desperation.

"Planet? Space?" Tengen guessed again, brows furrowed deeply. He opened his mouth to speak just as the timer buzzed loudly.

"Moon," Shinobu announced with far too much delight. Mitsuri groaned but took her shot without complaint, followed by the rest of her team.

Before anyone could reset, Kyojuro shot to his feet, practically snatching the slip of paper from Shinobu's hand. His eyes scanned the prompt before gleaming with excitement.

"Your minute starts now," she announced, setting the timer with a knowing smirk.

Without hesitation, Kyojuro mimed sweeping your floor, pausing only to wipe imaginary sweat from his brow.

"Sweeping? Maid?" Obanai guessed, one brow arching as he crossed his arms skeptically.

He shook his head fervently, shifting tactics. He twirled in place, pretending to wear a ballgown. The"dance" was so dramatic that even Giyuu let out a quiet chuckle.

"Dress? Princess?" Obanai tried again, clearly reaching.

"Thirty seconds," Shinobu reminded, resting her chin in her hands.

With an exasperated roll of his eyes, Kyojuro dropped to one knee, pretending to slip on a shoe.

"What the fuck," Obanai muttered, utterly baffled.

You couldn't hold back a laugh. "Oh shit—Cinderella!"

"Correct," Shinobu confirmed, stopping the timer. "That one was too easy."

"That was ridiculous," Obanai muttered, but even he couldn't hide his faint amusement.

The game spiraled as the drinks began to take their toll, and the room descended into a blur of laughter, slurred accusations, and a few questionable rule changes. At one point, Tengen insisted that charades could "absolutely allow sound effects," sparking a hilariously heated debate that ended with everyone taking a shot "just because."

Shinobu and Giyuu somehow remained composed, though her smirk suggested she enjoyed the chaos she'd created. Meanwhile, Mitsuri and Kyojuro had surrendered to helpless fits of giggles, practically falling over each other as they struggled through increasingly ridiculous prompts.

The final round ended with Mitsuri acting as a ballerina, her body balanced perfectly as she performed a skilled pirouette, earning a standing ovation. You leaned back, your head resting gently against the couch as the group's laughter echoed through the room. The warmth wrapped around you like a blanket, blending perfectly with the hum of music playing in the background.

Without thinking, your gaze drifted across the room, finding Giyuu. The soft flush on his cheeks from the alcohol gave him an uncharacteristically vulnerable look, but his eyes were steady, their usual calm tinged with something you couldn't quite place.

Slowly, you tore your gaze from Giyuu, shifting your attention to Tengen as he stood, dragging a very unsteady Kyojuro up with him. "I should get this dumbass home," he grunted, looping an arm securely around the blonde's torso to keep him upright.

Obanai gave a curt nod, helping Mitsuri into her coat. "Same here." Turning to Giyuu, he muttered, "Happy birthday."

"Bye, Y/n! Bye, Tomioka!" Mitsuri chirped, her words slurring slightly as she waved enthusiastically, her bright smile as infectious as ever.

Giyuu nodded in acknowledgment, rising to his feet to see them off. Meanwhile, Shinobu had already started tidying up, gathering the shotglasses from the coffee table as you picked up stray papers and empty cans.

"This was really fun, Y/n," she said with a soft smile as she washed the glasses in the sink.

You glanced over with a small grin of your own. "Thanks. I'm glad Giyuu even let me throw him a party."

Giyuu, reentering the room just as you spoke, rolled his eyes. "I heard that."

"Good," you shot back, sticking your tongue out playfully as you balled up a paper towel and tossed it into the trash.

Shinobu giggled at the exchange, slipping into her shoes near the door. "Goodnight, you two," she said warmly before turning to Giyuu. "And happy birthday, Tomioka."

"Thanks," he replied softly, walking her to the door and locking it behind her as she left.

With the apartment now quiet, the stillness hung in the air as Giyuu leaned awkwardly against the wall, his gaze fixed on the floor. It was obvious he was waiting for you to address the unspoken tension between you—whatever the fuck you'd meant when you brought up that deal from junior year.

"Hey, Giyuu," you sighed, bringing a hand up to rub your temple, the weight of your earlier words pressing heavily on your chest.

He straightened slightly at the sound of your voice, his gaze meeting yours as he looked at you.

"I'm sorry if I made things weird by asking you that earlier," you murmured, your voice quieter now. "You probably want to lose your virginity to someone special, and I totally get that. I—" You paused, realizing how much you were rambling. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

Your lips parted to apologize, but the words caught in your throat when you noticed Giyuu had moved. He was in front of you, his tall frame close enough that you had to tilt your head upwards to meet his eyes.

His voice was barely above a whisper as he said, "You are special."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly shook your head, feeling your cheeks heat. "Not like that, Giyuu. I mean—"

Before you could finish, he took a step closer. "I want it to be with you," he interrupted, his voice firm.

The moment the words left his mouth, his eyes widened, shocked by his own confession.

You stared at him, your jaw slack, the weight of his admission rendering you momentarily speechless. "You do?" you finally managed, your voice almost a whisper.

He nodded, and a soft smile curved your lips. Wordlessly, you reached up, your arms draping loosely around his shoulders. His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips and back again, darkened with need.

"Kiss me, Giyuu," you whispered, and that was all it took. His hands found your waist, gripping you firmly as he pulled you closer. Your lips met in a heated kiss, his eagerness surprising you.

It slightly uncoordinated at first—hesitant movements revealing his lack of experience and the slight haze of alcohol clouding your thoughts. But you quickly took the lead, your fingers tangling in his soft hair as you deepened the kiss, tilting your head to guide him.

As your bodies pressed together, you pushed him gently, steering him backward until his back hit his bedroom door with a soft thud.

You broke the kiss for just a moment, both of you breathing heavily. His arms encircled your waist, holding you close as his eyes searched yours, running his tongue over his lips.

You couldn't stand the distance for long. Your lips met his again, more urgent this time, pouring every unspoken feeling into the kiss. He smiled against your mouth, his lips moving against yours in a way that sent warmth rushing through your entire body.

One of his hands left your waist, fumbling for the door handle. When it finally clicked open, he pulled you both inside, his other hand never letting go of you.

Your heart hammered against your ribcage as the door shut behind you with a quiet click. You couldn't believe what was happening—what you were doing.

You were about to have sex with your lifelong best friend.

The very thought made your head spin. No matter how many times you'd secretly imagined it, you never thought the night would actually come.

Giyuu, meanwhile, was a tangle of emotions. The sensation of your lips against his sent waves of desire coursing through him, but there was also a deep sense of nostalgia.

Because this wasn't the first time your lips had met his.

You probably didn't remember, but Giyuu never forgot. After your senior prom, he'd walked you to your doorstep. You'd gone as friends, and the evening had been fun, uncomplicated—until he parked in front of your house. Before getting out, you'd paused, turned toward him, and thanked him for being such a good friend. Then, you'd leaned over the console and kissed him softly on his lips.

A giddy smile lit your face as you rushed out of his black honda civic, leaving him stunned in the aftermath. You'd never mentioned it again, and neither had he, though he replayed it countless times in his mind. Funny how you had been his first everything.

When he reluctantly pulled away, his eyes remained closed for a moment longer, as if clinging to the warmth of your lips. When he finally opened them, they were half-lidded, adjusting to the soft, dim glow of his room.

Slowly, your hands trailed down his chest, your touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. You gave him a gentle push, guiding him onto the bed. He sank into the mattress, his eyes glued to you as you swung a leg over to straddle his hips. His breathing grew uneven the moment you settled over his thighs, the feeling of you on top of him making his body tense.

"Giyuu," you murmured, your voice dripping with sultry warmth.

He swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing as he met your gaze.

"You really want this?" you asked, tilting your head as your fingers slid into his hair. You tugged the tie loose, letting the strands spill over your hands like silk.

His eyes fluttered shut briefly before reopening, his dark irises locking onto yours with a mix of nervousness and need. "Y/n, just—" He hesitated, searching for the right words. "Just.. keep kissing me. Please."

Without another word, you leaned down, capturing his lips with yours. As you shifted slightly, pressing against his growing erection, he gasped, and you took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, your tongue slipping past his parted lips.

Your fingers tenderly cradled his face, your touch both firm and reassuring. One of his hands gripped your waist, while the other buried itself in your hair, tugging just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

As your hips shifted again, a low, breathy groan escaped him, reverberating through your chest. The sound sent a pulse of heat straight to your core, spurring you on. You let your hands trail down his chest, slipping under his hoodie to explore the hard lines of muscle beneath.

"Take it off," you whispered, sitting up to look down at him. His eyes were dark, lips swollen from your kisses. He moved up slightly, gripping the fabric of his hoodie and pulling it over his head in one swift motion. The pale skin of his chest was exposed, glistening with a light sheen of sweat.

He quickly tossed it elsewhere and returned his hands to your waist, pulling you closer to him. A smile spread across your face at his obedience, admiring the way his chest rose and fell with each shaky breath, your fingers grazing lightly over his skin. Leaning down, you pressed a trail of featherlight kisses along his collarbone, your lips brushing against his skin with a deliberate softness.

His fingertips dug into your sides as he hissed softly, his hips instinctively bucking against you. The friction drew a needy whine from your throat, your breaths coming in quick, shallow bursts. Lifting your head, you murmured, "You can touch me, y'know."

His chest rose and fell rapidly. "I am touching you," he panted, voice strained.

You shook your head, guiding his hands higher up your body until they rested just below your chest. "You can touch me more, Giyuu."

His eyes darkened with hunger as he sat up, pulling you snugly onto his lap, his back pressing against the headboard. His breath ghosted over your skin as his hands wrapped around your breasts, hesitating for only a moment before giving them an experimental squeeze.

"Is this.. okay?" he breathed, thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples through the thin fabric of your dress.

A wave of heat rushed through you, your heart pounding as you nodded. "Yeah." Your hands slid up his arms, steadying yourself. "Want it off?"

He couldn't resist a chance to see more of your body. "Yes," he breathed back.

Giyuu pushed you against him with one hand while the other found the zipper of your dress. He tugged it downwards, revealing the smooth expanse of your bare back. Your fingers gripped the hem of the dress as you pulled it off your body, silently grateful for your decision not to wear a bra.

Giyuu's eyes widened as they raked over your nearly naked form. "Fuck," he muttered, not knowing where to look. You watched him as he studied your body, from the curves of your breasts to the smoothness of your stomach, down to your hips covered only by black lace panties.

He felt like cumming from the sight alone, how the hell would he be able to fuck you?

Your lips met again, bare chests pressed together as your mouths moved in a heated, breathless rhythm. Giyuu's hands slid from your waist to grab at your ass, kneading the soft flesh as you whimpered into the kiss.

Your arms wrapped around his torso, savoring the warmth of his skin as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss. Rolling your hips against his, you felt him shudder. He broke the kiss with a sharp inhale, breath coming in uneven pants.

You pressed soft kisses along his neck, drawing a quiet, needy sound from his throat. Your hand trailed down between you, pressing against his erection, igniting a fire within him that he had never felt before.

As you sucked on a spot on his collarbone, you moved your hand up and down his length, gauging the size of it. Pulling back slightly, you slid off his lap, positioning yourself between his legs. He watched you, chest rising and falling as he tried to steady his breathing. He already missed the warmth of your body pressed against his, but the anticipation of what was coming next had him captivated.

"Can I?" you asked softly, your fingers lingering over the zip of his jeans.

He quickly nodded, making you smirk at his eagerness. His bulge straining against the fabric was impossible to ignore, aching for release under your touch.

With impatient hands, you wasted no time in unzipping his jeans and tugging them down along with his boxers. Your breath caught as his cock was freed, standing proud against his abdomen. For a moment, all you could do was stare, your cheeks warming as you let out a shaky exhale. It was perfect.

You'd been with a lot of guys, but none of them even compared to Giyuu. His skin was soft, tip flushed a delicate pink that contrasted beautifully against the rest of him. The sight alone sent a pulse of heat through you, and you licked your lips, your gaze locked on him.

"Giyuu," you murmured, your hand wrapping firmly around him.

His whole body tensed, a shuddering gasp escaping as he bit down on his lip, trying and failing to muffle the sound.

"Have you ever gotten your dick sucked before?" you asked, your hand moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm along his length.

Giyuu shook his head, tilting it back as a shaky breath escaped him. He'd never been in this position before, especially not with you.

"Good," you smiled, leaning forward, letting a bead of saliva fall from your lips and onto his swollen tip. The sight alone had him whimpering, his hips twitching reflexively. The moisture slicked your hand, making every stroke smoother as you worked him over.

Then, you took him into your mouth, lips wrapping around his cock. Giyuu's reaction was immediate, a low, guttural groan tearing from his throat as his head fell back against the headboard. "Fuck—" he choked out, his hands gripping the sheets tightly.

You hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper, and his hips bucked involuntarily. The sudden thrust made you gag, and you pulled back, coughing slightly.

Giyuu's eyes shot open in panic. "Shit- I'm so sorry," he blurted out, I didn't m-"

"Shh," you hushed, placing a calming hand on his thigh. "It's okay," you reassured, your voice soft and steady. Your other hand resumed its slow, deliberate strokes, eyes locked on his. "You can hold me if that helps."

He hesitated for a moment before lifting a hand, fingers trembling slightly as they cupped your face. His thumb brushed a stray strand of hair from your eyes. You leaned into his palm briefly before lowering yourself again, your mouth returning to his dick.

You teased him, swirling your tongue around his sensitive head, savoring the soft, broken moans that spilled from his lips. His hand slid into your hair, not pushing, but simply holding on as if you were his lifeline.

"Y/n," he gasped, his voice strained and breathless. "I'm gonna—fuck—" His breaths came faster, his body trembling as he teetered on the edge. His cock twitched in your mouth, but just as he was about to lose control, you stopped, lifting your head up.

Giyuu let out a strangled groan, his chest heaving as he tried to steady his breathing. One hand dragged over his flushed face while the other remained fisted in the sheets.

"Sorry, Yuu," you cooed sweetly, crawling back onto his lap. Your hands cupped his flushed cheeks, guiding his gaze to yours. His wide, dazed eyes met your own, filled with unspoken desire. "I want us to cum together," you murmured, slowly pressing your lips to his.

He moaned into the kiss, the taste of himself mixing with your saliva as you tilted his head how you pleased. His hands roamed your back, tracing slow, deliberate paths along your skin. One hand slid lower, hooking into the waistband of your panties and tugging them down your legs.

You lifted slightly to let him pull them off entirely, tossing them aside. Together, you worked to rid him of the last of his clothing, his pants and underwear joining the growing pile on the floor. Now, with nothing between you, the heat of his body melded with yours.

You pressed your core against him, your wet folds sliding over his cock. A gasp escaped your lips as you began to roll your hips, his length gliding between your slickness, the head brushing your clit with each pass. Giyuu tilted his head back, nails digging into your hip as you continued your slow movements.

"D-don't we need a condom?" he stammered out, his voice shaky as his hands held you still.

"I'm on the pill," you assured, meeting Giyuu's gaze as he opened his eyes. "Plus, it feels better this way," you added.

Giyuu gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing at your words. "You trust me?" you asked softly, tilting your head as your lips brushed his.

"Of course," he replied without hesitation.

You hummed, your hand trailing down his body, fingers brushing over heated skin until they reached his straining cock. His breath hitched as you positioned yourself above him, guiding his tip to your slick entrance. "I'll go slow" you murmured, sinking down onto him.

Giyuu whimpered your name, his head falling back against the headboard, lips parted in a breathless moan. His grip on you tightened as his hips trembled beneath yours. You felt so good—too good—and he could barely think past the haze of lust clouding his mind.

"Fuck," you cursed, nails digging into his shoulders when he filled you completely, stretching you in a way that left you gasping. You dropped your head into the crook of his neck, overwhelmed by the sensation.

Slowly, you moved your hips up and down, Giyuu's soft moans spurring you on. There was the slight sting of feeling stretched at every movement, but the pain was almost welcomed.

His nails dug into the flesh of your ass, guiding you gently as you moved. When his tip grazed that perfect spot deep inside, a breathless moan escaped you, and your hips rolled instinctively, seeking more of that intoxicating pressure.

You sat up slightly, half-lidded eyes meeting his as you leaned in for a slow, lingering kiss. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as his hips bucked up to meet your rhythm. His tongue tangled with yours, the kiss growing deeper, more desperate.

A low hum of pleasure vibrated against his mouth as your arms snaked around his shoulders, pressing yourself against him as you continued to move back and forth on his lap.

Breaking from the kiss, Giyuu trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw and neck, his breath hot against your skin. "Don't stop.. feels... so good," he choked out between breaths.

You whimpered, tilting your head back to give him better access as your legs locked around his waist. The pleasure was electric, each deep thrust sending bursts of stars behind your closed eyelids.

Giyuu's lips trailed lower, wrapping around your nipple as he sucked gently, drawing a sharp cry from your lips. Instinctively, you began to bounce harder on him, fingers tangling in his dark hair. He groaned, eyebrows knitting together as his tongue flicked over your sensitive bud, his nails pressing deeper into your skin.

Your legs began to tremble, overwhelmed by the increasing pleasure. Giyuu panted, guiding your hips as he rolled his own upward, grinding into you with deep, deliberate strokes. A desperate moan escaped both of your lips, and you couldn't help but cling closer to him, your grip tightening in his hair.

"Fuck," he moaned quietly, his glossy, dark eyes looking up at you in admiration and need. "Can I move?"

"Please," you whined.

Giyuu lifted you effortlessly, turning you over and laying you gently onto the soft mattress. His hands caressed your thighs as he hovered above you, his heated gaze tracing every curve of your body.

Using one arm to prop himself up, his hair fell like a curtain around you. "This okay?" he asked, running his tip between your folds to find your entrance once more.

"More than," you breathed, relaxing under his warm sheets and soft breaths.

You kept your gaze locked with each other's as he pushed himself inside, drawing a soft gasp from your lips. His eyes were lidded, pupils blown and cheeks flushed as a shaky breath escaped him, savoring the way your body held him so perfectly. You were so wet that he slid in with ease, allowing him to pull out before sliding back in.

For the first time, Giyuu understood why people craved this kind of intimacy. He'd never felt anything this good in his life. His lips found yours in a languid kiss, moving in sync with his gentle thrusts. Warmth bloomed in his chest, though he couldn't tell if it was from the physical pleasure or because it was you beneath him.

Despite it being his first time, every slow, deliberate thrust found your sweet spot, making you arch into him, fingers digging into his back. He groaned into your mouth, his hips stuttering against yours.

You hiked your legs higher up his torso, feeling him deeper inside you. Pulling away just enough to catch his breath, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning over your skin as he whispered breathless praises.

"Oh, fuck- Giyuu-" you moaned, your back arching in pleasure as he continued to thrust into you with increasing speed. Your nails dug into his skin, scraping red trails down his back as a wet, squelching noise resonated from where your bodies were connected.

With one well-placed thrust, your release hit you like a wave, body trembling as he fucked you through your orgasm. Giyuu lifted his head to watch you in awe as you twitched and writhed beneath him.

You gasped, eyes rolling back in ecstasy as you felt his fingers against your clit, messily toying with the bundle of nerves. You panted and rolled your hips up against him, unable to hold back any longer as you squirted onto his hand and abdomen.

Giyuu's eyes shot open, feeling your slick warmth coating his skin, and before he knew it, he was cumming as well, his seed spurting out within your walls. He let out a whiny, cracked moan, his head dipping into your neck as he thrusted lazily inside you.

When he finished, he slowly pulled out, watching with wide pupils as his and your cum dripped from your quivering entrance. Panting, he laid down beside you, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you close against his warm chest. "Thank you," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead before burying his face in the top of your head.

"Don't thank me," you hummed softly, closing your eyes as you leaned closer to him. "I loved it."

You and Giyuu weren't dating—weren't in love. (At least, not openly.) Yet somehow, what had just happened between you was far from casual. No matter how many excuses you tried to make, friends don't make love to each other.

After a few moments of shared silence, catching your breath and grounding yourself, you sat up. A soft yawn escaped your lips as you stretched your arms over your head before slipping out of bed.

Reaching down, you grabbed your panties from the floor, pulling them back on as you made your way to Giyuu's dresser. The sound of shifting sheets caught your attention, and when you turned, you found him sitting up, brows drawn together in concern. "Aren't you staying?"

A warm smile spread across your lips as you pulled one of his t-shirts from the drawer and slipped it over your head. "Of course I am," you reassured him gently. "I'm just going to the bathroom."

True to your word, you returned a moment later to find him still in bed. He had pulled on his boxers but was otherwise the same—his eyes following your every move, lingering briefly on the faint red crescent marks now visible on your ass. His gaze flickered up to meet yours, his expression unreadable.

Climbing back into bed, you settled yourself on his lap, straddling him as his hands instinctively found your hips. "Giyuu," you started softly, your voice tinged with uncertainty, "is this.. a one-time thing?"

His lips pressed into a slight frown, and his brows furrowed as he considered your words. For a moment, his eyes flickered with an emotion you couldn't quite name—Worry? Hope? Fear? "Do you want it to be?" he asked cautiously, his voice low and hesitant.

You shook your head, your voice steady but shy as you answered, "No."

His surprise deepened, blue eyes searching yours for confirmation. Nervously, you lowered your gaze to his chest, tracing aimless patterns with your fingertips. "I've liked you for a while, Giyuu," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He froze beneath you. "What?"

"Years," you confessed, forcing yourself to look up and meet his wide-eyed stare. "I've always known you weren't just a friend to me, but I didn't want to risk ruining what we had." You paused, swallowing hard. "But what we just did... friends don't do that."

His lips parted as though to speak, but no words came out. Instead, his hands cupped your cheeks, tilting your face up to his as he leaned in. The kiss was tender, a quiet answer to your unspoken fears.

He shifted, rolling you beneath him, lips trailing a path from your mouth to your jawline, and down the curve of your neck, stopping just above the collar of his t-shirt.

When his gaze met yours again, the genuine smile lighting up his face made your heart flutter. His fingers laced with yours, while your other hand rested on his back, tracing the faint lines of the scratches you'd left there.

"I don't want this to be a one-time thing either," he said softly, his voice carrying a rare but unmistakable confidence. "I want to be yours... and for you to be mine."

A grin spread across your face at his words, and you tugged him down for another kiss, your heart hammering.

"Mhm," you hummed against his lips, "I'm yours, Giyuu."

━

Giyuu frowned deeply when he woke up to an empty bed, the lingering warmth on your side already faded.

His mind spiraled instantly. Did you regret last night? He gnawed on his lower lip, his chest tightening at the thought.

Turning onto his back, he exhaled slowly, staring at the ceiling. A grim scenario played out in his head—you'd be in the living room, already packing your things, deciding that sleeping together had been a mistake, that living together wasn't a good idea after all.

Running a hand down his face, he squeezed his eyes shut, willing the thought away. He was about to roll over and bury himself back under the sheets when a loud thud echoed from the kitchen.

He bolted upright, hastily pulling on a pair of sweatpants before heading toward the noise.

His eyebrows lifted in surprise as he found you crouched on the kitchen floor, a conflicted expression on your face while you picked up a fallen pancake griddle.

Your eyes widened when you noticed him standing in the doorway, heat rushing to your cheeks. "Oh... good morning, Giyuu," you mumbled shyly, glancing away.

He surveyed the scene, spotting the stool you must've used to reach the high shelf. Realization dawned on him. "What are you doing?" he asked, tilting his head.

You sighed, placing the griddle on the counter, still avoiding his gaze. "I wanted to make us breakfast..." you murmured, your tone a bit sheepish.

Giyuu exhaled a quiet laugh, the corners of his lips lifting into a fond smile. "You don't have to do that. We both know you can't cook." He teased, walking towards you.

"Screw you." You scoffed, crossing your arms with a frown. "I wanted to do something nice for you."

"You already have," he said softly, stepping closer. He gently took your wrist, turning you toward him. "How about I take you out? To thank you for everything."

Your eyes met his, getting lost in the warmth of his azure gaze before they flicked downward, landing on the faint bruises blooming on his neck—bruises you had left.

"Fine," you relented, leaning in just a bit. "But I'm paying."

Giyuu chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his embrace. "Like hell you are," he whispered, his lips brushing your temple. "You've done enough." He motioned around the room, where last night's decorations still hung throughout the apartment.

You smiled, your arms sliding around his bare waist as you rested your head against his chest. "I guess I can let you handle our first date."

He smirked down at you, pretty blue eyes twinkling with adoration. "Good," he murmured, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss.

Support me on Wattpad if you enjoyed it! I write fics there @/ilovehistor1a

#tomioka giyuu smut #giyuu smut #giyuu tomioka #kny smut #kny #demon slayer #giyuu x reader #tomioka x reader #demon slayer smut #kny giyuu #kimetsu no yaiba smut #tomioka giyuu

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kirschteinsbitch · 1 month ago

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i love reader. idc if she’s a bimbo or a crybaby or a little unhinged. good for her tbh. i love her in all shapes and forms. she is barbie. she is a doctor and a student and a barista and she can take five dicks at the same time. what a beautiful world we live in.

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kirschteinsbitch · 1 month ago

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Geto Suguru with different hair styles

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kirschteinsbitch · 2 months ago

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And if I Change My Mind it's Far Too Late

All you want to do is celebrate your best friends birthday. But you can't even find him. Why are things so weird tonight?

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ best friend!rin itoshi x f!reader

Genre: friends2lovers ++ porn !! Notes: I'm so late for rinnie's birthday I suck lmao !! enjoy tho Warnings: 18+, fem!reader, drug use!(weed), dubcon, slight shotgunning?, friends to lovers ♡, rin is angsty!, weed paranoia, love bites ♡, dacryphilia ♡, pet names (princess, baby, sweetheart) ♡, he licks ur messy panties, makeshift gag on u! (the panties), spit + drool, pussy eating ♡, fingering, slight hair pulling, overstimming ♡, calls ur pussy 'she' ♡, reader is a crybaby ♡, spanks ur pussy once !, oral fixation, praise ♡, use of 'good girl' ♡, slight degradation (slut), pussy job ♡, vaginal sex, mating press, dumbification ♡, creampie ♡. Words: 13.3k

—

He isn’t here.

I don’t know where he is, but he isn’t here.

Sae Itoshi’s words have been rattling around your brain for the last thirty minutes. It’s late, late enough that the night sky above you is nought but a black abyss. The city lights pollute the infinite void above you and scare the stars enough to dim their shine.

Not a single twinkle can be seen as your feet come together and you look up, almost craving an answer from the heaven’s. All you receive in turn is an obsidian silence.

There’s a pang of dread writhing through your body as you continue to roam the desolate streets, weaving through alleyways as you see stores and restaurants that have been abandoned for the evening as the proprietor’s rest and recuperate for the day to follow. When the streets are lit by a blue sky and blazing sun and showcase a slew of potential customers that can be invited in to shop, or sit and gorge themselves on a sickly sweet dessert or a hearty meal.

It's 2am.

Everyone should be safely indoors, whether sleeping soundly or curled up with a hot drink and a cosy book; or even the sound of fictitious characters chattering about nothing in particular as a blue light from a screen fills the room and helps the audience feel a little less alone.

That’s what you should be doing.

Letting a false reality consume you in the safety of your own home instead of walking through the city like this. You have a cake in your hand and a balloon wrapped around your wrist, you’ve never felt lonelier.

A group of men emerge from an alleyway and your heart freezes. You know that you shouldn’t be out at night, alone. But nothing happens. A mere glance in your direction before they continue on their way, and you emit a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding.

That stab of fear is the catalyst to convince you to go home, turning on your heel as you start walking in the direction of your apartment. Your strides become brisker as you think about being followed. Your mind intent on terrifying you despite nothing really happening.

It’s the terror of the dark, the unknown of that abyssal sky.

Is this the same view that Rin has, right now? You wonder if he’s cold, blanketed in the bitterness of the Autumn air with the same paranoia wracking through your body and bubbling beneath your skin as you traverse through the city.

He could be anywhere, after all.

He isn’t here.

I don’t know where he is, but he isn’t here.

It hurts as you reflect on all of the text messages you’d sent him leading up to your visit. Sae looked less than pleased to see you at such an unholy hour. In hindsight, you should have just stayed home. But you had the grandiose idea to surprise him and spend the night with him, despite not being invited.

It wouldn’t be a surprise if you were.

You assumed he was asleep when you didn’t receive a reply. But now it seems he’s actively ignoring you. You don’t think you’ve done anything wrong, though you suppose you’ll never know until he decides to get in touch.

Sae’s befuddled expression is cemented in your mind as you recall him drinking in the sight of you despite being irritated that you showed up unannounced. The way you stood with the cake and balloon must have surprised him, but you didn’t let it dissuade you.

“It’s a birthday tradition.”

“You’ve only known him for three months, how can you have a—”

“How do you think traditions get started? There’s always a first.”

He rolled his eyes at you, hard. But despite his desperate attempt of hiding it, there was an obvious smirk on his face as you spoke. It was childish, but charming, hearing you say something so innocent so brazenly. And still, his brief enchantment from your declaration couldn’t alter the facts.

He isn’t here.

I don’t know where he is, but he isn’t here.

It makes you worry that he’s grown tired of you. It isn’t like he wanted to be your friend, anyway. You forced that title upon him, and he just decided not to reject you.

That must count for something at least.

You think so, anyway.

He’s been in your life for a mere three months, and still, you can’t imagine your days without him in it anymore. You started working in the music section of a department store four months ago, and Rin was hired just a month later.

What he lacks in desire to communicate with anyone, he makes up for in his musical knowledge. You can’t fathom why else he was hired. A few of the other applicants might have been better suited, but you think your manager might have believed Rin to be the least trouble. He’s reserved and does his job well.

Immediately, you were instructed to show him the ropes despite only having a month’s extra experience at your disposal. Your boss had trained you, but seemed he was too lazy to offer the same to Rin. Why explain himself twice when he can just make you do it?

You don’t begrudge him, though. It gave you an excuse to talk to him, after all. He slowly but surely began to let you in, not that you gave him much choice. You’d always greet him excitedly as your workday began together, or you’d bring him his favourite coffee if you started a little later.

The possibility of a workplace crush wasn’t lost on you, but that’s all it was. It wasn’t obvious enough for him to comment on, or perhaps he simply didn’t care. After a few weeks of working with him, you thought he must be used to it. He was never short of female attention, despite never feeding into it.

He might find it easy to ignore when he receives it so often. You didn’t outwardly flirt with him. You were just a little nicer to him than your other colleagues. It became clear he wasn’t interested, though. You assumed he simply didn’t find you attractive or maybe he already had a girlfriend.

The latter, now, you know isn’t the case and now you… have a boyfriend… of your own. You’re happy to just be friends with him, you get along well. Even though he’s so blasé, you have fun with him at work.

You smirk when girls enter expecting to do nothing more than browse, and then they wind up listening to him explain facts about different bands they obviously aren’t interested in. He doesn’t even realise they’re fawning over him as they end up losing themselves to the allure of his dulcet tones and the glimmer of his dreamy teal eyes.

He’ll ring them up with a record and hand them a receipt, and you’ve lost count of how many times they give the receipt back with their phone numbers scribbled on. He always pockets them, carelessly, until given the opportunity to discard of them.

“You aren’t gonna call her?” you’d ask.

“I did my job, why would I need to call her?”

His monotone speech always leaves you wondering the truth.

Is he truly oblivious to it, or is he just pretending to be?

Your approach at work, however, is different. While he ignores flirting, you welcome it. Selling records isn’t a difficult task, people browsing often know what they want. And still, older men love talking down to you. It’s a daily occurrence when you’re on the clock, they get off on it. You aren’t sure how Rin feels about it, he seldom interferes.

You’ll flutter your lashes and flaunt your chest as a man whose wife doesn’t appreciate him anymore ogles you and tells you a thing or two, or ten, about his favourite bands that: “You’ve probably never heard of.”

The light in their eye is evident as their cocks stir in their pants while you pout and nod along to whatever they tell you. You throw a few compliments and act clueless as they prattle on and on. And, it’s funny how unique and profound they think they are for liking specific bands they’re certain you know nothing about.

And, sure, maybe the first dozen times you were a little out of your depth. But the more lecherous customers you got, the more you realised, they all listen to the same shit and you could probably recite the things they want to say to you right back at them.

You don’t, though, you remain compliant and interested and so wholly enthralled in them. Because that is how you make sales. Letting a sad old man think a hot young thing half their age is even a little interested in them. It’s easy, and it works. It’s easy to manipulate someone when you pretend they’re the coolest and most intriguing customer you’ve had all day.

Rin has spoilt a few sales for you since he started but it never dampens your mood. He doesn’t do it intentionally, of course, and it always leaves you grinning or snickering at the expense of the poor sap who thought you were putty in his hand.

You know a little about music, your taste has certainly broadened since you began working here. But Rin is almost entirely responsible for that. You know a little, but Rin knows a lot. And while you’re flirting up a storm, if you’re in close proximity to Rin, he’ll join in on the conversation. The older men tend to avoid him because somehow he happens to know the same, if not more, about the music they think they know everything about.

Somehow, Rin possesses more musical prowess than they could ever dream of, despite their age. He’s younger, but he’ll have more passion in him than they ever will.

You admire him, truly.

You like music, but Rin loves it.

When the store is empty, he’ll introduce you to music you’d never heard and smile when he finds something you know you’ll be listening to on your walk home. And in turn you’d play pop songs you assumed he’d hate but he’d actually compliment and enjoy. He isn’t pretentious, he doesn’t think one genre is better than another.

He just loves music.

You think about your shifts together as you continue to head home. Maybe he has more interest in those girls than he lets on. Maybe that’s where he is right now. There’s a chance he isn’t being pulled into the all-consuming dread of the night sky like you. He’s hooking up as a birthday treat. You find your thoughts spiralling, wondering what type of girls he’s into and what it would take to be the girl that Rin Itoshi finds worthy of a chance.

And soon enough, you jolt as you feel your phone buzz against your hip. It’s sitting snuggly in the pocket of your sweatpants. The string from the balloon begins to pull and twang as it bounces from your wrist, you skilfully transfer the cake you’re holding in one hand to the other as you fish it out of your pocket.

Before you can fully digest the push notification of a spam email on your home screen, your screensaver is plunged into darkness. Your eyes widen as you’re met with an accept and decline button from an incoming call. You aren’t sure how to feel when you see Rin Itoshi in bold letters at the top of the screen. Relief flows through you, but so does worry.

And still, you answer.

“Hey.” he says, plainly. He isn’t the type of person you’re used to having phone calls with. You know he’s more of a texter, though his responses are dry. It’s enough to make plans and communicate with him easily.

“Hey…” you say, trailing off. It feels ominous. A call at 2am out of the blue from a guy that’s been ignoring you while you’re walking through the city is bound to leave you a little anxious. The sooner you get home, the better. “… Happy birthday.” you say, even now, there’s a smile on your face. It’s small, but he hears it.

“Thanks.” he says, coolly. You can’t fathom why he’d call you if he doesn’t actually want to talk to you. “You already said it at midnight, though.”

“Yeah… I wanted to say it again. You didn’t reply.” you remind him, gently. A beat of silence goes by before he speaks again.

“I know,” he responds, quietly. “I’m at the skate park.”

“Oh.” you say, not having expected that response. But, thinking about it now, it seems far more obvious than him hooking up with a random girl. You clear your throat, standing outside of your apartment as you find a way to continue the conversation. “… are you having fun?”

“I guess.” he tells you, clearing his throat. “Sae said you came over.”

“Y-Yeah, sorry. I didn’t know you weren’t home. It was… dumb.”

“It’s fine,” he says calmly. You can’t help but wonder if he agrees that it’s dumb or not, though it’s a fruitless thought to have. You know Rin well enough to know he won’t elaborate. You begin to pace back and forth, your heart pounding as you wait for the inevitable end of the conversation. “Come over.”

You stop, again, unsure if you heard him right. The smile on your face begins to widen as you hear him say it in your mind again and again. He wants you there, he wants to spend the early hours of his birthday with you.

The skatepark isn’t far from where you live. A ten minute walk, fifteen at most. Though with the pep in your step as you begin to head over there, you wouldn’t be surprised if you make it there in five.

“Are you sure?” you ask, in spite of it being too late. He’s already extended the invite and you’ll be there in no time flat. You can’t help but feel strange about the entire situation, though. It’s almost eerie how things are panning out. First he was ignoring your texts and now he’s calling you for the first time in a long time and inviting you to hang out.

“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to see you.” he informs you. You feel your face begin to warm up, and you bite your lip in appreciation. “It’s dark, I’m by the half pipe.”

“Okay, I’ll see you in a few. Bye.”

He doesn’t say it back, simply ending the call as you venture towards your destination. The orange tint of the city soon becoming a distant memory as you nervously approach the outskirts of town.

—

The sound of wheels rolling against the wooden half pipe is louder than anything you’ve heard before as you approach. You don’t say anything, wondering if he’ll see you despite it being pitch black. You look up at the sky as you get closer, the light pollution has become a fast-fading memory as the stars dazzle a little brighter now.

His actions begin to slow as you approach, the wheels stopping completely as he finally sees you. He looks at you, carefully, shielding his eyes from the outer glow from the distant streetlights surrounding your body. One eye scrunches closed until you stand beside him. He towers above you, intimidating you with little effort. He tries to soften his expression, but his eyes struggle to adjust.

“Happy birthday… again.”

“Thanks, again.” he smiles a little. “You even got cake… Did you bring anything to eat it with?”

“No, because I thought you’d be at home. Why are you even—”

“It’s fine, I can take it home.” he tells you, taking the cake from your grip before you can react.

He sets it down on the ground, gesturing for you to follow him as he walks a little up the curve. You follow him, and he effortlessly raises you by your hips until you’re sitting comfortably on the flat surface. You’re thankful it’s so dark, you hope he’s unable to see how flustered you’ve become. You pout as you attempt to take shallow breaths and sweat begins to bead at your hairline.

You compose yourself as he hands the cake back to you, and he hoists himself up to sit by your side. He watches you as you shuffle your body, facing him head on with your legs crossed, and he immediately follows suit.

“A cake and a balloon, you went all out.” he says nonchalantly. You aren’t sure how to react until you see a slight smile play on his lips.

“I didn’t get you a gift.”

“That’s okay, this is more than you needed to do.” he explains. You move the cake out of your way before sliding closer to him, you untie the balloon from your own wrist and attach it to his. You can tell he wants to object, but you feel slight a slight note of pity emanating from him as you proceed.

He doesn’t want to hurt your feelings.

“How long do I have to keep this on for?” he wonders.

“The entire day, you’ve gotta sleep with this on.” you tease him, he laughs a little in turn before it falls deathly silent again. You shuck the little backpack you’ve been wearing off before opening the front compartment, rummaging through it to find what you’re searching for. “I didn’t bring candles… but maybe this can count for your gift.” you start.

He watches you, smirking happily as you retrieve a blunt and a lighter from your bag. You move the backpack aside and pull the cake closer. He continues to stare as you remove the plastic covering from the entirely chocolate cake, taking it from your hands as you hold the blunt between your lips. You light it, taking a hard drag before gently exhaling. His eyes close softly as you aim directly for his face, backing away slightly out of the line of fire. He opens them again, though, watching as you poke the blunt through the centre of the cake. The orange embers still burning as the wind blows.

“… Oh that’s gonna be gross if any ash gets on it.” you laugh. “It was a cute idea in my head.”

“Yeah, it’ll be disgusting.” he reiterates, quickly pulling the joint out from the middle before perching it between his lips. “This tastes like chocolate now.”

“That was my plan all along.” you grin. He takes a few more drags as you place the plastic packaging back over the cake, setting it aside once more. You reach your hand out as he hands it back to you, the balloon attached to him lagging along with him.

You can’t put a finger on why things seem to be so awkward between you. Maybe there’s a lingering feeling of hurt as you contemplate why he didn’t respond to your texts. It’s taking everything in you to not wish him a happy birthday for the fourth time.

Instead, you fuel the silence by smoking more and more. It’s not the strongest stuff you’ve ever had, but there’s a second one in your bag so you don’t feel guilty about smoking more than you probably should. He doesn’t say anything, and you’ve decided to keep your eyes firmly closed in a bid to ignore how weirdly uncomfortable things seem to be.

“Oh!” you exclaim, eyes shooting open quickly. It almost scares Rin, his body froze for a moment but you hadn’t realised in your excitement. “Did you make a wish?”

“What?” he raises an eyebrow, perplexed. It’s scary how similar he and his brother look. It’s the same expression Sae had offered you when you arrived at his apartment tonight.

“When you smoked… because it’s like your candle. So you should make a wish!” you explain, but you’re met with a continuous stare as he seems to be trying to unfurl the mess that is your train of thought. It makes perfect sense in your mind, but given his expression, you wonder if you just spoke another language. His incredulity fades and is soon replaced by an amused sneer.

“Are you high already?” he laughs.

“Oh… maybe. It has been a while.” you giggle.

Soon enough, you’re both laughing uncontrollably. Tears begin to stream down your face, and it only makes him laugh harder. And the sight of him so utterly entertained makes you laugh harder. It’s so rare to see him smile, let alone laugh. It’s hurting your stomach; you hold your sides as you allow yourself to fall backwards and carry on cackling.

“This— I didn’t think— It wasn’t supposed to be strong!” you struggle to explain, immediately bursting into laughter once again. He tries to keep composed but is soon laughing alongside you. He combs his fingers through his hair before using the sleeves of his hoodie to wipe away his own tears.

“It’s not. You’re just a lightweight.” he notes. He slowly moves, allowing his back to rest against the metal framing before throwing his hood up, tucking his knees into his chest. He’s still smiling, though, your silly outburst still at the forefront of his mind.

You sit upright again, your laughter finally beginning to subside as you look at him. His smile fades as yours does. And now, you’re both nervous. What went wrong? Why are things so weird? And then, you feel it brewing. Regardless of how badly you want to choke it down, you can’t seem to help yourself.

“Happy birthday.” you almost whisper, echoing his body language as you lean against the railing nearest to you. He scoffs lightly, but with a wide, cheesy grin on his face before looking at you again.

“You’ve said it four times now. I think you’re happier about my birthday than I am.”

“I think I am, too.” you giggle, biting your lip again as you look down at your knees. You quickly shake it away, remembering where you are and who you’re with. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know! I love being friends with you, Rin. And I’ve been excited to celebrate today with you. And we get to do it from pretty much the start!”

He goes quiet, scratching the back of his neck as he looks away uncomfortably. You gulp, nervously, almost retreating into your own body as you hug your legs tightly. He can barely bring himself to look at you, though you see his eyes occasionally flicker to the ever shortening blunt in your hand.

That’s when you decide to approach him, crawling towards him on your hands and knees like a demure, weak kitten desperate for approval. You hold it out for him, and he accepts it, slowly. You sit beside him, your legs touching as you look out to the distant city. It’s beautiful, from here. It looks so lively.

“… Why did you come here, tonight?” you wonder, hoping a gentle probe will provide some kind of insight to his mental state.

Your head slowly rotates as you look at him. Even in the darkness, his eyes shimmer brilliantly. Instead of anything of substance, though, his shoulders merely shrug. You decide not to pry any further. He isn’t the type you can force information out of, he’ll only give it willingly.

You know that well, even with only knowing him for three months. And because of that, your heart skips a beat as you hear him take a shallow breath, clearly wrestling with telling you something. Anything that may make things clearer to you.

“I— I suppose I had a feeling,” he pauses, taking another drag before letting his head thud gently backwards against the metal railing. “You were gonna try and do something like this.”

“… I didn’t know you would be so against it. I’m sorry.”

“No it’s fine,” he continues. “It doesn’t matter, we’re here now. Thank you for the balloon, and the cake. And this.” he says as he gestures to the blunt in his hand.

You feel a little at ease, now. Without saying a lot he’s said enough. Knowing the type of guy that Rin Itoshi is, you should have known he wouldn’t want anyone to make a fuss about his birthday. He’s reserved and low key, he’s an introvert, of course he wouldn’t want a fuss for his birthday.

And still, there’s a gnawing unease.

You’re a little forceful with your friendship, and you’re under no illusions that it’s likely annoying for him. But he’s never outright ignored you before. He holds no issue with telling you when you’re bothering him or he wants to be left alone, you’d never push his buttons on purpose.

But tonight…

There’s a tension between you that you can’t seem to place, and he seems intent on ignoring.

“… Rin?” you start. “Why did you ignore my texts?”

He shuffles uncomfortably, you even hear him clear his throat before taking another drag. And after he exhales, it’s followed by a disappointed sigh. Your anxiety spikes. What have you done wrong? It must be something to make him act like this. It’s so out of character to the Rin you know.

But maybe that’s the problem.

You barely know him.

Maybe this is the Rin you don’t know.

“… Do we have to discuss this now?”

—

You’ve almost forgotten where you are.

You’ve almost forgotten who you’re with as the calmness envelops you.

There’s a palpable tension between the two of you that you can’t seem to pinpoint or address. You’re high, stupidly so. And still logical enough to not poke the angsty bear that is Rin Itoshi. You’ve been lying on your back, admiring the starry sky as you contemplate why things are the way they are with your favourite co-worker.

He’s more than that, though.

You think he might be your best friend.

Is there a set amount of time that needs to be spent before addressing him as such? Three months doesn’t feel like a lot, but the time you’ve known him hasn’t just been shifts.

The days you’d meet him at work soon turned into times you’d spend commuting there with him. Instead of taking the bus home you’d walk with him. When you’d bring him coffee he’d start to return the favour by buying you your favourite snacks from the bakery.

Instead of walking near your apartment he’d walk you all of the way to the door. And eventually, he’d come in. After the first time he accidentally fell asleep on your couch, he’d spend the night purposefully. You’ve spent countless nights getting high together at your place, and soon enough you’d be doing the same at his apartment.

You didn’t know what a big deal it was that he introduced you to his older brother until he told you how strained their relationship had been in the past. But they live together, now, and they seem fine. Whether Sae likes you is still up for debate, but he’s joined in when you’re getting stoned together in the front room and arguing with his brother about which music you should play. Their tastes are similar, but things vary when getting down to the specifics.

Their parents taste has affected their own, Rin favouring his mother’s whilst Sae prefers his father’s.

Three months ago you could barely pry his name out of him. But now, you’re drowning in the overwhelming sky that looms over you thinking about all of the time you’ve spent together. You’ve known how much you enjoy being with him since that very first day, though you aren’t quite sure if he feels the same way.

“I’m hungry.” you say aloud rather than to yourself like you’d intended. You sit upright when you hear Rin begin to shuffle, too, realising he’d been reflecting in the obsidian mirror above him, too. He stares at you, expressionless. “Are you ma—” you want to ask him if he’s feeling some type of way about you, but you’re interrupted by a loud rumble from his stomach.

“Fuck.” he sighs.

“… Should we eat the cake?” you wonder. You can’t hide the devious grin on your face as you enjoy Rin’s cool exterior being foiled by the all too human need of hunger. You don’t even wait for him to answer, pulling the cake closer for the umpteenth time before removing the packaging. He grimaces as you break off a chunk with your thumb and forefinger, crumbs tumbling off as you lift it into your mouth. And you moan, obscenely, as the sugary sweetness encases your tongue. “Oh my God that’s good. Try some!” you encourage him.

“… fuck it.” he rolls his eyes, dragging himself closer to the cake before copying you. His eyes roll, again, this time into the back of his head as he begins to satiate his hunger.

You both continue to eat, silently, savouring the flavour of the cake you so expertly chose. It’s hard, being like this. Because you know that usually you’d be chattering away about other employees you work with even though Rin doesn’t care about gossip. He’ll listen to you intently while he eats and before you know it his plate is clean while you’re struggling to understand how he eats so fast.

But tonight, you’re silent.

All of your thoughts remain trapped in your mind as you eat. Bite after bite as it crumbles and messes beneath you and tarnishes the hollow wood beneath you.

And it’s funny, you’re the one who’s usually watching Rin as you talk and talk until you’ve run out of steam. But tonight, you can barely look at him. The same can’t be said for him, though. You see him looking at you a few times when you dare to offer a glance his way, but just as quickly, you avert your eyes.

He doesn’t, though.

He eats slowly, admiring you as you eat the cake you’d so kindly purchased for him. He can’t ignore how crestfallen you look, and yet, there’s still a radiance about you. The outer glow of the city lights barely halos around you like you are some kind of angel. The gentle yet biting breeze of the September sky billows through your hair that you’d messily tucked away into a low bun.

His intense turquoise eyes only leave you for fractions of a second when he needs to blink. He isn’t sure why he’s staring, but he’s putting it down to being stoned. It’s almost like an anchor, watching you attentively as you embrace the rich, sugary taste that you can’t seem to get enough of. While he feels like he’s moving in slow motion, his consumption slow and steady.

He chuckles lightly as he sees a small piece of cake fall from your fingers and you desperately try to bite at it. It’s too late, however, and you simply huff as you look at it beside you. He smirks, again, when he sees that you’ve accidentally smudged chocolate on the corner of your lip.

Your head jerks as he whistles quickly, like a dog owner summons the attention of their pet. He closes the distance between you as you leans in close to you, your heart rate heightening as you note how close his face is to yours. His throat bulges as he swallows the cake he’d been eating, and your eyes drop to his lips. You can’t even bring yourself to smile when you note a few gentle streaks of chocolate that have stained between the creases, you only feel your stomach sink when you look back into his eyes and realise he’s been watching you stare.

He leans in closer, and your eyes flutter shut. Though they soon open again when you fail to register the press of his lips on your own. He wipes the smudge from your face and shows the chocolate residue to you.

He’s paralysed you.

As much as you want to smile, to laugh awkwardly at what a fool you’ve made of yourself, you can’t. You’re frozen in place as you watch him. Nothing could have prepared you for the sight of him gently wetting his tongue with a deliberate curl of his tongue. His eyes bore into yours without faltering as his lips pucker around his thumb, making sure there isn’t a single trace of chocolate still there.

He grins, seeing the quick puff of breath you exhale in desperation. Your eyes flicker around, a feeble attempt of looking anywhere but at him. You squeak, quietly, as his sultry tone breaks the overwhelming silence between you.

“I’m not usually a chocolate fan,” he tells you before grabbing another chunk of cake. “But this is really good.”

“… M-Maybe it’s because you’re high?” you respond after wracking your mind for something to say in turn. You can’t wrap your head around what that was. You’ve never seen him like this before.

He’s wordlessly decided he’s blaming everything on being high.

Maybe you can, too.

“… Rin?” you speak, plucking up the courage from somewhere as you dare to whisper his name. He looks at you, briefly, before rolling his eyes. He knows. Of course he already knows what you’re about to ask him. He keeps avoiding the question that you’re yearning for an answer for.

“Don’t.” he tells you.

“But—”

“Just… don’t.” he commands, though his voice loses the assertiveness it had previously. He looks at you, and you swear you feel your heart twist in your chest as you see what you can only deduct as disappointment looming in his eyes. He looks at your backpack, again, and back at you. “… did you bring more weed?”

—

You lie side by side as you take turns passing the blunt between one another. He does all he can to focus on the sky, even when he feels your eyes on him. Your head turns, chin almost resting on your shoulder as you stare. You stare brazenly just as he did before.

And still, he won’t look at you.

He takes a long drag and doesn’t exhale, his lips slightly ajar as he allows a thin trail of smoke to dance from between his lips. And you stare on, longingly, as you wonder what’s going on inside that head of his.

You wish you could crawl inside of him and burrow your way into his brain. There’s nothing more you want right now than to nestle through brain matter until you reach the uncertain core at the centre of everything. The dismal part of his brain that’s so secretive and yet so inviting.

What does he want from you?

He turns his head as he passes the blunt to you, though he stutters backwards a little when he notices you were already looking at him. A soft ‘tch’ leaves him before you take it from him.

“Quit it.” he warns you, though there’s no malice or intent in it. He looks at you softly, and your own harsh gaze becomes gentler. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.” he tells you. Your breath hitches as he speaks, but you can’t bring yourself to respond.

Your eyes close as his fingers begin to tenderly caress your cheeks, and he tucks a stray hair behind your ear.

“You’re so… fragile.” he says. Your eyes shoot open, at that. He laughs a little, though it’s barely noticeable, and it doesn’t deter him from his careful touch. He means it, you can feel it in the way he’s being with you. He’s toying with you as if you were made of glass. And if that’s how he feels, you wonder why he’s doing this at all.

“Rin?”

“Don’t.”

“No… why did you invite me out here?” you ask, hoping to disarm him. His expression that had hardened so quickly is gone in a blink, an earnest smile takes over him instead. He withdraws his hand, and now, you’ve never felt colder.

“I wanted to see you, that’s all.” he explains.

And it’s enough, it should be enough. It’s an answer to your question and yet it gives you so little. You’re starved, though. What he gives you isn’t enough, it’s never enough. You’ve made do for so long with useless scraps that you forgot what it feels like to truly be satiated, you want to eat him alive. You’d devour him whole, tear meat from the bone with ravenous fangs if it meant you could finally be satisfied. But as soon as your lips part, you close them once more.

You no longer have the energy, your body can’t be sustained from pitiful scraps any longer.

“Things are weird.” he mumbles. You nod, agreeing, and he looks at you wistfully. “I don’t want them to be.”

“… I don’t know how to fix it, Rin.” you confess.

He clears his throat, a little surprised by your answer before he looks up at the sky again. You follow suit, wondering what he could be thinking about this time.

“Why didn’t you get me a gift?” he cuts through the sharp, agonising quiet with something you really hadn’t expected him to say. Almost in unison, you’re looking at one another yet again. Your eyes narrow, though his face remains stoic. You aren’t sure why, really. You love giving gifts, but perhaps a small part of you thought he wouldn’t appreciate one from you.

And maybe a smaller part of you thought he might not deserve one.

“I thought you didn’t care?”

“I don’t,” he nods, agreeing with the sentiment. “But you bought a cake, and a balloon. I was wondering why a gift is where you draw the line.”

“It wasn’t about drawing the line.” you tell him, rolling onto your side so you can face him directly. He doesn’t do the same, but he gingerly pulls the joint from your fingers before smoking a little more. “I didn’t know what to get you.” you lie, and he knows it too. He doesn’t shy away from making it clear, either, scoffing at your pitiful excuse.

“I don’t believe that for a second.” he says through an exhale, smoke escaping his lungs and entering the atmosphere as he talks. “You make notes of things you see while you’re shopping you think your other friends might like.”

“You’re not like my other friends.”

“… I guess.”

“You didn’t even want to see me tonight and you only invited me here because you felt bad, right? If I’d gotten you a gift, you would have hated it. I don’t know why… but I know you wouldn’t have been happy no matter what I bought for you.”

He pauses, a chilled breath revealing the true cruelty of the autumnal air shudders by his teeth. You want to shiver, and yet you’re forcing yourself not to. Regardless of how awkward the night has been, you don’t want it to end. You don’t want to give him a reason to send you home so you can part ways, the growing issue between you never becoming resolved.

“You’re probably right,” he smirks, “But I think you would have gotten me something nice. You’re thoughtful.”

And with that, the urgent need to shiver through the cold has subsided. His words seemingly enough to warm you. It’s sweet, and simple, and it makes you realise how easily pleased you are. You worry that there might be something wrong with you. He says one nice thing about you and you’re satisfied.

It’s embarrassing.

“What would you have wanted?” you ask, meekly.

“… I don’t know.” he shrugs. And, really, you shouldn’t have expected anything less than this. He’s aloof, an enigma you’re too simple to explore. You can’t delve into his mind because you don’t understand how someone can come to be so standoffish and reserved. “Maybe something to drink.” he hints.

“There’s flavoured water in my bag.” you smile.

“What flavour?”

“Strawberry,”

“Meh…” he thinks, debating whether he wants to drink it or not. “Ugh… I’ve got cotton mouth. Why did you buy flavoured?”

“Because I like it! And, again, I assumed we’d be doing this at your place.” you smile, teeth chattering unintentionally as you’re reminded what season you’re in. He looks over his shoulder as he hears you, watching as you try to hide how uncomfortable you are. He grabs the water bottle from your bag before sitting upright properly.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

“N-No, I’m fine. It’s okay.” you nod. He shakes his head, quickly untying the balloon from his wrist before attaching it to your backpack so that he can pull his hoodie off. Your breathing staggers as his t-shirt rides up along with it, exposing his toned musculature before he hands it to you. “You didn’t have to give me this…” you tell him quietly, hugging it against your body as you enjoy the warmth of his own body heat.

He doesn’t say anything, he just waits patiently for you to put it on. His face scrunches at the taste of the water, but continues to drink it eagerly. There’s no better option, right now, and the dryness of his mouth is almost enough to make him choke.

“Thanks.” you smile after bundling yourself up in his hoodie. He nods curtly, handing the water bottle to you. You open your mouth repeatedly as you try and determine if your mouth is equally as dry before you begin to chug gratefully.

“All I wanted for my birthday this year was to lose my virginity.” he says, bluntly. He starts laughing as you choke on your drink, sputtering wildly and using the sleeve of his hoodie to dab up the droplets on your chin. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘what?’ You’re a virgin? No you’re not, you’re fucking lying!” you reply. He laughs again as you sit fully upright and face him so that you can question him more.

“Why am I a liar?”

“B-Because! Oh my God, you have girls hitting on you at work every single day. And you don’t, I don’t know, you don’t have virgin energy.”

“Girls don’t hit on me.”

“Ohhhh I hate you, you suck. They do, are you fucking with me right now? They do!” you bark back angrily. An amused smirk remains fixated on his face as he can see your temper begin to boil over.

“Even if they did hit on me, that doesn’t mean I’m gonna have sex with them.”

“I actually hate you.” you bemoan, “This is fucked up because I can’t prove it either way. But you’re lying, I know you are!”

“Whatever helps you through this, sweetheart.” he grins, snatching the water bottle back from you. He looks at you from the corner of his eye, at how you’ve seized up from a simple little pet name. But you aren’t frozen for long, thawing out quickly from your simmering temper.

Whether this is a harmless little prank to tease you is now irrelevant, because all you can think about is what a head fuck he is. And, as much as you both might prefer, you can’t blame it on weed. Maybe if this animosity had started after you’d been smoking together, but he was ignoring you before.

And that’s when you’re brought back to it.

“Why were you ignoring my fucking texts, Rin?” you ask, harshly. And now, it’s enough for him to choke on the drink. Maybe he’s never heard you be so assertive, before. Maybe it’s because he thought you were having a harmless joke around. Nothing tonight has been harmless, though. It’s all been weird, uncomfortable, palpable.

Whether intentional or not, he’s forcing you to suffer and refusing to tell you why.

“If you don’t wanna be my friend anymore, fine, whatever. But this is fucked up, so just tell me.” you explain, voice trembling as you do. You aren’t cold, anymore, but your throat feels like it’s about to close.

“… You’re so fucking stupid.” he mutters. Twisting the lid on and off your bottle repeatedly before he shoves it aggressively back in your bag. “Do you really not get it?”

“Don’t call me that, asshole.” you snipe back.

“I don’t want to be your fucking friend.” he responds. Your stomach drops and you fight to hold back tears, failing miserably as they silently roll down your cheeks. He watches on, his aggressive expression faltering as he watches you try and wipe them away quickly.

“That’s… shitty.” you sniffle. “That’s all you had to say. You didn’t have to invite me out here and embarrass me.”

“You don’t get it.” he interjects. He shuffles closer to you, and you scramble to evade him. You want to grab your bag and run from here. From him. But as you try and hit him, push him away, he grabs your wrists and stares at you with a desperation you’ve never encountered with him before. “You’re— you’ve got a boyfriend.”

“… Huh? You ignored my texts because I have a boyfriend? What are you—”

“Listen to what I’m saying, you’re not stupid but you’re acting it because you’re riled up.” he tells you, calmly. You struggle in his hold once more, but his grip remains firm. “I didn’t want… you… fussing about my birthday. Because you have a boyfriend.”

You’re stumped. As much as you want to yell and argue what he’s saying, you can’t. He isn’t making sense and you do feel stupid, now. He’s saying words that don’t mean anything, words that are irrelevant to what you’re discussing to deflect from what you’re asking.

Has he always been like this?

You don’t know, really. You don’t know if you’ve been carrying this so-called friendship on your back and filling in the blank awkward silences with chatter about nothing. But you thought you were more than this. You thought he was smarter than this. He’s intellectual and carries himself confidently, and yet, in this moment, you can’t help but think he’s a coward.

“You sound like a fucking idiot right now.” you scowl. “Ignoring me because I wanted to celebrate your birthday because I have a boyfriend? What kind of stupid reason is that?”

His lips tighten to a straight line and porcelain skin turns pink, you can see it even encased in the darkness of the early morning sky. You can see his eyes shake as he looks at you. He wants to say something but he’s fighting against it. You can tell, he’s holding back words he wants to say as he searches for something less confrontational to tell you.

But he can’t.

For once in his life, he can’t.

“Why are you with him?” he asks, bluntly. You’re taken aback, so much so that you laugh. It’s short, and makes his anger burn further in him as he watches your reaction. “Do you even love him? Scratch that, do you even like him?”

“Fuck you, Rin. That’s none of your business!”

“You don’t, do you?” he laughs, only now it’s at your expense. It feels patronising and mean. But he can’t help himself. You hadn’t hesitated to laugh at him, only in your disbelief. But he’s being cruel. He’s doing it on purpose. “You can’t even lie to yourself. Why are you with him?”

“I hate you. I fucking hate you, Rin.” you tell him. You mean it, too. You’re trembling and you remember you’re wrapped up in his hoodie. It feels suffocating to have the warmth of cotton that had been keeping him comfortable now clinging to your skin. “Why are you being like this?”

You say flames lick behind his irises before they’re extinguished, his furious glare being doused by a glossy sheen as tears silently fall from your eyes and roll down your now sodden cheeks.

He pulls you nearer to him by the material of his hoodie, his large hand encasing your face as he tries to force you to look at him. You turn your head roughly, defiant in your pursuit of making a stand.

“Hey.” he says, it’s abrasive and stabs through you. Your soaking eyes stare into his, and he gently wipes your ever falling tears with a gentle rub of his thumbs. He smiles, a little, and you feel dizzy. Your brain is fried as his mood changes once again. “You really don’t get it?”

You blink, shaking your head.

Deep down, you know. You have a niggling feeling that you know why he’s being like this, but you worry you’re overthinking things. There must be something simpler, something likelier than what you’re delusionally imagining.

“H-He dumped me.” you say almost breathlessly. His eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t dare interrupt. He’s engaged, and honestly, you don’t think he’s been more eager to listen to anything you’ve said before. “He said…”

“Go on.”

“… ‘You forget who your boyfriend is. You spend more time with Rin than you do with me.’ I— he’s right. I have more fun with you at work than I ever did on dates with him.”

“Why were you with him?” he asks, his face moving closer to your own.

“Because… the guy I like… liked… doesn’t feel the same way.”

“You don’t like him anymore?” he wonders, looking between your eyes and your lips. You shake your head gently, and you see a small slither of saliva slip down his throat. “Why not?”

“I—” you breathe softly, acutely aware of how close he is to you, now. You aren’t imagining things, are you? Is this really happening? He’s been a mess tonight, you can’t trust him and you certainly can’t trust your own judgement. He’s just teasing you.

He’s just teasing you.

“Why are you asking me this, Rin?” you whisper.

“I think you know why.”

“Tell me, please.”

He grunts, there’s a little force behind his hand as he cups the side of your face. You yelp as he closes the distance between you both, slotting his lips against your own as he pours his feelings into your first kiss. You don’t even register as he moves you so that your back is flat against hollow wood, almost towering above you as he cages you below.

You lose yourself to the dizzying feeling of finally experiencing his lips on yours for the very first time. Something you’ve wanted, maybe, since the moment you set eyes on him.

But you never thought it would happen. Not ever, and definitely not like this. He pulls away for a moment, admiring how drunk you look from one little kiss before he realises he can’t bear to part from you. You mewl into another intoxicating kiss and he moans into your mouth.

“I’ve been crazy about you for ages,” he mumbles. You bite your lip as his begin to travel along your cheek and kiss across your jawline. And you moan, unashamedly as he decorates your neck in sloppy open mouthed kisses and sucks his signature into delicate skin. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry I made you cry. I shouldn’t have ignored you…” he murmurs against your pulse point.

“I-It’s okay,” you whimper. “I get it, now!”

“That prick didn’t deserve you. You’re too good for him, knew that the minute he came by the store.” he tells you. He grabs your face roughly and kisses you messily. He stops, and it’s abrupt, as he looks into your eyes yet again. “Couldn’t fucking stand it whenever he came in. And whenever you talked about him. Were you trying to make me jealous?”

You nod, giggling before he kisses you again. “I guess— it worked?”

“Yeah, princess. It worked.” he grins before kissing you again, lips reattaching to your neck as he mindlessly ruts his hips against your clothed core. “Didn’t wanna risk letting you make a big deal about my birthday ‘cause I knew I’d fall too hard for you, fuck, you don’t know what you do to me.”

“W-Wait…” you stutter through a moan. “Were you lying about… the only thing you want for your birthday?”

He smirks, looking around before he looks back at you. His smile is devilish, you cock your head as you look up at him.

“Do you want to find out?”

You look around just as he did, knowing nothing could deter you from this before looking up at him again. And, without hesitating, you nod again. He bares his teeth with a smile, the happiest you’ve ever seen him, before he stands on his knees. You don’t move, watching him in awe as deft fingers curl into the waistline of your joggers, pulling them down along with your racy black panties.

He separates them from the grey material of your sweats, studying them intently. You see thoughts swirling behind his eyes but can’t decipher them. Though your face soon flushes with an unbearable warmth as you witness him studying the gusset of the black lace, his thumb gently prodding the pooling slickness that had gathered there.

“Cute.” he grins.

You squeak and cover your face as his tongue leaves his mouth, slowly licking up the seat of your panties to taste you. He moans, unabashedly as he savours your essence, he hovers over you again and moves your hands away. You’re panting, eyes stuttering as you struggle to decide where you should be looking. He doesn’t let you look anywhere but at him.

“Taste.” he commands, balling up the material before carefully slotting it betwixt your swollen lips. You’re drooling, instantly, not having expected this from him. And already, you’ve decided.

He isn’t a fucking virgin.

“Your slutty little panties taste sweet. I’m sure the real thing is even better.” he muses, sinking his head lower before, pushing up your hoodie and vest to expose your midriff.

He kisses gently down your sternum before slowly, purposefully, oh so delicately kissing your mons. Teal irises stringently stare as he does. Your body is pliant, and you allow him without question to hike your leg over his shoulder. A harsh spit of saliva hits your clit, and you can’t help but moan. Whether it was the feeling, the sound, or watching him do it, you aren’t sure. But he grins, cockily, clearly pleased with himself before he tormentingly strokes the pads of his index and middle finger across your swollen clit.

“Mmpf,” you keen, the black lace still filling your orifice and preventing you from speaking. You’ve never experienced this, before. You’re used to being used as a toy to please men you’re with. Your pleasure always coming second to their own. You can’t remember the last time you’d gotten head. And those guys had experience.

Maybe he is a virgin.

Maybe he thinks he needs to be generous because that’s what he’s been told…

“C’mere,” he mutters before reaching upwards, yanking the saliva drenched panties from between your lips. He moans as you look at him with a heavy-lidded stare and spit slicken lips. Strings of drool trickling from your lips and some still attached to your panties has his cock stirring further. He holds his eyes closed, for a beat longer than necessary, before looking at you again. “I want to hear how good you feel.”

And with that, your eyes are rolling back into your head as he finally latches his lips to your sensitive clit. He suckles and licks across it like he was put on this earth with the sole purpose of making you cum. He worships your throbbing bead like his tongue was designed with your pleasure in mind.

You card your fingers through his dark hair, yanking lightly when he makes you feel just right. He moans, boisterously, humming into your folds as he makes a point of savouring your delicate flesh. And at this point, you don’t know which of you is enjoying this more.

He moves a little, giving himself room to make a show of licking his fingers before slowly sliding them into your tight heat. Your voice echoes as he curls them, his long, dextrous fingers delving to depths you hadn’t realised existed. His arm wraps tightly around your thigh as you struggle to adapt to such blinding pleasure, desperate to wriggle away from him but his hold remains firm.

“Just relax, baby,” he hums before diving into your flesh once more. His tongue darts quickly, keeping pointed as he swipes it across your pulsing bead. You can’t help but squirm, entirely at the mercy of his mouth and fingers and completely unwilling to let you go. “Mmmpf, you’re so sweet, princess. Could do this all day.”

“F—uuuuuck, it’s too much. I c-can’t—”

“Yeah you can, just want you to feel good. So let go.”

You’re breathless as he maintains focus on your folds. You can’t help but whimper and whine as he slurps and suctions around your overstimulated clit, his fingers working in tandem to help aid in achieving your eventual demise.

It’s better than anything you’ve ever felt from a man before. It might even be better than anything you’ve ever done to yourself.

And still, you’re resisting.

Maybe in your weed addled mind you can’t help but swirl in a vortex of paranoia and confusion. It’s odd, the entire night spent with Rin Itoshi has been uncomfortable and strange and you can’t quite believe how things have ended up.

Your so-called best friend has his face buried between your legs, inflicting a heightened pleasure you’ve never felt before after such an intense exchange of words. You’re resisting it, resisting him, because it doesn’t feel real.

Did you get too high?

“Baby,” he muses. “Are you nervous?”

“N-No,” you respond, your entire body jolting and shivering as the freezing air tangles with your risen tension and building arousal. You won’t be able to hang on for much longer, of that, you’re sure. Not with the way his fingers are sunken and toying with your g-spot. Whether you want to or not, you’re soon to unfurl.

“Cum for me, princess, please.” he begs, “I’ve wait so long to be with you, like this. Don’t let me down, now.”

“Oh, f-fuck, Rin.” you gasp, legs spasming as your back arches as you’re forced into an explosive orgasm. Your moaning and whining resounds throughout the skatepark, and any passersby will undoubtedly hear you as you hit your untimely undoing.

He doesn’t let up, though, continuing to pump his fingers and lick your pulsing clit. You’re too delirious to notice the cocky smile on his face as he works you through the best orgasm you’ve ever had in your entire fucking life.

You’re breathless, resting on your elbows as you look down at him. And you all but cry as he uses his thumbs to spread your pussy lips apart, utterly enamoured by the way it pulsates and clenches around nothing after being worked how he knows you’ve always deserved.

“T-That wasn’t— your first time… w-was it?” you ask gingerly, still panting as tears continuously roll down your cheeks.

He lets go, then, crawling up your body to kiss your face and lick up the tears you couldn’t help but shed. He squeezes your cheeks until your lips pucker, sloppily kissing you with an adventurous tongue. It doesn’t last, though, looking over his shoulder and down your body to guide his hand to your feminine warmth once more. You yelp as you feel a light spank, before he rubs you again.

You shake your head, but he nods in response.

“Rin, please…” you breathe.

“Has anyone ever told you how fucking pretty your perfect little pussy is? I think she wants to cum again, you were so noisy the first time, princess. You can handle one more f’me.”

Your eyes cross as his fingers slot inside of your drooling cunt yet again, the heel of his palm massaging your spent clit again as he sets a brutal pace with his fingers.

“So fucking cute, baby. Such a pretty cry-baby f’me, so gorgeous. Does it feel that good?” he asks.

“Y-Yes, God, yes, Rin. S’good!” you tell him.

He kisses you, again, silencing your whining tone and swallowing your precious mewling that he can’t seem to suffocate. Even with his lips on yours, you can’t help but break away. He moans with you, faux sympathy or genuine pleasure, you can’t tell. But the way your precious little voice rushes straight to his cock can’t be denied. It’s taking everything he has to not hump himself against you, knowing he won’t last a single second if he attempts to pleasure himself as well as you.

You’re barely conscious as he continues, your toes curl as you feel him target the spongey spot inside you which lead to your downfall mere moments ago. Your eyes continue to water, tears spilling into your hairline as you can’t seem to process and navigate the absolute bliss he’s forcing upon you. But you accept it, gratefully. The thought of disappointing him on his birthday has left you a pliable little doll for him to do as he pleases.

He’s had you on such a pedestal and you hadn’t even known it. You’ve unintentionally flaunted your relationship in front of him that you didn’t even know he cared about, leaving him in turmoil and dread as he thought about what things he was doing to you when it should have been him instead.

But he wasn’t good enough. He couldn’t win you over because your heart lay elsewhere. Rin Itoshi knew more so than you that a little prick like your ex would never be good enough for you. He couldn’t satisfy, he couldn’t win your heart.

Rin can do both.

Rin has done both.

“How many guys have made you cry from just their fingers?” he asks, whispering in your ear. Subdued whispers of his gravelly tone rush straight to your cunt, an outpour of slick slowly leaking out of your overstimulated slot and coating his greedy fingers. “Messy little pussy, so pretty, princess. If you’re crying from my fingers, imagine how my cock will feel.”

The thought alone has you creaming for him. Even he looks surprised as your body begins to jolt as the pressure begins to abate from what had been your building peak. He watches in awe as you cum gloriously and gift his fingers your sweet, pearlescent sheen. His fingering wanes and slows as you come down, though your body is still wracked with aftershocks.

And he withdraws them, almost bringing them to his own mouth before deciding against it. He spreads your mouth open carefully before massaging your essence onto your own tongue.

“Suck, baby. Good girls clean up their mess,” he nods.

You grab his hand with both of yours to keep it steady, bobbing your head along with length of his digits as you display what you’re capable of with your mouth. You drool copiously, strings dangling from your chin as you keep your eyes firmly fixated on his. The act of demeaning yourself for his enjoyment has your pussy clenching, oozing more slick as you revel in his pleasure.

“You’re such a little slut,” he smiles, and you can’t help but giggle around his fingers.

He offers a slight laugh, though it’s breathy and barely there. You amuse him, but you’ve always amused him. He’s in disbelief that this is happening, just as you are. But being high is giving him a confidence he’d never dream of if he were sober. You can’t quite believe you’re finally doing this with him. But he can’t believe you even contemplated this with him.

He's spent nights alone fantasising about being intimate with you like this. Making you cum from his tongue and helping you ride his cock as you both cum in unison and feel a blinding love and pleasure neither of you have ever felt as you explore each other’s bodies. Nights when that alone would suffice and he’d have to clean up the mess he’d made of himself with an old t-shirt and spare sock.

And that would be followed by mornings you’d greet him with a happy go lucky smile, not a single solitary idea in your head of the depravity he feels when he thinks about you laid bare for him. You’d been utterly clueless about how desperately he longed to feel you wrapped around him, screaming his name while he made you feel what he was certain no other man could.

How could he want to see you for his birthday, spoiling him rotten and behaving like a girlfriend should when you had already dedicated yourself to another man? He couldn’t bear it. He wanted to put his foot down, he was desperate to set a boundary and maybe cut you out of his life for good because his feelings were getting more intense than he thought he could feasibly control.

But, alas, he’s never been able to resist you.

He read your text messages over and over and over again until he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He had to talk to you. He had to hear your voice. If he’d known being aloof with you would have gotten you to this point. Suckling on his fingers like a girl trying to impress and so desperate to please her first ever crush, he would have done it sooner.

He allows you a few more seconds to taste yourself, to suck his digits like a cock you’ve longed to worship since the dawn of time, before he withdraws them. You pout, but watch as he stands on his knees and pulls down his pants enough to free his aching length. His thick member springing from their confines and slapping against his t-shirt, a messy stain soon to be born there and visible for all to see.

He doesn’t care, though.

He moans as the relief from the release surges through him and glances down at you triumphantly. You can’t even look at him, your eyes glued to his thick length as it flexes and dribbles desperately. He’s cut, and he’s beautiful. You wouldn’t hesitate to choke on his length if he forced it down your throat.

“Do you want it?” he asks, grabbing and squeezing at the base before he tugs himself slowly. “Spread your pretty legs open f’me.”

You nod, doing as you’re told as you bare your cunt on full display. He doesn’t enter you, though, sandwiching his cock between your sticky folds.

It’s euphoric, for him, feeling your lewd folds kiss him repeatedly as he rocks his hips slowly. His perfect, pretty tip nudging against your swollen pearl again and again. He knows it’s enough to get him off, so he makes sure to go slow. Though, your hopeless expression and pathetic mewling could mutually be the end of him.

“P-Put it in.” you tell him, only to be met with a string of disappointed tuts.

“Is it my birthday or yours?” he asks rhetorically, “You didn’t even ask nicely. Knew you were a little brat, but thought you’d have some manners when you wanna make my birthday so special.”

“Fuck, Rinnie, ‘m sorry,” you apologise, biting your lips as he looks down at you with a bemused glare. “J-Just, unf. You’re so big. W-Wanna feel you inside. Just wanna make you feel good.” you tell him, a feeble attempt of explaining yourself. Your wanton desire is too much to handle, you think you might pass out if you don’t feel him inside of you.

He bends down, kissing your cheek carefully before he guides his cock to your clenching entrance.

You yelp as he dips in the tip before taking it out just as quickly. He repeats it, again and again. And then slides in deeper. He withdraws, and then deeper. He repeats, until he’s deeper. And without warning, he stabs his length into you, entirely, filling your throat and lungs with nothing but him.

He chuckles as you become accommodated to his thickness, lip wobbling as you realise you’ve truly never felt something so overpowering inside of you before. Other lovers, toys, nothing has ever compared to him.

“I love you,” you whimper pathetically before your eyes shoot open in realisation. You screw your eyes shut, hoping he hadn’t heard you. But of course, your voice is crystalline, and he hangs on each and every word you say.

“I just put it in, princess, is it making you a little dumb already? Fuck, you’re so fucking cute.” he kisses you fervently, his readiness to tease you eclipsed by the feeling, the realisation, that you’re wrapped around him just as he’d dreamed about. “You’re so tight, fuck, feels like you’re gonna break me.”

“Fuck, Rin…”

“I love you,” he blushes, pushing your legs into a mating press as he begins to fuck down and hard into you. You’re can barely form a coherent word, let alone a thought. But, you don’t care. You’re happy to turn your brain off after hearing that. He loves you, he really loves you.

Your tongues tangle as he pounds into you, so rough and deep you fear you might suffocate. But you’re brought to life, revitalised again and again and again as he whispers pathetically against your lips.

“I love you, l love you, IloveyouIloveyou—” every fibre of his being wills him to stop, telling him that he’s embarrassing himself. But how can that be true when each utterance of his adoration has your pliant body and addled mind squeezing his cock for all it’s worth?

Your cute little cunt so enamoured by three simple words that she’s trying to milk his cock of everything. It’s yours, it’s what you deserve, it’s what you’ve earnt for unknowingly being his girl for so many months. Each battering of his cock in your unprotected cunt leaves a bruising ache on the back of your weary legs.

He hopes he isn’t hurting you, you’re barely cognizant enough to verbalise a single syllable. And yet, somehow, you repeat his words back to him like a doting, braindead toy.

“L-Love, I love— you— Rinnie!” you manage. It’s all he needs. It’s all either of you need as his cockhead continues to knock against your g-spot and your tightness swallows him and cuddles him like he never knew he needed.

But he did know.

He’s known for so long that being in your embrace and fucking every thought out of your pretty little head would make him feel like a man reborn. Because, at the end of the day, he’s got you. He’ll always have you to find comfort in. Whether it be the warmth of your gentle hold while his head rests in your chest, ear angled to hear how your heart beats for him. Or like this. Using your perfect little walls to make you keen for him, his pretty little plaything he can empty himself inside of until you’re both spouting nothing but sweet nothings to each other.

It's for your benefit, as well as his.

You need the release just as he does.

You’ve been pent up for so long and hadn’t even realised it. But you will, now. You now know how it feels to have your body fucked into bliss and incoherent, you know how it feels to make love rather than be a flesh toy for whatever man you choose to fill the emptiness inside of you.

No more.

That will no longer suffice.

Nothing will compare to how it feels to be with Rin Itoshi. You know it as well as he does. His forehead rests against your own as he chases his release, his heart racing as even in his intoxicated mind, he’s acutely aware of what is about to happen.

Of what you are going to let him do.

He’s going to cum inside his best friend.

“C-Can I? Please, baby, let me fill you up.” he begs.

“No… not yet. Feels so good, Rin, I don’t want it to stop.” you explain. And it’s a little selfish, you can’t deny that. You’re angling for your third orgasm of this tryst. You can’t help but think of daybreak approaching and how you both might come to your senses as you’re bathed in the glow of daylight.

You’ve said I love you to each other but what does that really mean? It means you’re turned on and despite it being true, things are different when you’re sober and you sleep on mistakes you may or may not have made. A post coital world may be one in which you can’t make eye contact anymore because… how can best friends do that?

How can you explore each other so intimately and still maintain a friendship that isn’t uncomfortable, each silence that passes by may rot your consciousness of how his nose crinkles when he moans or how you sucked on his fingers like a bonafide whore just because you were lost in the moment? Things can’t be normal after that. You hold back tears as you think solemnly that this might be the last nice memory you have of each other.

And you wrap your arms around his neck, determined not to let him go and keep this nice moment as a memory you can cherish forever. One where he made you feel pleasure you didn’t know a best friend could, you didn’t know anyone could. He’s been waiting to do this with you, and you were blind to it.

You can’t help but wish things weren’t so complicated, but he can’t hold on for much longer. Even slowing his thrusts, even stopping completely, he knows he can’t hold off for much longer.

“Please, princess, I’m aching here…” he mumbles, his lips slotting against yours so perfectly, so deliciously, you can deny him no more. You nod, slowly, tears spilling over as you approach the beginning of the end. A coil tightening in your stomach as he really lets go. He uses his build to his advantage as he strives to help you attain a vision of heaven for the third and final time, his own paradisical freefall waiting in the wings.

“Mmmmmpf… fuu-uuu-uuuck, Rin! R-Rin!”

“Just like that baby, just like that. Hah~ fuck, such a good girl. So fucking pretty. You cum like an angel, fuck. Can I cum inside? Baby, please, I can’t pull out. You’re too fucking tight. Need to do it here. N-Need to give you it like this—”

He cuts himself off, unable to wait for permission as the dam blocking him bursts. He cums messily, loudly, as he spurts a thick, backed up load into you. Even with your hips angled, there’s too much to keep contained. Excess sperm leaks out of your spent hole as it twitches and oozes, and he continues to thrust into you. Even with his cock softening, he can’t seem to help himself. He keeps going, hissing and whining from a depraved, masochistic pleasure.

Even in darkness, you see how red his face has become. You put it down to overexertion, and it’s partly true. But as he unsheathes his cock, he can’t help but feel a concoction of pride and unadulterated joy as he sees your combined coupling completely soak his length.

He pants as he rolls off you, moving his head to the side as he cups your face again to make out with you. And you reciprocate, half-heartedly, as you feel the end is nigh. He quickly tucks himself into his sweats, while you dress yourself in your panties and sweats.

You feel dirty.

Lewd fluids trickle out of you and ruin your clothes, and you can’t help but feel how you always do after a hook up.

Used.

Only this time, it’s worse. You got carried away, and you’re about to lose your best friend because of it. Any thought of salvaging things dies a swift death in your mind as you think about things logically. Things can’t go back to the way they are, now. Not with burden adding tension to what was meant to be a stress-free friendship.

And still, you want to try.

You want to try and save what’s left of your friendship.

“… S-So… you definitely weren’t a virgin.” you try to joke lightly, your rigid body easing slightly when you hear him laugh.

“No, sorry. I was fucking with you, it was dumb.” he smirks. “Are you okay? Was it… okay? It sounded like you liked it.”

“Yeah… yeah. It was really… f-fun.” your lip wobbles before you start to cry, prompting him to sit up abruptly with a look of unbridled concern as he watches you sob.

“Shit, was it bad? Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just got carried away, I guess? Please don’t cry.”

“N-No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” you sob. “It’s just— w-well— what am I meant to do now?! T-Taking your virginity was meant to be your birthday gift and you lied!” you force yourself to laugh through your tears, hoping your excuse will be enough to hide your true feelings for now.

“Oh,” he exhales a sigh of relief, scratching the back of his neck. “You scared me.” he almost scowls, but a soft smile still plays on his features.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s fine, there’s something else I want if you’re so worried about a gift for me.” he looks at you calmly as your entire face relaxes. You cock your head, curious about what he’s got in mind. He scoffs, lightly, almost in disbelief that you can’t figure it out. “I want my… best friend… to be my girlfriend.”

“… what?!” you practically scream, tears flowing harder as you wonder if you heard him right. He laughs, again, pulling you into his arms and holding you close as you continue to cry.

“Maybe you are dumber than I gave you credit for. I’ve been crazy about you for months, we just had sex and I told you I love you. You’re really surprised that I want to do that again and make you mine, officially?”

You dab at your tears with the sleeves of his hoodie, starting to laugh a little as he smiles at you. You sigh, exasperated. Your whole body is spent and you’re emotionally drained.

“I thought you were gonna think this was a mistake, G-God, I wasn’t expecting this at all.” you explain.

“Clearly,” he grins. “Well? Are you gonna be my girlfriend?”

“Oh! Y-Yeah! Of course!” you smile. His arms wrap around you, and you’ve never felt safer. You burst into a fit of laughter as he repeatedly kisses your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, everywhere.

You lie comfortably in his arms as the two of you look up at the sky together, for the final time that night. If it weren't for the cold, you’re sure you could fall asleep like this. And it’s at that moment, you realise, just how much time has passed. The obsidian sky is no longer suffocating you, the secrets and desires you’ve held only brave enough to be exposed whilst shrouded by the shadows along with your shame for daring to hold them.

The earliest inklings of the true morning sky are breaking through the darkness. The world is about to resume as it does each day, people waking up and going about their lives. You need to sleep, but not now, not like this. You’ll go home, with Rin, as you have so many times before.

And through confessions you believed shouldn’t dared be uttered, things have changed. Things have changed in a way you hadn’t expected.

You lie comfortably in Rin’s arms, your head on his chest as he breathes gently and peacefully. His eyes closed as he savours in the euphoria he feels for all that has transpired.

Things have changed, and everything is better now.

—

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kirschteinsbitch · 2 months ago

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is that a fucking SLUT I see?

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kirschteinsbitch · 2 months ago

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sanemi just RADIATES heath ledger energy

#sanemi my king #heath ledger #sanemi shinazugawa #i love them

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kirschteinsbitch · 2 months ago

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OWWLLLY!!! I LOVE UR ART SOO MUCH! IF YOU DRAW TOMIOKA GIYUU FROM DEMON SLAYER I WOULD LITERALLY PASS AWAY!

here is a lil doodle <3 pouting

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kirschteinsbitch · 2 months ago

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absolutely nothing happened in prison realm

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kirschteinsbitch · 2 months ago

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NOT SO INVISIBLE STRING — GOJO SATORU

synopsis: the universe has a funny way of working. gojo always knew he was destined to be with you and so did others. it just took some time for you to figure that out as well.

content warning(s): FLUFF! eventual smut so 18+ mdni, fem! reader, pining gojo (sooo cute), mutual pining, friends to lovers, unproetected sex, gojo calling you baby multiple times while going innn.

word count: 6.8k zoo wee mama... pls read anyway or i'll d—

SPRING 2008

“So, you’re not gonna miss me? Not even a little?”

An arm was suddenly thrown across your shoulders, leaving you to bear its weight. The press of his uniform stuck to your nape, making his presence all the more difficult to ignore.

Fellow students bustled and sidestepped their way around you two, some even falter in their steps to ogle briefly at the scene unfolding before them.

“Satoru, move!” Shoko— your saviour— jabs Gojo’s side, urging him to budge, but to no avail.

He’s still tethered to your side, twirling around his diploma in his unoccupied hand despite your best efforts to create space between you two. “You’re literally blocking people’s way toward the gates,” she says.

It’s graduation day and the last day of school for the spring semester, bringing the school year to yet another successful end. It also meant that today would be the last time your upperclassmen would walk on school grounds as students.

The sun was beginning to dip behind the many trees surrounding the school, and its marvellous glow cast warm hues of pink and orange that stretched across the sky. Its rays descend onto the school’s campus; setting for a brilliant, comforting atmosphere.

Answering Gojo’s initial question about whether you’d miss him, you avert eye contact with your persistent senior. “I never said that,” your voice teeters between a grumble and a groan riddled with exasperation.

Your eyes sweep the courtyard and you spot a few familiar faces in the crowd. Some are gathered along the steps leading up to the school taking photos to commemorate today. Others linger on campus chatting amongst themselves, and some whack each other with their diploma scrolls while others treat theirs delicately.

And not too far off from where Satoru holds you hostage stood a small crowd of his classmates—specifically, his female classmates— waiting for their chance to bid their goodbyes...

Or stumble out an unprepared confession thrown out in the heat of the moment before they may never see Gojo Satoru again.

Who knows.

All you’re sure of is that they are most definitely throwing you shady death glares from your peripheral.

“Y’know, I’m gonna miss you,” Gojo says, his arm still looped around your shoulders. He has half a mind to drag you away from standing right front and centre in the entranceway and shuffles you off to the side. “All the years we’ve spent together—”

“Two years, by force.”

“— and now we’re being split apart,” he finishes, paying no mind to your sardonic comment. The infliction in his voice prompts you to turn to look at him, only to wind up and see a slight pout tugging at his soft, pink lips. “How ever will we manage?”

You smother down the urge to heave a loud and heavy sigh at the clingy characteristics he’s displaying today and decide to play nice.

Gojo’s always been one to be playful, perhaps even a bit pushy at times but it was all in good nature. However, for some reason, his antics have reached a whole new level today.

Emotions were running high among staff and students alike. Some are more potent and… persistent than others.

“You’ll be fine,” you assure, patting his arm half-heartedly, “and I will certainly be fine. Everything will be just fine.”

In the middle of your sentence from the corner of your eye, you spot another one of your seniors— Geto Suguru. You watch him step out from a conversation with two classmates of yours (Haibara and Nanami) and is now trekking his way over to where you and Gojo occupy the front steps.

“Geto-senpai!”

Geto greets you warmly by placing a comforting hand on your head and gives you a reassuring pat once, then twice. The action leaves your hairstyle a little dishevelled, nonetheless, there’s a small smile tugging at your lips.

You’ve only interacted with Geto a sparse number of times outside of class or at the end of the school day. Whenever you both would cross paths you appreciated how he would regard your presence with temperance. It always left you feeling at ease. You’ll miss him.

You’ll especially miss how he was so quick to offer you and Haibara snacks from the vending machines on campus.

Gojo emits a pathetic squawk at the special name drop.

Pale, white brows are pinched tightly together with faux betrayal. “How come he gets honorifics but I don’t?!” he complains once Geto’s within earshot.

“I see that Satoru's already started…”

Though Geto was talking to no one in particular, Shoko chips in given that she bore witness to Gojo’s incessant pestering toward you ever since the home bell rang. “You missed the part where he blocked her from getting to the lockers for a good several minutes.” Unzipping her bag, she carelessly shoves her diploma into it.

“But anyway, I’m gonna head out for a smoke. I’ll catch you guys later.” Before departing, Shoko stretches her hand towards you and gives your arm an affectionate squeeze. “Get home safe, ‘kay? Don’t let these guys keep you out too long.”

Which reminded you…

“Gojo, this has been fun and all…” Being rag-dolled around by your upperclassman across campus has been anything but fun. “But I really should start heading home now.”

You wanted to beat the rush hour of students and working-class alike trying to go home on a late Thursday afternoon. Looking for empty seats on the 4:25 PM train was brutal and you did not have the energy to stand the entire ride home.

Sensing your air of urgency, he eventually relents. Heaving a dramatic sigh, Gojo steps back a few and gives you some space.

“Gimme a second, yeah?” He rummages around in his uniform pocket, searching for something. It only lasts about a second before he pulls out his flip phone.

“Suguru!” A curt upward nod of Gojo’s head is the only warning Geto gets before he tosses his cell toward his best friend to catch. You’re appalled that he catches it so easily with the little to no notice that was given. “Take a picture of us.”

…Huh?

Your brows drew close-knit together with confusion. “What are y—?!” Before you can even finish your question, you’re pulled tightly into Gojo’s side.

His arms circle your neck once more, but this time, he uses the opportunity of your close proximity to tip his head to the side and knock it against your own.

“Smile,” Gojo murmurs into your ear, his slender fingers pinching at your cheek prodding for you to plaster on a sugary smile for the picture.

You don’t have enough time to register, let alone recover from how his lips faintly brushed against your skin, Gojo’s already obnoxiously yelling “Cheese!” towards the awaiting camera.

Snapping the photo Geto sports a lazy grin admiring his work. “Looks good,” he says before he tosses the phone back to its owner.

You’re still reeling over the gentle graze of Gojo’s lips against your cheek, too dazed to digest what’s going on around you. What. In. The hell. Just happened???

Sputtering out a laugh, Gojo grins down at the image on his phone. “What’s with that face you’re making, huh?”

Eyebrows furrowing, you look up at Gojo curiously. Whatever was in that picture that made him smile that wide couldn’t have been good. “What do you mean?” You question, stepping closer to see what he was referring to on his screen.

Gojo tips his cell over and shows you the photo Geto took. There you both are in grain, Gojo looking the most lively out of you two. Despite the quality of the camera, you can see the proud and happy smile he wears compared to your frazzled and confused expression.

If anything, it looked like you were the one who was graduating and he so happened to snag a photo with you before your big send-off.

“I wasn’t ready…” you grumbled, looking away from his phone.

There’s a faint smile lingering on his face, blue eyes still trained on the screen. His voice's cadence grows warm and carries a small hint of affection.

“That face of yours is what I’m gonna miss the most.”

SUMMER 2009

To no one’s surprise, you and Gojo kept in close contact, even after graduating high school.

Well… More so Gojo kept in contact with you. Consistently.

Whenever he can.

He was there during your spring graduation (shocker), much to the elation of the entire female population from your graduating class. Looking back, the number of times he stopped to pose with random students around the school when he came to greet you was absurd.

You’ll also never forget how loud he cheered when your name was called despite Principal Yaga telling the audience to hold their applause and hollers until after the ceremony.

Fast forward to the summer of ‘09 where Gojo consistently seeks your presence to go and hang out with him now that you have a freed-up schedule. Whether it's with him alone or with Geto and Shoko, you can always rely on him to shoot you a ‘u busy?’ text an hour before dragging you out for the rest of the day.

“Sooo,” you start slowly.

Your eyes skim across the playground, watching the few children who were there amble and climb on the jungle gym before you. The sun was beginning to descend below the skyline, and hues of warm orange press onto your features casting you and your surroundings in a soft glow.

“You’re a… guardian now,” you state, eyeing how Gojo stretches his legs out beside you.

You both sit at a park bench, the chorus of laughter and playful shrieks surround you as you watch Megumi— a kid Gojo now supposedly looks after— poke mindlessly at something buried beneath the playground’s sand.

“Yup!” he chirps, but then it’s swiftly followed by a hesitant, “Well, sorta kinda…”

There’s a mental warfare going on in his mind as he combs through the various explanations he can give you, searching for one that would be both concise and easy for you to digest.

“To put it simply, from here on out I’m going to be a constant in Megumi and Tsumiki’s life.”

You think of the step-sibling duo. They’re the sweetest pair of children you’ve had the delight of coming across, and now…

“They’re doomed,” you say with pity, your gaze still focused on the youngest Fushiguro.

Gojo gasps in disbelief at your bold accusation with his hand flying to his chest, clearly having taken offence. “What’s that supposed to mean?!” he asks.

But before you could give him a smart alec answer, the cheerful exclamation of your name pulls your attention elsewhere. The soft thump of Tsumiki’s shoes approaching prompts you to smile brightly. With open arms, the girl practically throws herself at you and giggles.

You give her cheek an affectionate squeeze. Despite her being in the second grade, you couldn’t help but coddle her. “Why hello, Tsumiki!”

It takes her a few moments to finally release you from the hug, backing up a bit she glances up at you. “Where were you? I missed you on Tuesday, the swings weren’t fun without you!” she says, pouting.

“I wasn’t feeling the best, so I had to turn down Gojo’s invite to meet you guys at the park that day.”

Upon hearing all the commotion, Megumi spots Tsumiki talking to you a few steps from the play area. It prompts the young boy to walk over and join you three at the bench. He nods his head over at his step-sister and says, “She thought you guys broke up.”

Huh?

You blink rapidly. “Broke— Broke up!?” You squawk, the inflection of your voice rising at the ‘up’ part.

Where could she have possibly gotten that idea from? You and Gojo weren’t even dating!

Gathering your composure you plaster on a sweet smile, ready to explain to the young pair that you and Gojo weren’t together like that before a heavy arm comes hunkering down onto your shoulders. “Even if she tried, she can’t get rid of me that easily,” Gojo comments.

Christ.

Tsumiki claps her hands together in glee at this revelation. “Yay! ‘Cause I like you!” she confesses. “I thought I’d have to deal with Gojo and his friend with the big ears pushing me on the swings forever.” And with that, the girl’s already off running to the big yellow slide, pulling Megumi along in her wake.

The sweet smile you wear grows more and more strained the longer you two sit there on that damned bench with Gojo’s arm still lodged around you like it belonged there.

Long delicate fingers drum themselves along your bare shoulder which leaves a tingling sensation that lingers against your skin.

“Gojo Satoru…” you hiss between clenched teeth.

Your hand creeps up to give his knee a mean pinch, but as always, Gojo reads your movements like a damn book and catches your hand in his before that could happen. “Hm?”

“What do you mean ‘Hm’?” You gesture in the general direction of where the kids are playing. You feel your brows start to pinch together. “Why would you tell them that?!”

“It’s true though, no?” Snowy white wisps of hair fall in front of his eyes shaded by his signature round sunglasses. “We haven’t ‘broken up’ and we’re still together. Just not in their understanding of it.”

“You—! That’s not—” You flounder for words, trying to spit out why he can’t go around inadvertently feeding into the imagination of whatever relationship Tsumiki and Megumi thought you two had. But you come up blank.

“You’re irritating, you know that?” you say, as you try (and fail) at removing his arm which still rests comfortably around your shoulders, pressing you tight against him. “You’ll wind up confusing them.”

An easy smile slips onto his lips as he observes Tsumiki and Megumi scramble up the slides. “Relax,” he responds. “They’re smart kids.”

And until it was time for the Fushiguros to go home, there you two sat underneath the thinning ochre sky. Stuck under the guise of an unspoken relationship.

WINTER 2011

Being the “middleman” between two people who are so obviously into each other but cannot figure out how to hang around each other normally was all too common for Shoko.

It’s a shame that Geto wasn’t available to come down and hang out with the three of you tonight, he would’ve revelled in getting a kick out of this expected yet unexpected… turn of events.

Brought in as a buffer between you two, with an unlit cigarette dangling loosely from her lips Shoko leaned back in her chair and watched the buzzing scene before her unfold with bemused eyes.

Underneath the comforting golden glow of the restaurant’s hanging table light, Gojo picks at the cookie dough chunks that litter your plate to which you turn a blind eye. Now, Shoko could’ve easily brushed this occurrence off, seeing that friends often eat from each other's share of food all the time.

But something was... different.

With Gojo seated to your left inside the booth, he neatly cuts up a piece of his soft, creamy cheesecake and leverages the small serving on his spoon. “Here, try some of mine,” he says.

Harmless, right?

So, you reach for your own spoon to retrieve the sample of dessert that he was offering you. But without any hesitation, Gojo lifts his cutlery to your lips and prods the food toward your mouth.

There was no way that he intended on doing this right here, right now. In front of Shoko especially.

“Say, ‘Ahhh’!”

Concern creases your brow when Gojo continues to press the spoon against your lips, idly humming as he waits for you to open your mouth so he can spoon feed you as if he were your mother. A delicate, yet sure hand cupping your chin and everything.

He was being serious.

From your peripheral, you catch the slow spread of a Cheshire-like grin creeping onto Shoko’s face.

You press your fingers onto Gojo’s wrist and frown. Trying to retreat from his hand, a peal of nervous laughter bubbles out from you at his display of reckless affection at the table. “Give me a br—”

Gojo uses the opportunity of your uncertain state to slip his sharing of the Japanese cheesecake into your mouth in the middle of your sentence. Your eyes widen a small fraction at its creamy taste, prompting him to comment, “It’s good, right?”

The cigarette threatens to slip from Shoko’s mouth, as her lips slightly gape at what just happened before they curve into a soft smile. Her brown eyes are warm with… something. It’s as if she knew something that you didn’t.

“Ehhh…” Is all she says before you’re already jumping down her throat to clear up any misunderstandings.

“It’s nothing!” you supply in a rushed manner. Your main objective was to simply imply that this was nothing for her to lose her head over. Hell, even the friendliest of friends feed each other all the time! Right?

But at your remark, Gojo’s mouth downturns into a cute little pout. “What do you mean, ‘nothing’?” From the corner of your eye you glance at how he’s fixed another spoonful of the dessert, and it's hovering in your direction.

“Sato—” Fuck.

You quickly correct yourself on your mistake, and school your voice to have a bit more edge to it. Despite that, you don’t overlook how hard Gojo’s beaming at you. “Gojo, not now.”

“Ehhh?” Shoko exclaims once again, but this time the cadence of her voice has changed. It’s gained an amused note to its tune. “You call him Satoru now? Since when?”

“I’ve been begging her to use it for the longest time ever,” Gojo answers on your behalf, and he ignores your mutter for him to please stop talking in favour of jabbing an accusatory finger at you. “You know how painful it was to see you be all chummy and on a first-name basis with everyone but me?”

Lord. You’ve forgotten how dramatic he could be.

There’s a teasing glint in Shoko’s eye that you quite don’t like, and her lips purse heavy with consideration at his comment. “You make him beg?”

Groaning, you cross your arms against the table and bury your face. You can’t with them. Your two former upperclassmen were the bane of your existence right about now.

“I’ll kill you both,” you mutter, your speech muffled by the fabric of your sweater.

A FEW YEARS LATER

A calming blue nightly glow ripples through your curtains, casting your room in nothing but moonlight. Amidst the serene silence, you idly stare at your screen and read the text Satoru sent you right as the clock struck midnight.

Satoru: Are you home?

What an ominous question. Your eyes skim over his message again. And then again.

…And again.

Thumbing through your phone, you glance at the time displayed on the top of your screen. It’s been five minutes since you’ve opened his text. You should probably send something back soon before he quintuple texts you.

As you’re about to respond right when Satoru immediately shoots you another.

Satoru: I KNOW you see this!!! ( `ε´ )

Satoru: Hurry hurry hurry

You: yes... why?

Now it’s his turn to take a while to respond. First, it takes a couple of minutes for you to receive that pinging chime; indicating that he’s texted you back— which isn’t too bad because you like to consider yourself a pretty patient person.

But then five minutes slowly turn into ten, and that ten becomes a whopping fifteen until finally he answers.

Satoru: Open your door.

What the fuck.

Satoru: Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepl

So that’s why he took so long to reply. The man was coming all the way down from his place to come and visit you!

You: you're actually insane.

You: hold on!

Rising from your seated position on your bed, you stalk over to your bedroom door and are about to exit when you spot yourself in a nearby mirror.

“Oh!” you exclaim to no one in particular. You can’t open the door for him looking like… this.

Wait, why do you care about what Satoru thinks of your clothes?!

He’s seen you wearing much worse. Like that one instance in first-year, when you had to borrow Geto’s spare parachute pants because Haibara accidentally spilt his soda all over your lap during an informal outing with everyone.

Yeesh.

Shaking your head, you slip out of your room and pad down your apartment hallway wearing your discoloured oversized band tee and shorts. Upon reaching your door, your hand hesitates on the doorknob.

It stays like that for a few seconds until the doorknob is rattled in a fashion that’s all too persistent, annoying, and all from—

“Satoru!” you hiss, swinging the door open. You’re ready to chew him out on how much of a nuisance he may be for your sleeping neighbours a few doors down. But your looming reprimand falls short on your tongue once your eyes take in the man facing you.

“Happy birthday!”

In the darkness, the soft glow of sparklers illuminates your features and highlights the exquisite details of a beautifully decorated cake held in Satoru’s hands.

Wordlessly, your hand aimlessly searches for the light switch to brighten up your hallway so that you may get a better look at what’s on the cake.

Something trembles in your chest and it hurts a little to breathe. But not in the way that you detest.

He’s cute.

Gojo Satoru is so heartbreakingly cute.

On the cake, you see that damn grainy photo you two took on his graduation day back in ‘08. The photo you love to hate.

Wetness springs to your eyes from the entire gesture, from the fact that he ensured he was the first one through text and physically to wish you a happy birthday, and from the fact that he’s here right now.

“Hey…” There’s concern creasing Satoru’s expression as he pokes his head down a little to get a better read on you. “Are you crying?”

You sniff back your tears and grunt out a watery, “No… Shut up and come in already.”

Ushering him inside, Satoru hands you your cake, toes off his shoes and heads straight to your living room. Good to see that he’s already making himself at home.

Plopping himself down onto your couch you hesitantly follow behind him, suddenly feeling like a stranger in your own home. “Come, come!” He waves a welcoming hand at you and pats the seat beside him, insinuating that you should sit.

With immediate interest, you do as he says and take a seat beside him after you position your cake in the middle of your coffee table. The couch feels so small now, with him spread out like that.

Pulling out something from his pocket with one hand and tugging off the party hat from his head with the other— had he been wearing that the whole time?— Satoru clears his throat. “Before you cry again, I gotta make sure you’re able to see your present first.”

He takes your head in his hands, and you realize his fingertips are a little cold as they press on your warm cheeks. Stretching the string down from the party hat a bit, he places it under your chin and snaps the cardboard cone into place on your head.

Breathing a noise of satisfaction seemingly content with how you look, a cheeky grin dances across Satoru’s face. “Perfect. You can now go ahead and open your gift,” he says, handing you a small black velvet box with the company logo HW scrawled across it.

“Wait, what,” you deadpan.

This can’t be what you think it is.

“It’s not a ring!” Satoru blurts. But composes himself seconds later with a quip of, “Unless you want it to be?”

Har. Har. Very funny.

You disregard what he’s said and peel open the box with caring hands.

Inside was the most extravagant necklace you’ve ever laid eyes on. A diamond pendant laid bare inside the box in the shape of a forget-me-not with your birthstone at the flower's centre.

That could’ve easily cost him a little over one million yen if you think about it deeply.

“Satoru!” you squeal.

Without thinking, you throw your arms around his neck and squeeze your longtime friend into your loving embrace. Satoru’s gift to you almost topples and sinks into the crevice of your couch had it not been for his quick hand to catch the necklace.

Your heart’s racing, and initially, his body goes rigid until he gradually relaxes under your hold. “You’re crazy, ’s too expensive!” you sparingly chastise him.

Satoru swallows hard and brings a careful arm up to reciprocate the hug. You feel the warm press of his arm against the thin material of your shirt.

“Nothing’s too expensive if you’re involved,” you hear him murmur into your ear. “So, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

You give him one last bone-crushing squeeze, hoping that your rare show of physical touch does not go unnoticed and exemplifies how grateful you are. Pulling away from him you look him dead in the eyes. “Thank you, seriously.”

Shrugging you off like it was no big deal as if he didn’t blow double, maybe even triple the money the average Japanese businessman earns on a singular paycheque toward your necklace, Satoru casts you a gentle smile and changes the subject.

There would be no need to dwell on it any longer with what’s to come.

“Now…” He gives your lower back a soft pat. Once, and twice. “A birthday kiss from the birthday girl.” Satoru puckers out his lips and shuts his eyes real tight, making a huge show out of it.

For extra effect, he even hums a prolonged Mmm-ing sound to emphasize him waiting for you to initiate it.

It’s a joke; you know he’s joking. He has a ridiculously long history of being overly affectionate with his teasings and whatnot.

But this time, you really do lean in and take said kiss from him.

There’s something incredibly adorable about this kiss that has your heart surging in your chest. Partly because it’s the first time that you’re kissing each other, but mostly because of how frigid and careful it is. It made you feel as if you were in high school all over again, trying a plethora of new things for kicks and giggles.

The tension was almost palpable, thick enough to suffocate the air he breathed. Even when you pulled away creating space between you both, Satoru still felt a lingering lump in his throat.

Cracking your eyes open, you see that Satoru’s own are blown wide. Piercing cerulean eyes stare unblinking at you. Normally, you would’ve found that to be off putting as hell, had it not been for the slow rise of a blooming pink crawling up his neck.

“Sorry,” you offer weakly. Sensing that you may have gone too far, you make an effort to scoot off his lap. But a determined arm holds you in place.

“Again.” He swallows thickly, and your eyes follow that mesmerizing movement in his throat. “I… I didn’t do it right. Please.”

And who are you to make him beg? So, you do as he says.

Leaning in, your lips press against Satoru’s once more. And this time, he has the sense to close his eyes and bask in it, not daring to let his nerves get the best of him (though he’d never admit it).

Slotting yourself to be more flushed against him, the tips of your noses brush and you feel Satoru’s hand smooth down your spine. The pads of his fingertips press onto your exposed skin peeking out from underneath the hem of your shirt bunched around your hips.

God, you wanted him bad.

It’s abrupt, the way you push yourself off him and force yourself to stand on your feet, breaking the kiss. The rise and fall of your chest is a bit staggered and Satoru’s is too. He’s all red-faced and his snow-white hair is a bit dishevelled, considering how many times you’ve combed your fingers through it.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Cute.

That alone made you want to jump his bones even more.

You shake your head and get one good look at him before you leave him to head down your hallway. He looked perpetually enraptured by you, eyes hyper-focused on your every movement. “Come to my bedroom.”

Satoru’s stunned, the implications of your remark not lost on him.

And like a keen lost puppy, of course he follows. He joins you in your bedroom seconds after you and stands in the doorway, just kind of hovering there. Not sure of what to do.

Wait. Did he come here too fast? Did that make him look overly desperate? A million and one questions rush through Satoru’s mind as his neck grows red, stained with embarrassment, want… arousal.

Seeing how he seems to be short-wiring at your doorway, you beckon him to join you on the bed with your hand. Once he does, he sits extremely close next to you. His clothed thigh brushes against your bare one, which sends a jolt of electricity through you.

Your fingers find his nape once again and they stroke up on his fresh undercut, prompting him to shiver a bit. “Why’re you so shy all of a sudden?” you question, your voice going gentle with a provoking edge to it.

Gaining some of his personality back, Satoru pinches your cheek. “‘Cause I didn’t think you’d want to kiss me!” But his mean hand then turns soft and slides along your jaw, his thumb rubbing smooth circles into the skin just below your ear.

“Well, I’m here,” you say, scooting impossibly closer to the man beside you, “and wanting.”

Message received.

Hauling you onto his lap, Satoru cradles your face in both hands and kisses you deeply. It’s full of emotion, expressing all the things he’s been wanting to say for the longest time. A trembled exhale escapes you, and it’s through that that Satoru uses the opportunity to slide his tongue alongside yours.

The kiss is frenzied, but so filled with love.

“So you like me?” he asks, his breathing laboured.

“Yes,” you bite, pushing him away from you and onto the mattress. “As if swapping spit with you wasn’t enough.” You guess you’ll have to show him how much you undoubtedly like him, love him even, through other means.

He huffs a breath of laughter and drops his back onto your bed. Underneath you, you see Satoru’s eyes sparkle as he watches you have your way with him.

But something’s up.

His eyes climb up a little higher and this time, he barks out a real laugh.

You still have that piece of fuck sitting on your head. You probably look stupid as hell right now.

Discerning that you’re about to raise your hand to your head, Satoru holds your wrist in his palm. There’s something bright that gleams behind those alluring pools of blue, warm and tender. He bites back a smile. “The birthday hat stays on during sex.”

You scrunch your nose at him. “You’re so dumb,” you growl with artificial frustration and tear off the cone-shaped hat from your head, tossing it into the depths of your room. He whines at its loss, but you’re quick to placate him with a slow roll of your hips into his lap.

Satoru’s jaw clenches and his hands fly to your waist, gripping you tightly as you continue to grind yourself down onto his erection. Your ministrations pull a wanton whimper from his lips, one that has you grinding with more purpose— the purpose of hearing that sound again.

“Do you like that?” you ask.

He nods, not trusting himself to speak, else he’ll let out a pathetic string of moans.

“I know, me too.” Satoru’s dick lurches in the confines of his pants as he watches you dry-hump him into the mattress slowly, your eyes shining with lust. Fuck, he could get hard just off your expression alone. “It feels reeeally nice being up on you like this,” you continue.

You have a fucking dirty mouth. One that Satoru’s growing more and more addicted to the more you speak.

There’s an incessant throbbing between your legs that you can’t quite alleviate. While rolling your hips into Satoru’s lap— with his occasional thrust to match your movements— felt good, it can only do so much. You wanted and needed more.

And so did Satoru, because he’s already pulling at the waistband of his pants. His thumb loops two layers and tugs both his pants and boxers down, revealing his toned V-line.

Fuck.

You fall victim to Satoru’s enamoured gaze from below, which makes you squirm hot with arousal. “Take it off,” he commands.

He wants you to strip him of his clothes.

Caught taking a startled breath, you ignore the wicked, handsome smile that slinks onto his face as you slip off his lap so you may curl your fingers around his waistband and pull. Your pussy clenches when his erect dick springs into view, and the heat pumping through your veins runs a little hotter.

You shiver at how pretty and filling his dick looks. After a few seconds of openly ogling at his lap, Satoru clears his throat which successfully gets you to drag your eyes back up to his face.

“While that was nice,” he starts, leveraging himself up onto his elbows and grins at your cute error, “I meant you, baby. Take it off.”

“Oh.”

Seriously? Just ‘Oh’?

Mentally facepalming, you shimmy your shorts down your legs along with your panties. They pool down at your ankles and you step out of them to stand between his legs.

Fully sitting up, Satoru pats his lap; encouraging you to sit on him again. “C’mere.”

You crawl onto his lap, but you don’t sit down fully. Hovering a few inches away from his cock, your knees press on each side of his thighs, trapping him in.

There’s no way in hell you were gonna sit down right now, knowing that if you do, you’d be pressing your bare pussy onto his naked thigh and he’d feel everything. Exposing how wet you are.

Humming, Satoru lifts the hem of your oversized top to your breasts and sighs. “Pretty,” he murmurs before he leans forward and captures your nipple into his mouth.

You gasp harshly at the titillating feeling. Your hands balance on his shoulders for support, as he rolls your nipple on his tongue.

“Sa— Ah!” You cry out. The hand between your legs startles you and has you whimpering in the open air.

“You’re wet,” he comments, slipping a finger against your slick pussy.

“Shut up about it…”

But he doesn’t. Another finger joins the first and delves down between your lips, gradually easing them inside you. They push against your walls, curling in a way that has you gasping into his neck. “You got wet from grinding alone, huh?”

A breath stutters out of your mouth and you rock yourself against his hand. You can’t take this anymore. You want more. “Do you have a condom?” you ask.

“I—” he groans when your hand slides between you two, your fingers curl around his dick and stroke his tip along your leaking slit. “I didn’t bring one, because I didn’t think we’d—”

Oh.

Biting your bottom lip, you sling a heavy arm across Satoru’s shoulders. You meet his hungry gaze with one of your own and inch closer toward his dick that rests against his stomach. What you’re about to do could be risky, but at this given moment you couldn’t find it in you to be overly stressed about it.

“No worries,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, “I trust you enough to pull out in time.” And like that, you push down on him and ease Satoru’s cock into your aching cunt, making him bottom out inside you completely.

You’re so wet and slippery that it took little to no effort for him to slide inside. The noise of your slick sticking to where you two meet at the hips has you two moaning softly in unison.

The harsh mutter of your name echoes off your bedroom walls and goes straight to your cunt. “So tight,” he grits out behind clenched, white teeth.

Each time you slide up and down on his cock, Satoru grows more unrestrained with his vocal appreciation of how well you take him. Desperate little moans escape him each time your sweet cunt squeezes him of all he’s worth.

You were no better. Choppy, broken whimpers can be heard from you, loving how he stretches your walks with your length. He fits perfectly inside you like your cunt was destined for this moment, for him alone.

“Let me fuck you,” Satoru blurts out. He was losing it, and he could feel him tipping closer and closer to the edge of release.

“You are— Ugn!” you say weakly when his hands grab your ass and he stands, lifting you with him as if it were nothing. Kicking off his bottoms, Satoru props you on your back against your mattress.

Crawling between your legs, he positions the crown of his cock to press against your opening. “No,” he drawls, with one hand on the base of his shaft and the other propped beside your head. “Let me fuck you.”

He pushes in and you swear you see stars.

Satoru pistons himself faster and faster inside of you, rocking your bodies against the mattress which makes your wooden headboard tap noisily against your drywall.

You fear your neighbours may have some… less than pleasant words to share with you about the noise tomorrow morning.

“Ah! Fuuucking— shit!” You wail. Euphoric tears start prickling at the corner of your eyes. “Don’t stop, please!”

The pleasure melts through you when Satoru presses down harder into you, his hand finding the back of your right knee and hikes your leg around his waist so that he can fill you at a new angle.

“Baby,” he murmurs into your neck. He says it like you’ve been his for years. “Say my name.”

“S—Satoru!”

Laughing a little, probably too fucked out of his mind, Satoru removes his face from your neck and presses a hot, searing kiss onto your lips.

You yelp when he drives his cock more harshly into you, growing more desperate with the urgency to come inside you.

Riding his high, Satoru says the first thing that comes to mind, which is a long drawn-out, “Haaa…”

What Satoru meant to accomplish was to wish you another ‘Happy Birthday’, but of course, it all gets garbled up in his throat due to his approaching orgasm and comes out sounding fucking obscene.

That’s what gets you.

You come hard, your back bowing off the bed. Satoru, remembering your initial statement about how you trust him to pull out, does exactly that. Albeit, he did it at the very last second, but you avoided a pregnancy scare. So you can’t be mad.

Thick ropes of his cum splash across your bare belly and some get on your top. You’re hyperaware of how it trickles down your abdomen, some dipping into your belly button.

Wow.

Breathing hard and heavy, both coated in sweat among… other sensual fluids, Satoru rolls onto his back.

“Stuck with me for life, huh?” he asks, delicate fingers intertwined with yours.

You hum. “Seems so…” you agree quietly.

Now that you think about it, there hasn’t ever been a moment where Gojo Satoru hadn’t been present in your life, ever since meeting him during your high school days.

You two lay like that for some time, soaking in each other’s company until the early traces of morning light ripple through your curtains.

You’re about ready to shut your eyes until your thoughts are accosted by something you offhandedly forgot.

“Satoru?” you begin, tone nice and sweet.

“Hm?”

You sit up slowly so you can peer down at his blissed-out face. “By chance, was the cake you got for me made out of ice cream?”

You know how deep his love for sweets goes. You just pray and hope to whatever higher power that he chose the safe route and chose a normal ca—

“…Yeah, why?”

Jumping out of bed, you rush to the living room where the cake is probably spilling its guts out all over your expensive, mahogany coffee table. “You IDIOT!”

A string of curses follows you out into the hallway, as Satoru sits on your bed confused.

“What’d I do?!”

Whether you liked it or not, you were stuck with this bumbling idiot if he had any say in the matter, an invisible string keeping you two bound.

And maybe it wasn’t that bad.

Even if it’s at the cost of your ¥20,000 table.

if you read to the end we're making out.

UPDATE: DO NOT FEED MY WORK INTO CHARACTER AI?!? it's plain disrespectful. callout 1 and 2 on the thief (who is @/grimmjowsweetheart.)

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