#But I think that's better than me stepping in in this case.

[oatmealwrites]

A Night To...Forget? Ch.6

Aizawa x Eidetic memory! Law student! F Reader

Part 5 | Part 7 -> coming soon!

[a night to forget masterlist here]

Synopsis: You take up Shōta’s offer on crashing at his place as you wait for either Kiego or maintenance to be available in the morning to let you back into your apartment. Though the extremely clean state of Shōta’s flat is enough to make you raise an eyebrow. Ok, maybe he didn't plan on having you locked out, but it certainly seems he was well prepared just in case any company happened to come over. ;)

Tags: reader is a little tipsy but not too bad, insecure shota, jealous shota, french kissing, hickies, students being a cockblock, use of quirks, oral (m & f receiving), fingering, slight cum eating, titty sucking, protected! sex, p in v, multiple rounds, missionary, doggy, mating press, shower sex, cockdrunk, pussy drunk, horny & kinky ass shota, fluff ending, still a situationship, kayama being sneaky hehe, 18+, MDNI

word count: 11.7k [im so sorry] also not entirely proofread so im sorry if the grammar/spelling is off a bit

a/n at the end: enjoy~

~~~~~~~

“You can stay with me tonight, if you want.” 

You look up from your phone the moment the words leave his lips and raise your eyebrows in shock. Shōta’s face flushes slightly and he searches your face for a few moments before sitting back in the driver’s seat and running an embarrassed hand along the back of his neck.

“N-Not like that– I didn’t take you out to dinner just to…” His voice drops a bit and he coughs slightly before speaking again with more confidence. “I don’t want you to think I’m simply offering because I want to have sex with you, y/n. I want to make sure you're safe, and not sitting on the floor of your apartment lobby all night.”

Blinking a few times, the phone screen goes dim from your lack of interaction and you gently gulp the surprise that lingers in your throat. It did sound better than waiting for Keigo or maintenance to let you inside… Though this was probably Keigo’s stupid plan all along. 

Maybe it’s the alcohol or simply just the amazing date this man has already taken you on, but you tilt your head and smile gently. “I understand… if it’s ok with you, then yes. Yes, I’d like to stay over.”

Shōta’s expression softens and he bites the inside of his cheek to avoid the cheeky smirk that wants to splay across his lips; it’s also to reign himself in when his cock twitches slightly in his trousers. He grips the steering wheel and takes a  deep breath, “Alright… then let’s head back to my place.”

The car slowly leaves the parking lot and drifts back to a main road with light evening traffic making the journey just a little longer. Within your spot at the passenger seat, the atmosphere of the car is a bit heavier than before as the radio idly plays in the background. Shōta keeps his eyes painfully respectful at the road ahead, not bothering to tear his gaze away; a complete 180 from the way he drove you to the restaurant with his focus barely on driving the vehicle. 

Sure, it’s a big step– you two haven’t even completed one date yet and now you’re spending the night at his apartment. You reign yourself in slightly and watch the whir of streetlights that pass by outside the window, it’s not like you two were inherently going to be doing anything explicitl anyways. The whole point of staying over was a pity invitation to make up for your lack of house keys and idiotic best friend who ensured you would be locked out. 

Rationally speaking, you should be feeling awkward. A work colleague who you’ve kissed a few times and took you to dinner is now letting you crash on his couch– it’s the perfect situation for you to never show your face around him again from the mortification. But you’re not. Maybe it’s the alcohol, months of not getting any action, or just the dashing man driving you, but you’re relaxing into this situation a lot easier than you expect. 

“Shōta.” You call out, positioning yourself to face him.

He blinks and deftly turns the car down another road. “Hm?”

“Why are you so nervous?”

Shōta pauses and holds the air in his lungs an extra moment before finally turning his attention to you. He glances down at you beside him before peeling his eyes away as soon as his gaze had reached the section of your dress neckline that was dipped just a bit too low. 

“I’m not… I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me.”

You hum and tap a nail against the car console and shrug before smiling and leaning over to his side a bit more. “I’m not. In all honesty, I've had a really great evening so far; you’ve been a total gentleman.”

A buzz rushes through your skin and you can feel the heat of your cheeks flushing from the heightened blood alcohol content coursing through your veins. The man at the wheel looks back down at you before scrunching his brows with a conflict expression and looking back at the wheel.

When he doesn’t respond, you lift yourself upright and place a hand on his bicep. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Shōta sighs slightly and gently begins breaking for the line of cars stopped ahead. “I shouldn’t have let you drink so much…especially in this situation.”

You blink and take your hand from his arm. Had you not already said you were ‘ok’ with his invitation? Shōta continues to be at war with himself inside his mind, as if he was doomed regardless of what he did. There was no way he would just leave you without keys at your apartment, but you were also drunk, and taking you to his place seemed as if he was trying to take advantage of the situation. 

“You’re over thinking.”

Shōta pauses but keeps his head forward, his eyes not leaving the red glow of the taillights from the car stopped ahead. “What do you–”

“–I would’ve just had you taken me home if I didn’t trust you. Give yourself more credit, please.”

“But you can’t properly assess this situation given your state… and I hmpfh—”

You tug his chin to face you and connect your lips to his; it’s not messy and hot like the ones you’ve shared in these seats, instead it’s slow and gentle. Despite his recent shave, a few stray stubbles of hair tickle the flesh of skin on your cheek and you pull back with as much delicacy as you had initiated it with.

Shōta’s face remains hovering by your own as soft exhales leave his lips as dark eyes trace every detail of your expression. He’s silent when he removes his hands from the wheel and snakes one to cup your cheek and the other to rest at the space where your ribs meet your waist; immediately he leans to meet your lips again. 

The moment is dissolved of awkward tension as he pecks your lips over and over again as if he were scared that too much pressure would break you like porcelain. You bring a hand to rest flat against his chest above his heart and meet every rhythmic wave of his lips, eager to taste the lingering bitterness of wine on his mouth. 

After a few more gentle pecks he peels back to scan your eyes again, his own pupils blown wide, before leaning down to kiss you with more force and longing. Shōta’s hands remain in their position, but his tongue runs a testing swipe across your lips before slithering into your mouth and groaning from the mixture of wine, breath mints, and honey lip gloss that he tastes. 

God, it’s so hot. You grip the fabric of his jacket and button up with fervor and arch slightly as arousal tingles down your spine and pools in your core. The panties under your dress have been soaked ever since you first stepped in the car hours ago, and now they’re fully saturated and leave a slick between the plush cushion of your thighs. 

This kiss, his tongue suffocating you of all air while you rock and sway for more, more, more is one you’ve had before– but this setting changes the intensity. Shōta’s hand slips down to the inward curve of your waist before dropping down even further to play with the bottom hemline of your dress. 

It would be so easy to lift it up even 2 more inches and get full access to the flimsy fabric of panties covering your dripping cunt. And with a gentle graze, he pinches the fabric of the hem between his thumb and index finger before a ‘BEEEEEEP’ rings out from behind you both.

Peeling backwards, Shōta peers into the rearview mirror momentarily before realizing the traffic has begun to move ahead of him. With a sheepish cough, he moves his foot from the brake to accelerator and continues the drive while you pant slightly and scowl at the cockblock car behind you through the back window. 

Shōta laughs slightly and nudges you to spin back around and face forward again; you hesitantly move back into your original position and note the lighter atmosphere of the car. Admiring the man for a few extra moments, you reach over to grab one hand from the wheel and intertwine it with your own, taking note of every callous, bump, and freckle that adorns the skin. As well as the extremely large size of it. 

Shōta doesn’t say anything, but watches you play with his fingers and knuckles through the corner of his eye with an amused smile. The crease of his life line is long, his ring finger is slightly bent– maybe from previously breaking it, and his middle finger is the longest. Dirty thoughts come and go as you examine it for a few more moments before setting it on your upper thigh and placing your own hand over it to ensure he won’t move it away. 

He doesn’t. The soft and plush flesh of your thigh is pinched a few times as he runs his fingertips over the skin to accommodate himself with the sensation; he toys with your hemline and thigh in the same playful and gentle manner you had just done to his hand. 

“Mmm, do you have a TV? We can start that reality show I was talking about at dinner.” You suggest while tapping on his knuckles and becoming quickly addicted to the sensation of his skin against yours. 

Shōta chuckles and turns down another road; the city lights slowly thinning out as you get closer to his apartment. “Oh, yea? You want to watch it that bad?”

You suck in your bottom lip and flush a bit before turning your attention back to the hand on your thigh. The length from the base of the palm to the tip of the middle finger can nearly envelop the entire top of your leg from the sheer size; it leaves you wondering how it would feel inside you– how something else might feel. 

Nipples hard through your dress, your cunt gushes again in a desperate desire that leaves you wondering if you’ve ever been more horny in your life. You need this man. You need this man badly.

“Yea… I think it would be cute to start a show together. Besides, I’m locked out till morning anyways.” You tilt your head back up and blink a few times, putting to use any of the flirting skills you’ve managed to acquire in your life. 

“Starting a series together sounds like quite a commitment. You sure that’s something you want?” He hums before turning back to the road.

Ah, right. That was the other goal you have for the evening– to get some sort of definition of what this currently was. The alcohol makes you complacent for anything if it means you would get him in bed, though your heart tugs that while for tonight, sex would be satisfactory, there’s more than his warmth in the sheets that you want. 

“It is.” You confess, the underlying implication that this wasn’t an evening you only wanted to concur once.

Shōta peers down at you and hums with a smile. “Me too.” His hand closes to squeeze the flesh of your thigh under his fingertips and you have to use every ounce of resolve to avoid tugging the man into the backseat and crashing the car.

The ride continues with light banter and flirty remarks, his hand never leaving your leg, before you roll through parking security and drift into a parking spot marked for staff. Ah, right, his place. Aka, the student dorms filled with rowdy high schoolers; somehow in the heat of his invitation and your acceptance that little fact had slipped your minds. 

The familiar tower of the dorm glows a bit down the walking path from the parking lot to the dormitories and stepping out of the car, you shiver slightly. Shōta shuts his own car door and uses the headlights as enough illumination to walk around the hood and shimmy off his blazer and swing it around your shoulders. 

Cologne fills your sense of smell and you tuck into the jacket a bit more from the intimacy of the act; everything he does seemingly makes you fall harder for him… in addition to raising your desire to him as soon as possible. Tugging the bagginess of the large fabric around your frame and offering a ‘thank you’, Shōta clenches his jaw and promptly spin around; a brief glimpse of the erection in his slacks now within view. 

The dark interior of the car shielded you from seeing much, but with the LED headlights of the vehicle shining on him before the timer flicks them off, you can see this man is just as pent up as you. Cock hard in his slacks, chest puffing with increased heart rate, and flush to his face not from alcohol, Shōta is faring just as poorly as you are given the tension. 

Taking a few steps forward, you sling your arm around the bend of his elbow and lean into his torso as you walk the stone path the dormitory ahead. Shōta knows this is probably the least romantic place to bring someone back to of all time. It’s filled with over energetic teenagers who scream and run wild and also his workplace by technicality. 

Shōta’s dreamed about this moment more times than he can count, but he’s never solidified the plan if he actually got to spend an evening with you. In the back of his mind, he always figured he would take you home, you would offer him a ‘coffee’, and then he’d take you as many times as you’d let him. Maybe the couch, then living room floor, eventually the bedroom, and maybe the shower? Running on little sleep has left him with a stamina only useful on the bathfield and the bedroom. 

“This is a nice walk.” You interject, looking at the surrounding greenery that bordered the simple pathway.

“Oh, yea… it’s not bad.”

You chuckle at his sheepish behavior and lean your head against his shoulder and sigh in contentment; Keigo is going to freak out when he hears about this– after you kill him for locking yout first.

You pause slightly, and look up at Shōta who holds your gaze with a comfortable smile on his lips, looking absolutely beautiful. You’ve always known that, but the way the moon lights up his raven black hair with a silver glow leaves you breathless as he raises an eyebrow and leans down to peck the top of your forehead.

Tugging his bicep to your chest, you lean further into him and smile, “You know.. You really are–”

“–Two more laps, Midoriya!”

Immediately you both pause and Shōta’s expression drops to one of deadly frustration. Releasing your grasp on the man’s arm, you peer around the open courtyard and spot a familiar head of green hair panting heavily while turning the corner to the same energetic young man with glasses you saw last time. 

You drop your hold on Shōta’s arm as he furrows his brows in annoyance and pivots to examine the small group of 5 students that stand outside. “Tch, I told Yamada the curfew was 10pm, so what are these idiots doing?”

Pivoting slightly to peer beside him, you watch the young man with glasses give Midoriya a hard slap on the back for completing some sort of training regime; Todoroki stands beside two girls, one with short brown hair and another with long black. 

“Seems like they’re eager to be heroes.”

Shōta scoffs. “More like eager to be in trouble.”

Teacher-mode switches on as the man steps away from you and begins to walk over to the group before faltering to an awkward stop. Right, he had you with him… late at night… and you’re both heading to his apartment. 

Dragging a hand down his face and tugging his under eyelids down from the force, Shōta exhales with frustration before turning to you. “Um, I can go deal with them but…” He works the words out in his mind, trying to find the best way to word his request. “Can you wait a few minutes and then go through the…back entrance? I can meet you at the stairwell.”

“Like some sort of sneaky fling?”

Shōta sputters and raises his hands but you laugh and nudge his shoulder. “I’m kidding. I’ll give you 5 and meet you at the stairs.”

He sighs in relief and returns your nudge, half-grateful for you not being mad at him for hiding you from a group of nosey teenagers, and half-exhausted from the emotional duress he was already under.  

“Thanks,” he leans down to peck your lips and gently give your shoulders a squeeze before turning to speed walk towards his students.

Pivoting to stand beside a tree and obstruct their view if the students happened to look over, you watch the way Shōta yells over at them from across the courtyard. Giggles escape your lips as you watch the way they scurry together in apology and frantically explain themselves; you can’t hear the conversation, but you can just barely make out their sheepish facial expressions. 

After a few moments, the group lines up and walks around the building towards the front door with Shōta in the rear as he continues talking about some sort of disciplinary warning for breaking curfew. Pausing an extra moment, you push off the tree and tip toe towards the back door as quietly and quickly as you possibly can with a bottle of wine in your system and heeled boots on your feet. 

It feels like how you imagine field work for heroes must be, and for a brief moment you regret taking up a career in an office building rather than patrolling the streets with your best friend. Padding across the lawn and making your way to the concrete back porch steps, you scurry up the final stairs and gently push on the unlocked door. 

Poking your head through a crack, you survey what looks like a laundry room to your left and communal showers to the right. There’s a hum of a washing machine in use and a gentle patter of a shower head, but there’s not a soul insight; you slip through the door the rest of the way and scurry down the hallway towards the first stairwell door you see. 

By the time you gently click the door shut, a pair of steps coming down the stairs towards you, leaves you rushing to find something to hide behind; crouching behind a large rolling laundry bin is your only option. 

Knees aching from the cold hard flooring, you cover your mouth to avoid the labored breathing before the cart is slowly wheeled to the side.

“You know, most people would’ve just left the stairwell rather than hide in plain sight.”

You raise to your feet as Shōta extends a hand and pulls you up, a coy smirk on his lips as you shove his shoulder back; he doesn’t move from his position next to you. 

“You could’ve announced that it was you coming down.” you mumble while ascending the stairwell with him at your side.

“Mmm, but if it wasn’t you hiding behind the laundry bin, it would’ve been strange.”

You grumble to yourself in defeat and continue walking up each flight with a slight burn in your thighs from the workout and an ache in your feet from the lack of proper footwear. Reaching the 4th floor, Shōta pivots to kneel slightly in front of you, “Get on. It’s obvious you’re struggling.”

Sputtering slightly with a bruised ego, you cross your arms and push past him to continue up another ungodly amount of stairs before an arm pulls your knees out from underneath. 

“Woa– hey!”

Strong forearms are cradled underneath your ribs and knees as Shōta ascends the next set of steps with you tucked in his arms. A grin on his lip as you nudge him with fake annoyance and wrap an arm around his neck to better steady yourself. 

“Mmm, my hero! Saving me from this villainous set of stairs, how can I ever repay the favor?” You joke with sarcasm as he tosses your body up slightly in his arms to reposition the angle at which you lean against him.

“Just doing my job. No need to thank me.” He responds with equal sarcasm as he quickly moves up another floor as if the weight in his arms wasn’t there. 

You throw your head back and tug his jacket on your shoulders a bit tighter before leaning down to his neck and planting a small kiss to his jaw line. Shōta shivers at the sensation and exhales through his nose before peering down at you with an eyebrow raised. “You always give heroes a kiss like that?”

“No~, just the ones I’m especially grateful for.”

Shōta chuckles and doesn’t release his grasp on you when he finally reaches the correct floor; he pivots to open the door with the hand tucked under your knees and kicks it open wider so you both can slip out and into the hallway. Long strides to his apartment door, Shōta gently places you on your feet before feeling up and down his pockets with a frantic expression.

Gasping slightly, “Wait, don’t tell me you forget–”

“–my keys?” he finishes the question before tugging out a keyring from his back pocket with a smug expression. “Nah, I wouldn’t forget that.”

Sputtering slightly and furrowing your brows, you follow him inside and wait for the door to click shut before pushing him with annoyance. “Geez, you’re such an ass.”

Shōta smiles coyly at you and removes his shoes before offering you a balanced arm of support while you kick off your heeled boots. When you’re back steady on your aching feet, he steps ahead towards his kitchen while you take in the layout of his apartment. 

“I’ll grab you some water.”

You hum and watch him click on a tall standing floor lamp in the living room before heading for the faucet. Immediately to the right of the front door is a small sofa with a coffee table and TV to make up the living room; on the left was a coat closet and small table for keys and miscellaneous items. The hallway continued straight into an open kitchen with a wooden table in the center and a set of glass patio doors to a small balcony. 

Padding further into the apartment, the hallway splits to another walkway on the left with two short steps up into another hallway; this one leading towards a bedroom and ensuite bathroom. The whole scene is small, neat, and comfortable and the air smells like a mix of fresh laundry and musky cologne. 

Pivoting back towards the sofa, you shimmy off his jacket and place it gently on the back of the cushion before admiring the nice warm glow of the floor lamp. The whole place is clean…too clean.

Every throw pillow is placed in a perfect position, every shoe by the door [except your boots] are neatly organized, and even the paper towel roll has been recently replaced. Humming to yourself and dragging a hand across the underside of the TV, you raise an eyebrow at the lack of dusting residing on your finger tips. 

“Here’s some water, it’s best to drink if you want to avoid a headache tomorrow.” Shōta offers a glass while returning from the kitchen and ushering you to sit on the sofa. 

Taking the spot beside you, he relaxes back into the cushions and rubs the back of his neck, “And sorry about my students, they can be a handful most of the time.”

The water is refreshing against your throat, and you take a moment to finish nearly half the glass before placing it on the coffee table. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just thankful you’re letting me stay here.”

“Of course.” Shōta replies, as if it was the easiest decision of his life and as if he wasn’t having an internal crisis about it in the car earlier.

Now that you’re both in his apartment, there’s another wave of awkward tension between you both as neither one makes a move to discuss what exactly was the plan next. Do you say goodnight and just lay on the couch? Or will he offer you the bed? Would he offer you a set of pajamas, or just leave you in your dress?

Sucking the flesh of your check between your molars, you reach forward to his TV remote and turn to him. “Well, would you want to actually start that show?” 

Shōta swallows and blinks a few times before nodding. “Sure, I’d be happy to see what seems to be so interesting about this ‘real housewives’ you’ve talked so much about.”

Chuckling slightly, you lean back into the cushions to pull up a streaming service and load the first episode of the most recent season; Shōta watches with a suspicious expression as the opening credits begin to roll. 

“Ah, I might have a few spare blankets– let me get them.” He rises to his feet and shuffles to his bedroom leaving you alone in the living room.

‘Might’

The word leaves a weird feeling in your mouth that isn’t just the overpriced red wine still on your tongue. Looking around the apartment you’re met with the same strange feeling as the word; something is off, but you can’t seem to place exactly what. 

Peering over the back of the couch and confirming he’s still preoccupied with ‘searching’ for a blanket, you stand up and pad into the kitchen and look around the counter top. Coffee beans are normal, a fresh paper towel roll is convenient, but a bottle of wine on the very end catches your attention– especially the two wine glasses placed beside it.

Taking the bottle in your hands, you spin the label around and blink a few times to clearly read the description in the dim lighting; you don’t even notice the set of returning footsteps as Shōta approaches from his bedroom.

“I was able to find one– are you looking for something?”

You pause slightly, but keep your back to him as you run a thumb across the label, “You bought wine?”

Shōta tosses the blanket over the back of the couch and looks at the women on the TV arguing and shrugs slightly, “Yea…? I got some last time I went to the store…”

“No, but you bought this wine.” You lift the bottle over your shoulder before bringing it back in front of you. “It’s the same kind, the same exact brand, and the one I ordered the first time I met you… the first time I met all of the UA staff.”

Shōta’s silent behind you for a moment as the argument of two women on the screen are the only thing filling the air as you idly recall the moments of this bottle.

“What–” he begins.

“–It was for dinner!” you repeat, seeing the memory clear as day in your mind. “You sat on my left at the table…. It was 7pm, on a Thursday, at the French restaurant across town…but I didn’t want a whole bottle and offered to split it with yo– ah!”

A cold shiver runs down your spine as the memory is torn from your mind and you’re left idly blinking and grasping at the rest of it. Placing the bottle on the counter, you furrow your brows and try your hardest to remember the rest of that evening before you spin around with an awkward tingle in your nerves; a pair of glowing red irises pulls your attention to the man.

“I can’t– Shōta!” You gasp while trudging towards him. “Turn my quirk back on, now.”

He avoids your attempts at pawing his eyes to cover his vision and tugs your hands together within one of his own. “No…” he grumbles.

Ah, so this is what was off. 

Memory or not, you look up at him with a cheeky grin, ignoring the reality show playing idly in the background. “Shōta…” you begin, “Did you plan on having me come back home with you?”

He pauses slightly and the pressure holding your hands together lessens by a fraction before his eyes flicker back to their usual dark color and awkwardly stare at a corner of the room. “No…”

“Really?” You tilt your head closer to him and survey the room, the tipsiness of your state creating a wave of confidence despite the submissive position you're physically in given the mass of a man in front of you. “Then you always keep your living room this clean?”

Shōta shrugs and peels his eyes back to you, unwilling to be called on his bluff. “I’m a clean man.”

“Right, and you always ensure to dust and stock up on essentials?” you narrow your eyes at him.

“I sneeze when debris builds up.”

Pushing even more, you tilt your head to his. “Ok, and you always buy the wine I drink, with two glasses out? Tell me, are you sure you didn’t plan to have me over, or is there a form of company besides me that you bring back here?”

Ah, you got him. You haven’t even seen the rest of the apartment and you caught on already. 

Shōta’s jaw tightens, but the pressure on your wrists is released as he brings his hands to his sides; dark eyes glance between your own. “Just you.” He quickly breathes out. “It’s always been just you.”

The admission makes your coy act falter, and the way he concedes that you are the only person he would plan this for makes your heart beat even faster. Shōta stands hovering over you, and for the first time since you’ve stepped inside, you’re reminded just how much bigger he is than you. 

Yes, you can act coy and tease that maybe he had cleaned his apartment in hopes of getting lucky, but now that you’ve played your hand, you realize you’re out of moves. Shōta breathes unsteadily a few times and doesn’t release his stare, “I mean what I said earlier— I didn’t plan to get you drinking and take you back here…”

He takes a few more deep breaths before stepping back and coming fully clean, “I just… you know– wanted to be prepared just in case something did happen. Not that I was expecting it.”

Maybe it’s a moment of clarity from your previously tipsy haze, but the implication of everything is crashing down on you, hard and fast. Here Shōta was, admitting to cleaning his apartment, buying wine, and most likely preparing himself for if you were to come back to his place. The meaning of ‘come back to his place’ doesn’t rely on the factor that you would forget your keys, it would be under the pretense that you were coming back to his apartment for more. 

A tingle rushes down your spine and you find yourself turning your attention to the TV screen in an awkward attempt to fully acknowledge what was going on. An awkward cough escaping your lips, you pivot to move back towards the sofa and pat the spot next to you as casually as you can. “Right, well… that’s uh fine.”

Shōta doesn’t move for a moment, unsure exactly how to take your usage of the word ‘fine’ before slowly moving to sit beside you and pretending  to care about what was happening on the screen. He sits stiffly against the cushions and opens his mouth a few times before pivoting to face you. “I just… didn’t want to give you the wrong idea.”

You turn your head to peer at him. “I get it…”

He raises his hands to attempt at wording it out. “Ok… that’s good. It’s not in my plans to have sex with you.”

“What…” you sit upright and a blush rushes across your face as Shōta peels back in frustration at himself.

“Not like that! I mean I would love to have sex with you–”

“Huh?”

“I just–” he runs a hand on his face and takes a moment to calculate if jumping off the balcony would be a fall high enough to end his misery. “You’ve been drinking, and you’re only here because you’re locked out, and my students are downstairs, and–”

“–Shōta.”

You take his hand from his face and chuckle at the embarrassed twinge of pink on his cheeks despite the stubborn expression on his face. Yes, you might’ve played your cards a bit earlier at calling out his preparation, but there’s one more thing– a phrase by Keigo of all people comes to mind.

‘He’s still a guy.’

Yes, because at the end of the day Shōta is just a man– not just a hero and school teacher– and you are the woman he’s been dreaming about sitting dolled up all pretty on his couch. 

The man in front of you sighs and turns his attention to the TV screen with a hardened look on his face. “I’ve fucked this whole thing up, haven’t I?”

You tug his hand to rest your thigh once again and tilt his chin to face you. “You know… you never asked what I wanted.”

Shōta swallows and relaxes into your touch, sliding back into the cushions and looking down at you with interest. Running a hand along his knuckles, you look up and continue. “You’ve gone this whole evening at war with yourself worried that you were forcing something onto me, without ever asking what I even wanted in the first place. You keep backpedaling and worrying that you’ve coerced me here against my will, despite the fact that I gratefully accepted your invitation for helping me out.”

Shōta runs a tongue along his lips and hangs onto every word you say. He was a gentleman all dinner, asking you questions and learning more about your interests, but as soon as his own insecurities bubble up, he can’t seem to find the rationality to simply ask you openly what you wanted. 

Eyes never leaving your own, Shōta tilts his towering frame down slightly. “Ok. So what do you want?”

A smile on your lips, you drag your gaze over the frame of the large man beside you– his physical statue engulfing you despite the fact he was wrapped snugly against your pretty little finger. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Your gaze dips down to linger on his lips before he races forward to meet your mouth with his own; a force of desperation you’ve never felt from him. Your hands reach to tangle in his hair and gently tug out the half bun while one of his hands holds your face to angle your lips against his while the other is squeezing the flesh of your thigh. 

There’s no timid gentle pecks between each kiss, instead Shōta forces his tongue into your mouth to run his taste buds along your own to drink in the flavor of your mouth over and over again. It’s messy beyond belief as saliva drips from the corners of your mouth and his teeth clink against yours once or twice from the sheer force of the rocks of his head. 

Biting his bottom lip and tugging slightly on it, Shōta shakily exhales through his nose before tugging his lip from the pinch of your teeth and running his mouth along the side of your neck. The sensation of his nose tickling the flesh under your ear as he sucks and bites on the pulse point of your throat mirrors the same feelings as when he would do this in his car.

But you’re not in his car anymore, you’re in his apartment. 

Sighing at the gentle nibble of his teeth along your neck before his lips find another spot to suck and mark, you tug on his hair playfully. “Hmmm, isn’t this where you stop? Just like in your car…”

Shōta doesn’t fall for a shallow tease and instead removes the hand that was cradling your jaw to entangle in your hair and tug it roughly to angle your head back; the increased exposure of flesh leaves him rushing forward to mark a new, untainted area.

The sting of your hair follicles while his tongue runs across a new hickey before his lips suction onto another spot leaves your cunt once again gushing and clenching pathetically around nothing. Slick accumulating between your thighs has your hips twitching in a plea for the hand on your thigh to do something.

“S-Stop moving..” he pushes pressure on your leg and leans down more over you to continue sucking the other side of your neck. “Couldn’t….” he pops his lips from your throat and moves to another spot. “Couldn't do this in my car…”

You wither in his grasp from the sensation and groan at the arousal building inside you for uptenth time this evening, “huh…nghh ‘this’”?

His lips trail down to your collarbone and Shōta’s kisses get softer until his mouth is hovering right about the low neckline of your dress; a flimsy piece of fabric between his face and your breasts. Peeling back slightly, he leans into your neck and inhales the scent of your perfume deeply before running a few apologetic kisses along the fresh bruises now painting your neck. 

“Tell me to stop, please…” a few more chaste kisses litter under your ear where your flesh and hairline meet. “Please, you have to tell me no…”

Running a hand to now tug on his scalp, Shōta doesn’t move from his position nuzzled into your neck despite the force tugging his follicles; he’d sooner go bald than move away from you. Sighing airly, you release your pull and instead place your hand flat on his chest, tracing the top button of his shirt. 

“And if I say, I don’t want you to stop? Then what…?”

Shōta sucks in a hollow breath of air and groans slightly while continuing to lick and suck the section of skin exposed to him, not bothering to answer while he attempts to reign himself in.

Unclasping the first button, you run a cold hand along the small sliver of exposed flesh and sigh when the heat of his skin warms your fingers. The atmosphere is too much, and it feels as if you’re melting from the way his lips continue their ministrations under your ear. 

Biting your tongue, you angle your vision as best you can, Shōta’s mess of hair blocks a majority of your view, until you see the tent throbbing in his slacks. A mind clouded by desire, you arch your back and push your tits forward into his chest while rolling your hips forward; his hand on your thigh prevents you from getting any closer.

“You said you wanted me to tell you to stop...” You mumble with a slight chuckle at the trembling hand that’s keeping you still. Pulling your hand from his small patch of exposed chest, you trace down the seam line of his shirt before quickling reaching forward to palm his erection.

“F-fuck!” He hisses from his spot at your neck before sitting back and moving to hold both of your hands back.

Heavy pants leave his lips as dilated eyes watch you with a predator’s stare, once again reminding you just how much larger this pro-hero man was. “You don’t know what you’re doing… you’ve been drinking and–”

“–I want you. How many times do I need to tell you to stop assuming things on my behalf?”

Shōta swallows and shuts his eyes in an attempt to listen to the variety of voices swirling in his head. Yes, you were telling him right here and now that you were attracted to him, but the nagging and self-deprecating voice within him kept pestering on. He was a high school teacher for fuck’s sake, he couldn’t give you an exciting life outside of monitoring a class of rowdy teenagers and drowing in tedious paperwork. He wasn’t highly ranked, highly regarded, fuck he wasn’t even good at communicating… so it was only a matter of time before you got bored and realized he isn’t what you wanted.

A part of him was ok with that though; so desperate for your approval that he would gladly take a position of ‘quick fuck’ or ‘rebound’ if it ment you would grant him even a fraction of your time. 

“Stop doing that.” You tug his chin to face yours. “You keep going somewhere…”

Shōta exhales and blinks at the way your hand had somehow come free from his grasp before stiffly tilting his head down; his cock throbbing painfully in his slacks. He could still stop this, tell you that when you were fully sober you would regret it, and he could live with blue balls and embarrassment.

“I’m just… thinking.”

You frown before cracking a half smile. “Okayyy, well stop that.”

“Huh–?” He blinks as you back up slightly and position yourself on the edge of the sofa.

Spinning to face him fully, you place a hand on his knee and rub it a few times before dragging your fingers to tap against his belt buckle. “Stop thinking.”

Shōta watches as you tug the leather fabric up and through the buckle before slowly sliding out from around his waist loops. “Wait.” He places a hand on yours, and you immediately stop.

“Shōta– listen. I want you, ok?” You look between his eyes and lean in. “Now, what do you want?”

The man breathes deeply a few times and drags his gazes across your lips, down the dozens of bruises on your neck, shamelessly across the upper flesh of your tits, and down to the plush round curve of your hips before returning to your face. “You. Fuck, I need you.”

The moment you’ve been aching for leaves a steady heartbeat pounding in your chest and pussy as his hands slowly remove from their position keeping you at bay. Leaning up slightly, you plant a lingering kiss against his lips before sliding to the floor and nudging his knees apart to kneel between them. 

Shōta watches with lidded eyes as you pop the button of his slacks and slowly tug the zipper down; he plants his feet firmly on the floor and flexes his thighs to raise his hips up, allowing you to shimmy the waistband down just below the swell of his ass. 

The sight is mouth watering, and you can feel your cunt pulsing in desire to have the cock in front of you inside already. But you take your time, awing at the way it’s pushing so desperately at the fly of the boxer briefs that the swollen tip is poking through. 

Gray fabric is darkened in a lewd patch of pre-cum as his cock twitches as you trace the outline of it through the material. Dark pupils never leave your figure as they scan the way your fingertips trace the length of his shaft, up and down, until you pry the fabric of the fly open just a bit more to let a portion of his length slip out. 

Shōta sucks in a breath at the change in temperature and wishes he could sear this vision into his memory like you. Looking back up at the man and ignoring the slight burn in your knees, you lower your mouth down to lick a small strip over the slit of the swollen cockhead; a hum escapes your lips as salty pre-cum lingers on your tongue. 

It’s an absolute vision, having him huff above you, completely at your use and disposal for whatever you wanted to do. Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, Shōta reaches forward to trace the outline of your jaw before tapping on your lips once and sinking his hands into your hair to tug it away from your face before shimmying his boxer briefs down the rest of the way to fully free his cock.. 

Ever the gentleman indeed. 

You smile and tilt your head to kiss the pulse point on his wrist before ducking your head again to now plant a variety of little pecks along the apex of his thighs, the curve of his heavy balls, and around the base of neatly trimmed shaft. How convenient he just ‘happens’ to shave before this– not like you could judge though, you’ve prepared for this evening more than you have any other date in your life. 

A low grumble emits from his chest as you take too long and Shōta guides your head back to where he needed you the most. Smiling to yourself, you lick along his dripping slit once more before flicking your tongue to rub against his frenulum. 

“Ahh, s-shit…”

Fingers scratching your scalp harder, you take the heavy weight of his cock in your hands and lick the entire shaft to the head a few times to lubricate the flesh before opening your jaw and inching him inside slowly. Instinctively, his hips jerk forward to get even deeper into your mouth.

“Haa, just like that… fuck baby–”

The pet name isn’t lost on you, and you’re sure to asking him about it later; for now you flatten you tongue and ignore the sting in your jaw as you take what you can and use your hand to slowly jerk what won’t fit. Even if Keigo was joking about the ‘measurement’ hand motions, the exaggerated distance wouldn’t be far off from the length bullying it’s way into your mouth.

Heavy with a decent thickness and delicious length, you can feel tears prick in the corner of your eyes as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head. A few more rhythmic pulses and you ‘pop!’ the length from your mouth to give your jaw a break and spit down onto his cockhead and jerk him off with a messy handjob. 

“Oh my– FUCK!  D-Don’t stop.. Ngh please…”

Shōta digs his hands into your scalp before flexing his thighs again and jerking up into your dripping hand; you lick the swollen tip as it bobs up and down before releasing your hand and sliding it back into your awaiting mouth.

Careful to relax your jaw and avoid grazing the flesh with your teeth, you let him guide your head to his own rhythm when the flex of his hips grows erratic and needy. You work your lips with enough suction that you aren’t just trying to milk him dry, you’re trying to suck the soul out of him.

One hand leaves your hair and digs into the cushions beside him before Shōta throws his head back momentarily and pushes your head away from his cock. Your hair falls messily back down as a pout works its way onto your lips and Shōta grimaces as his eyes take in the fucked out expression on your face. 

Pupils blown wide, hair thrown around haphazardly, and swollen puffy lips that were just latched around his length are the only thing he sees before pumping himself a few more times and cuming. Hard. 

A gasp escaping your lip when he groans your name and hot spurts of semen dribble on your cheeks, lips, and along the upper swell of your breast from the low neckline of the dress. Shōta continues stroking himself through his orgasm with his head thrown back against the cushions of the sofa and twitching his hips a few more times as he comes down from his high.

Curious, you swipe a line of cum off your cheek and pop a finger into your mouth to sample his flavor; it’s more watery than creamy, and there’s a slight salt flavor that tingles on your tongue. The viscosity is a bit lower than that of honey, and the ropes of semen that litter your flesh begin to slide with gravity and pool at the bend of your collarbone and down the valley of your tits. 

“Ah, shit… sorry I should’ve… should’ve warned you…” Shōta pants out as he sits up a bit straight and releases the hold on his softer semi. 

You swipe another line from your chin and slip it between your fingers with a shrug while Shōta groans at the sight. Pulling you to your feet, Shōta pushes you to sit against the sofa before he rises to his feet and tucks himself back into his boxer briefs and pads into the kitchen. 

“What are you–”

“–I gotta clean up the mess I made.” He immediately responds, taking a fresh paper towel and dampening it before returning to wipe the rest of his cum from your upper chest. 

Blood now circulating evenly, Shōta cleans you up with a gentle touch before tossing the towel into the trash and returning with a gentle rub on your red and swollen knees. His face is apologetic while you take a few gulps of water from your glass; placing it back on the table, you pull his chin to meet your lips. 

On instinct he groans into your mouth, savoring the way your tongue tastes like a mixture of your breath mints, wine, and his own cum. Your lips chase him as he breaks the kiss to run a few pecks down your neck before spinning on the couch to push you back against the armest with him positioned between your thighs. 

Wary hands knead and squeeze the plush flesh of your thighs as large black eyes peer at your face, watching for any sign of discomfort. “Let me return the favor, yea?”

You blush and nod once before he gently bunches your dress to your waist and runs his thumb over your pelvic bones above the flimsy lace thong bands. A tongue wets his lower lips as he traces the material down to the mound of your cunt and drinks in the way your slick has saturated the gusset of the fabric to the point your inner thighs are glistening in arousal. Of course, nothing is ever easy and the thin material of your tights leaves him pawing at the waistband to tug down.

A few accidental snaps of the elastic against your navel, Shōta cuts his losses and pinches the threads to tear a hole big enough for his satisfaction. He hums a promise to buy you new ones when you squeal at the sound of fabric ripping and turns his attention back to your semi-clothed cunt.

“All this.. f’me?” he wonders out loud, dragging an index finger up and down the wet material along the slit of your pussy.

“Ah, y-yes…all for you…baby”

Shōta scoffs slightly at your tease for his pet name and peels the gusset down and out of the way; he had planned on pocketing, but those damned tights just had to ruin his fantasy– ‘he’ll just get them later’, he thinks to himself. 

Shōta shimmies to sit on the floor and lean against the base of the sofa while positioning your thighs to rest on his shoulders; hot breaths fan your cunt as he inhales the intoxicating scent of your pussy.

“Ah, so you have jokes now?”

A whimper escapes your lips and your hand tangles in his hair, desperate to have him closer to where you need him the most.

Long hair tickles the inner flesh of your thighs and Shōta keeps his lips just above your weeping cunt. “Come on, sly girl. Tell me what you want– you’ve been pestering about it all evening.”

Swallowing your saliva and any ego, you lean your head back against the armrest and wiggle slightly, “Y-You… please need you…Shōta”

Satisfied enough, though he would’ve preferred to hear you beg a bit more, Shōta plants a small kiss to the inner apex of your leg and turns his attention to the pussy he’s been desperately dreaming about. Laying his tongue flat and running a few long stripes over your folds and puckering entrance, he pushes his weight forward, addicted to the taste. 

The sounds are vile and filthy, the sounds of him kissing your cunt in a nasty French style before biting and nipping your outer labia and delving his tongue back into the opening of your core. His nose ruts against your puffy clit and your fingers are scratching at his scalp as the waves of pleasure are mind numbing. 

Pulling his tongue away, Shōta rocks back slightly and pops a long middle finger into his mouth before dragging it up and down your folds before slowly sinking it into your cunt. 

“A-ah! Shit….nngh…”

You twitch at the delicious stretch of his finger as Shōta watches your expression for any sign of pain before slowly rocking his finger in and out to a steady rhythm. Fluttering around his finger, he slips in another and massages the walls of your pussy in search of the rough little patch that makes your hips shake in pleasure. 

“Here? Right here?” he murmurs while scissoring his fingers against the spot over and over again and leaning back down to suck and lick at your clit.

You’re a mess against the sofa, biting your lips but not muffling the pornographic sighs and whimpers that escape your throat as the wet gushy sound of him fingering you fills the air. It’s better than your own hand and any toy you’ve owned, and when Shōta ruts his thick fingers against your g-spot over and over again, you wince your eyes shut and grab onto his hair.

“Ohh, fuck… you’re gonna make me cum… haaa I’m gonna..”

He peels his lips from your clit and keeps his pace on your g-spot even, coaxing you through the rush of pleasure as your muscles clamp onto his fingers as if your cunt could milk it dry. “Thaaaat’s it… come on baby you got it… cum f’me, yea?”

The deep pur of his voice has you cuming on his fingers and your hips rutting against his hand in a desperate attempt for even more; a few tears escape your eyes as the pleasure creates a mind reeling haze to wash over you.

Fucking his fingers into you a few more times to ride out your orgasm, Shōta slowly slips them out as you whimper and pops them into his mouth. He’s never been particularly keen on sweets, but the syrupy candy flavor of your cum is making him quickly addicted to the flavor. 

A light afterglow settles on your skin as sweat drips down your temple from the rush of heat coming from the moment as Shōta sits back up on the sofa and rubs reassuring hands over your pelvic bones.

“You alright?”

Alright, doesn’t even begin to describe the euphoric feeling, but you’re too fucked out to propose a better word. 

“Yea…” you pant before pushing yourself up to rest higher against the armrest. “You’re a little too good at that.”

Shōta chuckles and leans down to capture your lips and feed you the taste of your arousal in a similar manner you had with his own cum a few minutes before. He pecks your lips a few more times before leaning back and tucking a lock of hair away from your face and absorbing the glow on your skin.

“Well it’s just luck then…I don’t exactly get out much” he chuckles, eyes beaming gently as he stares at you with starstruck admiration and cum coating his chin. 

You giggle and sink into yourself before tracing a hand down his chest and palming his renewed erection in his boxer briefs. Shōta’s breath hitches slightly, and the insecure doubts that had clouded his mind prior have since been replaced with a dirty primal desire for more.

“We don’t have t–”

“–bedroom?” you cut him off and trace his bottom lip with your thumb.

Shōta doesn’t need to be told twice for that; he rushes to his feet, ignoring the dull hum of the reality show that still plays in the background and pulling you up and over his shoulder. 

“Woa, hey!” you squeak as he tosses you up once to adjust the distribution of weight and power walks down the hallway to his room. 

The view of his round ass is cut short as he flops your back onto his plush mattress and moves to kick his door shut– as if he had to worry about a roommate. Dark eyes don’t leave your figure as he saunters back to the bed and begins peeling off the buttons of his dress shirt; you watch in a trance before glancing around the tidiness of the bedroom.

“You really prepared, huh?” you jest, smirking at the way the pillows are perfectly arranged, the floor lamp is already on to a warm glow, and you can see a set of extra towels sitting on the counter of the sink of the ensuite bathroom. 

Shōta shuts his eyes and groans slightly before tossing the fabric to the floor and peeling off his slacks the rest of the way and kicking them off his ankles. You sit back on the bed and lift your hips up slightly to slide the waistband of your ripped tights to the floor and peel your soaked thong to join it. 

The man standing saunters a bit closer to the bed and assists in tugging your dress up and over your head, taking a moment to kick your saturated panties under his bed to retrieve later. Nipples pebbling at the cool sensation of being freed, Shōta doesn’t waste a moment to dip his head and latch his lips to the swollen nub.

His force has you laying flat on his mattress as he climbs over you and sucks the perky flesh while his other hand kneads and massages the fat of your other breast. The tongue rubbing against your nipple is hot and wet while sharp teeth occasionally bite; a wet patch from his boxer briefs ruts against your hip as he grinds his clothed erection into you.

Shōta places a few extra hickies around the swell of your tit before moving to suck on the next one, repeating his action of squeezing the flesh of the breast not receiving his mouth. It feels like you’re on fire.

Back arching and pushing your chest closer to his mouth, you whine and tug on his hair, desperate for even more. Ignoring the way you paw at his face, Shōta places a few more pecks on your tit and rocks back to slide off the bed and trace a hand down your thigh; silently, he flashes a gentle smile and moves to open his nightstand drawer.

And of course, there’s a box of condoms conveniently placed right at the front of the wooden drawer. The thought of him potentially doing this with other women makes an uneasy feeling course through your veins, but the sight of him biting the plastic wrap indicating the box had never been opened qualms your insecurity. 

Ripping a perforated foil packet from the line of condoms, Shōta keeps the box readily available on the nightstand and tears open the material. 

It’s happening. Fuck, it’s finally fucking happening.

It’s wrong to feel a little giddy, but the thought of you finally being able to have sex with this man after months of pathetic pining is beyond satisfying. 

As he kicks his boxer briefs to the floor and gives a few pumps to his cock, you lean over and notice a full length dressing mirror facing the bed. The angle gives you a view of his sculpted ass and chiseled back muscles, before the man in question taps your ankle once and climbs up on top of you.

“You sure?” He murmurs, planting delicate kisses to the bruised flesh of your throat.

You wrap your hands around his shoulders and nod. “More than anything.”

It feels like he’s died and went to heaven, but Shōta doesn’t wait any longer; rocking back to sit on his knees for a moment, he tugs a spare pillow under your hips and splays your thighs open. Arousal drips from your cunt along with remnants of your prior orgasm and his saliva and he drags his latex-coated cockhead up and down a few times to coat it thoroughly.

“Alright, just breathe…” he gently pushes in the tip and rocks forward. “Bit of a stretch.”

He isn’t lying. Your hands steady yourself on his rear deltoids as a slight burn pushes through you as he slowly sinks inch after inch into your cunt. Nail digging slightly into his flesh, Shōta slowly pumps in and out to edge his way deeper and deeper inside. 

“F-fuck… haaa relax, please… you're so – ngh tight…”

It takes a few moments before he bottoms out completely and his balls tap against the round swell of your ass; you both stay still for a moment, taking in the moment of being so intimately connected before he slides partially out and rocks back in. 

“Ah– mhpf… feels good.. Shōta” you moan into his ear as 8 delicious inches slip in and out, kissing your cervix with each snap of his hips.

The man in question fares no better above you, with one hand on your hip to guide your cunt back to his cock and the other supporting his weight as he hovers over you in a partial plank. Your pussy is hot, wet, and mind-numbingly tight to the point he’s wondering if it feels this good with a rubber, he can’t even imagine how it would feel to hit it raw. 

Though maybe you’d let him do that later. 

Later? Just the thought of being able to fuck you again and again has him about to prematurely ejaculate.

Shōta groans when you tilt your head to bite into neck and plant a few small hickies to his own skin while his dick stirs up your pussy from the inside out. The bed creaks and the headboard slams into the wall with the same rhythm of the ‘plap! Plap! plap! ‘ of his balls hitting your ass with each stroke. 

At least he didn’t share a wall with a student, because then he’d have to resign and never show his face at work again.

“K-kiss me…” you whimper out, tugging his face to look at you once more, almost sensing he was lost in thought during the moment. 

Shōta uses the short pause of connecting his lips to yours as a cheeky way of slowing down to prevent from cumming, though you have no patience for that. Flexing the muscles of your pussy around his cock, nearly feeling the swollen vein that runs along the bottom of his shaft, his resolve crumbles further. 

He needs to make you cum.

Pulling his lips from yours, he pushes your thighs further apart and stands upright with his knees; the angle now allowing for the base of his cock to smack against your puffy clit with each snap of his hips. Pushing your head back into the pillows, a wave gushes from your pussy as the sensation tightens the coil building in your abdomen.

You look better than all his dreams, and Shōta digs in his mind to think of something, anything to prevent him from spilling into the condom before you cum. Toshinori asked him to review a few files during lunch yesterday. The traffic leaving UA at 6pm today was particularly bad. Yamada wants to know if he wants to see a baseball game this weekend…

Tugging a hand from your hips and guiding his fingers to your clit, Shōta snaps back into the moment to focus on the withering expression on your face as your hips twitch and grind up into him further. Understanding the silent request, he runs a gentle circle over the nub of your clit and groans when your lips fall open to whine in pleasure. 

Tits bouncing with every stroke, your eyes hazy and staring up at him, and the delicious squelch of your pussy with each thrust is too much for the man; with a canine pinching his lip, Shōta leans forward and cums.

“Ah… c-cumming… fuck i’m cumming ngh–” 

His hips keep pounding forward, the tip of his cock that would be freely filling up your cunt with his seed is being saturated by the walls of the rubber condom keeping his semen inside. Right when he’s about to slow down, you grasp forward to scratch on his arm and twitch forward.

“W-wait! Please don’t…. Don’t stop– i’m gonna cum”

And who is he to ever deny you?

Ignoring the twinge of overstimulation, Shōta keeps pounding his now semi back inside over and over again; gyrating his hips slightly to grind against the rough patch of your g-spot with each movement. The sensation is overwhelming, and with a whine, your jaw goes slack and a pleasure begins to wash over you– until it stops. 

Fluttering your eyes open and panting as you come down from your high, you pause and bring a hand up to push sections of your hair away from your face. You just came…right? Removing your palm from your forehead, you prop yourself up on your elbows and watch the way Shōta slowly slides his length out of your cunt with a soft hiss.

Wait… what just happened? Did you cum so hard you blacked out–

Red irises glow above you and a small smirk is plastered on his lips as your eyes open in shock.

“Wait, hold on a minute…Shōta– did you just erase my quirk?”

The red hum of his pupils cools back to their dark color as the man slides off the bed and pads over to the bedroom trash can and tosses the soiled condom into the bin. You sit further upright now and furrow your brows in frustration. It was the best orgasm of your life… or so you thought. 

The memory of him pounding into you and leading you right up to the edge ends with an annoying blur as Shōta saunters back to the bed with a new gush of confidence radiating from him.

“Mmm, what if I did?”

“You–!” sitting upright, you shove his shoulder and sit back down on the comforter which is now soiled in a puddle of cum that’s leaked from your cunt. “Why would you do that?!”

He shrugs slightly in feigned ignorance before moving to tilt his floor mirror slightly and returning to the night stand to pick up another small foil packet. Sitting in silence, you watch the way he takes a few breaths and strokes his semi to eventually build into another full erection. 

Shōta leans forward and connects his lips to yours so sweetly, as if he wasn’t just fucking the shit out you to then erase the memory of the best part. Pecking your jaw once, he crawls behind you and gently pushes your upper back to go down into the mattress and tugs your hips upright into a doggy position; you're directly facing the floor mirror and your own reflection.

With a hiss, he slides on a fresh condom and gently massages the globes of your ass before once again, gathering your slick and cum with his covered cockhead. 

Shōta peels his gaze from the twitch of your awaiting pussy and looks at you through the mirror, “I just want to make you remember it regardless of that quirk....” he pauses and sinks in the tip through the first ring of muscle, “Is it wrong of me to fuck you so well that it makes even my erasure not work? That even without that quirk, it’s seared into your memory?”

***

His proposition of having sex so many times that his erasure doesn’t work on wiping your memory of the sensation is a horny and kinky one you’d never think a reserved man like him would have. You go from doggy, to mating press, and then when his dick is sensitive from cumming so much, he fucks you on his fingers twice more for good measure. The evening ends with an attempt at shower sex that simply results in taking you on the bathroom floor when you complain the tiled walls were too cold to be fucked against. 

Your body is sore beyond imaginable belief, and you can’t recall how many times you’ve cum because somebody can’t seem to let you. Despite the rough and desperate sex, Shōta softens when it’s time to dress you in his spare boxers and t-shirt and climb into bed. It’s a weird form of intimacy that feels more vulnerable than the position you were tangled in just moments ago; in the back of both of your minds, you’re wondering when the best time to have the ‘what now’ conversation really is. Though this late, neither one of you makes a move to address it.

He doesn’t mind when your hair still damp from the shower creates a small stain on his nightshirt; tugging you in closer and inhaling the way your scent and his merge together. It’s an awkward few giggles at first, before you nuzzle into his chest and plant a few soft kisses to his pulsing heartbeat while Shōta tightens around your waist that keeps you close. 

It’s late. The alarm clock on his night stand reads 3:17am when you shut your eyes in his arms; the both of you having work in the morning but neither one of you bothering to mention it. Your breathing steadies out before he ever does, and a few gentle combs to the crown of your head and pecks to your forehead make Shōta wonder if maybe this was a dream. 

The air is silent, and right when he’s about to doze off, a soft ‘ping!’ rings out from the night stand beside him. Normally, he would ignore it and return to his slumber, but the late notification makes him wonder if it’s something more important. 

Begrudgingly moving his hand from your waist, careful to avoid waking you up, he turns around and taps on the screen to see not a text message– but a date reminder. Blinking the drowsiness away, and clicks it open and sighs at the note.

Upcoming event from user KAYAMA: Friday 8am

He can practically hear the woman’s voice through the phone from the memory.

‘If you don’t make a move, I'm giving it to Keigo by Friday morning.’ Too tired to deal with it now, he tosses his phone back on to the nightstand, face up, and turns back over to sleep with you in his arms.

a/n:

it's the moment we've all been waiting for, the chapter where you guys finalllly bang hehe

this chapter, while it was pre-written, took sooo much longer than I thought to finish [almost 12k words of pure sexual tension and smut]

the story continues on a bit more from here, wrapping up the loose ends with more added smut scenes littered here and there [maybe one or two more chapters which is crazy to think its almost over]

im so glad you guys like this series and i hope this filthy vile slutty chapter makes you happy [and horny] <333

likes/reblogs/comments all appreciated :)

and i love reading ur comments, you guys are so fucking funny I LUV U POOKIES -oatmeal

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[katerinaaqu]

Lol where did I say anyone's opinions is less than another's for that matter? Actually that is literally what you said to me. That my opinion doesn't matter because someone else had that opinion. And I also love the "I am not afraid to" like I feel honored you think someone would be "afraid of me" but that was never part of my profile to begin with lol. No one said you cannot say your opinions. Ironically you came and say to me that my opinion is off. I mention my ethnicity because of your comment about how Greeks look like and I said that I believe I qualify very much to say how Greeks look like. That is not an opinion that is a fact.

I am pretty sure you are being confused. Greeks are europeans. If akin color is not race (which I agre you can find variants to each race group if one can use that) but my comment just in case it escaped you was to show exactly that when you show different ethnicities that also belong to different races or ethnic groups it should be commendable from all sides. And I as a Greek person know that Greeks come in all different shades within the European spectrum. Not in every shade as to every continent in the world. Of we talk about ethnically Greeks that is. If we talk about people with greek nationality that belong to different ethnic groups of course they are as greek as I am nationally but ethnically speaking Greeks are europeans. People in Africa come in many different shades as well. That doesn't mean that I will hire a Scottish looking person to play an African deity nor will I make a historical film about South Africa or Zimbabwe by hiring people from nowadays predominantly white communities just because they are born and raised in Africa for hundreds of years. The same with Greeks. Greeks were moving around in Africa AND Asia. That doesn't give me the right to cast ethnically Greeks to play ethnically African or Asian people just because "different shades" it just looks wrong. And I would absolutely agree to anyone opposing such a bizarre notion.

Like I said the people that I talked with didn't enjoy it. They mocked it. And again I love it how literally double standards is the reason why you attack me in the first place. That for some reason out of the entire bunch voting here it was MY COMMENT about MY CHOICE that erupted this reaction from you or the other commenter but lol

Okay there were a bunch of people who enjoyed racist movies of the past about Africa as well. Does that make whitewashing of Africa right? Of course not. People disrespected the Egyptian history for ages and yet people enjoyed it. Does that mean we shouldn't make it right? Of course not also Greeks laughed at the inaccuracies for a long time and there is always a breaking point for everything or when someone says "maybe it is starting to get too much" the same way that Greeks also complaint about how North European actors are being constantly hired to play greek figures as well. They liked it once they liked it twice but after decades and decades it became annoying and disrespectful.

And I understand and appreciate your opinion but again if it is not so important then why won’t you let people who DO care speak their mind on them and again I wasn't even speaking on the artist whom as I said I deeply appreciate their style and the way they offer effort to the art and all. If it is not important then why did you step in? Again I insulted no one. In fact people came for me with the will to attack me and they have attacked me before for having an opinion for my own culture and its representation and never have I implied that my opinion is the universal truth or truth for all Greeks etc.

I disagree. Like I said Greek gods to me are better depicted as Greeks wanted them to get depicted. The same that Egyptian gods should be as Egyptian wanted them depicted Indian gods should be as Indians wanted them depicted and so on and so forth so the idea that there is no such thing as accuracy to me is wrong. But as I said before that is my opinion.

Redesigned my Athena.

[xaeoism]

LOVE ON THE CLOCK! ✧ A scaramouche x gn! reader short series

The current day is : DAY 1 - Cold chisel in hand

Your eyebrows are drawn together, arms crossed as you glare at your phone with looks that could kill. It sits on the wooden table in front of you, turned off and silenced to prevent the ringer from sounding for the nth time today from a certain someone's constant messaging.

However, silencing it doesn't stop the phone from vibrating on the table when another message is sent out to you. You stare at the device with a questionable look, before your arm slowly reaches out towards it. You hope it's from your parents, or maybe a friend, asking you out tonight so you have an excuse but when you turn on the phone, the message you received was from none other than Scaramouche.

You let out a sigh of defeat, coming to accept the fact that whatever happened the previous day was in fact, reality. Just as you were about to press onto his last message to give him a reply, a call comes through, his contact name displayed in bold letters. Just how impatient can this man be?, you think to yourself, clicking your tongue in annoyance before answering his call.

"Were you deliberately ignoring my messages? Or were you just waiting to hear me recite the message with my actual voice?", he snapped, irritation coating his words.

"Don't flatter yourself, if you hadn't been so impatient as to call, you would've gotten a response from me in that same minute.", you retorted.

"Don't try to act all smart right now, you had from the morning until the early evening to reply to one of my many messages."

"Can I not have a life? Must I be there at your beck and call every moment? If that's the case then I'm sorry my dear sir Scaramouche, I'll be sure to adhere to your every demand like a dog from now onwards."

You hear a grumble on the other end before his voice fills your head again, "Look I've got no time for your childish antics, we had an agreement yesterday and you will see through it with your utmost effort. The restaurant is the Sapphire Soirée and the reservation is under Kunikuzushi at 7."

"Childish?! You had better take your words back or your humongous ego will be the only thing you're eating dinner with-!", you shout angrily before he ended the call, leaving you scowling at your lock screen.

So, the Sapphire Soirée, hm? Didn't take him as one that dines at such fancy restaurants, you thought while noting the time, pushing yourself off the chair to start getting prepared to meet him later.

The restaurant exudes pure extravagance, with an atmosphere steeped luxury. It's floors and seats are draped with plush royal blue velvet, creating an atmosphere of opulence. Hanging above, golden chandeliers cast their warm, radiant glow, their intricate details shimmering in the light. The ceiling is decorated with delicate gold accents to match the chandelier's brilliance, adding onto the grandeur of the place.

You slowly make your way to the main counter, admiring the restaurant's magnificence as you do so.

"Hello, do you have a reservation or will you be needing a table tonight?", the employee asks with a cheery smile.

"Oh, I have a table under Scara- I mean under Kunikuzushi.", you correct yourself.

The worker checks the reservation list for a second before directing you to a private room. When they close the door behind you, the atmosphere immediately changes, now that it was just you and him alone. You take slow steps towards the empty seat directly facing him, unsure if coming down here was a good idea.

"Are you going to seat, or do you want me to help you with that?", Scaramouche asks with an eyebrow raised, to which you glare at him while sliding into the cushioned chair.

You both look at different parts of the room, unsure of how to start a conversation.

"You look nice?", you start off, stealing quick glances at his attire for the day. He is unimpressed at your words, perching his head on his palm as he looks at you and scoffs, "Are you asking me a question or are you complimenting me?"

You sigh heavily, calming yourself down before you start again making sure to emphasize the fact that it was a statement, "You look nice today."

"And won't you tell me something I don't already know?", Scaramouche taunts, the corner of his lips curling upwards. You frown at his smile, "You really are an egotistical, infuriating man." He snickers at your insult, reaching for the menu to start ordering.

Once the food arrives, you start to dig in, having not had eaten any lunch that day from waking up late. When a fork drops a piece of steak on your plate, you halt your actions to look up at Scaramouche cutting his food into thin slices before eating them.

He doesn't meet your gaze as he goes in for another piece, "What are you looking for? Eat up, you look starved."

You look back at the meat, gently poking it before bringing it to your mouth to eat it. "The meat was really nice, thanks Scaramouche." He hums at your thanks.

"Is there any place you'd like to go?", he asks, his eyes half-lidded as they look up, awaiting your response. A moment of silence passes through before you reply with a no.

"Need I remind you of the rules that came with this agreement? Here I am, patiently getting to know you yet you refuse to put in some effort of your own."

You sigh a little before giving in, "I guess I'm sightly interested in what the nearby amusement park has to offer?"

"See? Saying that from the start wouldn't have been so hard would it now?", he says, rolling his eyes at you.

You caught the eye roll and the two of you immediately start another bicker again.

The evening stretched out longer than you expected, as had this outing you went on with him. Your many conversations had their ups and downs — mostly your dry responses and his somewhat playful teasings, but they never felt forced upon you.

When you return to your seat, you realized that your dishes have all been cleared, save for a delectable looking dessert sits in front of you. You look at him, then the dessert, then back at him with squinted eyes. "What's this?"

"It's your dessert, quit staring and eat it before it melts."

"I didn't even mention what I liked.", you muttered under your breath but his choice wasn't wrong, in fact, he had managed to pick out your favourite flavour of dessert.

"You didn't have to, your keychain there answered that."

Attentive, are we?, you thought to yourself, a spoonful of the dessert already in your mouth. You take note of how he doesn't have a dessert himself, and before you knew it, your hand had scooped a generous amount of your confection, and held it right in front of his face.

"And what, pray tell, are you doing?", he asks, a frown plastered on his face as he looks at the sugary treat in repulsion.

"I'm not sure, but won't you just eat it?" You push the spoon closer to him.

"I'm not a fan of sweets, take it away from me.", he grimaces, he could tell from a glance that a lot of sugar went into the dessert.

You fake a sigh before teasing him, "Here I am, trying to improve our relationship, yet you refuse to put in some effort of your own."

He glowers at your words. How dare you use his own words against him? He clicks his tongue in annoyance before he reluctantly eats the dessert.

You prop your head on your other arm, giving him a bright smile as you watch his face contort from the sweetness of the treat. "How is it?"

Anger was evident on his flawless features when he looked up to meet your smile. "Disgustingly sweet."

Your smile stretches further across your face before laughter spills out from your lips at his incensed expression. Scaramouche glares at first, irritation flickering in his eyes, but then — perhaps against his better judgement — a small chuckle escapes him. The sound was soft, nearing reluctant, but soon his mirth overtook his irate mood.

You open your eyes at the sound of his laughter, the genuineness of his laughter and smile, paired with the warm glow that lit up the side of his face by the chandelier above made him look all the more beautiful.

"You should smile and laugh more, Scaramouche. It'll make you look more approachable to the people that want to get to know you.", you drawled, admiring his looks.

He then spoke in a low, soothing tone, "And after experiencing it first-hand, do you not want to get to know me more?"

You give him a half-hearted glare, surely he knew how you felt about this pact you both made.

"Anyways, calling me Scaramouche everytime feels as though there's a great distance between us. You can call me Kunikuzushi, or Kuni, for short instead."

"Kuni? Ku-ni.", you murmur under your breath, feeling how his name rolls off your tongue like silk.

As you were thinking of his name, you looked outside the window, the sky matched the description of a black velvet curtain at that time, with stars studded all over it. "It's getting fairly late, I'll get the bill so we can leave.", your eyes never leaving the window as you spoke.

"You're right that it's late, do you need a ride home?", he asks, concerned about your well-being.

"It's alright, I'll hail for a taxi. You can head home straight."

"Alright.", he concedes, standing to grab his coat. "Also, don't worry about the bill, I've paid it while you were away just now."

"Oh, how much was my part? I'll pay for it.", you inquired, to which he ignored, promptly walking out of the room towards the entrance of the restaurant.

You chase after him, and asked more forcefully, "Hey, how much was my part? I'd like to not be indebted to you again."

He turns back with an unreadable grin on his face. Then, he leans in, his voice dropping to something nearly intimate.

"If you want to pay me back so badly," he murmurs, "just make sure you get home safe, alright?"

He steps onto the curb, an arm raised to waive down the next taxi that comes. As the vehicle slows down to a stop, he turns to you, his expression unreadable as he opens the door with ease.

"See you tomorrow.", he says, his voice smooth, carrying an undertone of something unspoken.

"Yeah.. see you.", you hesitantly respond, slowly nodding along.

With that, you slip inside. Before Scaramouche steps back from the taxi, he tilts his head down to meet you with his eyes narrowed.

"Don't be late tomorrow, I'd hate to have to drag you down myself."

The door clicks shut after he closes it, and you're left to your own thoughts. Don't be late? Are we really heading for the amusement park tomorrow?, you think to yourself. As the taxi drives off, you catch a glimpse of Scaramouche standing there, watching as you drive off into the night.

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Synopsis : When a man that helped you before comes up in with a proposal, can you refuse? It involves 5 days of him trying to win you over — whether through cunning tricks or genuine moments shared on dates and excursions. You're sure that you won't fall, that in 5 days, you'll get your ordinary life back. But how strong is your will to resist him?

[slaymitchabernathy]

Doctor’s Orders

| this drabble contains sexual content ;) |

Some things are just unavoidable in life.

A breakup, a spilt coffee on a brand new shirt, or in Soarynn’s case, a visit to the doctor.

She has nothing against the medical world, nor the professionals who work in it. On the contrary, she’s glad for the Capitol’s doctors who keep her happy and healthy. It’s their big, pointy needles that she hates.

But one cannot exist without the other it seems.

This visit, however, will not require any poking or prodding, she was assured by the receptionist that it was strictly a routine checkup. And besides, Dr. Kyte is a phenomenal doctor, always making Soarynn feel more than comfortable while taking a glance at her most intimate places.

She bounces her knee up and down while sitting on the counter with a small cushion and paper that crinkles every time she moves. It shouldn’t take more than an hour, not that she has anywhere important to be but once again, she’s not the biggest fan of the doctor’s office.

She’s been having some nausea, back pain, and tender breasts. But she hasn’t gotten to that time of the month yet which worries her. She’s two weeks late.

Still a virgin but it doesn’t hurt to check!

There’s a knock at the door and she straightens up, “Come in.”

Soarynn is fully expecting Dr. Kyte to walk in with her light brown hair pulled back into a bun and glasses to be on the bridge of her nose. So when a man, a very handsome man walks in, she’s surprised, to say the least.

He’s got a clipboard in one hand and is wearing the standard white coat so he must be a doctor. Perhaps he’s in the wrong room. He looks at her with a polite smile, “Hello, I’m Dr. Snow.”

When he extends his hand, Soarynn does not take it. “Oh, um, I think you might have the wrong room,” she tells him with a hushed voice, “I’m here to see Dr. Kyte.”

Dr. Snow nods, shutting the door behind her, “Yes, well Dr. Kyte left about an hour ago unfortunately, there was a small family emergency so I’m filling in for her.”

Oh.

Soarynn is still like a statue while he scans over her file that’s on the clipboard, if she knew she’d be seeing a male doctor, she would have rescheduled. While he’s scanning her file, she does some scanning of her own.

Dr. Snow is very handsome. He has blonde hair, curls from the looks of it but they’re slicked back with gel. He had a sharp jawline and a prominent nose, with full lips. He’s very tall, even perched on the counter she’s shorter than him.

His blue eyes meet hers and she’s suddenly so embarrassed. He caught her staring.

“It says here that you’ve been experiencing a number of symptoms over the past few weeks.”

Soarynn manages to squeak out a response, “Mhm.”

Dr. Snow frowns, making his way over to her right where he pulls open a drawer, grabbing a pair of latex gloves to snap on. “These symptoms seem very common for women experiencing early stages of pregnancy. Are you sexually active?”

Soarynn blushes, dropping her gaze. With Dr. Kyte, she’s so honest and open. With Dr. Snow, she feels…nervous.

“No,” she says, barely a whisper.

He takes a step closer to her and she can smell the distinct scent of roses which is odd coming from a man but not unpleasant. “Ms. Nightingale, if you were the victim of sexual assault, I can assure you that this is a safe space to talk about it.”

OH!

Soarynn is more than quick to shut down any idea of being assaulted, "Oh goodness no! I swear nothing has happened to me. I simply wanted to see what the issue was, I assure you, I am not pregnant." That seems to make him feel a little bit better as he visibly relaxes, "Ah, good. When was your last cycle?"

Soarynn really doesn't remember Dr. Kyte asking all of these questions, even though they seem to be the standard procedure. It's not standard for a man who looks like a model to be asking them though. "About a month and a half ago," she answers, "that's why I'm a bit confused. I'm never late."

He eyes her curiously, she wonders how old he is. Is he married? Does he have a beautiful wife and children at home? She ever so casually glances down at his left hand, more specifically, his ring finger, and almost cheers when she sees that it's empty.

"I see, it could be a number of things, stress, diet, lack of sleep. I suggest we do the full routine checkup to ensure that nothing is amiss." Soarynn finds herself mindlessly nodding to his words, he could say anything and she'd go along with it, "Of course, I think that's more than reasonable."

Dr. Snow gives her a small smile, "Perfect, I'll have you get undressed then.”

What?

Soarynn blinks once, twice, three times before opening her mouth, “Pardon me?”

“I’d like to do a full body checkup,” he explains, “the nurse has provided you with a gown I see.” Soarynn had barely glanced at the pink gown the nurse left for her to change in. And it’s not like what she’s wearing is very practical for a checkup right now.

With her heels and tights, her skirt and blouse. No, this won’t do, changing is the best option but also the most nerve-wracking.

Dr. Snow must notice how nervous she is, “Why don’t I step out for a moment?”

She nods eagerly, grateful for the privacy, “That would be wonderful, thank you, doctor.” After offering her a polite smile, Dr. Snow steps out momentarily so that Soarynn can change and gather her thoughts at the same time.

Soarynn undresses in a methodical fashion, first her blouse, then her skirt, then her tights. Her hands slightly shake as she neatly folds them and places them on the end of the counter.

She's so nervous, why is she nervous?

Soarynn has never felt at home when visiting the doctor's office, it's so sterile, so strict. And now, so sexy.

There's a knock at the door and she almost jumps out of her skin, "Just one minute," she calls, fumbling to slip on the paper dress. Considering how much she pays for healthcare, you'd think they'd come up with some cuter clothes.

With the dress on, she feels better, safer, calmer.

"Ms. Nightingale?"

"I'm ready."

He walks back in, looking more handsome if that's even possible, "Have a seat on the counter and we'll do the full body examination." Soarynn does as she's told, careful not to tear her dress, at least she kept her bralette and panties on, wouldn't want to flash the man.

"We'll start with the eyes, nose, and throat."

Soarynn holds perfectly still while he checks her ears with one of the many instruments she knows nothing about. Soarynn tries to ignore how close he is, how if she turned her head, they'd be face-to-face, almost nose-to-nose.

Then he checks her nose, hopefully no bats are in the cave.

"I'm going to turn off the lights so I can check your eyes," he explains, going to turn off the overhead lights. Soarynn stares up at him while he shines a light into her eyes, trying not to blink. "Your eyes are a fascinating color," he tells her, going to turn the lights back on, "normally I just see blue, but you have quite a bit of gray as well."

Soarynn blushes at his words, "Thank you, my mother had the same color."

"She's no longer with you?"

"No," she says quietly, Soarynn never got to meet her mother, she died giving birth to her. Dr. Snow clears his throat, "Neither is mine, makes you want to do right by them, doesn't it?"

She nods, although she never met her mother, she still feels as if she met her in another life. According to many people who knew her mother, she could be her twin.

"Alright, now I'm going to listen to your lungs," he says, grabbing at the end of his stethoscope, "this might be a little cold" he warns. Soarynn braces herself for the cold but still jumps when the cold metal touches her skin, "Sorry," he mumbles, pulling it away, "let me try to warm it up for you."

Soarynn watches Dr. Snow rub the stethoscope between his hands in an attempt to warm it up for her. Is this what good healthcare looks like? "Here, this should be much better," he tells her, pressing it to her skin again. And it is much better.

"Thank you," she says. He simply nods, "Now take a deep breath for me." Soarynn does as she's told, taking in several deep breaths while he moves the instrument around her chest, pressing it onto the paper dress.

"I'm going to have you turn around so I can listen from the back." Soarynn awkwardly turns on the counter so he can listen to her lungs more, "Good," he says quietly, "just breathe in and out, you're doing great."

Soarynn didn't think she had a praise kink, but she might have just formed one. With this man exclusively.

"Well, your lungs are in perfect condition," he announces, making Soarynn sigh in relief, "now I'm going to have you lie on your back so I can complete the exam."

Soarynn knows about this part of the exam, where she gets undressed and Dr. Kyte momentarily pulls her panties to the side just to make sure nothing is amiss.

The hesitance in her eyes tells him about her apprehension, "If you'd like I could have one of the nurses conduct this part of the exam." Soarynn thinks about the cute lace panties she chose to wear this morning, completely oblivious to who would be seeing them right now.

"There's no need," she decides, going to lie down on her back.

He looks surprised by her boldness but it's about time she started acting more confident. "I'm going to untie your dress," he tells her, fingers methodically undoing the three ties in the front of her dress.

It only takes a moment for the cold air to fully hit her almost naked body. Soarynn stares up at the ceiling while his fingers ghost over the soft skin of her stomach, "I'm just going to press down on your stomach," he explains, pressing his fingers into her soft skin. Soarynn squirms a the touch, a giggle escapes her lips and she clamps her mouth shut.

"Sorry, I'm a bit ticklish."

He smiles down at her, "Me too."

Oh, well, in that case, they should just get married.

"I'm going to have you unbutton your brassier for just a moment so I can examine you for any foreign bumps that might be harmful to your health." Soarynn's hands slip under her back, skillfully undoing her clasp.

His fingers are cold as they gently slide her bralette down, baring her breasts to him. And it's cold, which means...they're cold. Standing at high alert in fact. Her nipples might be the death of her.

His hands are large and he gently grabs her right breast, dutifully feeling for lumps before he moves to the left one, "Everything feels good," he informs her, "we can go ahead and put this back on."

A wave of confidence washes over her and she's speaking before she can even process it, "Or we could leave it off."

He looks down at her, blinking once, twice.

"Okay."

Soarynn's hands tremble when he moves down her body, stopping right next to her hipbone, "The last part of this exam might feel a bit intrusive, but it's only for a minute," he assures her, "I'll simply have you pull down your underwear, I'll do a quick inspection and you'll be able to get dressed again."

"Okay, Dr. Snow." Soaryn doesn't miss the way his throat bobs when she calls him that. "You needn't pull them down too far, I just need a quick look." Soarynn peels her lace panties down to about mid-thigh, farther than necessary but that's okay with her.

She doesn't mind.

His fingers brush against her folds and an involuntary moan comes out of her mouth. Fuck. Soarynn bites her lip to prevent any further noises from leaving her mouth, praying that she can get through the rest of this. His long fingers drag along her soft skin, not even touching her folds anymore but she's still so sensitive down there.

He presses against a pulse point, causing goosebumps to form all over her skin.

His hands are so cold.

"Alright, we're all done with the checkup."

Soarynn let out a sigh of relief, she didn't even know she was holding it in. "I'll step out again so you can get dressed, leave the gown on though," he says, already opening the door.

Soarynn nods and watches from her position on the cushion, waiting for the door to shut before she sits up. First, she pulls her panties back on, ignoring how there is now a wet spot forming between her thighs. Next, she puts her bralette back on, clipping it back into place before she begins tying the dress once more.

Another knock comes, but this time, she's ready.

"Come in."

Dr. Snow steps into the room with a smile on his face, polite and easygoing, calming her nerves instantly even though he's part of the reason she has any, to begin with.

"I reviewed your file mixed with the results from the full body checkup and everything seems to be in order. What I would like to recommend is a shot to help boost your hormones, it's possible that your levels have dropped."

Soarynn visibly pales at the thought of getting a shot, getting poked, a needle piercing her skin. And he seems to pick up on that rather quickly, "If you're not sure if the shot is necessary, we can always take a blood sample to see further into the issue."

Even worse!

"No," she shakes her head, quickly putting an end to getting her blood drawn, "that um, that won't be necessary. I trust you." Perhaps those aren't the most professional words to use with this man, but he does seem trustworthy, and if he just saw her hard nipples, there's not much else to hide.

"I'm just scared of needles," she explains, resting her hands on her thighs, "I usually need someone to hold my hand." Dr. Kyte always has a nurse come in to hold Soarynn's hand while she administers the shot, but she's not here.

He nods, looking down at the floor, he's wearing shiny black shoes. He looks very important right now.

"I see. Well, I don't think we have any available nurses at the moment, unless you'd like to wait for one."

Soarynn worries her bottom lip between her teeth, she doesn't want to seem like a baby, even though she definitely is one when it comes to shots. But maybe this can be a learning experience for her.

"It's fine," she decides, "I can handle it."

Dr. Snow grins, "Atta girl, it'll be quick, I'll have to inject the vaccine into your neck though."

Oh.

He needs to work on mentioning everything before she agrees to it.

Her voice cracks, "Okay."

Soarynn watches Dr. Snow pull open several drawers, pulling out a syringe, a vial, a wipe to clean her skin, and a bandaid.

At least the bandaid is pink.

"Which side of the neck?" He asks, looking left to right. Soarynn shrugs, it's going to hurt either way, "Right."

He nods, stepping forward but then he pauses, it's a bit of an awkward position that they're in. "Maybe I could just spread my legs," she suggests, batting her lashes up at him, "so you can get closer." Dr. Snow bites the inside of his cheek, gripping the syringe tighter, "Sure."

Soarynn does exactly that, spreading her legs so he can stand between them. The paper dress rides up on her thighs, baring her lace panties to him. His breath trembles for a moment, "Alright, is it okay if I rest my hand on your thigh?"

It's suddenly very hot in here.

"Of course, Dr. Snow."

He places his right hand on her left thigh, his fingers are still cold but she welcomes the sensation. They're also very close to her cunt. She chooses to ignore that part.

Soarynn watches from the corner of her eye as he brings the syringe up, their faces are inches apart now. She tilts her head to the side, baring her neck, "Is it alright if I push your dress down off your shoulders?"

"Mhm."

He gently tugs her paper dress down, exposing her chest once again and Soarynn closes her eyes, tensing and preparing for the piercing needle to penetrate her skin.

Instead, it's his fingers penetrating her cunt.

Soarynn moans, throwing her head back and arching her back at two of his long digits plunging deep into her cunt, pressing right against her sweet spot. "Oh," she gasps, her chest pressing against his, "oh please."

His breaths are on her neck instead of the needle, then his lips, sucking hard on her tender skin. His fingers thrust into her at a rapid pace, making it known how wet she was for Dr. Snow. It almost feels like a dream, a terrible, nasty, forbidden dream she should not be having.

"You like that?"

Soarynn whimpers, her eyes rolling back, "Yes," she whines, latching a hand onto his forearm, "yes Dr. Snow, I like it."

"I knew you needed something to distract you, to take your little mind off of the bigger things in life." Soarynn is at a loss for words, his fingers feel so fucking good. Her toes are curling and she can barely hold herself up so he removes his hand from her thigh to wrap his arm around her waist.

His lips travel from her neck to her jawline, then, to her lips.

It's a lustful, passionate kiss shared between them, a forbidden desire.

"So wet," he says against her lips, "so needy, so willing to take it, aren't you? Bet you'd spread your legs for anyone huh? A doctor, a lawyer, a President, anything and anyone to fill your greedy little cunt."

Soarynn tries to shake her head but it's pointless. He's right.

His fingers slam into her so fast, hitting that sweet spot every single time without fail. Soarynn shrieks when his thumb finds her clit, rubbing it in tight circles to bring her to a delicious orgasm.

"That's right," he says, panting, "gonna cum all over my fingers like a good girl huh? Can't take a shot but you can take other things right?"

Soarynn moans, her walls flutter around his fingers, and his words cause that wire inside of her to snap.

Dr. Snow doesn't let up one bit though, in fact, he starts going harder. "I can't," she whines, trying to push away from him but he's so much stronger than she is, bigger, taller, larger. His cock is probably huge.

"You can," he tells her, his voice laced with authority, "and you will. Be my good little slut and cum for me again Soarynn, I want this entire building to know what a slut you are for me."

His saying that reminds her of what a shameful, scandalous position she's currently in right now. Getting finger-fucked by her doctor at the doctor's office.

People are in the next room getting a prescription, she's in this room getting fucking pounded.

"Please," she mumbles, "please, please, please."

Her brain has been turned into mush, she can't think straight, talk straight, even look straight.

All she wants is another orgasm.

"Already dumbed down huh? Can't think about anything else but my fingers huh? That's all you want, all you need, isn't it baby? Just need to be filled all the time, keep your pretty little mind filled with pleasure and sex."

His lips are on hers again, this time more aggressively as he bites at her bottom lip. Soarynn gives him full control, letting him lead so she can mindlessly follow.

Her next orgasm is riding up on her and his fingers are going faster than before, her cunt is slick, making the most obscene noises right now in front of her doctor, a man who went to school for years. All for her to fall apart on his fingers.

"Cum for me Soarynn," he orders, his voice harsh, "cum all over my fingers like the little fuckdoll you are."

That's all it takes.

Soarynn sees white when her second orgasm hits her, her body goes limp in his arms, hoping he'll keep her upright while she moans loudly.

Soarynn's eyes begin to drift shut, growing heavier and heavier before they close and all she can think about is how he never gave her that shot.

꧁ ꧂

When Soarynn's eyes open, she's in her bedroom.

She looks to her right and finds a glass of water on her nightstand, along with a bowl of fruits. When she looks to her left, her boyfriend is staring down at her, a proud smirk on his lips.

"You really got into it this time," she mumbles, snuggling up to his side. Coriolanus has since removed his white doctor's coat, and the rest of his clothes for that matter from what she can feel, most likely just in his boxers.

Coriolanus chuckles, smoothing down her blonde hair, "You were much more confident this time," he replies, "telling me to leave your breasts exposed really threw me for a loop." Soarynn grins up at him, usually when they do these roleplay things, she's a shaking, timid, shy little thing. She's been a client for a lawyer, a secretary for the President, and now a virgin patient for a doctor.

It's a rush.

The first time he ever mentioned it, she hadn't been so sure about it. Pretending to be someone else? It was strange.

But then she learned to love it, getting to play around like she was someone else. And it was just extremely hot, the whole "forbidden romance" genre has always been a favorite in her books. Soarynn has read countless books about these types of relationships and now, she gets to live out her fantasy.

And Coriolanus gets to pretend to be powerful in every situation, holding power over those below him and thriving in his new role while fucking her senseless.

It's a win-win situation.

"I had to catch you off guard," she says nonchalantly, "and I thought you were going to fuck me, not finger me." He laughs, "Is there a difference?"

"There's a very big difference."

Coriolanus yawns, they always do these things late at night, and this time, they were in one of their spare closets, using spare counter space and floor space to create a believable doctor's office.

"Well that's because I plan on fucking you all night long darling, I'm still not done with you so I hope you're ready for an all-night affair."

Soarynn's eyes light up at the prospect of sex all night long, a weary concept to some people, but not to her. Sex with Coriolanus is amazing, whether they're playing pretend or being themselves.

It's always good.

"Is that so?" She murmurs, slowly pushing herself to sit up next to him, "I have to stay in bed with you all night?"

Even though they aren't pretending anymore, his throat still bobs. It's rare that she catches him off guard so she cherishes every moment she has of it.

But he recovers smoothly, pressing a kiss to her pulse point.

"Mhm," he responds, slipping a hand between her thighs. Soarynn sighs at the touch, always welcomed, always wanted.

"Is that an order?"

Perhaps next time he could be a Peacekeeper who arrests her.

The next words he whispers send a shiver down her spine.

"Doctor's orders."

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

| taglist: @lovelylove268 @kickmybark @iswearicanfixhim @wonderlandbound111 @melodyoflovee @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead @erensrealgf @evilmenarehot @cervvsq @snowgirl12 @matcha-muses @anisangeldust @snowsgames |

[airandyeah]

Sins (Alpha Geto X Omega Gojo X Omega Reader) Part.16

My Masterlist Series Masterlist Warnings: Obvious A/B/O dynamics, fated mates, suggestive comments or actions, just generally Minors DNI-just in case. This will be similar to Pink Pony Club, where I just mark every chapter as 18+

The room was bathed in soft morning light, the kind that crept in lazily through the curtains, warm and golden. For the first time in what felt like forever, you woke up before them. There was no weight pinning you down this morning, no arms caging you between strong bodies. Just the steady, rhythmic sound of breathing, the comforting scent of them lingering in the air.

Satoru was curled up on his side, his breath warm against Suguru’s chest, his fingers loosely fisted in the fabric of his mate’s shirt. Suguru lay flat on his back, one arm flung over Satoru in a lazy claim, the other resting palm-up, like he had fallen asleep reaching for you.

You let yourself just watch them for a while, your chest swelling with something impossibly tender. Love. Safety. The realization that no matter how much had been taken from you, you still had this. Them.

The moment didn’t last long. Satoru stirred, blinking blearily before his lips curled into a sleepy grin.

“You’re staring,” he murmured, voice still thick with sleep.

“Maybe I just like looking at you,” you teased, brushing a stray piece of white hair from his forehead.

Suguru hummed, eyes still closed. “Who wouldn’t?”

Satoru stretched with a pleased noise, rolling onto you in an instant, pressing his full weight down with a dramatic sigh. “Mmm, our mate loves us. It’s so nice waking up adored.”

“Get off,” you laughed, shoving at him.

“Nope.”

Suguru finally cracked an eye open, watching the two of you with lazy amusement. “Should I intervene?”

Satoru gasped, scandalized. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

You scoffed. “Moose and Hime are more on your side than I am.”

As if summoned, Moose jumped onto the bed, sniffing at Satoru’s hair before stepping over him to press his face into your shoulder. Hime wasn’t far behind, the sleek black cat curling up right against Suguru, her tail flicking in approval.

Satoru pouted dramatically. “Traitors! How am I supposed to win favorite mate if even the cats like you better?”

“Maybe if you didn’t smother me first thing in the morning, you’d have a better chance,” you mused, scratching Moose’s ears.

Suguru hummed in amusement. “I don’t know. I think our mate prefers my patience and wisdom.”

Satoru scoffed. “Yeah, right. I’m the fun one. The hot one. The one who—” He paused, then his lips curled mischievously. “—the one who’s gonna give her pups.”

You choked. Suguru snorted.

Satoru only grinned wider, smug. “What? It’s true! Someone’s gotta carry on our genes. And between the two of us, I think we all know who’d make the cutest babies.”

Suguru rolled his eyes. “That’s your argument?”

You, still recovering from your shock, buried your face in your hands. “Oh my god.”

Satoru gasped, delighted. “She’s thinking about it! She’s considering—”

“I’m not.”

Suguru leaned over, tugging you into his chest while throwing a lazy arm over Satoru to keep him from pouncing again. “Alright, alright. We’ll talk about it when she’s ready.”

Satoru huffed dramatically. “Fine. But just know, my offer is always on the table.”

You groaned. “You two are insufferable.”

“And yet, you love us.”

Suguru chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “She does.”

And you did. Even when they were idiots. Even when they teased you. Even when they made your face heat up first thing in the morning.

You loved them.

And that realization settled deep in your bones—warm, unwavering, and steady as their arms around you. ~~~ Dinner was peaceful, the warmth of home settling around you in a way that felt natural now. The three of you sat at the table, sharing bites of food, comfortable silence filling the gaps between easy conversation. Moose sat at your feet, tail flicking contentedly, while Hime perched on the windowsill, watching the world outside with her usual air of indifference.

It wasn’t until halfway through the meal that you finally voiced the thought that had been lingering since that morning.

“…Would you?”

Satoru blinked mid-bite, glancing at you in confusion. “Would we what?”

You hesitated, rolling your chopsticks between your fingers before looking up at them. “Would you…want pups?”

Suguru’s movements stilled, his dark eyes meeting yours with something unreadable, while Satoru—who had just been chewing like a contented fool—froze completely.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I never really thought about it before,” you admitted, glancing down at your plate. “But…this morning, when you joked about it, I realized I didn’t know how you actually felt about it.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, as if snapping out of his daze, Satoru was the first to react—his chopsticks clattering to the table as his lips split into the biggest grin.

“Would we want pups?” he repeated, eyes glinting with excitement. “Would we—? Oh my god, yes. A hundred percent yes. Can you imagine how adorable they’d be? The cutest little brats ever—white hair, dark hair, maybe a mix—oh, and they’d totally inherit my good looks—”

Suguru reached out and clamped a hand over Satoru’s mouth, effectively silencing him. His expression was much softer, more thoughtful, as he turned to you. “Are you thinking about it?”

You hesitated again. “I… don’t know,” you admitted honestly. “I never really considered it. I guess…I just wanted to know how you two felt first.”

Suguru nodded slowly, as if digesting your words. Then, after a beat, his lips curled into the smallest, fondest smile. “I think…it’s something I’d like. Someday.”

Satoru, still muffled under Suguru’s palm, made an indignant noise and pried his hand away. “Someday? I could start right now.”

You smacked his arm, face heating. “I just said I don’t know, you menace.”

Suguru sighed but was clearly amused. “You’ll have to forgive him,” he said, resting his chin against his palm. “He’s been on about this since before we even met you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Satoru huffed, pouting at Suguru. “You wanted them too!”

“I did,” Suguru admitted with a hum. “But unlike you, I wasn’t planning on terrorizing our mate about it on day one.”

Satoru rolled his eyes but turned back to you, softer now. “You don’t have to decide anything, y’know,” he murmured, reaching for your hand. “No pressure. No expectations. But…yeah. If you ever did want that…we’d be ready. Always.”

Suguru nodded in agreement, his own hand covering yours. “Whenever you’re ready. Or even if you never are.”

You glanced between them—their warmth, their unwavering support—and exhaled, a small smile forming despite yourself.

“…Okay.”

Satoru beamed. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you repeated, squeezing their hands. “No promises. But…maybe one day.”

Satoru practically vibrated in his seat, but Suguru just chuckled, shaking his head.

And just like that, the conversation shifted again, flowing back into casual warmth, teasing, and laughter.

No pressure. No expectations. Just love. A few days passed when Satoru had practically shoved you out the door, grinning like a fool as he waved you off. “Go, go, go! Spend time with your Alpha—I promise I won’t die of loneliness while you’re gone. Maybe.” He decided that he has hogged your attention a little too much- You still needed to spend time with Sugu too though.

You had barely managed to laugh before Suguru whisked you away, his hand warm and grounding in yours as he led you down the city streets.

It was a quiet kind of night—the air crisp but not cold, the lights of the city twinkling above as the two of you walked at an easy pace. There was something…settling about being with Suguru like this, just the two of you. No distractions, no teasing interruptions from Satoru—just him.

“I feel like we haven’t done this in a while,” you admitted, giving his hand a squeeze.

Suguru hummed, glancing down at you with a soft smile. “We haven’t. Satoru was right—he does hog your time.”

You snorted. “Well, he is a very clingy Omega.”

“Mm. But I suppose that’s why we love him,” Suguru mused, pulling you a little closer as you walked. “Still, I’ve missed having you to myself.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest at his words, and you leaned against him. “I’ve missed it too.”

Your date wasn’t extravagant—Suguru had planned a simple evening, just the two of you sharing a meal at a quiet, tucked-away restaurant he knew you’d love. He had always been the more thoughtful one, finding places that matched your mood, ensuring that wherever he took you, you’d feel comfortable and at ease.

The restaurant was cozy, candle-lit, and intimate. As you settled into your seat across from him, you realized just how much you’d missed this—the gentle back-and-forth, the way he looked at you like you were his whole world.

At one point, as you laughed at something he said, Suguru just…stared—his dark eyes warm, something soft and unreadable in them.

“What?” you asked, tilting your head.

He exhaled, shaking his head with a fond smile. “Nothing. Just thinking about how much I love you.”

Your heart skipped. He had always been straightforward like that, never hesitating to say how he felt. And it never failed to leave you breathless.

You reached across the table, fingers brushing against his before he laced them together with yours. “I love you too.”

Suguru brought your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours.

The rest of the night passed in the same warmth, the two of you caught in your own little world.

When you finally returned home, Satoru was waiting—wrapped in a blanket, looking pitiful, Moose and Hime sprawled beside him.

“Took you long enough,” he pouted dramatically.

Suguru rolled his eyes, but you just laughed, letting Satoru pull you into a hug.

And as your two mates settled in beside you for the night, you realized just how full your heart felt. ~~~ The apartment had been quiet most of the day, save for Moose and Hime’s usual antics. You had been lounging when a knock at the door pulled you from your lazy peace.

Opening it, you found Nanami standing there, looking as put together as ever, despite the fact that he wasn’t in his usual suit. Instead, he wore something more relaxed—still polished, but not so stiff.

“I figured you should learn a few things,” he said simply, stepping inside when you moved aside. “Self-defense, in case they’re not around.”

It wasn’t like you could argue with that logic. So, after rolling your shoulders and stretching out, you let him show you the basics—how to break a grip, how to land a solid hit if you ever needed to.

Nanami was patient, guiding you with a steady hand and sharp eyes. You could tell he had done this before—probably for Satoru, and maybe even Suguru.

But as you moved through the motions, something different caught your attention. A new scent—faint but there. It was warm, familiar in a way you couldn’t place, but definitely not one he usually carried.

You paused, brows furrowing as you tilted your head at him. “Nanami… you smell different.”

He exhaled through his nose, adjusting his sleeves before meeting your gaze. And then, to your surprise, the smallest smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“My wife had a pup recently,” he admitted, his voice softer than usual.

Your eyes widened, warmth spreading through your chest. “Wait, really?”

He nodded. “A few weeks ago. I’ve been taking some time away from work to be with them.”

A grin broke across your face as you lightly smacked his arm. “You didn’t tell me? That’s huge, Nanami!”

He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. “It wasn’t something I needed to announce.”

You huffed but couldn’t keep the joy from your voice. “Boy or girl?”

“A girl,” he answered, something unshakably fond in his tone. “She’s… perfect.”

Your heart melted at that. Seeing Nanami—a man who was always so serious, so reserved—look soft at the mere mention of his pup? It was enough to make your eyes sting.

“I need to meet her,” you declared.

His lips twitched in amusement. “In time.”

You grinned, bouncing on your feet. “Satoru’s gonna lose his mind when he finds out.”

Nanami sighed. “That’s why I haven’t told him yet.”

You laughed. Fair enough.

Nanami raised a brow at you, crossing his arms. "And what about you?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Me?"

He hummed in confirmation, watching you carefully.

You shifted on your feet, glancing away. "I—" You hesitated, chewing on the inside of your cheek. "I never really thought about it before. Not until Satoru started teasing about it."

Nanami let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "Teasing, huh? With him, that usually means he's already serious about it."

You exhaled a soft laugh, rubbing your arms. "Yeah… I figured. But I don’t know. It’s a big decision, right? And things have just settled down. I finally feel normal again."

Nanami nodded, his expression thoughtful. "It is a big decision. And it's one you shouldn't rush into just because Satoru wants it."

You smiled a little, appreciating his blunt honesty. "I know. I just… I do think about it sometimes. About what it’d be like. Having pups, a family with them."

His gaze softened. "Then take your time. You'll know when you're ready. And if you never are, that’s just as valid."

You let out a slow breath, nodding. "Yeah… Thanks, Nanami."

He inclined his head, then smirked slightly. "But if you do have pups, I expect Satoru to be the one completely out of his depth while Suguru actually knows what he's doing."

You snorted, laughter bubbling up. "Oh, absolutely. Satoru will be a mess. A very excited mess, but a mess nonetheless."

Nanami chuckled, shaking his head. "Make sure you prepare for that chaos."

You grinned. "I live with them. I'm always preparing for chaos." ~~~ You weren’t expecting much when Satoru and Suguru invited you to the gym with them. Maybe some casual weightlifting, a bit of cardio, and a lot of Satoru goofing off between sets. What you weren’t expecting was to be absolutely wrecked by the sight of your sweaty, shirtless mates in their full, glistening glory.

Leaning against the wall, you swallowed hard as you watched Suguru press an absurd amount of weight, muscles flexing and straining under his skin. His hair was pulled into a messy bun, a few loose strands clinging to his damp forehead. His deep grunts of exertion sent heat straight to your stomach.

And then there was Satoru.

The smug bastard caught you staring and winked. "Like what you see, sweetheart?" He tossed his shirt over his shoulder, revealing his ridiculously toned torso as he casually curled dumbbells like they weighed nothing. "You are drooling a little."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes despite the warmth creeping up your neck. "You wish," you shot back, trying to regain some dignity.

Suguru, ever observant, smirked as he racked his weights. He stalked toward you, arms glistening, sweat dripping down his chest, and leaned down just enough to invade your space. "You’re staring," he murmured, voice low and teasing.

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, crossing your arms. "Well, it’s not my fault you two decided to look like this today."

Satoru snickered, throwing an arm around Suguru’s shoulders. "What, this old thing?" He gestured dramatically to himself. "Babe, we look like this every day."

You huffed, pushing past them toward the water cooler. "Unfair is what it is," you muttered under your breath.

Satoru was suddenly at your side, grinning ear to ear. "You know," he purred, leaning in, "we could always work out together more often. I’d be happy to spot you."

Suguru hummed in agreement, stepping behind you. "Or we could help you with some stretches. Get those muscles nice and loose."

You turned, narrowing your eyes at them. "I know what you two are doing."

Satoru wiggled his eyebrows. "Yeah? And is it working?"

You exhaled sharply, grabbing your water bottle and shoving past them. "I hate you both."

"You love us!" Satoru called after you, laughing.

Suguru chuckled as they watched you walk off, muttering about ridiculously hot alphas under your breath.

"She totally loves us," Satoru whispered.

Suguru smirked. "Obviously."

They didn’t let up for the rest of the session.

Every time they switched to a new workout, one or both of them found a way to mess with you. When they moved to squats, Satoru made an obnoxious show of flexing in the mirror, catching your eye with a knowing smirk.

“Babe, check this out,” he said before sinking into a perfect squat, exaggeratedly slow. “You see this? This is peak performance.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, I see it, alright.”

Suguru, ever the smooth one, followed suit but without the dramatics. “If you’re so distracted,” he murmured, coming close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his body, “why not join us? We’d love to see what you can do.”

You weren’t about to let them win. Crossing your arms, you gave them your best unimpressed look. “Are you two actually working out or just putting on a show for me?”

Satoru snorted, wiping sweat off his forehead with the hem of his shirt—the one he threw off only a few minutes ago. “Sweetheart, we always look this good. It’s not our fault you’re having a hard time keeping your eyes off us.”

You exhaled sharply, determined to ignore them. But then they moved to bench presses, and that’s when the real teasing started.

Suguru lay back on the bench first, gripping the bar while Satoru hovered above, spotting him. You knew they were up to something when Satoru glanced your way with a devious grin.

“Suguru, you should be careful,” he mused. “If you push too hard, you might give our girl ideas.”

Suguru lifted the bar easily, setting a steady rhythm. “Ideas?” he echoed, as if he didn’t already know where this was going.

Satoru turned to you, blue eyes glittering with mischief. “You know, about how strong her mates are. How easily we could just pick her up, toss her around—”

Your face burned. “You’re unbearable,” you muttered, turning away to grab a towel.

Satoru cackled. “C’mon, princess, don’t act like you’re not loving the view.”

Suguru put the bar back in place and sat up, rubbing his towel over his neck. “I think she’s embarrassed,” he teased, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine.

You whirled on them, pointing a finger. “I came here to work out, not to be relentlessly bullied by my ridiculously handsome mates.”

The moment the word handsome left your lips, Satoru gasped dramatically. “You admit it!”

Suguru chuckled, standing up and wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “So, you do like watching us.”

You groaned, pushing at his chest, but he wouldn’t budge. “I hate you both,” you muttered.

Satoru draped himself over your other side, trapping you between them. “Nah, you love us,” he cooed, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You’re just shy about it.”

Suguru hummed in agreement, resting his chin on your shoulder. “It’s okay, love. We already know how much you adore us.”

You grumbled something unintelligible, but neither of them let up, peppering your face with kisses until you finally gave in and giggled.

You were never coming to the gym with them again.

Taglist is always open for anyone! Just comment, send an ask, or a DM and I'll add you! Taglist: @purpleicing , mini-kunoichi , @gravity-valley , @jinjen , @c0quin , @makingtimemine , @asweetblueberry2 , @vyxte I think that's everyone who asked to be tagged, I apologize if I missed anyone!!! Perma-tags: @thenightperson

[raspberrybirb]

Getting Puzzol 🧩hints from his wife

It's Flora's birthday and one of the things Alfendi is focused on is stumping his father on a puzzle 🧩 but before heading to Flora's birthday party he asks help. (Fic under the cut)

I don't have much experience with writing Lucy's accent or writing in general but here goes

"Lucy is there something we're running from that l'm not aware of", Alfendi cried as he held on for his life to the cars grab handle.

"No", she giggled as she turned the steering wheel to turn into the street leading to Scotland Yard.

"Then what the hell are you speeding for", Al exclaims

As the car slows to a stop and the car's doors open and the two detectives emerge, Lucy playfully responds, "oi you said it was important, "Prof" ".

"Really Lucy the old nickname", Fendi grumbles as he tries to recover from the drive.

"And yes it is important...", he adds Al mischievously unbeknownst to his wife who has already made her way to Scotland Yard's steps. He was there for his magnum opus the puzzle sure to stump his father and Flora's gift which he couldn't store at home due to Lucy regularly inviting Flora and Kat for tea.

The two make their way into the building passing the many busy offices and coworkers making their way to a wing of Scotland Yard in which Alfendi and Lucy both had their offices, much better offices than the one they first met in.

As Alfendi goes to his office to retrieve the his masterpiece of a puzzle and Flora's gift, a beautiful ornate vase with an apple theme. Shuffling through one of the many open boxes in the messy office he spots the puzzle he had jotted after a tiresome case. Storing it in his suit pocket departing from his office he had one more stop to make.

He makes his way to Lucy's office to get ready to head to the restaurant his family had reserved for Flora's birthday, he sets the gift box on a wooden table.

"'eeeee is that Flora's gift" Lucy excitedly says as she makes her way to the box before getting stopped in her tracks by her tall redheaded husband as he steps front of her causing her to bump into him

"Lucy I'm afraid cannot let you do that", he chuckles.

"Eh why not?", she inquires.

"You my dear have a tendency to tell Kat or Flora what their gift is, he playfully remarks.

"I don't think like that comment Inspector Layton", she says feigning offence.

"And besides I need your help for something", he informs her.

"Oh, what for Alfendi", she responds with curiosity.

"A puzzle I've been working on in my free time to stump my father, imagine the Great Professor Layton beat by the unsolvable puzzle created by none other than his own son", he mischievously grins as he hands Lucy a piece of paper.

Lucy reading over the puzzle while Alfendi lets his ego go to his head. After he's done he walks over and watches Lucy attempt to solve the puzzle.

"I've got it", she excitedly exclaims.

"No, there's no possible way", Alfendi cries.

Lucy adds," 'eres a hint, maybe don't write how you created the puzzle on the receipt you left in the office from lunch last week.

"Wha-",he attempts to ask before a thin peice of paper is waved in front of his nose.

"Damnit", he grumbles in defeat.

"Cheer up it was a good puzzle if it weren't for the hints it would've stumped me good", Lucy says standing on her tippy toes to give him a quick peck on the cheek to cheer him up.

He gives her a bashful smile before making their way out of Scotland Yard, and speeding off to Flora's birthday party.

[doppel-doodles]

Thoughts and feelings on Poppy: Small analysis.

Didn't think I would make another one of these anytime soon buuuuut looks like my brain had different plans, so let's dicuss the knock-off Chucky shall we?

While by no means her biggest fan I feel like Poppy actions deserve a bit more civil discussion than hate. (That's not to say that you shouldn't hate on her. You should, it's hilarious.)

While not a good person by any stretch of the imagination, I genuinely think Poppy kinda has a point with her ambition to blow everything up.

Like- rationally that is the objectively the better choice to bury everything because be for real with me: These toys are not safe and neither is the world outside the factory.

There is a higher chance of them being locked up for research or being shot on sight than there is of anyone actually trying to integrate them into society, and even if someone did there is also a very likely scenario of any stress Inducing situation causing a toy to feel threatened and go into fight mode, which how you get a dead guy on the floor.

And even if they lived in hiding instead, exactly how different would that be from living in the factory? Now instead having to worry about murder toys they also have stuff like: weather,wild animals and of course humans-

So an ideal solution would be to bury it all, let the victims finally rest in peace, make these horrors public and never repeat this mistake again.

Of course there is the fact that these are not objects or mindless monsters, they are all still people with very real human emotions and thoughts who have shown themselves to be capable of being peaceful when feeling safe.

But even in an ideal world I doubt that there wouldn't be any incidents considering that anyone currently alive in the factory is or was at one point a murderer.

Where Poppy lost me is the part where she made it abundantly clear that SHE would get to live, not because it was a necessary step, no,no she just didn't wanna die. If YOU make the decision to sink the ship then you better be ready to go down with it captain.

She is part of this, a part of the horrors. They will live on with her just like they would with ANY other living toy she does not get a pass just because she is tall enough to be kicked around like a football, if Bobby bearhug overhere was able to maul me to death then so can she-

It's honestly just a dick move on her part and a massive "fuck you" to everyone else as it implies that she somehow is special or deserves to live more instead of them when she is no different than the others, but their sacrifice insures her survival.

That is why we side with Doey outside the game.

But-

A point people tend to brush aside is that she isn't just looking out for her own survival, the plan is that we,kissy and poppy are going to rescue the orphans sleeping in the factory but like, how do we know they are actually alive?

Even if we take Poppy at her word(which we shouldn’t as she is an unreliable narrator) that they weren't killed during the hour of joy and actually were put into a coma, that was years ago.

Once you think about the likelihood of that still being the case you start to see all the holes in that statement.

You tell me a bunch of children put into a medically induced coma for YEARS are still alive and well under the care of an insane monster in a factory that's falling apart?

If that's the case I want the prototype as my actual doctor he probably has already found a way to keep me young and healthy forever.

If 2+2=4

Stay with me here.

Then I ain't gotta be a genius to know this shit don't add up-

Like Poppy is also not dumb, I think she would’ve at least considered that possibility right?

Or maybe she didn’t.

Because she didn’t want to consider that scenario.

Poppy is a very flawed character: A coward,selfish and very headstrong in her plans. She’ll figure out how to get her way whether you like it or not and she tends to not pay the feelings of others not much mind, focusing on the bigger picture.

But she is far from the worst person here, she is a victim in all of this but that doesn’t mean she is incapable of being bad either.

Those flaws mentioned above as well as her fear to get locked up again or worse drive a lot of her actions in game and clearly she has ulterior motives.

I find her fascinating, similar to kevin she is not the perfect victim so I get the vibe that the fandom is way harsher to judge her.

People also don't simp for her like they do for the doctor and completely disregard all of his actions but I digress-

Anyway thanks for joining me fellas that's all I'm gonna say for now.

[mornyavie]

As I sit here yet again watching the slow-motion train crash of someone bad at organizing organize something, I will offer my unsolicited advice to tumbler instead:

You know that joke about how no one can get together ever? Your TTRPG group lasts a month, your friends' next meetup is in a year and a half, your book club took a week off and immediately fell apart?

Two points that help immensely:

1.

No open-ended questions. Don't walk up to someone or pull up the group chat and ask "when can we meet?"

No one knows how to answer that!

Instead make your own decision, ask, and refine. Ask "can we get together Tuesday evening" or "hey are people free this Friday or Saturday?" or "what about Sunday at 11am?" Then they have a clear yes/no question to respond to, and if the answers are all "no" you can choose a different day/date and try again.

Brought to you by someone asking 9 people "when can we meet this month?" Are you expecting a detailed month-long calendar from nine people to be sent to the group chat? You get crickets and "well I can do wednesdays I guess" because that's far too large a time frame for anyone to provide a decision.

2.

Some people can't come. That's ok. If there's four of you, three can meet up sometimes. It's fine. Try to keep track of whether you're always excluding the same person (even if they're the really busy one), but perfect is the enemy of good, and seeing groups of your friends is better than endlessly waiting until you can meet all of them.

The aforementioned nine people are almost never going to be in the same spot at once, and if you hold out for that magic day it'll never happen. You aren't being mean to someone by choosing a time they can't come; just make sure that they know you miss them, and that they get to come next time.

[dykedvonte]

If Ulysses has a million haters, then I'm one of them. If Ulysses has one hater, then I'm THAT ONE. If Ulysses has no haters, that means I'm dead. If the world is with Ulysses than I’m against the world.

[quietwingsinthesky]

sometimes interpreting media through a shipping lens enhances it, on occasion even beyond the author’s original intent, but sometimes, you do have to accept that your ship was not in the heads of anyone making the source material and trying to force it to fit into evidence of your ship will severely hinder your ability to discuss the actual text.

[sskk-manifesto]

--

[potahun]

you can do anything if you try hard enough, to brace myself against the eventuality (not 100% but srsly, lately i trust GA less and less so i feel like the percentage in probability is increasing a lot) of furuya ending up in a canon relationship with a woman, i have started to try and reverse brainwash myself into thinking he's bi instead of gay

and you know what? it's not exactly working yet but i sense myself with the beginning of a possibility of believing in it

[skrunksthatwunk]

have just been introduced to a kitten named rascal who lives on my floor and whose babysitters (who are not his owner?) were trying Really hard to goad me into adopting which like. he's a little baby and he's so so so silly and he barely even bit me but like also. this cat isn't yours???? anyway if the owner's giving him up then I might finally have a cat which like AHHHHHG

[kindnessoverperfection]

I've found that, when interacting with others (or myself), it's useful to consider the lessons I'd want to teach a growing child.

If a child makes a mistake, I wouldn't want them to feel shame. I wouldn't yell at them, humiliate them, or in any way indicate to them that their mistake is a reflection of their worth or of who they are as a person.

Instead, I'd want them to associate the process with love and joy. If they say something that hurts someone's feelings, or otherwise ostracizes someone in some way, I'd compassionately explain to them. Ideally, they'd walk away knowing why they said / did it in the first place, how to handle similar situations in the future, and would accept the consequences (e.g. if a friend no longer wanted to hang out with them).

While the consequences may sometimes be painful, I'd do my best to instill in them that mistakes are human and natural, and that the process of learning from these mistakes is an opportunity to improve connections with others and express love.

I have a tendency towards excessive guilt. Memories in which I've said / done something ignorant or hurtful are infused with this guilt and shame- but ideally, I'd feel a sense of love and peace, and perhaps happiness, when looking back on them. Because they were moments of growth, moments I learned how to be more compassionate (even if the actual learning came years later).

So I'll put this out into the void:

When you make a mistake, that is not a reflection of you as a person. It is a moment in time, a moment which was informed by your past experiences. Humans are not static labels, or monsters in an RPG game. We are social creatures who live and learn and react and grow and experience and love. Be gentle with yourself and move forward knowing you're doing so in accordance with your values.

[sea-buns]

there's this baby kitty in my neighborhood whose tail has been injured and as far as we know doesn't have any owners. we finally got her trusting enough to come up on the front porch and sleep, but the rush of power at being on higher ground must have gone to her head cuz she has since completely ignored us for 3 days while she stalks her terrorizer so hard he waits at her feet in fear of her weirdness. well i think the bout of ghosting us when we call for food time might be over cuz this morning there was a bird next to the front mat and she was screaming for sustenance. the thing is, earlier in the morning she was out there yelling but we didn't have time to feed her then. and we only saw the bird when we came back about an hour later so. either it was already there and we missed it or she said 'oh no food? i can trade u want trade? we share?' and ran to go find an offering. but also the bird she brought isn't one we really get at our feeders so this skinny little paperweight of a cat ran a fair distance somewhere and carried this bird that's the size of her head, if not bigger, back uphill, upstairs, through a patio gate, and gently lined it up next to the mat. not even on the mat. it was perfectly parallel but out of the way of where we walk. i maybe should have been more horrified than i was but frankly i've been missing her and i am flattered by the sentiment.

[shiroselia]

While I am glad that they didn’t, as someone who generally still enjoys pre-mouth rig gen 3, I still cannot for the life of me fathom why the god damn hell SSE didn’t split off the generations with the jorvik wild and just bit the bullet on either the mouth-rigs being gen 4 or atleast 3.5

Not even just for the pedantic shit they’d have so much fucking logistics fixed by it it’s actually insanity that the connemara and the... any horse after like the Finnhorse is allowed to be considered “the same generation of model quality”