#the signal - which is the red circles

[2cupids]

warnings. sex worker!reader, fingering, slight breath play, squirting. mdni (17+).

boyfriend!choso has always been supportive of everything you’ve done and that includes you and your onlyfans account. he’s even subscribed to you.

that’s exactly why choso is helping you film a video today. you’re sat in between his thick thighs with a red lingerie set on facing the mirror in front of you with the phone set up, recording you and choso’s reflection in the mirror which you’ll edit out later.

choso’s hands caress the sides of your body, coming up to massage your boobs and giving them a nice squeeze. he tugs the lacy material down to reveal your tits, groping them gently as you sigh and relax further into his chest.

one hand stays on your breast as the other travels down south. he rubs your inner thigh, slowly inching closer to your awaiting core, building up the anticipation. his fingers lightly tease your clit over your panties and a whimper falls from your pretty lips.

per your idea, choso’s hand parts from your breast and reaches over next to him to grab the pair of scissors, cutting both sides of your panties and letting the material fall down between your legs, putting your pussy on full display.

he makes you cum the first time by playing with your clit and you’re a withering mess against his hard chest. a firm slap lands on your sensitive nub and you squeal, your body flinching slightly before a small grin pulls at the sides of your mouth.

choso takes his hand away from your pussy, giving you a minute to breathe before he continues playing with you. when you give him the subtle signal from you that you’re ready to continue, he moves down to tease your clit again before letting his fingers trail down more. two fingers circle around your entrance, dipping them inside to collect your sticky essence. he brings his hand up and spreads his fingers apart, showing off your wetness for the camera.

both his long, meaty fingers slip inside you at the same time and you suck in a shaky breath. his fingers scissor inside you, stretching you out while simultaneously curling them inside you at the same time. the raunchy noises of your wet pussy bounce off the walls and fill the room, mixing with your sweet sounds of pleasure. his fingers rub against that sweet spot inside you with each thrust and it’s got you rocking your hips against his fingers, chasing after that second orgasm that’s about to make its appearance.

choso’s palm rubs against your clit as he pleasures you, adding onto the delicious feeling and your moans increase in volume and intensity. he pinches your nipple between his thumb and index finger before his hand moves up to your neck, wrapping around it and applying pressure to the sides.

each breath starts to come in more shallow than the last as you get closer. your eyes squeeze together and your mouth falls open in the shape of the letter ‘o’. your head rolls back onto choso’s chest right before you cum.

a high pitched moan leaves your mouth and you place a hand on top of choso’s, he quickly pulls his soaked fingers out of you and a second later a clear fluid shoots up from between your legs as you squirt.

choso holds your shaking form against him as you calm down from your high. once your breathing steadies, he spreads your lips wide open to give the camera one last good look at your messy cunt. he brings his fingers up to your mouth and you wrap your glossy lips around them obediently to taste yourself.

after posting the video, you check the interactions a couple hours later and you’re pleasantly surprised by the comments. you can’t help but crack a smile at how a handful of comments are talking about your boyfriend’s arms or complimenting his tats.

maybe this is your sign to have choso help you out with more content.

taglist <3 @cheezemanz @tojicvmslut

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

in the forest. l Joel Miller

Summary: your decision led to a quarrel

Warnings:  +18, smut, angst, unprotected sex, two infectes, mention of blood, one missing child, mention of alcohol, one accident at home, a quarrel

A/N: i know i said i wouldn't add anything, but i got home from school early and my mood is pretty good so… i don't know what you'll think about this. i mean, apart from a few mutuals i get little feedback. maybe someday. kisses

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

How nice it was... When in the morning you would snuggle into his back while he made coffee, your arms would wrap around his waist or at chest level, the corner of his mouth would lift at that little tenderness. 

Or when your hand would just lightly brush his shoulder or back, or neck, or your fingers would slip into his hair when you passed him, and that was a signal "I'm here with you".

"So it's good?" Tommy asked one day when Joel was helping him renovate the porch in one of the houses.

Joel stirred feeling an unpleasant creaking in his knee. "What are you asking?" he mumbled looking at his brother, who shook his head.

"About you and her." He replied "You seem different somehow."

The man frowned, not really understanding what Tommy was talking about.

"She's good for you, Joel." Tommy went back to nailing as if what he said was obvious. "I can see that."

Joel smiled to himself. He saw and felt it himself. Every day.

But there was a side to your relationship, the one that Joel really liked and to which he sometimes returned in his thoughts when his duties allowed him to. Like when he was nailing the freshly replaced boards in the porch, and in his head the scene from the morning, when you rode him in bed, was replaying.

Damn, you looked so beautiful, so sexy. The first rays of sunlight were coming through the thin curtains in your windows, he could see motes of dust floating lazily in their glow. Up and down, you were moving on him in a steady rhythm, a bit lazy because you both had just opened your eyes. Your hands resting on his chest, your head tilted slightly, your eyes closed and lips parted, from which a pleasant purr escaped. 

Joel couldn't get enough of this view. His hand moved along your neck, all the way to your sternum, between the curves of your breasts. He could clearly feel the strong beating of your heart, you were alive and so real.

Your hand grabbed his and directed it to your lower abdomen.

"Do you feel it? You're so deep, Joel..." you whispered, and he felt it then.

He was inside you, filling you up, and you accepted him, giving him warmth, pleasure and closeness, completely different and more intimate. He started to make small and fast circles on your clit with his thumb and he felt your walls tighten around his cock. You were close, so close. Your movements sped up as if you were trying to catch the fulfillment he was giving you and soon the sweetest moan escaped your throat. 

And when he lifted you enough to slide out of you, your hand quickly stroked his cock so he could cum too. Your lips closed around his red tip so he could finish in your throat and he gladly accepted it.

Lazy sex in the morning. In the evening, on the couch when Ellie was supposed to spend the night with her friends. A quickie in the stable when you came to give him a thermos of coffee. Against the wall, when you came back from some dance party and you couldn't even take all your clothes off. Or in the bathroom, when he took you from behind and you rested your hands on the sink, intoxicated by his body and the heat that filled the room.

Joel was breaking you down into its elements, watching you lose the ability to think rationally for him. It was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen in his life...

Joel Miller loved you, and it was the best thing that had happened to him in years…

"Mary? Is everything okay?"

The dark-haired woman approached you with a quick step, she was clearly nervous. A strange shiver ran down your spine as she looked at you with eyes full of fear.

"Tell me you saw him!" she said, grabbing your forearm, her fingers painfully digging into your flesh "I beg you! Tell me you saw him?"

"Who? Mary, who are you talking about?" you asked.

"Rory!" the woman groaned, her eyes filling with tears "I've been looking for him for over an hour! Have you seen him?"

You shook your head "I didn't see anyone. I was picking up the laundry, but I didn't see anyone... Mary!"

The woman let go of your hand and grabbed her hair, almost tearing it out in handfuls. "I let him out of my sight for a moment! Just a moment! He's gone!"

You threw Ellie's shirt into the basket and grabbed her hands. "Mary! Calm down. He can't have gone far. You've checked every place."

"Yes!" the woman burst into hysterical sobbing. "I've been everywhere, to every one of his hideouts. He's gone!"

You knew that a five-year-old like Rory couldn't have gone far, but if he was alone in the woods, anything could happen. Your mind was clear. You knew what you had to do.

You grabbed Mary by the shoulders to focus her attention on you. "Find Joel. He should be with Tommy at old Jones'. They were supposed to fix his porch."

"And you? Will you find Rory?"

You nodded. You knew you couldn't wait. When Mary ran towards the main road, you quickly got to her garden and headed towards the fence, which was not far away. Next week they were going to take care of additional reinforcement of this area, so for now no one was there. 

You walked along it for a few minutes and then you noticed it - loose sheet metal at the ground level. Just right for a dog or a fox to get through, or...

You bent the sheet metal further and made it to the other side. Small footprints in the soft ground indicated that Rory was there too. You couldn't wait for Joel and the rest. You set off looking around the forest, stopping every few steps to look for new tracks and you found them. Broken branches, or a visible trace in the ferns. The boy must have gone that way.

A few drops of rain fell on your face. The clouds that had forced you to take off the drying laundry had darkened noticeably. You should find Rory as soon as possible, so you sped up. You couldn't see the fence anymore, the silence of the forest was engulfing you, it was slowly getting darker, and the rain was falling harder and harder.

You thought that Mary must have told Joel and Tommy about what had happened a long time ago. However, you had an advantage over them. You could have reached the boy first. If nothing happened to him...

Your heart was pounding in your chest like crazy, the ringing in your ears was becoming unbearable, but you kept searching. The forest was getting thicker and then...

He was wearing a blue blouse and was sitting curled up under a tree. His pants and hands were all dirty, and huge tears were running down his face.

"Rory..." you groaned, running up to him.

The kid raised his head, he recognized you. Rory raised his little hands, and you quickly took him in your arms. He was so cold.

"Are you okay? Jesus! Your mom is so worried." you said, rubbing his small body.

The boy let out a sniffle. "I wanted to see what was there... And...and... I couldn't get back."

You pushed him away and brushed his dark hair away from his face. "You can't go away by yourself, do you understand? It's not safe here."

He nodded. "Are you mad at me?"

He looked at you with sweet blue eyes, how could you be mad?

"Of course not. Come on, I'll take you home. Mom's worried and..."

This sound froze your blood. You looked up and saw it, the infected was approaching you. Your voices must have lured him, he was probably wandering around aimlessly, but no patrol had come across him yet. You carefully took Rory into your arms. He wrapped his arms and legs around you like a little monkey, trembling all over.

"Hold on tight, buddy." You whispered.

The infected moved quickly towards you. You didn't wait a second longer. You took off running through the ferns and between the trees, thin branches cracking under your shoes, but the screech of the monster was still behind you.

Shit! That's when you remembered. You didn't have a gun. Only a switchblade from Joel, which you always carried with you. It wasn't much. Almost nothing. Rory squeezed you tighter. You had to do something.

You suddenly changed direction of your run, which confused the infected a little, but only for a moment. However, it gave you a little more time. You slid down the small hoard and headed towards the bigger tree.

"Rory, listen to me!" you panted "You have to go up there, do you hear? Go up. I'll help you!"

"I don't want to!" the boy squeezed you tighter "I'm scared!"

"But you have to! I'll come for you, I promise!" With difficulty you tore him away from you and lifted him up to a higher branch "Hide there and stay quiet."

He nodded even though new tears were streaming down his cheeks.

"Be very, very quiet." you repeated, then reached for the knife.

How on earth were you still alive? Rain was falling on your face, your muscles were burning, you were gasping for air, and your hand was still holding the hilt of the knife, now deeply embedded in the monster's head. You were paralyzed for a few minutes by what had happened and how much it had cost you. You slowly got up from the ground and pulled the knife out of the dead body. 

"Rory..." you whispered, your voice sounding strangely alien to you, "Rory..."

You were already turning to go to the place where you had hidden the boy when, to your despair, you saw another one. "Fuck, no..."

He was running faster and faster, and you had no strength left. You would defend yourself, you would fight. As much as your body would allow you. Your fingers tightened around the hilt.

But before you could make any move, a loud gunshot shook the silence in the forest. The infected fell to the ground, hit straight in the head. You turned around.

"Joel..."

He ran towards you. You could see the mixture of fear and anger in his dark eyes, wet hair falling over his face. He grabbed you tightly by the shoulders, and after a moment his hand rested on your cheek as he looked at you searchingly.

"I found him. I found Rory!" you repeated, concerned.

"Are you okay?" Joel asked, shocked by the sight of you.

"I found Rory!" you repeated, completely ignoring his question.

It was only when he shook you and growled loudly "Are you hurt?!" that you shook your head quickly.

"I'm fine. Fine." you finally managed to choke out.

You could see that Joel was furious. His shoulders and jaw were tense. However, you couldn't stay here long, especially since you had already encountered two monsters. You led him to the place where the boy was and Joel helped him down. 

Rory immediately reached out to you so you took him.

"You were so brave." You said letting him snuggle up to you again "C'mon, mommy's waiting for you."

You returned to Jackson in silence. Tommy and a few other men were hanging around the gate trying to split into groups that could go look for the boy. You spotted Mary among them. She ran up to you and took the boy from you.

"He's okay. He got really scared." You said stroking his back.

“God! I will never repay you for this! Never!” Mary sobbed and hugged her son. “Thank you!”

"What the fuck were you thinking?"

Joel slammed the door behind him and looked at you furiously. His jaw was clenched and his hands were on his hips, you could feel his emotions boiling.

"What was I supposed to do?" you asked "Mary came to me. She was shaken and scared."

Joel approached you. "You should have waited for us."

"You didn't see her!"

He hissed and shook his head in disbelief. You didn't understand him. You didn't know what he felt when Mary said you went after Rory alone, or when he saw you in the woods over the remains of one infected and another running towards you, and then when he realized you didn't have a weapon.

"You didn't bring a gun." he growled. "Are you crazy? You could have died! You and that kid!"

"I didn't think we'd meet infected there..." you muttered quietly. "I had your knife."

Joel rolled his eyes and waved his arms in helplessness. "Great. I'm relieved."

"You're unfair... I did what I thought was right."

He looked at you with fury. "That was fucking stupid! If I hadn't shown up there..."

Now you couldn't take it anymore. Joel shouldn't have judged you, he would have done the same in your place. You were grateful that he helped you, but you didn't deserve to be treated like that.

"Now you're overreacting!" you snapped, raising a warning finger. "I've dealt with worse situations before we met."

"So maybe you don't fucking need me then!" he roared and before you could say anything he turned around.

The door slammed and the house fell into silence. Tears welled up in your eyes and you felt as if something very heavy had fallen on your shoulders. You spun around for a moment, not knowing what to do. Finally you decided to wash off everything you had brought from the forest and calm your nerves under hot water.

The house was dark. He didn't know what time it was, but it must have been late. Tommy chased him out of the Tipsy Bison and told him to go home. He didn't want to go back there, or maybe he was afraid? What if you weren't there? 

He drank so much that he struggled out onto the porch and opened the door. Silence. Silence in the house always scared him. And now he was even more scared.

Tommy listened to his confessions, he was a good brother. He understood Joel, but he also knew why you made such a decision. He tried to explain it to Joel, but his brother was still furious.

It was only when Peter, Rory's father and Mary's husband, appeared that something in Joel broke. The man with tears in his eyes approached them, wanting to shake Joel's hand.

"Jesus, you don't even know how grateful I am." he said in a trembling voice. "I came back from patrol, and Mary was panicking. She said you went looking for Rory."

Your name slipped from Tommy's lips. "She found him."

Peter nodded. "I'll thank her in person tomorrow. Mary said she'd bake an apple pie. Thank you, Joel. Thank you so much.”

He patted him on the back and left the bar to join his family. Joel rubbed his hand over his face, sighing quietly. He shouldn't have reacted like that. You did what you thought was right, you always did. He knew he was mad because he loved you and cared about your safety, but he shouldn't have attacked you.

And now, in the dark living room, he took off his jacket and threw it on the couch. He listened for some signals and sounds that maybe you were home after all. That he hadn't fucked up everything. But he didn't hear anything.

So he slowly moved up, step by step. And only when his shoe missed the step and he lost his balance, did he realize how drunk he was. Involuntarily, Joel tried to grab the railing, but it was too late. With a loud bang, he fell onto the stairs, and then slid down them. In an instant, light illuminated the darkness, he heard quick footsteps.

"Jesus! Joel!"

You crouched down next to him as he lay on the floor trying to recover. The world in front of his eyes was spinning. You grabbed his arm to help him up, but he hissed in pain.

"Did you break something?" you asked worriedly.

He shook his head "It's nothing. You're here..."

"Of course I am. Where would I be?" you said, trying to get him up again.

Joel winced, something was wrong. But he wasn't thinking about that now. "But what I said..."

"You need more to get rid of me, Miller." you replied, anxiously looking at him "Joel, did you hurt something?"

"No, I'm fine..."

But when you grabbed his arm he cursed loudly in pain.

"Shit! I think it’s your shoulder."

And you were right.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again

[urprettylildoe]

Thinking about the Frontman from squid game 2 ♡

You broke it off with him a while ago because he was too 'obsessive', and he hasn't been able to stop thinking about you. He had to have you in the palm of his hand again!

So, he came up with a solution — blacklisted you from each job after you got fired for no reason and drove you to the point of desperation. And when the opportunitg presented itself, you accepted.

He sat comfortably on his chair, watching the first game (red light, green light) but his gaze was fixated on one clumsy person. You tripped all over yourself, yet the guards didn't dare shoot at you unless they wanted a slow, agonising death.

Any other player who shows the slightest interest in you is shot even if they were successful.

Minge? Oh, you're running around in circles but no one is shooting at you. Must be lucky!

Glass game? The guards are practically signalling which one to jump on. You look so adorable while you're confused.

And in the final game, guess who won? Yep, you.

The frontman finally decides to show himself as he walked up to your crouched form; the other player long forgotten behind you. He grabs your chin in his hand an you wonder how it is even possible for someone who enjoys toying with people and letting them die to cradle you so softly.

You flinch, and he chuckles breathlessly, "scared? I thought we got along so well, baby" .

A shiver ran up to your spine as he slides the mask off of his face, his signature smirk ever so present. Then you realise that it really is possible for someone to be so tender, because you've literally dated this psychotic man.

His thumb rubs your cheekbone that is smeared with blood as he coos, "Oh, darling, I'll always find my way back to you, whether you like it or not."

When his lips pressed against your forehead, you accepted that there was no escaping from your ex boyfriend. You had his money and his heart.

♡

my hear me out.

[prodbymaui]

Puppy — 이제노.

wish you were here right now

PAIRING: lee jeno x you

GENRE: phone sex

WORD COUNT: 1k+ words

WARNINGS: sub!jeno, mommy kink, puppy jeno, exaggerated usage of petnames (well— puppy and mommy), masturbation, reader is a meanie

SYNOPSIS: The 3 days of separation is finally getting in to your boyfriend.

A/N: I couldn’t get jeno out of my head these days, might as well use this to get rid of writer’s block. enjoy this food and tell me if you have other requests!

An exasperated sigh escapes past your lips as your purse hits the soft padding of the couch, followed by your weight. Unhesitatingly, you move to chuck your shoes out of your feet and allow yourself to relax after a long day.

At times like this, you question your decision of pursuing architecture. All the endless days of floor planning got you thinking if this was really the right path for you. However each time, you get reminded that it is exactly why you chose this career.

“It’s architecture, or nothing,” You once said to yourself.

Blinking the tiredness away, you head to fetch fresh clothes and shower the day away— earning the much deserved relaxation underneath the warm water. It didn’t take you long before your back pressed down the bed as your hand stretched out to reach your phone, which had been ringing since earlier.

“Miss me?” You greet teasingly the moment you pick up the call, expecting a flustered and awkward answer.

Yet surprisingly, a breathy moan replies. “M-mommy..”

Though currently alone, you feel the air around you switch up. Almost as if Jeno has this ability to control your surroundings. Suddenly, it feels hotter, and the atmosphere feels heavier.

“Jen, baby?” Carefully, you call out to him.

Jeno whimpers your name. “Please, f-.. fuck,”

Wet squelches echo from the other line, accompanied by the constant grunts and heavy breathing from your boyfriend.

You chuckle to yourself. The three days of being away from each other finally got to him, huh?

“What’s wrong, Jen? Why do you sound so breathless?” A frustrated whimper pierces your ears, eliciting a giggle once again.

Jeno, despite being miles away, is so easy to read. Judging by the sounds he’s making, he’s most definitely been touching himself longer than you think.

“I—…”

“Hmm? What is it?”

“Need you,” Jeno gasps. “Need you so bad, right now— please.”

The desperation in his voice didn’t go unnoticed.

“Right,” Glancing quickly at the time, you figured losing an hour or two of sleep wouldn’t be too much. “Let me see, baby.”

You could hear Jeno letting out a sound of relief. It’s actually pathetic that before the camera opens, you are also able to hear thudding noises— as though the phone drops from his grip— and a few hurried shuffling.

“Oh my,” You mockingly says as the screen displays Jeno’s cock; red, hard, and wet.

His hand doesn’t stop stroking his length one bit. But it’s neither fast paced nor haste, it’s rather slow. Almost like he’s easing the ache. Or merely testing the waters. The said waters are your mood.

“Oh, love, look at you,” Your voice is laced with faux pity. “Have you been thinking about Mommy?”

Jeno answers no less than a heartbeat. “Yes! Been thinking about you, Mommy. Puppy loves Mommy so much, miss you— ah— miss you so much!”

He’s far too gone in his subspace.

God, just how much you love seeing a man so tall and buff falling beneath just barely your fingertips. A man so tough yet crumbles at the sound of your voice. A man so big yet whimpers at your every command.

“Did you? I miss you too, baby. Tell Mommy what you’ve been thinking about her?”

His grip tightens at your words. Jeno takes it as a signal to quicken his pace. “I—I wanna eat out Mommy so bad. Miss your pussy, I’ll eat, shit oh shit, you so good. Wanna fuck you— please let me fuck you, Mommy. Can I fuck you, please?”

His incoherent ramblings send straight to your core. Your hand disappears between your legs, slotting themselves between the soaked lips of your pussy as you slowly rub your clit in circles.

“Yeah? Puppy wants to fuck Mommy?”

The screen shakes, possibly from Jeno’s eager nodding. How can a big man be this cute?

“But since when did you learn how to use his cock, hmm? I always had to do all the work because you cannot use that cock properly.”

In your words, Jeno’s hips desperately thrust upwards to meet the stroke of his hand. His whimpers intensifies and the phone slips out every now and then from his grasp.

“What would your gym rat friends’ reactions be if they see you like this? Such a big cock all to waste, tsk tsk.”

Murmurs of apologies soon fill your ears. And if your hearing ability is not deceiving you, you might’ve heard a few sobs.

The movement of his hips stutters a second, allowing you to see just how he tries not to cut off the pleasure shooting in his body.

“But you don’t care, don’t you? As long as Mommy gets to play you like the toy you are. You like it, don’t you, Puppy? Being Mommy’s good boy?”

Jeno exclaims. “Y-yes! Ahh fuck, I’m Mommy’s good boy— yes! Oh please—“

“You are, baby. My good boy.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you thrust your finger inside your hole in sync with Jeno’s strokes.

“Come for me, puppy. Show me how good you are.”

A chant of your name and series of ‘thank you’s is what finally pushes you to the edge. Shutting your eyes close and throwing your head back to the pillow as you listen to your boyfriend coming undone with you.

You both bask in the euphoric feeling until Jeno cuts it off with a lovely murmur.

“I really miss you, you know?”

Laughing softly, you face your screen again. Only then you realized that you didn’t turn on your camera all this time. So you switched it open.

“I miss you too. 2 days more, then I’ll be back home.”

“2 days is heeeell,” You watch as Jeno buries his face to the pillows.

“It’ll fly faster, I promise. The next thing you know I’m right there sleeping beside you.”

“Promise?” Jeno asks, voice fading. You giggle at the obvious sleepiness.

“Yes, I promise. Now, wash up and go to sleep, baby.”

Unless he wants to sleep sticky and carry the responsibility of washing the sheets tomorrow, Jeno had no choice but to follow your words. Soon you both had to say your goodbyes and I love yous to each other.

2 days more. And you’ll be back to your puppy-like boyfriend.

[rottiens]

NOCTURNAL WALTZ | RYŌMEN SUKUNA

✮ summary. . when life tries to ruin your dreams you keep trying. you get up, wipe the sweat off and try again, even when you fall… it's either that, or ally yourself with your rival and hope he doesn't drag you down to the bottom of hell with him.

✮ cw. . workplace harassment (not from sukuna), slight possessiveness, slight violence (blood), alcohol consumption, smoking, eventual smut, exhibitionism, choking kink, dirty talk, breeding kink, 18+

✮ tags. . modern + ballet au, enemies to friends to lovers, briefly fake dating, all characters are adults, descriptions used for the reader: fem + afab!, backstory, has hair long enough to tie, wears dress in one scene. divider creds: cafekitsune.

✮ wc. . 18K

Ever since you were a little girl all you've known to do is dance. 

You did it at school performances, you did it at Christmas when your whole family gathered in the living room and the snow fell cold on the tall treetops and red flowers in your garden. 

You always remember the scene wistfully and in slow motion, longing for the days that will never return. Your father played the piano and your mother looked on proudly, her hands were always clasped together at chest level watching you with the eyes of an owl making circles with your legs in the air. She always had that expression on her face as if she was afraid you were going to fall, she was always on the edge of her seat, her lips curved into a smile— after all, she was in charge of organizing all your choreography and choosing the songs you were going to dance to, along with your shoes and your outfit. All this was until you were fifteen when you begged her to finally enroll you in a real dance school.

You remember how nervous you were on the first day. You wore your hair pulled back so tight it looked like you were smiling the whole time, your eyebrows stretched and your stomach felt like that Halloween night where you ate so much candy your guts hurt, though all of this was pushed aside the moment you saw the great ballroom.

The walls rose far higher than your little eyes could see. White lights glowed against the beige walls —which your teenager self mentally corrected them later, it wasn't beige, it was salmon, with curtains the color of the peach your mother cut on Sunday mornings— and in the background you could appreciate a melody you knew well since it was your mother's favorite, the one she always chose for you to dance: "dance of the sugar plum fairy." 

Training professionally was much more demanding than your mom had told you. You studied in the morning and practiced in the afternoon, your feet hurt all the time in the beginning although with time this became more bearable, however they never stopped hurting because you never stopped practicing. 

The lights blinded you for a moment leading you to run away from the incandescent glowing light, causing you to stumble and Sukuna purposely let you fall from his arms so that you kissed the ground. 

Your body hits the wooden floor with a dull thud, the live music doesn't stop because of your accident and the director of the ballet claps twice again. It's the signal that the show must go on, it's what the music means that instead of slowing down it rushes to climax, you force yourself to stand up, with a sukuna growling tiredly behind you. No one helps you so you do it alone, you bury your toes in the wood and your injured feet push off the ground and support your weight once more as you rise phoenix-like on your tips.  

This is what it takes to be a pro, is what your mother would say if she were alive. You hear her voice loud and strong in your eardrum along with the noise of the music. 

One, two and... up!

You hear her ask you for more. Lift your foot more, lift your knees more, straighten your back more. You're trying but—

"You're being too rough," you spit through gritted teeth. Maintaining the fake smile your character must wear. 

You know he hears you, yet he remains silent, twisting and turning, holding you above his head and taking one last turn.... Everything seems blurry from your point of view, your stomach churning like a roller coaster even though you don't remember the last thing you ate because this was exactly what you wanted to avoid. 

Don't throw up, don't throw up.

You catch the two claps from the director indicating that sukuna should drop you and that's exactly what he does... with a little more force than he should, his hands are loose on your waist, barely gripping you. Your arms stretch, they tremble in the air as does your smile, a cold sweat that shouldn't be there runs down your temples, you feel the salty drops slide over your lower lip and your breathing becomes almost nonexistent, your chest rises and falls and then sukuna lets you go, you are alone, the lights focus completely on you and you hear laughter in the background. 

This is the moment where you must do your solo. Spin alone one more time and then let yourself fall. Your feet don't respond at first, you had forgotten your smile, very focused on moving your legs but when you manage to do it you falter again and collapse on the floor with a harder impact than the previous time. Now the music comes to a sudden stop. 

You hear him sigh heavily, followed by the fluttering of the sheets of paper in his hand. Kurogawa, the director, puts his glasses on his head like a makeshift headband and slaps his hands once. 

Immediately the whole room fills with noise, people start moving. Even your dance partner who although you don't see him, you feel him walking and moving away from you. You have a hard time getting up, this time you really have a hard time. Your body has been beaten to a pulp by the dozens of practices you have carried out these days, your dress and tights hide the bruises that have permeated the floor on them, you carry on your hips sukuna fingers by the force in which he has grabbed you, even so, you do not manage to perform the spin that should come out naturally. 

You are a star, this is what you were born to do and this is what you have always done, why can't a dumb spin come out perfectly? 

Kurogawa calls your name before you can move further away. You freeze in the middle of the stage, grateful to be away from the spotlight and more in the comfort of the gloom. 

You sense his footsteps approaching, with each footstep his heels announce how close he is and your body trembles, your teeth chatter and you force yourself to be still. 

"What's the matter?" His voice is neither far nor near. 

"I don't..." you force your lip between your teeth before articulating your next words. You can't say you can't. 

"I asked you a question." His body is behind you, stopping the draft that touched your back, serving as a wall that exudes warmth and insecurity. 

His hand curls around your forearm with some force and makes you turn to see him, his violet eyes are naked, without the glasses he looks much younger, yet a couple of gray hairs escape from the improvised headband reminding you of the age difference. 

Kurogawa examines you up and down, his eyes linger on your mouth for a moment and you think maybe he notices how dry they are, this prompts you to lick them suddenly. 

"Do you want me to switch someone for you? There are dozens of girls who wish they were in your shoes." 

"I know, sir." You bite your lip to control your emotions, and swallow the bitter bile rising up your esophagus. 

His hand descends from your forearm to the width of your shoulder blades. "I don't think you appreciate it enough." This time he addresses you in a lower tone, he's hunched down to be at your height and the tone he uses would seem like he's telling a secret. His fingers run down the length of your back, you feel his fingers drag the fabric and linger on your lower back. "Is it Ryōmen? Is he the problem?" Then he pulls you closer to his body, this time there is no space between you, his leg is touching yours and his bittersweet breath, the taste of liquor mixed with wilted petals brushes your nose. 

"I feel that we are not compatible, sir."

"Ah..." exclaims Kurogawa, still glued to you. "Are you implying that my best student isn't good enough for you?" 

"I think..." he was too close for you to even think of anything. You try to see past his shoulders that steal all the light yet there is nothing but darkness, and the chill in your temples moves to your lower abdomen. 

“Child... you're lucky your daddy paid a lot of money for you to be here, I don't think there's much talent in you.” Your mascara-filled lashes flutter like the wings of a swan. Your lips part to ask for space, but you're interrupted, he says your name and it's bitter, it sounds disgusting in his throat. “But the untalented ones, they can always do something else, can't they?” 

Suddenly, someone calls your name again from the vast darkness behind you. 

“Don't keep me waiting. You made me promise to take you home, brat.” 

Kurogawa takes a moment to detach himself from you and you inhale in despair, you were drowning in his cheap cologne and alcohol stench. Sukuna is behind him, like a silhouette, you can barely make out his body. 

You don't stop to look at the director when you step out of his reach, you don't even do it with Sukuna and run far away from there. The silence that settles in the corridor is terrifying, you feel like running to get away as fast as you can from there, however you try to keep your composure, you tighten the fabric of the tutu looking for some security and comfort in it breathing out of sync and when you manage to reach the street you have to lean back against one of the walls to regain your composure. 

You force yourself to breathe through your nose and let it out through your mouth forming a cold mist. The icy breath of the night is a slap of reality that makes your cheeks tingle and your legs and arms are the first to complain about the change in temperature. 

Sukuna appears at your side a few seconds later, he says nothing, so you force yourself to lift your head and check his expression. There are wrinkles in his brow and he has his hands tucked in his front pockets, you realize this is the first time you've seen him in casual clothes. He had had time to change out of his uniform to replace it with worn blue jeans and a black sweater that has blood red lettering embroidered on the chest. 

His presence floods you with the same excitement as the first time you stepped off the plane and the change of weather made your body bristle, making you feel uncomfortable in your own skin. You were scared like a mouse forced out of its burrow. As at that moment, all you needed was a hug. A ghostly force grabs you by the hips and lifts you off the brick wall, throwing you into the arms of your dance partner in search of the comfort you can't seem to find anywhere else these past few days.

Sukuna tenses up at your boldness. You are sobbing into his chest as if someone has passed away. He stands still for a while, allowing your hands to barely touch his hip, while the few passersby watch the peculiar scene, wondering what has happened; after all you are still outside the prestigious ballet academy.

Against all odds, he puts his hand on your back in an unprofessional way, in a way he has never done even dancing with you. His arm floats in the air in a strange and awkward motion until he decides to rest it on your lower back, completely pulling you closer to him. His left arm goes to your shoulder blades squeezing you to his chest completely, giving you a strange comfort that doesn't quite reach friendly.

Excessive tears prevent you from breathing, so you fight the grip and prison that is his ribcage to look up and search his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Your knees give out on you, though with his help you stabilize again. “What was it he said to you?”

You sniffle through your nose. Those red eyes seem to watch every move you make and suddenly, the heat of realization of how close you are begins to climb up your ribs until it sits on your chest.

“Nothing.”

“I saw how close you were. Whatever he said or did to you...” Sukuna pauses, weighing what he will say next. You see him close his mouth and his jaw tenses. “You can trust me, I know there are rumors that he...” 

“This is just an allergy,” you interrupt him by clearing your throat. 

Sukuna laughs. Not only does he laugh, but he brushes you aside as he bursts out laughing holding his stomach. You cross your arms and pucker your lips, feeling the indignation immediately.

Without saying anything to him and with the wind freezing the salty tears on your cheeks, you turn to walk away from him infuriated with yourself that you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with someone like him. 

“Brat!” he was still laughing. “Wait...” you hear him trot behind you, until his fingers pull your forearm back to force you to stop. “Your bag.”

When you notice what he's holding in his hands and had probably been carrying on his back, you realize that it was indeed your bag. You would have left it in the room along with your belongings in the locker had it not been for him. 

“Thank you,” is all you say, still suspicious of his thoughtfulness.

“Are you hungry?”

“No.”

As if it were part of a comedy scene, your stomach growls and Sukuna has to cover his mouth to contain his laughter. You look at him accusingly again. When he removes his hand from his face and raises it in submission, he reveals a smile that shows his teeth and fangs, returning to the predatory aura that always surrounds him.

“I'm gonna order sushi to go, you can join me if you want.” The wind makes you hug yourself again, avoiding his eyes at all costs. “It's across the street.”

Ryōmen Sukuna has been a pain in the ass ever since you met him at dance school. Ever since you arrived, all he's done is annoy you: bad-mouth you to your classmates, be rude in your presence, and belittle your work when you were chosen as the principal dancer. Having him here, pretending to care about you and inviting you to dinner, throws you off.

Realizing that you cried into his chest and, worse, were comforted by his touch, makes you feel guilty.

“I don't need your fake kindness.”

Sukuna lets out a snort and mimics you, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down at you from above, like a superior being marking his position.

“It's just sushi. Don't act like I'm offering you an engagement ring. Just say no.”

“And that's what I said,” you reply with a bark, struggling to maintain your stance and what little courage you'd mustered to stand up to him.

You notice how Sukuna drops his arms and falls silent. Something inside you wants to continue arguing or just talk to someone. When you get “home”, you're just sitting on the bed staring at the ceiling, counting the times your room is illuminated by the lights of the cars passing by on the avenue or swiping on tiktok until you fall asleep.

You try to find an excuse to talk to him again, but you run out of ideas as you see him turn his back to you, checking the road up and down to make sure no vehicles are coming.

“Okay. I'll see you next week,” he says before crossing to the other side.

“Wait...” you call out to him, but Sukuna is about to reach the other sidewalk. He doesn't stop when you call out his name, even though you know he's listening. You step forward and shout again, a little louder this time. “Can you take me home?!”

Sukuna stops and turns slowly. You wish someone could wipe the ridiculous smile off his face and the incredulous expression he has right now. You instantly regret asking for his help.

You both wait patiently for the approaching cars to drive away in opposite directions, leaving you again in silence.

“What was that? I don't think I heard you,” Sukuna mutters, squinting his eyes and bending his body forward a bit.

You check both ends of the road before walking across and finding yourself face to face with him.

“I think I missed the bus,” you mumble hastily, a little embarrassed. “Please,” you add, doubting whether politeness will make any difference on this occasion. After all, you're dealing with Sukuna; you don't think being nice and kind will work with someone like him, so you opt to offer a bribe. “I'm going to pay you.”

“I don't need your money, brat,” he spits as soon as the words are out of your mouth, looking outraged when you look him in the face again.

“Can you stop calling me that?” Sukuna chuckles, clearly amused with a situation that you don't find funny at all. Your life is falling apart to pieces with every passing second, but to him it's a circus. “What's so funny?”

"Are you always so serious? It's a little annoying that you don't know how to take a joke; I wouldn't be surprised if you had no friends."

You want to slap him, even though you know it wouldn't make any difference. You've felt him behind you, leaning against your back, his firm hands holding your hips and helping your movements flow, so a slap on his shoulder would be in vain, it would only make him laugh.

Now you want to slap yourself regretting that you decided to talk to him in the first place, that you showed yourself vulnerable. 

“Are you going to take me or not?” you insist.

“Give me your address.” Sukuna pulls his phone out of one of his front pockets and types as you give him the direction. Exactly three seconds later he exclaims, “Are you staying in a motel? I thought you had money.”

You don't know how much more you can take before you explode; you clench your fists some more, trying to contain your anger.

“I don't think that's really any of your business.”

You stand in silence for another while. He checks his phone while you watch him. The sign behind him above your heads is decorated with pink neon lines that flashes forming the name of the restaurant.

Sukuna sighs wearily, catching your attention. “Okay, join me in ordering something to go first.”

Sukuna doesn't wait for you to complain or agree with his proposal before he starts walking ahead of you, his steps slow and unhurried. You decide to follow him at a distance that gives the impression that you are not together.

With an open hand, Sukuna pushes open the transparent door and a bell announces the entrance of new customers. The place is immersed in an elegant and serene atmosphere; the aroma of rice floats freely in the air, filling your hungry stomach that growls for a mouthful of whatever they are cooking. Aside from three girls at the counter taking their orders, there are no customers other than the two of you.

You let Sukuna move on as you stop to admire the details of the place. The walls are painted in warm tones that emulate natural wood, and the ceiling has hanging paper lamps that create soft lighting.

The low murmur of water in a small koi pond in the center of the room catches your attention. You approach and watch the fish swimming freely in the water currents; you bend down to observe one in particular that appears to have a scar on one of its fins. You squint your eyes and move closer to the pond to check if the fish is okay, but at that moment the light of the restaurant is interrupted by the body weight of someone overshadowing it.

When you look up, you find Sukuna scowling at you. You don't understand what that look means and decide not to insist on deciphering it. You straighten up to try to match his height.

“Let's go.”

“So soon?” it seemed like they were waiting for him.

You watch his hands, holding a white paper bag with the restaurant's logo on the top. Then you notice the girls who seem to share a secret as they murmur, barely disguising that they are looking at you.

Sukuna continues to stare at you, so you decide not to say anything else and simply nod at his silent command. You make your way to the door and the bell rings again as you leave the place.

“Where's your car?”

You catch him grinning. Maybe you've said something he finds curious, or maybe he just wants to tease you because he can; being rude seems to come naturally to him after all. You let him lead the way and trace the way as he rummages for some keys in the back of his jeans, all the while heading towards the back of the restaurant.

Suspicious, you look around to make sure there is someone nearby who can help you if necessary. Amazement assaults you as you discover that in the back there is a parking lot, and there, in the middle of the empty spot, you see a bike. It's a shiny, black sportbike with red accents, sleek and modern looking.

The realization dries your throat.

“Is that yours?”

“Yup,” he looks amused and almost proud to actually own such a beautiful and imposing bike. You could taste the teasing tone in his voice and in the way he hurried his footsteps away from you, and you struggled to keep up with him.

Sukuna got on the bike and inserted the keys immediately, while you stood motionless, watching him hold it up with his feet so it wouldn't fall off.

“What are you waiting for?” He didn't have a helmet for himself, much less for you. He wasn't wearing gloves either, and that was perhaps the reason why his hands always felt rough when you had skin-to-skin contact when dancing.

You looked around you, meeting the vast nothingness again, as if you were asking the universe for help.

“I've never been on a bike,” you confessed to him without a filter.

You didn't know what to expect when you blurted that out, but it definitely wasn't Sukuna staring silently at you, stabbing you with those dagger-red eyes. 

“So what, are you scared? C'mon, come on up.”

You sighed deeply in surrender and climbed up the bike trying to touch him as little as possible, but always failing on the spot. Sukuna jerked a little along with the bike as you tried to improve your posture behind him, trying to lower what you could of your tutu so it wouldn't fly off when he started driving.

Eagerly waiting for him to pull you away, you slide your hands down his hips and cling to his body in search of a safety that immediately greets you. The engine growls like a beast making your whole body vibrate, you cling tighter to him closing your eyes tight for a moment before letting out a sigh. 

“Hold on tight,” he says, at the same time rolling his hand across the throttle.

You crinkle the fabric of his sweater under your fingers clinging to him as if your life depended on it. As he moves forward and picks up speed on the road, you hide your face in his back finding the same security as a few moments ago when you allowed yourself to sob into his chest. 

The last thing you expected on a monotonous Thursday night was to end up like this, hugging Sukuna who is the last person you would ask for help, right after having the second worst day of your life. You allow yourself to relax in his presence now that you are not looking at him and now that your thoughts are overpowered by the sound of the wind against your ears. 

You don't have time to elaborate any more nostalgic thoughts as Sukuna slows down and you are forced to return to the present, raising your head over his shoulder to check where you are. It was already completely dark when you arrive at the motel, and as you step into the gloom, you make out the dim lights flickering in the distance, indicating the other rooms that must be inhabited by people like you, with no settled place to go or belong.

“You can leave me here,” you indicate speaking slowly, longing for the moment when you can step onto solid ground again and return to the safe space that was your motel room, that even if it smelled like cheap detergent and the green apple spray you bought at the nearby gas station convenience store, you've managed to call home these past few months.

Sukuna obediently stops the bike near room 147 and allows you to get off, without asking questions or making conversation, which surprises you. Discomfort washes over you from your feet covered by ballerina slippers, up your cold legs until it reaches your chest.

“Thank you,” is all you say out of kindness. Instinctively you hug yourself, shrugging your shoulders toward your ears in search of some warmth.

Sukuna looks you up and down, and in his eyes you notice that spark of accusation or perhaps contempt, similar to the one you saw in your father the last time he visited you.

You wait for him to finally say something, after long seconds that feel endless, but you interrupt him before he gets the chance.

“I'm quitting.” You don't know why you say that, your body expels it as an automatic reaction, similar to vomiting after a hangover.

You immediately regret it and turn away. Little interested in what he might say next, you hasten your steps to run away from him and hide in your shelter as soon as possible.

“I thought it was allergies.” Bastard. You grind your teeth, clenching your fists. You don't have the energy to fight him; what little of the mask you put on to pretend you're the perfect woman will soon unravel like Cinderella's spell, and you don't want that to happen while you're arguing with him.

“I thought you were a tough girl.” You hear him yell again, as you try to pretend he doesn't exist. You turn left, in the direction of your room, the last one in the whole row.

“I can help.” Those words slow your steps to a complete stop. It takes you a moment to find the courage to turn around, but you finally do, taking a breath of air and looking him straight in the eye.

The distance between you is about the size of a bus, not much, but enough to look like a pair of cowboys about to have a duel and so that anyone listening can pick up on your discussion thanks to the silence of the night.

“Help with what?” you ask, defiantly.

Sukuna looks up at the sky for a moment, as if the answer is in the clouds. Without looking at you, he replies, “To be less of a dick, maybe.” Asshole. “To teach you how to relax once you're under the lights.”

You fold your arms. “If...?”

He grins, clearly amused with how much he's enjoying the situation, and you want to shout into the wind how much you hate him. Now you understand why he doesn't like you; your personalities are very different. You like the summer, he probably likes the cold. He's always teasing and getting under your skin, while you have to constantly fight not to break. You are polar opposites of different worlds.

“If you help me with something.”

“With what exactly?” you ask almost instantly. 

“It's just a favor,” he replies with a shrug.

“What kind of favor?” you insist.

“It's not that kind of favor,” he says with a gesture of annoyance.

“What's in it for you?”

“Can't I help a partner?”

You're tired of playing this game. It's clearly draining your time and energy. You appreciate that he brought you home and behaved with the slightest decency you would expect from an empathetic human being seeing someone cry, but you've had enough. You turn to leave, feeling it's not worth wasting any more time on this. You plan to sleep thinking about your decision and send a letter to the director tomorrow morning. With what little money you have left, you hope to travel back to your home country.

“I need help with my grandfather.” It's as if Sukuna drops a hook that your innocence fishes for. You're not sure what he's referring to, but your curiosity compels you to turn once more and face him. This time, you close the distance with each new unsure step. 

Watching you walk towards him, Sukuna continues. “Monthly he sends fish to Yokohama. The guy who was helping me quit a few months ago, so I've had to do it alone, which is a pain in the ass,” he runs a hand through his tousled hair from the trip, seemingly remembering.

“Why me?”

“Don't think you're special,” he grumbles with a growl, reflecting on what he just said, he adds. “What I mean is, it's a favor for a favor. I'll tutor you on how to improve as a dancer, and you help me with the fish. It's a win-win.”

You hate the idea of training alone with him almost as much as working moving fish, or whatever it is you're going to do, but...that was the only choice you had. It was either this or actually quit and go home empty-handed, face your failure and your father, and break the promise you had made to your mother before she died. Besides, with Sukuna as a sort of watchdog working with you you think maybe Kugawara wouldn't bother you again, though the thought of it happening again makes your skin crawl.

You nod finally, averting your gaze to your feet for a moment. “Okay. When do we start?”

“Tomorrow I'll come by and pick you up around 3:30. We'll do the fish delivery and then we can practice.”

“Okay.”

“Be on time 'cause I hate waiting,” he snorts. 

Maybe working with Sukuna wasn't such a bad idea after all. You spend all day cooped up in that old motel room, watching the cars go by and waiting for the time and days when you have to go train again. It's boring to be stuck in there doing nothing but waiting for the days to pass, so the idea of visiting another city, seeing new places and maybe discovering more about who Ryōmen Sukuna was seems appealing to you; you can't deny it.

There's so much mystery surrounding him that you can't help but be drawn in.

Fri. 4/14 • 5:50PM — 

You mentally cross out what you thought the night before and wish yesterday's version of you had thought more or at least asked more questions before blindly agreeing. Working with Sukuna was terrible, much worse than you imagined before you fell asleep. You hated the fishy smell permeating your clothes, rather, clothes you borrowed from Sukuna belonging to the boy who quit earlier. The uniform was baggy and threadbare: the faded blue T-shirt had sweat stains and stale smell, while the pants are baggy, a bit long and a dull gray color, with a loose belt to adjust the size. 

You wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand after putting the last box of fish in the restaurant's freezer and being thankful to be done with everything for the day. You restrain yourself from complaining to Sukuna for not making it clear to you exactly what work you would be doing because after all it had been your fault for not asking and trusting unquestioningly. As you bite the inside of your cheek to control your tongue, you realize that inside the colors and patterns are the same as the sushi restaurant across the street from the academy, which makes you think they are probably from the same brand.

Outside, the clear Yokohama sky shows a bright sun toasting your cheeks as Sukuna finishes signing papers behind you. The change of season has the weather undecided, on the verge of leaving winter behind; some spring mornings are warm and the nights, cold.

His shoes clack against the pavement as he approaches you. With a light tap on your forearm, you hear him chuckle, following it up with, “Who knew? I didn't know you could carry so much weight.”

He doesn't wait for your response and continues on his way to the white truck. With your eyes narrowed and your feet begging you for a break, you walk to the waiting, lit truck and slam the door shut. Being in the cold air, with your sore feet now stretched out should feel more comforting. You're protected from the sun's rays and its warmth, and the spicy apple air freshener is pleasant enough to make you forget that it's spring. However, the situation is not entirely delightful for you. 

Sukuna next to you seems immune to the silence that you find so uncomfortable. You take a quick glance at him and find him staring down the road as he drives back to town. He has one hand curled around the steering wheel and the other resting on his leg. His uniform is different from yours; his consists of an impeccable white shirt and blue pants tailored to fit him navy blue, on the left side at chest height he has the restaurant's name written on it. 

Now that his shirt sleeves are rolled up, you can make out the tattoos on his wrist: two thick black rings run along his skin. Being so close to him and noticing the black ink permeating the skin makes you wonder if they hurt him much. The thought that he probably has more tattoos on areas of his body that you can't see thanks to the clothing comes into your head, but you'd rather push that image away and look straight ahead.

Traffic is moving slowly, with seas of vehicles coming and going on a dual carriageway Sukuna has to slow down every so often because the cars stop which makes you understand that you will be stuck here for a while. Bored with the silence and not wanting to be the first to speak, you take the liberty of turning on the radio, jumping from station to station before finding one that plays old romantic music.

Sukuna makes a snorting sound, prompting you to look directly at him. When your gazes meet, you'd rather ignore the feeling in your stomach and the cocked grimace you manage to notice on his lips before he undoes it.

“What?” you ask him, surprised that your tone doesn't sound as dismissive as usual. “I can find another station if...”

“It's my grandfather's favorite,” he confesses to you quietly. “That one's fine.”

Your fingers slowly move away from the radio, processing what he's confessed to you and considering that this might be a window into getting to know him better.

“You said you were helping him —  is this his business?”

Sukuna hums as if weighing the words, tapping the steering wheel a couple of times. “Yes.”

You blink slowly. “Do you guys have a lot of time in the market?”

“Yes,” he repeats again and you fill your lungs with the smell of spicy apple and his subtle cologne.

You resign yourself to having a monosyllabic conversation with him so you press your lips together and rest your chin on your hand looking out the window. From where you are, you can admire the horizon and the still blue water being illuminated by the intimate rays of afternoon sun. Seagulls circle the shore and you imagine their deep song filling the bay.

“I can't remember the last time I went to the beach.” You wanted to dip your feet in the water, let the waves massage them from side to side, feel the sand between your toes and the sun warming your skin—

“Honestly, me neither. Since I've been working with fish, the beach seems less exciting to me, I don't know if that makes sense.”

You look at him, did you just say that out loud? Sukuna watches you briefly before turning his eyes back to the road. You contemplate him longer than you need to before looking straight ahead again and watching the traffic move a little faster than before.

“Have you guys always worked with this?” you perk up to ask again, still keeping your gaze straight ahead.

“Seafood?” he seems to think, humming aloud. “The restaurant has been in the family for as long as I can remember. So...yeah.”

“That's strange. I never would have imagined you doing this kind of work.”

“Why?” he chuckles, as if sharing a secret with himself.  

“You're so good at dancing,” you admit, giving him a fleeting glance. “I didn't think you do anything more than that.”

“The best,” he instantly corrects you and you physically force yourself not to roll your eyes. 

“I thought you were a spoiled rich kid.”

You turn to catch him grimacing in annoyance. Clearly, he was conflicted about what you had just said.

“I like to dance, but I've always worked hard since I was little. Everything I know and everything I do I learned from my grandfather.”

“It's just the two of you?”

You notice him frowning and speed up quickly before the light turns red. His lips open, but before he can respond, he stops the truck abruptly causing the boxes in the back to rampage and crash into each other as Sukuna shouts insults at the bicyclist who sped in front of him.

You admire him for a while longer: pursed lips, furrowed brow and hands tense around the wheel. Then, you turn your gaze ahead to catch the cyclist fleeing in front of you at full speed, now barely a distinguishable silhouette. Wasting no time, Sukuna sets off down the road again as you wonder what it was he was going to answer. Now, curiosity towards him beckons you that much more.

As Sukuna turns at an intersection to return to Tokyo, you mentally review the information you have about him:

He really loves his grandfather, of that you are left in no doubt since he is the person he mentions the most, he is the only person he talks about in fact. Also, does he cook? You make a mental note of that with a question mark next to it because you're not sure if he just drives the truck or if he really knows how to cook. Third and probably most important, he's not as bad a person as you thought he was. Yes, you still feel like fighting with him and contradicting him at the slightest argument, but that's because of resentment built up over the months. If you were meeting him today for the first time or even if you actually worked for him, you would be encouraged to recognize him as introverted at best, which makes you wonder if the person you see in the academy is just part of the show. Could this be his true personality? And what else is hidden underneath the mask?

The rest of the trip passes in silence as you immerse yourself in your thoughts and theories. The radio station gradually changes from romantic music to more danceable current pop songs, causing you to hum all the way and move your body gently to the melody.

“Are you too tired?” asks Sukuna, once you are on the main road into town.

“Yeah. Why?” you grumble with a grunt, stretching your arms above your head and swinging your feet in circles.

He nods, pondering. “I'll take you to the motel then. We can train later.”

“Oh, no. I'm ready to start today.”

Suddenly, you don't feel so tired when it comes to dancing. You don't want to wait any longer to start practicing and improving, and the truth is, the longer you go without improving, the faster the day of the final presentation comes.

Sukuna pulls into the parking lot of a tall building, moving inside the place illuminated by white lights until he comes to a complete stop next to the bike that you instantly recognize as his.

You get off the truck first with your bag slung over your shoulder, shake your feet again and perform brief stretches as you wait for Sukuna who passes by you walking certainty towards the elevator; you follow him like his shadow.

“You live here?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I thought we were going to practice,” you say, wondering if his apartment will have enough space. 

“We will.”

“But...”

“Have you been told you ask too many questions?”

You fall silent as you stand inside the elevator and he presses a button that immediately turns gold, the elevator jolts smoothly and begins to slowly travel through each floor until it reaches number ten. The doors open along with a soft chime, and Sukuna is the first to step out guiding you to his floor.

The apartment complex is modern and elegant. The walls are adorned with dark wood paneling and a floor made of synthetic fur. Sukuna walks confidently down the hallway and you follow him noting the numbered doors with sleek steel plates. When you reach the door to his apartment, he takes his keys out of his pocket and inserts them into the lock opening the door with a quiet click.

He invites you in first with a nod and as you do so you find a well-decorated and tidy space, perhaps somewhat different from what you had imagined. The polished wood floor is covered by a neutral-toned carpet; the room has contemporary furniture and a wall adorned with framed photographs.

You discreetly observe your surroundings, longing to linger a little longer observing the photographs on the wall and get to know his family, however Sukuna keeps moving in front of you without giving you time to get a chance to do so. 

“I knew you were a rich kid...”

He chuckles softly. “Come.” Sukuna guides you into a hallway and stops in front of a wooden door. “Shower,” he instructs you as he sees your confusion, struggling not to flash another one of those smiles you'd grown accustomed to. “You stink of fish. Get changed, I'll be waiting for you on the terrace.”

A bitter resistance dies on your tongue. The lingering smell of raw fish clings to your clothes like an unwanted shadow. You decide not to protest that just this once he is right and instead turn your back on him, clinging to your bag as you walk into the bathroom.

You decide to take a quick shower using the first liquid soap you find on top of the sink, scrubbing your body with your hands and quickly wetting your hair to freshen it up a bit, making a note to wash it properly when you get to the motel.

When you're done, you emerge from the bathroom in one of your practice outfits that fits snugly to your body for flexibility. You tie your hair up in a high bun so it won't bother you and head with determination towards the terrace where Sukuna was waiting for you.

The sunset tints the sky with reddish hues, creating a celestial spectacle among the clouds. The terrace is decorated with potted green plants and comfortable armchairs with cushions piled at the back, leaving enough space to move around without bumping into furniture. 

Dim lights hang from the ceiling, subtly illuminating the space. And in the background, soft instrumental music plays, similar to what the academy plays. Sukuna is sitting stretching his legs out on the floor in a V-shape, and with a barely perceptible gesture of his lips, he invites you to join him and imitate his movements. He bends his body gracefully and at will, and you do your best to keep up as good as you can.

Then, he stands gracefully and offers you his hand, drawing you to his chest.

“Your problem is that you don't trust me. You don't trust that I'm going to hold you when you jump...” You're ready to respond, but your lips seal when he continues. “So we need to fix that.”

The way he says it makes you shudder; you don't want to give in, but you know you have no choice now.

To the beat of the music, Sukuna wraps his hand around your waist and you mimic his steps— circles, one... two... until he stops and asks you to jump, but you hesitate, visibly trembling in his arms.

“Trust me,” he asks you with a serene exhale.

“I can't,” you reply, wetting your dry lips. Sukuna follows each stroke of your tongue before returning to your eyes, where the lashes fuss uneasily.

“You have to trust me as much as I trust you.”

Yet inside you, feelings of doubt and fear linger, like foolish specters whispering in your ear. You feel overwhelmed, not only by the pressure and responsibility on your back but by the closeness of your bodies, there is no space between your chests and if he leans in a little closer you could taste his breath.

“I can't,” you stammer, pulling away from him. “I think it was a bad idea to come,” you admit truthfully, letting your worries slip out loud.

Without you moving further away, his hands hold your wrist firmly making you spin around, and your tiptoed feet respond at once. He holds you still close to him, your back pressed against his chest rocking to the rhythm of the instruments.

“Jump.” Your heart races and you decide to close your eyes to concentrate on the drums pounding against your ribs, on the breath tangling in your lungs. His hands move up and down your waist, go to your ribs where he feels your heaving breath expand his palms. “Take a deep breath,” he speaks sweetly, his breath brushing the shell of your ear. “I'm not going to let you fall this time. I swear.”

You take a deep breath processing the words. could you really trust his promise? You feel his hands come back down to your waist and with the help of his hands exerting pressure, you jump up and he gracefully lifts you above his head. For an instant, you contemplate the city stretching out beneath your feet, like a blanket of light and shadow. Your arms spread like wings, and a spontaneous laugh escapes your lips as the wind caresses your skin. Gently, Sukuna lowers you to the ground once again and you watch a proud smile form on his face. 

Together, the two of you capture the sunset from the terrace, sharing that ephemeral moment in silent complicity.

When you finish practicing about three more times, you find yourself lying on the ground, breathing shakily as you watch the sky dotted with bright spots. Sukuna has disappeared inside his apartment, turning on the lights and returning with a bottle of water that he kindly offers you.

“Thank you,” you say, immediately popping the bottle into your mouth.

“You're not too bad,” Sukuna comments with his usual calmness, though beads of sweat on his forehead betray his exertion. It's obvious why he's Kurogawa's top student.

“I really mean it. Thank you.”

Sukuna averts his gaze for a moment before turning back to you. “Are you going to stay for dinner?” he asks instead.

“I'm fine...,” you reply, finally getting up from the floor and dusting off your clothes with your hands.

“I hope you're eating something better than soda and canned food at that stinky motel.”

You both share a knowing chuckle, your gazes intertwined for a moment.

“No promises,” you say, raising your hands to chest level. “But I have to go now. Thanks for everything, again,” you add, taking another long drink of water.

“Do you need a ride?” offers Sukuna.

“I'll get an uber.”

Sukuna nods, walking you to the door where he waves you off with a friendly smile.

What the hell was that all about? And why are you about to throw up your heart?

Sat. 4/14 • 6:32 pm — 

The second week training with Sukuna has been a revelation. You've gotten used to the smell of fish that you now find less unbearable, to getting up early before the alarm goes off, and you've even gotten used to the horrible oversized uniform you have to wear, but above all, you've gotten used to Sukuna's presence and his training sessions that bring you closer and closer together. Of course, you have improved remarkably. Sukuna is a born teacher and could surpass Kurogawa when he decides to retire. He knows just what to say to make you feel comfortable in your own skin and relax in his arms, which he has succeeded in doing. 

As you get to know him better, you realize that he is not the image you had created in your head. He is considerate and has managed to get you to open up to him a little more, tearing down the shell of animosity you had raised. Before, you were fighting a non-existent battle against him, a fight to be the best that now you only keep against yourself.

With the descent of disdain for him came something more.... Appreciation? Admiration, perhaps? You don't want to acknowledge what that emotion is. For now, you cling to the idea that you can be friends, that you could become good friends in time.

With the practices and the unofficial ones you do with your dance partner, your steps become more natural, loose and fluid. Soon, your movements will resemble those of the fantastic swan you are meant to emulate.

Sukuna spins you around with the climax of the violins resounding above you. Thanks to constant practice on his terrace he manages to lift you into the air with ease, getting you for the first time to not hesitate and leap gracefully into his arms which gets you a round of applause from your colleagues, drawing a proud smile on your face. Your chest is pounding, you feel the excitement in the darkness of the theater and, in a far corner, you can glimpse the ghost of your mother clapping proudly. You were really going to make it. 

Sukuna helps you touch the floor once more, and because of the intimacy required for the final scene, your faces are inches apart. The sound of muffled applause, the circular spotlight that focuses on you exclusively, and the scent of his cologne (a subtle blend of woody and citrus notes that awakens your senses), make the moment far more intimate than the scene requires.

Unsure if this is still part of the performance, Sukuna brushes the tip of his nose against yours before finally pulling away, leaving you drifting beside him and depriving you of his body heat. Slow clapping comes from the background in the gloom, and you walk away from Sukuna taking long strides as if you've been caught committing a crime, your hands sweaty and your stomach clenched.

“That was much better,” Kurogawa says, praising you both, though he looks directly at you. “A wonderful presentation.”

“Thank you,” Sukuna replies, and you feel him tense beside you as he holds the director's gaze that's still resting on you like a predator.

“Though you still have a lot of room for improvement,” Kurogawa says, looking straight at you. Your lips tighten into a straight line, feeling some disappointment in your chest.

“I think she's doing very well,” Sukuna interjects, looking Kurogawa up and down before exhaling like a raging bull. 

Kurogawa watches Sukuna and then clicks his tongue.

“Ryōmen, can you remind me who the director of the ballet is and who is recognized as the best male category ballet dancer in the entire country?” Sukuna falls silent, and you are unable to ignore his clenched jaw. “Sorry, I didn't hear you.”

Sukuna exhales and replies sarcastically. “You are, sir.”

“That's what I thought,” he replies, savoring the victory, still keeping his eyes on you. “So when I say something needs to get better, it's because it's going to get better. You can all go..., my little swan, you stay a few minutes with me, we need to talk.” 

Sukuna's eyes are pulled from the director to fall on you. Under the spotlight you notice his red eyes become darker, dark ink spills into them and at the same time his half closed eyelids give him the aura of a feline. You nod, assuring him wordlessly that you will be fine. 

The room gradually becomes empty, you are the only ones present. Kurogawa tucks himself back into the darkness while you stand under the burning light of the spotlight that seems to glow now brighter than ever. Suddenly, the sound of the piano climbs the walls again and makes your skin tingle. 

“Again,” he orders you. 

Immediately you put your back straight facing the theater seats. Your feet automatically tiptoe, your arms move in the air, move up your body and stop above your head. Your movements are much more fluid and you can feel it; you are more flexible than before or maybe you always have been and all you needed was a little push. A vote of confidence. 

The thought that you will have your little ritual with Sukuna tomorrow (he cooks for you after you help him deliver the fish and after your practice), puts a smile on your face and helps you relax, ignoring the presence of Kurogawa who follows you with his sharp eyes every time you move.

The clacking of his shoe heels tells you he's getting closer, and a subtle sense of dread comes over you as you wonder what Kurogawa might be thinking or planning.

“Are you two dating?” He asks suddenly, wrapping his hands around you behind your back in imitation of the role Sukuna plays. 

"I don't have to justify my personal life, sir." Your reply is quick and sharp, cutting through the awkward tension. 

He laughs dryly. “Because that would be a problem. I wouldn't allow my lead dancers to have an affair, that would be problematic.” He steps closer to you undoing the space between you and grabs your waist from behind, you instantly pull away looking at him with your eyebrows together. “Hold still.” He steps closer again, you take another step back, about to be engulfed by the darkness. 

“Sir...” 

He pauses under the spotlight, his few gray hairs and greasy locks gleaming in the direct brightness. The light highlights the deep lines of his face, accentuating his intense, commanding expression. His piercing gaze seems to cut through you as he calls out your name.

“Come here. Let me show you what you're doing wrong,” Kurogawa says in a tone that combines authority and criticism.

“I think I'm doing a good job,” you insist, trying to maintain your composure.

“Oh, you think Ryōmen is a better teacher than I am? He's been putting ideas into your head?” he asks wryly.

“I mean no disrespect, but...” you start to say, but you're interrupted.

“Girl,” he says with disdain, “Come here.”

“No,” you reply firmly, burying your feet on the stage. 

The director smiles mischievously. “The cat is showing her claws, I see,” he mutters. “You know he's no good for you?” he continues. “So if you're sentimentally involved...I'm afraid I'll have to degrade you both from being the lead dancers.”

You sense that his threats make you feel lightheaded. “You wouldn't do that,” you say with a hint of desperation.

“Be a good girl then.”

“We'll present in exactly two weeks, no one can take my place,” you defend yourself, looking for an excuse that will convince you more than him that he can't do this. 

“Mei-Ling is ready. We've been... practicing,” he says with a lopsided grin that makes you cringe.

“You're disgusting,” you reproach him, unable to keep pretending that standing here in front of him listening to his innuendos doesn't have your body chilling. 

“You have no idea,” Kurogawa replies, widening a mischievous smile. “Now...”

He approaches you with clear intentions of touching you, you look around for something you can defend yourself with or someone who can come to your aid but the room was empty, there was only you there. You keep shuffling your feet until you run into the wall, until the darkness has covered you both and all you can see is his macabre smile. 

Kurogawa reaches out to grab you when Sukuna's voice startles you. He says your name for the first time and you look over the director's shoulder to see him on the other end in casual gray joggers and a white t-shirt. “Is everything okay?” he asks looking directly into your eyes and for a moment it's just the two of you. 

Your voice breaks and you can't answer him, but your desperate look tells him everything he needs to know. 

“This is private training, Ryōmen. You may leave now.” 

Still he pays no heed. He advances towards you with the bag where he kept his clothes hanging from his left shoulder, sukuna stops and plants himself next to you; his arms embrace your shoulders and he sticks you to his body. “Do you wanna leave?” He asks, looking up at you directly. 

“Yes.” You reply without hesitation or pausing to look at the director. 

“Ow look at that? Isn't that romantic?” he laughs dryly, clapping his hands together sarcastically. “Long live lovers, right? From hate to love is only one step, I guess.” 

Sukuna ignores Kurogawa's words, removing his hand from your shoulders to take yours and lead you away. Surprise flashes across your face, but his warm grip turns the initial coldness into a comforting sensation, making your heart race in your chest. You don't resist and squeeze his fingers tightly as you pull away.

The man laughs louder again, turning to look at you just as you reach the small stairs that would lead you off the stage. “Don't even bother coming back, you're fired,” he shouts arrogantly.

You search Sukuna's eyes to make sure he's feeling the same fear you are. For a moment, doubt crosses your eyes and you consider turning around and apologizing as the only option in this situation. But Sukuna avoids your gaze, releasing your hand to address the director.

“If you have something to say, say it now,” Kurogawa spits with a triumphant smile on his face.

Sukuna climbs the stairs again, leaving you paralyzed in the middle of the steps. His movements seem more imposing under the contrasting lights, and as he approaches the principal, you can see Kurogawa's smile widen in pleasure.

Sukuna takes a deep breath, running a hand through his pink hair to pull it back before turning and connecting a closed fist against the director's jaw. Kurogawa falls to the ground, coughing and wiping blood from a split lip. There is hatred and resentment in his eyes as the two men stare at each other for a moment, right before Kurogawa spits out blood mixed with saliva that was pooled in his mouth.

In that moment of tense silence, you stand watching in horror, both hands covering your mouth. Sukuna spits towards the ground and then turns away, wiping his hand and knuckles. He walks past you and with a hand on your lower back, guides you out of there.

“Let's get the hell out of here,” Sukuna mutters.

“Are we just...?” you try to say, but Sukuna interrupts you.

“Are you okay?” he asks with concern. You nod, unable to say much more. “That's all I care about,” Sukuna concludes as you walk away from the place.

You didn't want to go back to the motel. With your dreams crushed so easily in front of you, the last thing you want is to be alone with your self-destructive thoughts and a judgmental memory. The director always seemed a little strange to you and now you tag the way he approaches you as unprofessional but you never thought he could go to the extreme of cornering you like that; however, seeing him lying on the floor, bleeding, brings accusatory thoughts into your head that you want to erase. Your memories betray you showing you more blood than there really was. In his eyes was written pure revenge, you knew that with his influence only one mail was enough to destroy both your career and your life. You don't want to think about the consequences of your actions; at least not tonight, not now. So when Sukuna asks where you want to go and you reply that you don't know, he decides to take matters into his own hands and take you on a bike ride around the city. Neither says anything else and you ask no questions, letting the vibrations of the engine and his body under your fingers make you feel safe.

Your cheek is crushed against his broad back, clinging to his waist as much as you can as you watch the lights of the city and its tall buildings go by like flashes. People come and go and your heart sinks a little in your chest each time Sukuna's fingers roll easily across the throttle. Water pools in your heavy eyelashes and you can't decide if it's from the wind or if it's just sadness and the pile of bitter disappointment you force yourself to swallow.

Sukuna stops at a gas station, you wait leaning against the bike while he pays and buys some sweets that he silently passes to you as an offering. You open the colorful wrapper and pop the chocolate into your mouth, chewing silently as you are distracted by the dust clinging to his boots.

“Do you wanna go to my place?” The question surprises you and his voice invites you to look at him, back to the present. You notice his face and are distracted by the soft pout that forms his lips unconsciously. In the short time you've known each other, you've noticed it's something he does often. A habit.

You assume that you are friends now. You find the situation and the question ironic. If an oracle had told you about eight months ago that you'd be taking bike rides with Sukuna, clinging to his back like a baby koala bear, driving with him every day out of town while jamming karaoke in his fish-smelling truck and hanging out at his apartment, you'd never have believed it. 

Finally, you shake your head in affirmation, taking another bite of the bar.

“I hate that motel,” you confess, covering your mouth.

“I know. It smells like a shoe, I don't know how you can live there.”

You regret letting him into your humble room. Everything was tidy and perfectly sprayed with that green apple spray you depend on so much now, but you still saw him pinching his nose with two fingers and commenting on the stench. You'd complained before, of course, and the owner told you he'd move you to another room as soon as it became available, but now that was the only one you could be in; the room is at the back, next to the laundry room and the damp lurks through the walls, ending up sitting in the middle of your floor.

“Hey!” It really did smell awful, but it wasn't funny when others made fun of it. “It's all I can afford for now. Sorry I'm not rich like you.”

“I thought you were rich,” he says, playing with his bruised knuckles as the numbers on the screen behind him keep going up.

“Not anymore,” you confess, distant memories of your life coming back to you in a flash. “My father refuses to help me with academy expenses, he sees it as a waste of money and time, and I guess he's right. I only have enough to live for two more months there, I was looking forward to the ballet performance but now…” Your voice trails off, unable to finish the sentence.

You notice how he leans over to gently tap you on the shoulder with the same hand that punched Kurogawa earlier.

“We're going to fix it, brat. No long faces while I'm around.”

You contemplate him a while longer in silence as you finish eating the chocolate bar and clench the wrapper in your fist to throw it in the trash when you're at his apartment. Once the tank is full, you roll back down the road and seven minutes later you are in the warmth of his apartment.

You take off your shoes as you enter and head straight to the living room after Sukuna asks you to sit down and he goes straight to the kitchen. You take the opportunity to look at the various photographs on the bluish wall that you have always wanted to see up close but he has never let you: a small Sukuna clutching a baseball bat smiles at the camera, his hair tousled as if it's been a windy day, and his hands tightly wrapped around the bat. There's another where he's with who you assume is his grandfather in front of the restaurant near the academy, clutching a fish that's bigger than both of them which makes you chuckle under your breath. In the last one, there's him and another boy who looks very like him, both wearing thick coats with faux fur edges and looking at the camera with surprised expressions.

“Your brother?” you ask as you hear his bare feet moving across the floor and, turning to face him, you find him with two plates full of sushi rolls in his hands. “Thank you,” you smile at him, sliding onto the couch.

“Be careful not to drip the sauce on my couch, brat,” he jokes. You want to complain about the not-so-pleasant name he calls you by, but you keep silent, hiding the sense of longing that overwhelms you as you want to hear him say your name again. “And my nephew,” he quickly points to the picture before disappearing back into the kitchen. “It was the first time we went to New York.”

You take another quick glance at the picture and grab the wooden chopsticks next to your plate.

“Nephew... So you have siblings?” You ponder, pinching a sushi roll between your chopsticks and bringing it to your mouth, careful at all times not to drop anything on the couch. For how neat the place looks, you know he's not kidding when he warns you that he doesn't want any stains on his couch.

Sukuna returns with a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands, as he carefully sets them on the coffee table.

“I'm not going to drink,” you quickly excuse yourself.

“Come on, let's celebrate that we don't have practice tomorrow.”

His humor helps you cope a little. You press your lips together in a straight line that gradually turns into a sad smile and finally nod, giving your permission for him to pour the white wine for both of you. You grab the glass without further thought and take a long drink, closing your eyes for a moment.

“And... um,” he clears his throat, taking a seat next to you to get ready to eat as well. “I had a brother. I lost him and my parents in an accident when they were on their way from Kyoto to see me dance last year.”

The news makes you frown and you set the cup aside immediately, showing your concern. Sukuna seems immune; anyone who didn't know him would say he's over it, that he doesn't care, but you've learned to see past the mask he usually shows himself to others with. Hesitantly, you put your hand on his leg in comfort and something inside you waits for him to push it away, only it never happens. He looks down at your touch for a moment before returning to your eyes.

“I'm so sorry.”

His shoulders shrug and he finally relaxes. “At least I have my grandfather for now.”

You nod, understanding how bitter the situation is as it's easy to put yourself in his shoes.

“I'm really sorry. I lost my mother too; she had a medical condition that had no cure. Her dream was always to see me dance at a professional academy.”

“Is that why you traveled to Japan?” asks Sukuna before popping a sushi roll into his mouth.

“Yeah. But I guess it doesn't matter now.”

“I told you we're going to fix it,” Sukuna says and now it is him placing his hand on your thigh intimately. You watch as his fingers spread over your skin, noticing the veins running down the back of his hand and the thick tattoos surrounding his skin.

“You punched him in the face,” you look away from his fingers to force yourself to look him in the eyes, both of you sharing a brief chuckle. “How can we fix this?”

Sukuna is no longer touching you and his absence is immediately felt.

“We can report him,” he suggests.

“They won't listen to us,” you reply.

“Not with that attitude.”

You look away from him for a moment, toward your plate and the half-empty cup. You grab it and raise it to your mouth to wet your throat.

“Thank you... for everything,” you say sincerely, swirling the glass so that the liquid spirals against the glass.

“I should never have left you alone,” Sukuna admits.

“But you came back for me. That's the important thing,” you reply, restraining yourself from touching him again. Instead, you take a last sip of wine that serves to drown out thoughts of what would have happened if no one had arrived in time.

With banal conversations filling the space from time to time and laughter over jokes that aren't even that funny; you both finish eating.

With two glasses of wine drunk and now Sukuna pouring a third everything seems funnier than usual. The sting of the pain of having lost everything you've built is buried there waiting to make you ache and although you know Sukuna feels it too, he manages to disguise it very well, spending all his energies on making your night.

“Stop it,” you tell him with a laugh, squinting to fix your eyes closely on his face. “You've got something there.” You point to a part of your own cheek with a finger, smoothing the skin and wiggling your fingers for him to do the same.

“Where?” he asks, pulling his eyebrows together, touching the wrong part of his face.

“Look, here!” you point to your cheek again with more emphasis, but he still misses.

“Wipe it off for me. What is it?”

“It's just soy sauce, you messed it up more.”

You lean a little closer to wipe the sauce stain next to his nose, carefully rubbing the skin by moving your thumb over it until it's clean. You smile at him, you just need to wash your face now, as you turn your attention back to him you realize he is blatantly looking at your lips.

“Later,” he says softly, licking his lips slowly and alarms go off in your brain.

“It'll get sticky if you don't go,” you reply mimicking his tone, struggling not to notice his mouth and how close you are.

Sukuna slowly makes himself move his gaze from your mouth to your eyes. Still close, you can notice the alcohol on his breath, his scent of cologne tickling your stomach.

“I never understood why you disliked me so much,” he blurts out suddenly, almost in a whisper.

“Are you serious?” you pull away before you do something you shouldn't, the tingling sensation of alcohol probably making you see things that aren't there. “Everything you talked about me?” He arches an eyebrow, showing confusion. “You were saying I should go back to my country...”

“Yeah, because you were saying I had no talent. And who did you think you were?” he defends himself, getting defensive. With that expression that he instantly erases almost makes you remember the Sukuna from the past.

“I never said that.” You defend yourself.

Silently, you both let the weight of realization sink in, sharing a silent stare.

“Kurogawa.” You respond in unison.

“Fuck him,” Sukuna says through gritted teeth. You want to reproach him, but honestly?

“Yeah, fuck him.” Then you both laugh.

Silence reigns between you again, squeezing like an intruder between the little space that separates your bodies on the couch. 

“Are you staying the night?” Sukuna suddenly blurts out, giving you a sideways glance.

“Um, no?” That makes him look at you completely, analyzing you as if you've just said something barbaric.

“I can't ride like this,” he comments with obviousness.

“That's fine, I'll get an uber.”

“I don't trust an uber to send you like that.”

You don't trust yourself around him, you don't trust what your numb senses can do or say, so the farther away you are from him, the better it is for both of you.

“Like what? I'm almost sober,” you say, squeezing a space with your index finger and thumb leaving a small gap in between. “Besides... I know how to defend myself.” To reaffirm your sentence and validate your sobriety, you stand up to take a brief turn but fate is ironic and trips you over your own feet; in an instant your mouth is about to kiss the ground. You squeeze your eyes tightly shut, preparing to receive a stinging pain that never comes, instead, you are welcomed into an embrace that fills you with security.

“Fuck. You're so drunk,” Sukuna says with a laugh, helping you to your feet.

You open one eye. “Sorry, I don't usually drink.” You close it again, massaging with your fingers the sudden dizziness that squeezes your temples. “Maybe I am a little dizzy.”

“I can tell that,” he says. “You should have told me.”

“Um, I did.” You open your eyes now realizing how intimate you are. Your open palms on his chest rise and fall with his agitated exhale and the tension weighs heavy. His hands are on your lower back in a sort of embrace that holds you close to him and keeps you from running away, and you wouldn't even if you could. You hear your own breathing quicken in your ears, and without thinking, you lean in to kiss him but Sukuna lifts his chin avoiding you and kissing your forehead instead.

“Come on, I'll take you to bed.”

Sat. 4/15 • -:- am— 

You wake up with a slight headache pulsing in your temples and the sharp spicy smell of a perfume you don't recognize as your own. Still with your eyes closed, you turn your body to reach for the phone on the bedside table, you stretch your fingers in search of it, but your hands can't seem to find the nightstand, so you struggle to blink slowly and finally open your eyes completely. The unusual darkness confuses you a bit and makes you wonder what time it is; the sun should be penetrating the motel windows intensely at this hour, so you curiously sit up in bed. You look for your phone under the pillow, between the sheets and in every nook and cranny your hands can reach on the mattress.

It is at that moment when you notice the different color of the sheets and the four pillows around you, making you realize that this is not your bed, nor is this your room. Looking at your legs you realize that you are still dressed in last night's clothes, then you remember Sukuna. Your eyes scan the room in the absence of light — were you in his room or maybe he had another guest room? You pull the sheet off your legs and head to the window to open the black curtains and let the sun finish waking you up.

The lively view of the city greets you from below, cars come and go on the fast moving highway. With the help of the light now illuminating every corner, you take another look at the room and find out that this was probably his: the space is spacious and modern, following the same style as the living room with a minimalist decoration. The walls are a light gray and in front of the bed there is an elegant glass desk with an office chair. On top of the desk, there is a closed laptop and some tidy papers. 

The bed is bigger than the one in the motel and is covered with black sheets, next to it a closet with the doors made of a mirror in which you see yourself perfectly reflected, you try to fix your hair as much as you can in case you find him when you go out looking for your phone, but by the prevailing silence makes you aware that Sukuna was probably not at home. 

You find your phone on the floor near the couch. At the memory that it must have slipped out of your pocket when you almost fell last night just to then try to kiss Sukuna, your body burns with embarrassment. Unlocking the screen and looking at the time you find a message from Sukuna and missed calls from your father and group of friends. Shit, you totally forgot them.

R. SUKUNA: If you wake up and I'm not here, take a shower, there are headache pills in the desk drawer and eat something. If you decide to take a bath, use something from my closet. I'm visiting my grandpa, I'll be back in about an hour. :)

Checking the time, you realize that the message was sent half an hour ago so you still had time to be alone and clear your thoughts before he returned. After how absurd you acted last night, you don't want to see him today, not in a few weeks maybe. You don't have the courage to look him in the face, especially after he walked away, making it clear to you where he stood with you.

You return to the room with the phone in your hand and a glass of water you quickly grabbed from the kitchen. You open the first drawer and search for the pills you need stumbling upon some personal items, including two small square wrappers of different texture and metallic blue color. Before an unwanted idea can germinate in your mind, you push the condoms aside and take the pill, drinking every last drop from the glass.

You are determined to leave and escape from him, but the sweat from the previous day clings to your body and you refuse to go out like this. You quickly duck into the familiar bathroom and take a quick shower without getting your hair wet this time, opting only to pull it up in a simple bun and wear the same clothes from the day before. You exit the bathroom determined to take refuge in the motel, walking straight to the front door.

“Good morning.” His voice makes you yelp. You put one hand on your chest and one on your mouth, looking him up and down as if you've seen a ghost, and he has the audacity to laugh.

Sukuna looks fresh, as if he's had a good night's sleep and just got out of the shower. He's wearing a light blue short-sleeved sweater and black sweatpants; the baseball cap covering part of his face makes him look much younger.

“Did you sleep well?” Sukuna speaks again and you hope he didn't notice you looking him up and down.

“Yes, thank you. I had a bit of a headache, but I'm better now. we...?” We sleep together. It's the sentence you don't get to finish.

“The couch is more comfortable than it looks.” He gives you another brief grin and your heart flips.

“I'm so sorry about yesterday.”

You both know what you mean, so neither of you decides to delve into it. He downplays it with a wave of his hand, and you appreciate his friendship now more than ever, so you let that memory die.

“You were drunk...” he excuses you before you have a chance to. 

“Of course, I never...” you stop, unable to finish the sentence.

“I know.”

“How's your grandfather?” you ask him, quickly changing the subject, struggling not to notice the tattoo peeking through the opening near his neck.

“He's much better, actually.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” you say sincerely, forcing yourself to swallow the guilt that's weighing you down inside. He's showing his most vulnerable side with you, and all you can think about is how much you want to kiss his neck.

“There's just one little problem.”

Your eyes narrow and you take a step forward, paying more attention this time. “What's wrong?” you inquire with genuine concern.

“He wants to meet my girlfriend.”

"Oh." You blink slowly, your lips opening and closing as you choose your next words carefully. “You have a girlfriend.” It's a statement. Of course he has a girlfriend. 

“That's where you come in.”

“Excuse me?”

“He always insists that he doesn't like me being alone, that I should focus on other things than taking care of him and the restaurant. To put his mind at ease, I told him I have a girlfriend, I just didn't count on him asking me to meet her. I can only rely on you for that.”

You're flattered, but it's still not enough to hide the fact: “So you lied to him.” You ponder, processing all the information he's blurted out to you.

“Um, no. I'm going to get one, just not now. I'm not sure how long I'll be able to keep him with me and I didn't want to disappoint him.”

You nod slowly. “So, you want us to go visit him?”

“Yes, just once or twice.”

“And for me to act like I'm your girlfriend?”

“Yup.”

You sigh deeply, you massage your eyes with the palm of your hand trying to run away at least for a second from his presence and the effect he has on you; you don't want to keep looking at him and keep thinking about what he is making you feel inside because, what was all that? Sukuna was. your. friend. Why couldn't your hormones understand that and why did you suddenly feel like you would burst if he ever touched you? You finally open your eyes, nod.

“Yeah, okay. I'll help you.”

You don't think about the implications of this, you don't think about the fact that pretending to be his girlfriend makes your heart gallop fast against your ribs when it shouldn't. This is nothing more than an act of good faith, you're just helping a friend. You refuse to consider that you might have to hold his hand, and even the idea of having to kiss him is possible in some scenario.

It's the first time in years that you realize you don't remember the last time you kissed someone. You've been so focused on working, improving and becoming a better dancer every day that you don't remember the last time you had romantic or sexual contact with someone, and you're definitely not ready for Sukuna to be your first.

“I have to go now.”

You have a lot to process.

“Stay for breakfast,” he suggests with that lopsided grimace of his, the one where he doesn't show his teeth but could make you sign a deal with the devil if he wanted to. You have to grip your bag tighter so you don't reach out and touch the inky flash that winks at you again.

“See you later!” you say instead, running for the door.

You don't stop to wait for an answer because you know he would change your mind because that's what he always does (get his way), make you stay and confuse you even more. You pull out your phone and call for an Uber back to the discomfort of your bed, where you can be away from the effect he has on you.

Thurs. 5/10 • 

Meeting Hiroshi in person after hearing so much about him makes you feel like you've already known him for a long time. The smile spreads on his face like ink on water when he sees you, and it's already second nature for him to call you “daughter” as he grabs your hand and cheeks affectionately; he really likes you and you like him back.

Accompanied by Sukuna holding your hand, you always bring him flowers or fruits and listen attentively as Sukuna reads to him and tells him how business is going at the restaurant, while he nods. In a way, he reminds you of your own grandfather; a man just as sweet and hardworking. Seeing this new side of Sukuna is certainly different and addictive. The patient way he talks to his grandfather makes you look at him with admiring eyes; he seems like a totally different man. You have been accompanying him for the last three visits and seeing him spending so much time with his grandfather is becoming a regular habit.

On one of these visits you bump into someone you had seen before in one of the photographs he has hanging in his apartment. Yuuji, much older, much more adult, smiles at you and has the same cheerful expression as his grandfather; he is a boy full of energy who squeezes your hand and shakes it energetically the first time you meet him. He looks a lot like Sukuna and it is impossible for you not to make the internal comparison of how different they are despite being so physically similar. 

On Monday after visiting Hiroshi, exchanging the flowers for new ones and making sure he was enjoying his favorite meal, Yuuji, who was already at the hospital when you got there, invites you over for dinner as a sweet gesture to get to know you better.

The restaurant a few blocks away from the hospital is crowded with people, brimming with a cozy, family atmosphere with polished wooden tables and delicate white tablecloths. The soft murmur of family conversations intermingles with the tantalizing aroma of dishes wafting from the kitchen and traditional music in the background.

“I never thought I'd see Uncle Sukuna with a girlfriend,” Yuuji confesses as he rolls noodles on his chopsticks and brings them to his mouth.

“Hey,” Sukuna growls, finishing the sake in one gulp. “Don't disrespect your uncle.”

“It's not that,” Yuuji laughs.“It's just that you're always so secretive, and after what happened with Dad... but I'm happy for both of you.”He looks at you briefly now as he shakes his head slowly.

Your body twitches softly at the surprise of feeling Sukuna curling his fingers with yours on top of the table. His thumb caresses the back of your hand, and butterflies flutter inside you at the sight of this affectionate gesture, though you quickly remember that it's all part of the act. Getting caught up in the moment and excusing yourself to your inner judge, you gently squeeze his hand, reminding yourself to maintain the role of girlfriend.

As you enjoy dinner, you and Sukuna chat animatedly, sharing anecdotes about Hiroshi, the origin of the restaurant's peculiar name, and Yuuji's antics as a child. The vibe in the restaurant is permeated with warmth and energy, with the bustle of the other tables and the comforting aroma of ramen wafting through the air.

At the end of the meal, Yuuji bids the two of you goodbye with a hug, explaining that he must go elsewhere but that he hopes you will have a second date together.

As soon as he makes sure Yuuji has left the restaurant, Sukuna looks at you with a soft smile. “Thank you for joining me tonight. I know this isn't part of your commitment as a 'fake girlfriend'.”

You smile back, still feeling the warmth of his finger on your skin. “Thank you for letting me meet your grandpa, he's an amazing person, and your nephew is really adorable.”

Sukuna nods, his eyes shining with something you can't decipher. “I know Yuuji really likes you too. I think he likes you more than me.”

You giggle softly, recognizing that this encounter has brought you closer to Sukuna. Meeting one of the most important pillars of his life, along with his nephew, who is practically the only close family he has left, makes you feel lucky to be able to witness this more intimate side of him. You just hope that, when all is said and done and they both realize that you're just his friend they'll still continue to accept you and treat you with the affection that has characterized them so far.

“Maybe I should go back to the motel. It's getting late,” you say, bursting the bubble that had enveloped you out of reality. Being away from him was the last thing you wanted right now, but you needed to remind yourself from time to time that this was not part of your current life.

At that moment, he gently withdraws his fingers from yours and nods with a tense line on his lips.

“Sure. Join me for a smoke first.”

After paying the bill and leaving the restaurant, you both walk to the back with Sukuna gently tugging on your hand, still engaged in an act that should only happen when Yuuji or his grandfather are around. Surrounding you, a few people congregate to talk and share a cigarette.

Sukuna brings the cigarette to his mouth and you help him shield it with your hands as he tilts his head slightly to avoid the wind. The cigarette lights up as he inhales and exhales slowly through his nose, keeping his gaze fixed on you the whole time. He is leaning against the wall and you are close by, standing between his spread legs.

“I'll probably have to go home soon..., my real home, I mean,” you tell him suddenly, preferring to watch the people walking in and out of the parking lot instead of paying attention to him.

“Is it the money?”

You nod still without glancing at him. “I can't wait for it to be over, I already talked to my dad and he also thinks it's for the best.”

Sukuna is silent as he takes another puff and exhales just in time for when you turn back to look at him.

“I've been requesting a recommendation letter for you for another academy. I filed an official report against Kurogawa and we have witnesses, people who had made accusations before but had never filed an official report.”

His name brings back bitter memories that dissolve in the smoke and stale smell of the cigarette.

“I'm going to testify too.” Your voice surprises you as much as it seems to surprise Sukuna, who looks you up and down with curious eyes.

“Fine. I'll be with you.”

“Why didn't you tell me before?”

“I wanted to be sure, I didn't want to get your hopes up.” His eyes turn soft and you can see in them the same shadow that was in them that time in his apartment. He was looking at your lips just like now and he didn't seem to mind hiding it. “You look beautiful, by the way. Yuuji kept looking at you.”

You smile, glancing down at the teal dress you decided to wear that night.

“You don't look bad yourself,” you tell him, touching your fingertips to the oversized wool coat he was wearing. Sukuna follows your fingers as they stumble over the black buttons and away from his body. His eyes follow your hands that stay still on either side of your body and then they return to your face, momentarily checking your mouth.

“Wanna try?” he asks, raising the cigarette to your eye level.

“I've never smoked,” you confess.

“That wasn't my question.” He bites his lip, followed by the tip of his pink tongue moistening his lower lip gently. “You want me to guide you?”

“...Yes.”

“Open your mouth,” his voice comes out quick, eager and sharp almost like yours. His words guide you as you part your lips just enough for him to place the cigarette between them. But instead, Sukuna pulls you closer into him gently squeezing your waist as he exhales smoke into your half-open lips. “Swallow a little bit and then exhale,” he gently commands you. “Don't let it go down your throat.”

You follow his instructions without complaint, holding the smoke for a moment in your mouth before releasing it. The taste of ash floods your palate for a moment, a smell you find unbearable and yet.... “More,” you find yourself asking, rising on tiptoe to reach for the cigarette yourself.

You're sure you're not asking for more of the cigarette, you're asking for more of him. Of the brief touch you get from his unfriendly hands on your body, more of his perfume lulling your senses, more of his closeness. 

His fingers leave your lower back to climb up to your jaw keeping you steady, still and trapped as he exhales a second puff between your parted lips. Your heart flips but you manage to repeat the action of inhaling and exhaling without coughing, and as he prepares to do it a third time without you asking, your noses collide in the darkness of your closed eyes; his lips brush yours for an electric instant, and you feel his fingers clinging tighter to your jaw: breathing out. 

“My God...you,” you stand still, feeling yourself burn inside as his warm breath seeps into you once more. “If you don't stop me, I will do something I will regret.” His words are a threat brushing your tongue. 

Your foreheads meet and rest against each other, fingers guided by desire slipping under his coat where you cling to his shirt ruffling the fabric. You close your eyes waiting to feel him, that first real contact, charged with sparkle and fireworks. You tilt your neck back, giving him the access he needs to take you.

“I'm not going to stop you,” you gasp, pushing closer.

Sukuna growls like an animal, immediately replacing his grip with his lips on your jaw; barely perceptibly grazing the flesh and bringing tickles to your insides. Then he moves slowly up to your ear, outlining the jaw bone with his mouth and staying still behind the shell of your ear, simply breathing warm air.

“We're in public,” he reminds you, and you squeeze your eyes shut. Charged with a bravery that is uncharacteristic of you, you reach your hand toward his crotch, feeling the bulge that is evident through his pants.

“Then let's go somewhere more private.”

Sukuna grunts once more, hunching towards you in such a way that it appears as if he is hugging you. His hands slide down your back until they reach your ass and squeeze it, the people around you startle you but the feeling lasts a moment before you turn your attention back to him and the plea that seems to spill from his throat. 

“What have you done to me?” he utters your name as if you were a divine being and he is a mere servant. Your hand, gaining confidence, presses harder on his erection. “I want to slowly peel off your clothes, worship every inch of your body. Kiss every spot, every mole.”

He abandons the comfort of your ear to move to your neck, where you sense his breath as he subtly pushes his hips against your open palm. It's embarrassing to be doing this in public. His coat and the shadows of the night help hide the scene, but if someone were to discover you, you could get in trouble.

“Tell me you need it too,” he whispers against your throat on the verge of losing his temper and pressing his nose, his eager mouth clinging to your skin; sucking. “Tell me you feel the fire in your chest too,” he gasps, his teeth grazing a little harder.

“Fuck. I feel it. I've wanted to say it for a long time, but I was afraid you wouldn't feel the same,” you lick your lips. “That night when I tried to kiss you...”

“You were drunk,” he interrupts you. “I didn't want you to regret it the next day.” Sukuna reluctantly pulls away to admire you with dilated pupils and parted lips. “But you have no idea how much I've had to restrain myself to act just like a friend.” He examines you up and down. “Let's go to my apartment.”

Holding hands and with feelings running high, you move quickly into the parking lot to find the bike parked a few feet from where you were. Sukuna just lets you go to put the helmet around your head and then proceeds to put his on and without another thought you set off on the road. The cool night air immediately envelops you, the edge of your dress flaps against your thighs thanks to the speed at how fast he was going, almost as quickly as your heart beats in your chest. For you, there's a mixture of excitement and nervousness, a sense of disbelief mixed with anticipation. You can't stop thinking about what just happened, what you've wanted to occur for months and what might happen now.

The drive back to his apartment is fraught with sexual tension. The speed, the wind in your faces and the physical proximity keeps you on edge, your fingers run up and down his chest under his coat, impatient up and down patterns reminding him how close you are. 

As you reach the apartment the palpable excitement between you and Sukuna intensifies. You both quickly slide off the bike, and holding hands take the elevator to his floor. Neither of you say anything until you reach the quiet of his place, interrupted by the hitching of breaths.

Sukuna steps forward and sits on the couch that is now so familiar to you, his eager but controlled expression blurring in the gloom that dances in the living room. From there, he calls your name softly, his voice laden with restrained emotion. The atmosphere in the apartment seems charged with electricity as you approach him, your heart pounding in your chest.

As you get closer, Sukuna watches you carefully, his eyes roaming over every part of you with admiration and desire. 

“Take off your dress,” he says hoarse with lust.  

Without thinking you grab the edge of the dress, slip it over your head and pull it aside to be left with only the underwear you have chosen for the night. As you move forward and are finally in the middle of his spread knees Sukuna grabs your hips and helps you to sit on his lap. The grip on your hips firms and hardens, he takes it upon himself to rub your covered core against the wideness of his thigh and short moans of pleasure take over your mouth.

“Keep riding my thigh. Slowly. Feel that pussy get wet for me, feel it ache,” he indicates, releasing your hips to then worship your thighs up and down. 

Oh. It was aching, you want to tell him. Everything inside you was doing it, burning with need every muscle, every vein. Your legs from the posture, your pussy from need and your tight belly begging for a release but instead you stand quietly contemplating with your mouth open the way, after removing his coat, he undresses the buttons of the sweater one by one finally satiating your curiosity by revealing the tattoo underneath. 

More black marks. They draw you in and invite you to touch them, thick ink-filled lines that you trace under your fingers start at his chest, cross between the line that joins his shoulder and neck and disappear behind along his back. Puzzled you stare at him some more, losing yourself in his eyes as you rise to look at him; he looks still, pleased that you are touching him as if he were art. 

“Did they hurt?” you wonder with a bit of naiveté. 

Sukuna cradles your breasts gently above the fabric of your bra, he seizes the moment to tug on your nipples hard, getting you to moan. 

“They hurt a lot,” he confesses quietly, in a low tone of voice that plays it down. 

You continue tracing the canvas that is his skin, moving down his abdomen until you stumble upon the belt that holds his pants in place. Briefly you check his eyes, hoping they tell you something more than the lust that seems to flood them.

“Why did you decide to get tattooed then?” 

Sukuna catches your gaze silently, his fingers snaking around your belly, walking up to stop in the middle of your thighs and through your panties he strokes your clit with three fingers. 

“We all have to endure a little pain sometimes, don't we?” 

It feels so intimate the way he talks to you, the way he looks at you. When he roams your body with his gaze you can't help but feel small. You rub against his fingers, push and circle them helping him get to know your body better, listening to your broken gasps, showing him exactly where it makes you feel good. 

“I want to suck your cock,” you confess as you reach down to undo his belt. There was no shame binding you now, only a raw desire that longs to be unleashed. 

He smiles pleased with the change in attitude, and silently pushes your hips up to help you remove his pants leaving him alone in a pair of boxers which you soon pull down leaving them tangled midway down his thighs. Sukuna then pulls you off his lap and places you on the side of the couch where he instructs you to spread your legs for him thus getting easy access between your thighs. 

As Sukuna continues to give attention to your pussy, you contemplate how hard he is: more than big it was thick, with the tip of an angry pink throbbing just below your mouth. It had been years since you had last given oral sex to someone, your last few encounters were nothing more than a monotonous thrusting and pulling out where you ended up with the guy cumming on your lower back or stomach; you never felt like sucking their cock but with sukuna it's different. With him everything is. 

“It's been a long time since I've... you know,” you confess, holding back a nervous giggle. 

From below you raise your gaze to lace it to his eyes that receive you slightly closed, sharing a guilty smirk that he wipes away as he bites his lip. 

“You're doing a very good job,” he praises you. And his fingers tossing the edge of your panties aside leaves you breathless for a second, your lip quivering receiving his fingers inside you. “You don't have to do anything you don't want to, though.” 

His words cause you to twitch around two fingers pushing and massaging your pussy. So deep, so slow, he synchronizes his thrusts with the way your lips close around the head of his cock; his movements are precise as if he's searching for something inside you, in, out and then he pulls them all the way out to make you cum as he rubs your clit hard and talks dirty to you. 

Sukuna praises you sweetly as you sob his choked name against his thigh, his caresses surround your now sensitive clit and every time he touches it you find it impossible not to shudder. Then he grabs you by the face and kisses you on the forehead and holding your hand helps you up to guide you to his room that you already knew.

The lamps are off and the only light coming in is through the open window, the curtain ruffles softly in the cool spring breeze sending sudden chills down your bare skin. Sukuna instructs you to lie face down on the bed and you do so as he goes to another side of the room. The mirror you saw earlier shows you your half naked body under the swirling shadows and the masculine scent permeating his sheets makes you sigh deeply. 

The bed sinks with his weight, the mattress groans as he digs his knees into it and positions himself behind you, your ass rising almost without your permission, eager with anticipation. 

“You want to fuck me like this?” you throw your head back to catch him putting on the condom, one of the blue wrappers you saw before is now off to the side near your feet. 

“Fuck yeah. Just lay back, you work so hard...” He snaps, spitting on his wrapped cock and giving it a couple of strokes before spreading your ass cheeks apart. “You want it like this, want me to work to make you feel good?”

“Yes,” you sigh, watching every glimpse that the dim light allows you of his body in the big mirror. 

Slowly he sinks into you and you take it in with a deep moan. “That's it,” Sukuna murmurs, resting his hands on your lower back, initiating gentle thrusts that have your body rocking against the sheets.

Sometimes you feel him so deep you call his name, drunk with pleasure, you hope he understands you're begging him to keep going because you can't speak. Your mind is filled with him, his natural scent on the sheets, the smell of his sweaty perfume, his chest heavy against your back sinking you a little deeper into the mattress. 

“Do you want to fuck yourself a little on my cock?” He says, gently circling your neck with his fingers without actually exerting any real pressure, with his free hand he stimulates your clit and your back arches right away. “Push your ass back, that's it...” 

“I'm gonna cum...” you warn him, gasping with your mouth open, blinking rapidly so as not to lose sight of your bodies reflected in the mirror, fitting together perfectly as they do when dancing.

Your orgasm was still making you shiver the moment he turns you around so that you are facing each other. Sukuna is grinning showing you his sharp fangs, bringing your hands above your head and clasping his fingers between yours he starts fucking you again, your legs on his broad shoulders, his mouth just inches from you. 

“Hi,” he says giggling breathlessly and it catches you immediately. “You look so beautiful now, you look gorgeous when you cum for me...”

His thrusts become deeper, your skins echoing each time they meet. 

“Ryōmen...”

“I know, baby. I feel it too... Do you want me to cum inside?” You nod drunkenly with pleasure, unable to stop staring into those deep red eyes, his lashes fluttering and you notice his jaw tightening. “Yeah? You want to feel my thick load creaming that pussy?” he says, through clenched teeth.

“Yes, oh my god, please.” 

Your fingers run down your stomach and down between your thighs, your fingers graze your clit once giving you the final push you need to cum a third time. 

“Next time we'll do it raw, baby. I promise, but take it like this now, hm; cum for me.”

Your body tenses, your belly tightens in anticipation as Sukuna finally joins his lips with yours. The sensation is electric, as if a current of desire runs through every fiber of your being. Your lips meet in an eager, fiery kiss, where Sukuna sucks your tongue greedily and bites your lower lip with unbridled passion.

The intensity is almost obscene, each movement making you moan softly. Your legs tremble, but his weight on you only fuels the growing fire in your belly. Though your body aches in this position, you can't stop; the kiss is addictive, a whirlwind of sensations that far exceeds your deepest desires. It is far more than any subtle fantasy you have allowed yourself to imagine.

Sukuna leans closer, his hands caressing your face tenderly as his lips explore yours with passionate urgency. The room fills with the sound of your ragged breathing, swallowing each of the growls he lets die in your mouth. 

. . . Slowly he pulls out of you, then rushes to throw the condom away in a basket by the desk. Your aching body turns to admire his broad back and gaze at the ink stains on it in the poor light.

With a simple “I'll be right back,” he leaves you waiting naked between the sheets your fingers stretch to gather and tuck you in. Before you can allow feelings of guilt or doubt to arise, Sukuna returns to the bed with a bottle of water that he offers you to drink. You immediately bring it to your mouth as he lies down next to you, one hand behind his head and the other resting on his tummy. 

You snuggle close to him and Sukuna immediately wraps his arms around you, drawing you into his warm body.

“That was amazing,” you admit, as your fingers trace figures on his chest. However, Sukuna senses how you suddenly tense up.

“What's wrong?” he asks you with a frown.

“I was thinking about what's going to happen to us now,” you mutter, averting your gaze.

“I like you,” he says, as if it hasn't been clear until now. “I want you to be my girlfriend, for real this time,” you both chuckle lightly, and you raise your face to stare at him for a moment, a smile spreading across your lips.

“I like you too,” you admit with a hot face, surprised to admit it out loud; you never thought this moment would come, the odds of ending up in love with Sukuna were low, almost nil. And yet, here you are.

“Good. Then we have no more questions,” he leans in for a fleeting kiss on your lips, awakening a dormant volcano in your belly. “I have to go visit my grandfather tomorrow, do you wanna grab lunch when I'm done?”

“Is it okay if I come with you?”

“Of course. You know we love having you around,” he says, struggling to hold back another smile.

"Does that mean that if I'm your girlfriend now I won't have to help you lift the fish boxes anymore?" you joke, and he drops his head back laughing softly. You look at him in awe, you never thought you could like him any more than you already did, but having him like this, so close, so vulnerable, makes your heart race.

You want to kiss him again, to sit on his lap and take control this time, but you bite your lip instead, letting out a smile.

“You're definitely going to have to help me more at the restaurant now that you're my girl.”

My girl. You feel like you might burst.

“And what about my dad? I already told him I'd go back to my country.”

“Nah. I'm not going to let you get away so easily, you're mine now. You're exactly where you belong.”

And Sukuna was right. Here you feel good, safe, despite the struggles you will face you know you can get through it together. So you lean in and kiss him again, and again and again; you would have all night and many more because now you were his and he was yours.

Thank you for reading! reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated ♡

I don't do parts two! ⟡ I do not allow repost (do not translate or copy elsewhere), please do not recommend my work on tiktok.

[heartsongss]

two. news travels

masterlist

a/n. this fic does have a male love interest btw, he's just taking a minute to pull up!! also sorry this is short it'll get longer as the plot builds I pinky promise

You’re eating lunch. You attend Gotham Prep, like Damian and Duke. Despite that, you run in entirely different circles. Damian sticks close to two people, while Duke has a larger group. You sit next to the three other demigods that call Gotham home.

Elyse Alarie, a daughter of Demeter, Alec James, a son of Hypnos, and Jamie Brooks, son of Dionysus. Mr. D and Chiron had pulled some strings (used the mist) to get you all in the same school, and it’s one of the greatest things to ever happen to you.

Jamie tears into his soggy chicken tenders,  popping the pieces into his mouth as he analyzes you, “Why do you look like that?”

You narrow your (e/c) eyes at him, raising a single brow, “Like what?”

“Like you’re going to shit.”

Alec groans, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes, “Be so serious.”

You roll your eyes, taking a bite of a fry, “It’s happening next week.”

They all blink at you, Elyse saying, “What?”

You sigh, “It. Y’know, happens once a year?

Jamie gets it first, saying, “Oh. Oh! Already?”

You nod, slumping over, “We’re so cooked.”

Elyse nods, stealing a fry, “Especially considering they’re telling the Justice League.”

You freeze. Your fry flops pathetically from your hands into the ketchup, slowly drowning in the thick red condiment as you stare blankly at your friend. Elyse is blissfully unaware of how she just ruined your life, and is more concerned with the state of your french fry, pulling your tray over to her so she can fish it out with another fry.

“They’re telling the League?” You ask, eyes wide as your hands shift, clenching the table tightly.

Alec looks to you, “Yeah, did camp not tell you?”

Jamie elbows him, “Dude! Be sensitive, they don’t talk to camp much, anymore.”

Alec apologizes as you wave him off, slumping forward, “The bats are going to be involved, then…”

Elyse perks up, “Oh! I didn’t even think of that!”

“It’ll make it easier. Last month, Signal saw me stab an empousa and we made eye contact for like… three seconds before I put him to sleep,” Alec complains.

Jamie pats him on the back roughly, laughing at him.

Elyse rolls her eyes as she slides the tray back to you, and you stop it with your hand. You eat another fry as you listen to your friends talk, your brows furrowed nervously.

This is bad. The cull is bad enough, with the uncertainty of which demigods won’t sell you out. That entire weekend would be spent watching your back, hands tight on your sword until every other demigod left the city bounds. Now, though, you’re faced with the startling realization that your lives are about to collide.

Batman is a part of the Justice League. As one of the demigods participating in the cull in his damn city, he’ll have to know about you. He’ll see you. Maybe he won’t recognize you? You keep your head down at dinner, you don’t make eye contact with any of them. As long as you don’t draw their attention, you might get away with it.

You might stay out of their eyes… invisible, alone.

Invisibility is safety. If they don’t notice you, they can’t catch you. Can’t kill you. Can’t take you. Your eyes drift over to Damian, and then to Duke. You chew on your lip, a frown on your face as you watch your ‘brothers’. Just for a moment, you beg for them to look at you.

They don’t. They never fucking do.

(Damian’s eyes flicker to you, for just a moment.  He knows who you are, vaguely, and for a second, he sees something on you. Something on your cheek. Duke watches you for longer, eyes squinted as he looks at you. You’re familiar. Like calls to like.)

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Every time you see them that night is spent shooting them sly, quick looks. You scan their faces for hints of knowledge, anything pointing to them knowing what you are.

It scares you. It’s one thing to be a demigod, to have divinity for a Mother. You’re intrinsically different, built in a manner that defies the human anatomy. More machination than human, you are. Your mom certainly tried to prevent that, plying you with love and care, but she died.

She died, and you spent more company with her ghost, and the flighty goddess you call Mother than your father. You have Alfred, at least. He’s willing to bandage your cuts, pressing gentle kisses to the split skin and placating you with kind words.

You love Alfred, and you know he loves you. Despite all that love, he’s your father’s, before he’s yours. He, and the children he notices, will always take priority. Besides, you’re a mature kid. You can handle it, right? You can be alone, staring at your scarred face.

You sigh to yourself. You still haven’t seen anything in their eyes, so you assume they haven’t been told yet. Yet is important, because you know it’s coming. One day, you’ll get home from school and they’ll be there, wariness in their eyes. They’ll stare you down, and you will know.

Another place where you aren’t safe. Gotham will become the wolves’ den, sharp teeth doomed to dig into your flesh, tearing your wings until you are downed and doomed for death. Left for the monsters to nip at your body or to be dragged from Gotham into a cage; golden and glittering, but still a cage. Always a cage.

You consider it, for a moment. Your family won’t kill you. They’re strict in their rules, following their morals to the grave. They won’t kill you, but they won’t keep you. They barely see you as it is. It’ll be easy for them to make you leave, and then Gotham will take you. No matter what, you will end up abandoned.

You clench your fists. In the hallway, far from the main wing, you stand still. Closing your eyes, you hear that no one’s there, not as far as you can hear. You lean against the wall, sighing deeply as you stare at the floor. You’ll be okay.

You’re (Y/N) fucking (L/N). Sure, it’s legally Wayne, but that doesn’t matter. Your life didn’t end when Silena died, or when you turned eighteen. It’s not going to end when your family finds out what you are. You’ll push through, and you’ll be better.

You have to.

[kamospeach]

plot: bodyguard!toji just can't help but show his charge what she's missing

content warning: cheating on both ends, age gap(21 & 32), second hand embarrassment, pwp, fingering, cunnilingus, mating press, doggystyle, oral f! & m!recieving, cum eating, p in v sex, quickie

peachy's yap: wc 2.6k.ᐟ cringed writing this :P without cringe how else would i get him to blow her back out? i don't believe in cheating, pls remember everything is FICTIONAL before y'all jump me.

“i do not need a bodyguard!” you yell at your father who rubs his temples getting fed up with your antics. you’ve been against the bodyguard idea and have had the bodyguard for two weeks already. speaking of said bodyguard he stood there shoulders slumped listening to you argue this. you did this every day‘ it’s getting old…’ toji thought to himself.

toji watched your every move as you paced back and forth in your father's office. your short pink pleated shirt that left little or maybe even nothing to the imagination. it showed the bottom of your ass and the tattoo of the 'Brat' logo under your left ass cheek. your extremely tight crop top that showed an unnecessary amount of cleavage. your hair past your hips almost mid-thigh.

to toji you looked fuckin' hot but that was because he was a womanizer. any woman dressed in a small amount of clothing was his type.

he knew his job was to protect but he had an inkling his father wasn't really the best at hiring people. toji came to the interview dressed in ragged clothing a black shirt with a half circle cut out the left side. his sweatpants had small stains of blood that your father somehow didn't see. if anyone else had seen toji they would have immediately raised red flags faster than you can blink.

but your puny, oblivious, money-hungry, self-centered, (toji's words), and questionably caring father didn't notice. hired toji the same day and bought him a suit until his custom-tailored ones could be ordered. took him to your penthouse gave him the code to your door and dropped him off downstairs. he huffed that day realizing 'great father' would never be one of your dad's many attributes. yet who was he to judge?

“IT’S TOO FUCKIN LATE Y/N HE’S IN A TWO-YEAR CONTRACT.” your father yelled at you, you frowned turning around. you walked away snapping your fingers twice signaling toji to follow you. toji didn’t like you either the feeling was insanely mutual.

“take me to my boyfriend’s house,” you instructed toji who had no choice but to obey you. he started the car taking you to your boyfriend’s house. knowing the way there since you went there every day. and as always toji was required to follow you in the house.

it was a little different this time, you barked orders at your boyfriend. yelling at him telling him ‘get toji a drink’ and your boyfriend nods running off. he handed toji a bottle of water and you snap your fingers at your boyfriend. giving him a sharp glare ordering ‘take me upstairs’. to which he obliged picking you up.

toji sat downstairs on his phone telling his wife he’d probably be home late. toji wish he could quit after he met you and got to know you personally. and this? was the worst part of the day, when you’d go to your boyfriend’s house. while your boyfriend fucked you and you let out fake moans and your boyfriend yelled out in pleasure.

he honestly felt bad for you, not only were you an annoying spoiled brat. but you couldn’t get fucked properly by your shitty ass suck-up boyfriend. you were a naturally dominant woman and you wouldn’t get any pleasure if you weren't with a man who was as dominant as you.

you walked down the stairs rolling your eyes as your boyfriend begged you to stay. you being your bratty self waved him off and snapped for toji to follow you. he was getting fed up with the demands and was sure he was gonna tell you off soon.

he drove you to your house parking the company's car and getting out. he opened the door for you allowing you to leave. as always toji followed you to the door of your penthouse making sure you got in safely.

"leave me!" you yelled at toji and that was his last straw.

"i'm getting real tired of your shit. your a fucking spoiled brat, if this is gonna work you need to learn real manners. you dont yell at me and snap your fingers just 'cause your daddy's money is going into my pocket," he yelled at you. you were taken aback. no way was he yelling at you. you owned him. "

"just like you said my dad is paying you. which means if i say you're fired you'll be fired," you said and he raised a brow at your dumb assumption.

"your name is nowhere on the contract... you hold no power over me. we're both equals you work for your dad and so do i. we're practically co-workers darlin' nothing more nothing less." he said with a smug smirk. your nostrils were flaring in anger and your fist clenched by your side. your brain scrambling for a comeback to say to this ignorant man.

"well yea... i'll get my boyfriend to beat you up!" you yell voice shaky and toji chuckles darkly. he walked towards you, you were shivering under his intense glare.

"your weak ass boyfriend can't even make you cum and you think he'll beat me up?" he laughed and your face dropped.

"h...how did you know i wasn't finishing?" you ask swallowing a big lump in your throat. it was getting intense and toji had backed you into a corner. figuratively and literally. your back was pressed against the island and his hands trapped you.

"i've sat downstairs listening to your fake moans and his weak thrusts for 2 weeks now." toji smirked as you looked away from you. "plus i know what it sounds like when a woman's actually cumming."

the silence was loud and your breathing was erratic. toji looked back at your microwave checking the time. his brain was fighting his heart to go along with what he was thinking he'd do. while toji was deciding what he wanted to do, you knew what you wanted. when toji turned his face back to you you smashed your lips on his.

you pulled back remembering not only was he 11 years older than you, he was a married man. you both looked at each other in shock you held your breath hoping he wouldn't snitch to your father. but before you knew it toji's lips were back on yours, he picked you up placing you on the counter. his fingers ran across your thighs as your hands rubbed up and down his toned back.

it was wrong you knew it but did you care? hell no. his wife was a bitch anyway, you knew she was just a backup for his first dead wife. even if you did hear it unethically from snooping in on your father's childlike gossip. he didn't really like his wife so this technically isn't wrong. just as you finally let go of all thoughts it was toji's turn to pull away.

"this is wrong... i'm married, you have a boyfriend-" you cut him off not wanting to hear the excuses.

"you don't like your wife and my boyfriend can't make me cum. i think we have good reason for what we're doing this," you say and toji's eyebrows furrowed.

"those aren't good reasons..." he mumbled ignoring his thoughts and grabbed your chin roughly pulling you to him. he kissed you roughly your teeth clashing. the roughness of his fingernails digging in your skin knowing when he removed his hand there would be prominent crescent indents on your jaw.

he was so rough and it wasn't how you were used to. usually, you initiated everything with your boyfriends. it seemed as if toji was in a rush to get it over with and he needed you as soon as possible. he played with your thong under your tiny skirt.

his fingers slipped under the band of your thong pulling on it and letting it snap against your skin. "get down and go to your room." he tells you backing away and you furrow your brows.

"you can't carry me up there?" and he laughs walking away from you and heading to your room. this was shocking for you it felt like you went from one extreme to the next. first, you were with a submissive nice man and here you are with a dominant asshole. you swallowed your spit as you walked into your room seeing toji standing there naked.

you knew toji would be big but not that big. he was bigger than any guy you've ever slept with. you walked over to toji while stripping out of your clothes. you were down to your bra and skirt when toji grabbed your waist pulling you closer. he unclasped your bra letting it fall to the floor and tossed you on the bed.

you propped yourself on your arms and toji leaned over you pressing his lips on yours. your hands were anxiously touching him everywhere nervously. you felt like a virgin not sure where to put your hands or what to do. without any warning, toji pulled down your skirt and thong all in one pull. he kissed down your neck and pulled away glancing at his watch.

"we got 20 minutes," he said going back to kissing your neck sucking and nipping at the spot that made you moan.

"un...until what?" you asked and he laughed.

"until i have to leave. my wife's expecting me," he mumbled and you frowned.

"don't mention her while you're with me from now on," you tell him and he smirks.

"as you wish doll," he agreed not wanting to talk about his wife anyway. although it was wrong you both felt so right being here with each other. for you, toji was everything you needed rough and in control. for toji... well, you just gave it up and he wasn't one to turn down pussy he didn't have to pay for.

he kissed down your chest teasing you purposely missing your nipples. until you whined out and told him to stop teasing. he played with your clit rubbing and collecting your juices on his finger. pulling away from your nipples placing two fingers in your mouth. you grabbed his wrist as you tasted yourself on his digits.

after your spit was running down his fingers he removed it from your mouth. he pushed them in your entrance feeling how tight your needy cunt is. he scissored his fingers attempting to stretch you out. toji didn't talk much and initially, he wasn't in the mood for intimate foreplay. but now he did want to taste you since you were so wet.

he continued kissing down your body and one last time on the mound of your privates. he wasted no time sucking on your clit while vigorously fingering you.

"toji wait." you moaned out the feeling was becoming too much for you. you had never been eaten out before and this was new for you. the stimulation of your clit and his fingers massaging your rough g-spot had you gasping for air. your hands reached for his black hair pulling harshly. he groaned against you making you squeal in pleasure.

his tongue moved expertly against your clit taking his fingers out of you. you whined missing his fingers inside you and he leaned over you. he looked down at you with a bored expression but your clouded mind read it as admiration.

"ya ready?" he asked and you melted at the concern in his voice that you were definitely making up. you nodded lost in thought as toji wasted no time pushing into your entrance. your body arched at the feeling of him stretching you out.

he didn't wait for you to adjust to his size and started stroking immediately. you were moaning at the feeling already pushing on his stomach.

"take some out." you moaned head thrown back and toji just laughed at your pleas.

"it's only halfway in doll," he whispered in your ear pushing himself all the way in now. you tried to run from him but he gripped your waist holding you in place. you couldn't believe that it was only part way initially. yet you could definitely tell the difference now. his cockhead was kissing your cervix as he roughly pounded into you. you reached up to grab his face pulling it down to you and kissing him messily.

his hips didn't slow or stutter as he pounded into you mercilessly. he was fucking like he needed to leave right away, you could've sworn you both had another 15 minutes. he grabbed your legs pushing them against your chest putting you in a mating press.

"did he fuck you like this?" he grunted looking down at your tight cunt that sucked him in like a vice. you were squelching and your cream was painting his dick white. the view pushing toji closer and closer to his release.

"mm mm..." you hummed but it came out more of a moan. toji wasn't satisfied with this answer. he wanted to hear you say that he was the best you ever had.

"use your words ma. did he fuck you like this?" he repeated himself thrusting into you with a particularly pointed thrust as you were about to talk.

"nooo!" you squeaked and he pulled out smiling at the mess of cream on your folds. he flipped you over perfecting your arch and sliding into you again.

"fuck you're so tight," he groaned pushing himself into you. he gripped both of your ass cheeks roughly nails digging into the fatty flesh. once he calmed himself so he wouldn't nut too early he begin to fuck you again. this time making it a point to push his tip into your g-spot.

"toji m'close," you mumbled as your face was pressed into the pillow. before you knew it you felt pressure on the side of your face. your eyes opened seeing toes in your face.

you were in utter shock toji had his foot on your head thrusting into you relentlessly. the new found angle only pushing you closer and closer to release. you reached under yourself playing with your clit. you clenched around his dick making his thrust slow down at the grip.

"relax doll m'right behind you, just hold it for me," he grumbled still thrusting into you letting out small moans and guttural groans. he pulled out jerking himself off flipping you over and rubbing your clit quickly.

"fuck toji!" you yelled as your body convulsed and jerked as your squirt soaked him and the bed. he slapped your clit causing your body to lightly flinch from the feeling on your clit.

he crawled over you hover over your chest stroking his cock over your face. his dick twitched in his hand and his hips bucked into his hand. you leaned up wrapping your lips around his tip and swirling your tongue until you felt him release his hot cum down your throat.

"fuck yea ma that's it." he hummed as you took him down your throat and pulled off him with a pop. you swallowed his cum open your mouth sticking out your tongue.

"ah." you showed toji that you swallowed it all and he smirked softly smacking your cheek.

"good girl." he smiled looking at the watch on his wrist. "5 minutes to spare," he hummed to himself getting off of you. he didn't bother cleaning you up, he simply slipped on his boxers, then his suit.

"uh," you say not really sure what to say to be honest. he looked up at you where he sat on the end of your bed putting on his shoes.

"see you tomorrow," he said grabbing his phone and keys from your nightstand. without waiting to hear it back from you he jogged down your steps and to your front door. he left out locking the door with the code. you sat on your bed looking down at your hands with a smile.

"so that means we're together? right?" you thought to yourself out loud.

sure girl... sure.

[woodland-gremlin]

Summoning Your Secret Boyfriend Pt. 6

First Previously AU Summary

“‘Even’ nothing. Now we are going to drop this, summon the new King, beg them for forgiveness and for them to deal with Trigon, and fix those disastrous laws!” Constantine declared while pulling out a book with a strange aura out of his coat pocket.

Red Robin internally sighed in relief. They were finally getting somewhere. He had been worried that they would be stuck getting integrated until Trigon was right on top of them. Not that it would stop them from getting questioned after the whole fiasco was over, but, small mercies.

From the way Batman was glaring at Supernova and Red Robin it was even more obvious that the Bat wouldn’t let it go. The only thing stopping him being the pressing matter with Trigon and the occult magician being very willing to yell at him if he kept poking. Though it did make Red Robin wonder how he planned to do so, it wasn’t like he lived at the manor anymore. No one but Alfred noticed that the only time they saw him was at the cave, and even that was rare. Really makes one question about the ‘World’s Greatest Detective’ title that Batman held. Danny certainly doesn’t think so with all his nicknames for him, and after the last few years he was inclined to agree. You really shouldn’t meet your heroes.

The Laughing Magician worked and while watching him make the summoning circle Red Robin and Supernova were suddenly glad that neither offered to make it. If they did they might have never stopped getting questioned. Even Constantine would have probably joined them with how differently their summoning circle would be. While the con man made an intricate circle with the title of Ghost King being the main factor, with candles placed at significant points and fancy offerings, the two boyfriends had a much simpler approach. The biggest differences being name and title. They call Danny by name, which makes it significantly easier than a broad title to summon him. Add on to the fact that most of the titles that Constantine are using are only Danny’s by default the ease in summons is a lot easier. Though them being his boyfriends and offering snacks plays a big factor in it too.

The occult magician then began to chant in Esperanto. Candles began to flicker, changing to Relam’s green. The room’s temperature began to drop, frost creeping across the floor and walls. Wind that shouldn’t be possible in a space station whipped around, flipping Batman and Superman’s capes over their heads. A neon green crack appeared in the air above the summoning circle. Claws clutching the tear in reality before ripping it further.

Out from the tear in reality stepped out an ethereal being. White hair that moved like it was underwater. Lavender skin with freckles spaced out like constellations. Bright green lighting birch scars crawling over their body, cutting all the up to their brow. Eyes glowing the same erie color with the one the scar cut through being that singular color, sclera and all. A crown seemingly made of aurora lights and ice, radiating power. A fur lined coat seemingly made from space only added to the otherworldliness, A ring shaped like a skull, signaling the being as one of death. Armor with small dents here and there showing that it isn’t just for decoration. That this being that they summoned was a fighter, a King forged in battle.

 Everyone but Red Robin and Supernova froze. They thought that they were prepared. They knew that they would be powerful, enough that they could rule over beings like Trigon. But no words could have prepared them for the aura bearing down on them. All their bravo was drained out of the minute they were subjected to the King’s presence. Aquaman was especially shaken. He was a King as well but he felt like nothing compared to the one in front of him. Like a big fish in a small pond thrust to face the ruler of the ocean.

“Were you the ones that summoned me, freeing from the bane that is paperwork?” the being asked.

To be continued . . .

Next

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 8

Previous Chapter: Part 7 | Next Chapter: Part 9 Coming Soon!

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Shoto Todoroki x Fem Reader! 💋

Genre: Fluff, Romance, S*xual Tension, Smut

🚫🔞THIS IS AN ADULT BLOG CONTAINING EXPLICIT CONTENT. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, A18+ ONLY.🔞🚫

CW: MDNI!, A18+, kissing, romance, sexual tension, spicy scenes.

Chapter 8: The Party Part 2 / Shoto’s Revenge

She shrugs and gives you a knowing half smile. “Sometimes people need a little push!” She starts to notice the room getting quieter as everyone waits for her to call out the next participant. “Speaking of which…you’re next!”

You look up in surprise as the crowd around you cheers and starts to chant your name encouragingly. Mina scoops up the bottle off the floor and holds it out to you expectantly.

“Come on, Y/N!”

“Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!” Your friends chant around you.

You can practically feel Shoto’s gaze burning into your back as you stare down that problematic glass bottle.

Shit.

-----------

“Huh!?” Oh no. Oh helllll no. You weren’t planning on participating in this crazy game – especially not when Shoto is off the table. “No, Mina, I’m okay. Really.”

Mina pouts, but relents. Instead she turns to Hagakure. “How about you, Toru? Want to take a spin?”

“You know it, girl!” Toru cackles, shifting in her seat.

Mina turns back to the group and signals for attention. She’s going to make such a good hero one day – she can so easily control a room and grab the spotlight. If only she would stop pushing things too far all of the time…

“Allllright! Toru’s up next!” She passes the bottle over to your invisible best friend and scoots back to give her some space. Toru wiggles with excitement, her bracelets jingling on her invisible wrists as she leans forward and gives the bottle a hard spin.

The bottle ricochets across the floor, whirling round and round. You feel the excitement rolling off of Hagakure in waves as she waits to see where it will land. Within seconds, the bottle’s pace slows and it comes to an abrupt stop. You look up eagerly to see that it’s pointing at Mashirao Ojiro.

“Oh!”  Toru says softly.

For once, The Invisible Girl is absolutely speechless. You imagine she’s blushing as she takes in Ojiro’s equally shocked face. Across the circle, Ojiro’s jaw is slack in surprise. He quickly closes it and absentmindedly straightens his hair as the group is watches on and laughs.

You narrow your eyes and glance over at Mina, suspicious. How is everyone being miraculously paired up with their crushes!? She’s definitely rigged this game somehow, you just know it. She’s playing matchmaker somehow!

You refocus on Toru, who seems to be frozen in place.

“Get over there girl!” You and Mina push Toru up and she stumbles, nearly tripping over the glass bottle. Ojiro hops up to meet her in the middle and catches her arms before she can fall.

“Um…hey.” Ojiro says as he steadies her. Everyone looks on eagerly; this game is truly a spectacle to behold.

“Oh, Ojiro!” Toru says theatrically as she bounces on the balls of her feet. “This is so embarrassing! My face is bright red!”

Ojiro actually rolls his eyes at this, he’s used to Toru’s dramatics at this point.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” One thing you like about Ojiro – he’s steady and reliable. If anyone can balance out Toru’s constant chaotic energy, it’s The Tailman. “But…maybe you should take the lead here – I can’t see your face?” He says weakly, staring at her hard as he tries to discern where her mouth is.

Toru wastes no time, throwing her arms around Ojiro’s neck and pulling herself up she can crash their lips together. Ojiro’s face is bright red and his eyes are wide in shock as Toru all but climbs on top of him. You and Mina laugh so hard you feel like you can barely breathe. For a moment, all thoughts of Shoto have left your mind as you watch one of your best friends have her first kiss with her crush.

Ojiro’s eyes slide closed and he wraps his arms around Toru’s back and waist, holding her to him in a sweet embrace. They’re flush against each other, and he lifts her up a bit so that she’s standing on top of his shoes.

 It’s kind of weird to watch Ojiro make out with an invisible partner. You can see Toru’s body since she’s wearing clothes, of course. But her head is completely invisible, so you can see right through her. Quirks make intimacy hella weird sometimes. Through Toru’s nonexistent head, it looks like Ojiro’s lips are flattening and pursing of their own accord.

Finally, Toru breaks apart from him and reaches up to ruffle his hair. He smiles stupidly down at her invisible face. They break apart and she skitters back over to you and Mina to reclaim her seat. Ojiro stumbles back to his seat next to Kirishima, who claps him on the back kindly with a smile.

“Eeek! I had my first kiss!” Toru whispers urgently in your ear.

“I know! I was there!” You laugh.

At the break of action, the sound of babble swells in the room again as everyone gets back to chatting and laughing. The mood in the room is good; everyone is a tiny bit buzzed and feeling warm and fuzzy.

“What was it like!?” You ask eagerly, sitting forward to hear every word.

“Soft! Warm! Hot! Ojiro is a good kisser!” Toru squeals. You and Mina laugh happily as your friend wiggles with joy. “I hope that this night never ends!”

Mina checks her bedazzled phone. “Oh! The rest of the group is here!”

You and Toru look up towards the entrance and see that a small group of Class B students have entered the building. Mina, ever the master of ceremonies, waves them over and has them join the circle. Itsuka Kendo, Setsuna Tokage, Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu, Juzo Honenuki and Yosetsu Awase find spots on the floor. Honenuki waves at you in greeting, and you return the gesture with a friendly smile.

“How did the distraction go!? Did Hatsume’s creepy little machines work?” Mina asks Kendo excitedly. The red head smiles back wickedly.

“We definitely fooled Mr. King into thinking that Mineta needed his help. He took the bait hook, line and sinker.” Honenuki cackles out.

“Wait…Neito – weren’t you supposed to be part of the distraction alongside Kendo?” You ask your friend. Neito looks a bit embarrassed when he answers.

“Well…I needed some extra time to get ready and Kendo said she could handle things with Setsuna, Tetsutetsu and the Class B gang. Plus I didn’t want Mr. King to think I was always running around tattling on my classmates. He told me recently that I need to work on being a bit more ‘social’ and ‘likeable.’ I just couldn’t bring myself to let him down again.” Neito says smoothly. This tracks – Neito has a ten step skincare regimen, after all. You can only imagine how much time he took to primp ahead of his big night with Shinsou.

“We thought it would seem more authentic if the class rep took the lead here.” Tetsutetsu chimes in, grinning widely. “And Mr. King totally bought our lie when we told him Mineta was getting bullied and strung up on the flagpole as a prank. We watched him run over to where Mineta was hanging and boom! He was instantly covered with drones. He didn’t even land a hit while we were watching.”

“Wow sounds like Hatsume really does know what she’s doing here.” Toru says in awe. Mr. King is an experienced hero, so Hatsume’s drones being able to go toe-to-toe with him is truly impressive.

“The trick wasn’t very manly of us, I’ll admit.” Tetsutetsu says, running his hand through his hair guiltily.”…but it sure was effective!”

“Yeah I really tried to make it seem like we’d been casually walking through the area when we noticed Mineta had been ‘attacked.’ Hopefully Mr. King won’t think we were connected with the drone nonsense.” Kendo says uncertainly.

“I’m sure it’s finnnneee!” Mina says, throwing her arms out wide. “Hatsume knows what she’s doing. And so does Mineta – he’s got skin in the game.” You glare at Mina when you remember that you had promised to kiss the little pervert in exchange for his help. As much as you hate the whole situation, you do truly believe that the kissing offer will keep Mineta on-task. He’s unlikely to betray you all where sexual favors are involved, after all.

“So what’s going on?” Tetsutetsu asks excitedly as Kirishima passes him a bowl of chips and a drink. “What did we miss?”

“Well you guys only missed a little – YaoMomo, come over here and give it a spin!” Mina calls out across the crowd. Momo has joined Shoto in conversation and looks up in surprise.

“No, no I’m alright!” She waves Mina off, blushing. She’s wearing a sensible lavender turtleneck and expensive looking blue jeans, flawless as per usual. “You all keep on playing without me.”

“Come onnnnn Momo!” Mina whines, scooping up the glass bottle and proffering it up to your creation-quirked friend.

“No, really! I must refuse.” Momo says, her eyebrows arched nervously as she tries to wave Mina away.

Momo and Mina continue to bicker (if you could call Momo’s polite declining bickering…okay Mina continues to bicker at Momo and she tries to turn the spotlight away from herself).

Your phone buzzes a few times in your pocket and you slip it out, hoping its Shoto.

It’s not.

Nope - it’s Honenuki.

Honenuki: Hey.

You glance up – the pale skeleton-faced young man is looking up at you with his wide grey eyes from across the circle. No one notices - everyone else is focused on Mina and Momo’s back and forth.

You type.

Y/N: Hey! You were part of the distraction team? I thought it would just be Kendo calling over Mr. Vlad King.

Honenuki: We all thought it would look more believable if we did it in a group. We told Mr. King we were walking back from the library when we heard yelling and found Mineta. Mr. King told us to head back to the dorms in case a villain had broken through the UA barrier.

Y/N: Oh shit. You think we’ll go into lockdown?

Honenuki: Nah. We told him it looked like a student prank, and he seemed to believe it.

Y/N: That’s gnarly. You could get in SOOO much trouble if he finds out this was all a fake set up.

Honenuki: Yeah. But isn’t it worth it for one night of being reckless teenagers? We’re all so good most of the time.

Honenuki: It can be a little fun to walk on the wild side.

A tiny lion emoji accompanies the text.

You smirk, glancing up at him to see his eyes crinkling at the corners to indicate that he’s smiling.

Honenuki: By the way

Y/N: ??

Honenuki: You look really cute tonight

Oh.

You feel a blush bloom in your cheeks, warm and rosy. You dart a quick look up at him and see that he’s still staring you down, eyes intense. You don’t know what to say…

After a moment’s pause, you start typing.

Y/N: A girl’s gotta look her best for an illegal party, ofc!

Honenuki: You always look cute though. Just thought you should know J

Um…okayyyyy!? Is he…flirting with you!? Honenuki liking you…like-liking you…that is not a possibility that you have considered?

You’ve been so caught up with your tryst with Shoto Todoroki that you haven’t really been paying attention to any other men. Your brain flies back through the text conversations you’ve had recently with Honenuki – sharing jokes, swapping music. Oh shit. He’s been flirting with you the entire time! And you’ve been…flirting back?

Your brain is reeling with the revelation. You stare down at your phone screen. You should type something. You should say something. You’re taken, aren’t you? Sure, you and Shoto haven’t put a label on…whatever it is that the two of you are! But you’ve agreed not to hook up with anyone else, right?

Your mind feels a bit hazy. The feeling of being wanted by two different men is a little intoxicating.

You think about Honenuki – his sweet messages and his chill demeanor. He’s kind – you know he’s always willing to help a classmate with training or math homework. You’ve heard nothing but good things about him in passing. He’s also strong – like Shoto, he’s one of the few students who gained admission to UA by recommendation and he’s currently at the top of Class B’s rankings. There’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that he has the potential to be a powerful hero.

You bite at your lip, staring at your phone screen blankly as you brain continues to cycle through Honenuki’s positive qualities. On top of his academic success…you have to admit that he’s kind of hot. Perfect skin and shaggy hair. You’ve seen the way he fights in battle; you imagine he’s well muscled under that floral shirt of his. You even like the haunting quality of his skeleton-like teeth. There’s something so genuine about him – he’s open and can put anyone at ease. He’s uncomplicated.

In a world where Shoto had never asked to kiss you, you can see yourself continuing to encourage Honenuki’s advances. If you hadn’t started hooking up with Shoto…would you and Honenuki have gotten together? You’re overwhelmed as you think back to all of Honenuki’s previous messages and the way he’s been treating you so tenderly lately. How could you not have realized earlier that he’s been giving off flirty vibes!?

The atmosphere of the spin the bottle game is far too horny and must be influencing you, because a vision comes to mind of being alone with Honenuki. Your mind scrabbles together a quick flash of white hot images – your hand running down his bare toned chest; his strong hands enveloping the curves of your waist; his grey eyes widening in surprise when you whisper his given name, “Juzo.”

Toru grabs your arm and shakes you from your wild, fuzzy thoughts.

“Y/N! Girl! Are you okay!? Why are you staring at your phone like that?” She tries to make a grab for the device, but you spin it out of her grasp before she can get a good look at the screen.

“Sorry…I was checking to see if Hatsume texted us.” You lie quickly. “I wonder how her distraction is going.”

“Oh!” Toru says in surprise, clearly having forgotten about Hatsume and Mineta’s role in the party planning. “I’m sure she would have sent us all a group text if there was a problem.” She turns back to her conversation with Fujita, leaving you alone with your thoughts for a moment.

You think a bit more about Honenuki and Shoto, two wildly different guys. While Honenuki has confidence and a unique charm, he lacks Shoto’s intensity and vibrancy. With Shoto, each conversation feels like unlocking a new video game level – you’re always learning something new about him. His upbringing, his passions, his sense of humor. Getting to know Shoto has been such a joy - he’s complex and sweet and kind in ways you never could have imagined.

As tempting as it is to innocently flirt back with Honenuki over text…you feel a strong sense of loyalty to Shoto. Sure, the two of you aren’t officially in “a relationship,” but the growing bond you share is intimate. You can’t imagine your day to day without Shoto – his tiny smiles in the hall, the way he sends you odd little texts about Pokémon and his love of cold soba.

And so you leave Honenuki’s text on read. You’ll need to sort through your feelings more later in the comfort of your own dorm room and decide how to approach the situation further.

Mina’s shrill voice brings you back to the present.

“Momooooo!” Mina whines out, throwing up her hands in exasperation. Your attention snaps back to your arguing friends. “Class B did so much work to help us throw this party. Joining in on some of the official festivities is the least we can do to show our appreciation. Plus weren’t you saying earlier how important it is to participate in cultural activities? This is prime teen culture right here!” Mina gestures wildly at the empty bottle lying in the middle of the circle. You’re honestly in awe of Mina and the way she can just make up convincing shit like this.

“Well…I suppose I did say that.” Momo bites her lip, thinking. “As deputy class rep I should participate in such an important show of friendliness between our two classes! And if Todoroki went through with it, I expect I can too.” It seems that this is what Mina was banking on. She grins like a Cheshire cat as Momo walks over to join them.

“Alright Momo, all you need to do is spin this!” She presents the bottle in all of its glory. It seems to sparkle with possibility under the florescent lights.

Momo accepts the bottle and flings it across the ground with an enthusiastic spin. It spirals across the floor, turning end over end before coming to a stop in front of Class B’s Yosetsu Awase. Awase’s eyebrows dip down and he mutters a curse under his breath.

He looks up at Momo, and based on his expression alone he looks either angry or terrified. Kendo laughs heartily and pats him on the back. “Go on, Awase. Go get your kiss.”

Momo watches him with fretful eyes. “Awase. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want - ” The welding hero raises a hand, signaling her to be quiet. Despite the gesture, he can’t bring himself to fully look her in the eye. The welding hero gets up slowly and crosses the circle to reach her, his cuffed blue jeans and dark Doc Martens make him look effortlessly cool. He reaches her in two strides.

Awase is taller than Momo by a few inches – his boots giving him the slightest boost. She looks up into his face nervously, her brain clearly whirring as she tries to devise a strategy to get out of this nerve-wracking situation. Maybe if she makes a break for the door everyone will magically forget this whole silly game and her role in it? Her eyes dart between Awase’s lips and the exit. He finally lets himself look at her, a dark scowl clouding his features.

“You know.” He says quietly, causing everyone in the circle to lean in a bit to catch his words. “I think you’re the smartest student in our year. Maybe even the smartest in the entire school.” He looks away, his skin red with embarrassment, sweat beading at his forehead. “I’ve been wanting to tell you that for a while.”

“Oh.” Momo covers her mouth and looks at the ground with embarrassment. “Thank you, that’s so kind.”

The room is so quiet, Present Mic would find the space absolutely offensive. All eyes are on Momo and Awase.

“You cool with this?” He asks, jerking his head to gesture at the crowd of classmates circled around them.

Momo blushes and looks away once more. “Well it is an important coming of age event, isn’t it? And I don’t want to stand in the way of building class unity, of course.”

This matter-of-fact response draws a slow smile out of Awase, his scowl melting into a light grin. “Oh, of course. Class unity is super important.” He takes a deep breath to steady himself, pressing his hands deep into his pockets as he leans into kiss her. Momo shuts her eyes as if she’s afraid, but as soon as their lips meet she leans into it eagerly. The smooch lasts for a few moments before Awase jumps backwards, face overheating. He looks up at the ceiling in embarrassment, hands still pressed into his pockets.

“Thanks Yaoyorozu!” He says too loudly and too enthusiastically. “I’m glad we could contribute to uniting our classes! See you around!!!” He turns and rapidly exits the room, disappearing into the hallway. Everyone turns to look at Momo, their eyes wide and interested to see what she’ll do next.

To everyone’s surprise, she bursts out laughing. Her mirth is infectious, and before long the entire room is giggling and guffawing, all tension of the room broken. Classes A and B are hanging out and having the time of their young lives together, it definitely feels as if new bonds have been formed.

After a few minutes, the laughter dies down. Kendo runs after Awase and returns a few minutes later with him clutched in her big fist. He looks abashed, but he’s laughing too.

Momo rejoins Todoroki and Tokoyami on the sidelines, and you watch the group of them warily for a moment. Momo is blushing like crazy, though, so you feel its safe to assume that her affections lie with the Class B Awase, not with your sweet Shoto Todoroki. Awase walks over to join their conversation, and after a few moments of chatting, its clear the tension between them has broken. Chatter breaks out amongst the rest of your classmates, and you watch out of the corner of your eye as Shoto smiles, happy to be included and making friends.

You try to shake your jealous insecurities from your body – after all, Shoto deserves all the friends. He deserves comfort and love from all areas of his life. You realize that you can’t be the only source of affection he receives – he’s a full person, not some romance novel character simply created for the protagonist’s need fulfillment and sexual fantasies.

You let yourself come back down to Earth, and out of your head. You listen in on the chatter surrounding you  -

“Kendo – do you think we can train together sometime? You have some really awesome moves with your quirk!” Ojiro asks the Class B rep, and Sero chimes in as well: “Yeah, I’d love to spar with you and see Big Fist in action!” Kendo smiles at the compliment and makes a promise to reserve gym time together in the coming weeks.

Nearby, Tetsutetsu and Kirishima are chatting animatedly about their favorite chivalrous heroes. “Have you seen this interview of Crimson Riot from the ‘90s!?” Kirishima taps his phone to hastily pull up an old video on the web. “This has got to be my favorite video of him in his classic costume.” Tetsutetsu and Honenuki crowd around his shoulder to watch, even Setsuna glances over with interest.

Across from you in the circle, Shinsou and Monoma sit talking softly to each other. Shinsou still has an arm around Nieto, the blonde leaning gratefully into his side and basking in the attention. He cracks a quiet joke that brings a smile to Shinsou’s lips, his eyes crinkling in response.

You take it all in – the joy, the laughter. You’ve got a glowy feeling bubbling up in your chest. This is why you all threw the party. This is certainly a night to be remembered. Everyone is happy and bubbly and bonding. You try to take a snapshot of the scene in your mind. It really doesn’t get any better than this, does it?

“Hey, Y/N – are you good?” Toru reaches over and shakes your shoulder, pulling you from your sappy reflection.

“Oh, yeah.” You say, refocusing on your friend next to you. “Just got lost in it all for a sec. I forgot how good a party could be.”

You feel Toru radiate happiness as well – you don’t need to be able to see her expression to know that she’s on Cloud 9. “I know what you mean. It’s really nice to hangout like normal teenagers, right?”

“Yeah, it is.”

Hmm. Normal. You’ve never really thought about it that way. Toru’s got a point – going to the top hero school in the country has certainly come with its sacrifices.

You’re truly not like normal Japanese teens – its rare that you get a night like this to just hang out and be silly. To flirt with classmates and get to know people outside of training and studying. You look around you – how many of these people do you truly know? If you weren’t all constantly cramming and training 24/7, what hobbies would your classmates have taken up? How would they choose to spend free time?

Training to be a hero is a just cause, a task worthy of sacrifice. But you’ve gotta wonder…throwing yourselves fully into this lifestyle so early in your lives at such a crucial time of social and emotional development…how good can that truly be in the long run? Will you all develop into well-rounded, emotionally adjusted humans? Or will you be at a disadvantage in regular society because you spent all of your youth on training and hero-work? It’s an interesting idea worth more exploration – you wonder what Shoto would think of it all. You make a mental note to ask him for his opinion later on.

“I wish we could do stuff like this more often.” Toru sighs, resting her invisible chin on an equally invisible palm. “It would be nice to get to know everyone as people, not as heroes-in-training.”

“It’s like you read my mind.” You laugh, throwing your arm around Toru and pulling her close. “I’m glad we threw this party. And I’m glad we’re friends.” You see your friend shimmer in the light next to you, her joy manifesting in her quirk’s light refraction.

“Me too, I’m glad we became BFFs!” She leans into you and whispers “Also I’m glad that Ojiro has such defined biceps…because honestly wow.”

You laugh at this, trying to see if you can get a good look at Ojiro’s arms from your seating position. Unfortunately, his arms are covered with thick sweater sleeves, so you’ll have to trust your friend on this.

“I’ll take your word for it.” You say under your breath as you check your watch before turning towards Mina. “Sato said the sweets should be ready about now.” Mina nods and looks off to the kitchen where a few of your classmates are bustling around baking goodies for the rest of the group.

“Alright, let’s do one more spin before we take a snack break!” Mina calls out over the crowd, her voice cutting through the bubble of conversations like a knife through butter. “We need more Class B representation…Honenuki, why don’t you come up?”

The crowd around you quiets and everyone’s eyes land on Juzo, waiting for him to step up to the plate and spin.

“Heh, alright.” Honenuki clicks his teeth and gets to his feet, chill as ever. He strides two long steps towards your group where he accepts the empty bottle from Mina’s protective grasp. He catches your eye and winks before turning back towards the center of the circle. Your stomach does a weird little jump in response to the gesture. Once again, you acknowledge to yourself that you enjoy the flirtatious attention. You imagine what it would be like to meet Shoto’s eyes across the room and for him to wink at you like that. Your secret love affair would no doubt boil the air between you.

You refocus on the game at hand – Honenuki stands at the center of the room. He’s wearing a floral button down with light wash jeans that hug his legs in a pleasing way. For the second time that night, you note that he’s definitely attractive, and his chill vibe seems to put everyone around him at ease. If all the attention is making him nervous, he doesn’t show it.

He places the bottle on the ground and gives it a slow, leisurely spin. The glass rotates slowly across the floor a few times, everyone eagerly looking on. After a moment of slow rotation, the bottle rolls to a stop and it’s pointing…straight at you. 

Honenuki turns to face you, his wide-eyed look of shock mirrors your own.

“Ooo, looks like you gotta kiss Y/N!” Mina squeals out, grabbing your arms and hauling you to your feet.

“Wha-?” You ask, clearly stunned as everyone’s eyes focus on you. You turn to look quickly from Mina to Juzo. The sudden shift of everyone’s attention to you is over-stimulating and your brain feels like it might short circuit.

“You’re up, Y/N!” Mina whispers as she pushes you towards Honenuki. “It’s all you!” You stumble forward and try to ignore the giggles around you. Class B has started up a chant of “Juzo! Juzo! Juzo!”

Honenuki’s pale cheeks darken under all the attention, but when you look up to meet his eyes again you notice that they crinkle in the corners. He can’t quite grin with his mouth, but with a pang of warmth you realize that he smiles with his eyes. He meets you in the middle, taking a small step towards you.

Every nerve in your body feels alive. You don’t like the way that everyone is staring at you and Honenuki, waiting for the two of you to act. A part of your overwhelmed brain wonders vaguely if Shoto is watching. Will he step in here? Will he say something to stop this from happening? Will he claim you as his own before the combined audience of Classes A and B!?

“You know, I was really hoping it would be you.” He says softly. You’re fairly certain you’re the only one who hears the sweet words underneath all of the chanting.

“Oh! Really?” You say breathlessly. Your classmates start to shush each other as they try to listen to your conversation. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Shoto staring at you, mouth agape as he watches Honenuki take a step closer to you.

Juzo’s wide eyes look down at you, his gaze warm. “I’m not the best person for this game. I’m not really built for kissing.” He laughs, pointing at his face. The florescent light glints across his bright teeth.

“That’s alright.” You say, unsure of what to do next. Juzo takes another step towards you until his face is just a breath away from your own. He smells like the clean dorm soap, as if he’s just had a shower.

“Despite the fact that I don’t have lips, I have always wanted to try. Do you mind?” His words are so gentle, so vulnerable. You look up into his large grey eyes and nod, giving him the go-ahead to move forward. You feel Shoto’s hot gaze burning into the back of your head, but there’s nothing to be done about that right now. You can’t reject Honenuki – not here, not in front of the entirety of the Hero Course. Not when he’s being so sweet and open.

You try not to feel guilty as you lean towards Honenuki. Besides, Shoto participated in the game too, hadn’t he!? He’s already kissed that strange girl from the General Studies Course, so what right does he have to be upset about this whole thing?

There’s another guilty thought nagging at you as well…you feel bad for how much you’re enjoying Honenuki’s intimate attention. It’s wrong, isn’t it? Are you leading him on now that you’ve realized he’s flirting with you? Should you put a stop to this and expose your situationship with Shoto to the entire room to show Todoroki that your heart and body are loyal to him alone? The thoughts and feelings are all much too complex to sort through quickly, so you decide to just go along with the game and let Honenuki kiss you. You can do damage control and figure out your feelings later.

Juzo reaches one hand down to rest on your side, his fingers spread gently against the curve of your hip. The delicate touch is almost intimate, and his closeness is making your head foggy. He brings his other hand up into your hair, cradling the back of your head as he leans down to bring his face to your cheek. You feel his smooth, cool teeth make brief contact with the side of your face. You can’t wrap your head around how he manages to make the “kiss” so tender, so sweet. After the brief contact, he pulls away to look at you.

“Was that okay?” He breathes, nervous for your answer. You respond by shifting so that you can give him a kiss of your own (it’s only fair). You bring your plush lips to his cheek in turn, planting a soft smooch on his pale face.

The joint classes cheer and clap as you pull away. Honenuki is blushing a sweet strawberry hue as you pull your face away from him. His eyes are sparkling with an emotion that you can’t quite place. He squeezes his fingers lightly on your hip before releasing you.

“Thank you.” He says to you kindly before turning to sit back with his classmates.

You feel a tingle of butterflies in you stomach from the gentle, focused attention Honenuki gave you. But at the same time…Honenuki’s sweet kiss doesn’t make you feel quite the way that Shoto’s kisses do. You turn and search for Shoto in the crowd. Your heart sinks down into your stomach when you can’t find him.

“Alright, everyone! Cake time!” Mina claps her hands and everyone gets to their feet, breaking the circle. The group starts to move towards the kitchen area where Sato has whipped up an amazing array of baked treats. The scent of baked chocolate wafts into the room enticingly, but you feel sick to your stomach as you search the crowd unsuccessfully for your icy-hot hookup.

You loiter behind, needing a moment to collect yourself after your very public romantic interaction with one of Class B’s top students. You watch as members of Class A and B joke and laugh together on their way towards the scent of Sato’s delicious sweets. You turn away from the commotion, hoping the redness in your cheeks has started to disappear.

You hear quiet footsteps come up behind you and for a moment, you fear that it’s Honenuki. You have so many mixed emotions you’re not sure what you’ll say to him.

“Y/N.” Shoto’s soft, steady voice breaks through over the chatter. You spin around in surprise and all but crash into his solid chest.

“Shoto, I - ” He cuts you off with a short hand gesture.

“Mind if we talk?” He asks quietly, glancing around to make sure you aren’t overheard. You nod weakly and follow him into the hallway outside the common area. “This is a bit more private.”

You lean against the wall and wrap your arms around yourself, shivering with discomfort. You’re not really sure what to do or say. What just happened between you and Honenuki, between Shoto and that girl…did that technically count as cheating? What you and Shoto had together…it wasn’t truly a relationship, was it?

Shoto turns to look at you, and you take in his face with shock. His features are screwed up as if he might cry – his eyebrows are dipped down and he’s biting his lip. You’ve never seen an expression like this on his typically unreadable face.

“Shoto – what’s wrong!?” You reach up to touch his beautiful face and he flinches as the contact. You keep your hand steady as it cups his cheek.

“What just happened…I think I’m having a complicated mix of emotions.” He says uncertainly, finally leaning into your touch. “I don’t know how to process it all.”

“Okay. Yeah, me too.” You say almost breathlessly, dropping your hand to your side. “Let’s talk it through.”

There’s a pause, neither of you know quite what to say. You stare at each other mutely. Shoto’s still chewing on his lip anxiously, a habit you’ve never noticed before. Finally, he takes a deep breath and decides to speak.

“You kissed Honenuki. And I didn’t like it.” He says simply. Your stomach drops.

“Okay…when you say you didn’t like it – what does that mean? Can you identify what you were feeling in that moment, and what you’re feeling now?” You prompt, needing more context. Shoto thinks on this for a moment.

“I felt jealous and a little angry. Maybe the feeling is…possessive? But I don’t know if it’s right for me to be feeling that way. I don’t own you, I don’t have sole possession of your time or the right to your body. We never discussed any sort of commitment to each other.” He pauses for a shaky breath. “And right now I feel…still a bit angry, but mostly sad and disappointed.”

“Disappointed?”

“Yes…I thought that maybe the way that we touched each other…I was hoping that kissing and touching would just be for the two of us. Then I saw the way he looked at you, how he touched you so gently. It looked like it came so naturally to him. And for me…well, I’m awkward. I know I can be…” He trails off, searching for the right words. He makes a strange, tight-lipped face when he finally says: “Emotionally stunted and inexperienced.” The phrase sounds unnatural on his tongue, and your eyes widen in surprise. It’s clear that he got this language from someone else – it just doesn’t sound like something Shoto would say. You roll the words over and over in your brain as he continues to speak.

He still can’t make eye contact with you as words tumble from his sweet mouth. “I just keep thinking…that if you would rather pursue Honenuki physically, romantically…then I need to step aside.”

“What!?”  You hiss out, completely dumbfounded by this dramatic confession. Shoto is spilling his guts here in the hallway and you have no idea what to say to any of it. Finally, his mismatched eyes meet your own – they’re filled with sadness. In this moment, he looks impossibly young and unsure.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself, hoping to regulate your nervous system a bit before you dive in. You’re not sure how to work at this complicated knot of thoughts that Shoto has just word-vomited out into the hallway. You try to remember the basic de-escalation skills you’ve learned in class. Miss Midnight had once advised the class that in certain situations, the best approach to supporting someone is to reassure them and make them feel safe before getting to the heart of a problem. You decide to go that route.

“Shoto.” You say softly, trying to keep your voice even and warm. “Thank you for sharing these thoughts with me. I appreciate that you feel you can be open with me about these things. The first thing I want you to know here is that I care about you and I want us to talk through this the best we can.” At your words, you see Shoto visibly relax, his shoulders softening at your gentle tone of voice.

“I’m going to be honest, I’m figuring this out as I go. I don’t have all the answers and I’m not sure how to talk about some of these things with you – but let’s try our best to communicate together here. Alright?” Your brain is moving a million miles per hour, but you take another deep breath to calm it. You pretend you’re in an emergency situation and that Shoto is the victim of a natural disaster. You need to calm him. You need to listen to him. You want him to listen to you. It’s okay not to know everything; you just need to make sure he feels seen and heard. “Now I want you to take a deep breath with me.”

“Alright, Y/N.” Shoto says, matching your breathing to take a slow, rumbling breath. You deep breathe for thirty seconds, maintaining eye contact with Shoto. You put a hand over your heart and monitor your heart rate as you breathe, and watch as he mirrors you. You feel yourself getting calmer with each passing breath – and you hope that Shoto feels similarly.

You remind yourself that Shoto has an incredible amount of trauma from his childhood that you don’t know about. You’re guessing that he never learned to properly regulate his emotions the way that you had growing up. You were lucky enough to have parents who took the time to teach you how to process feelings and situations. You are quickly realizing that Shoto never had this as a kid – his father likely forced him to be malleable. As a result, Shoto tends to respond much more reactively to high stress situations. You may just be a teenager, but you have a few regulating tools that you can share with Shoto to help him cope. You make a mental note to suggest therapy to him some point in the near future.

“Shoto. I want you to know that I am a safe person to talk about feelings with. I’m going to try my best to be calm and even keeled if we need to work through difficult emotions. I know I kind of blew up at you when I thought you were romantically interested with Momo, but from now on I’ll put effort into giving you the benefit of the doubt and addressing things straight forwardly.” You pause to let him digest this. You try to filter all your thoughts into simple language. “I’m having a lot of feelings right now, too. I don’t want us to be afraid of talking to each other like this. I think we can really help each other process by talking things through. Are you up for that?”

Shoto continues to breathe deeply, his chest rising and falling slowly beneath his cute navy sweater. He nods. You wonder if stress makes him less verbal.

“To start, I do not think that you are “emotionally stunted.” We’re teen

agers, so of course we’re going to be inexperienced with things. We’re still figuring it all out! But there’s certainly nothing about you that’s “stunted.” For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been very in tune with emotions and are extremely kind and empathetic. I’ve never heard you use that turn of phrase before – did someone else say that about you?”

“Oh.” Shoto looks away, avoiding your confused gaze. You get the feeling that he regrets speaking the phrase ‘emotionally stunted’ aloud. “Natsuo said it when I visited home recently.”

You feel a pang of anger deep in your gut. Why can Shoto’s family be so callous?

“Why did he say it?” You force yourself to keep your tone even.

“Mm.” Shoto hums uneasily, searching for the right words to explain what had happened. “We were having dinner and he was arguing with my dad. He was blaming him for a bunch of things that had happened growing up. He said “the way you treated us as kids is the reason why I’m so angry all the time, Fuyumi is such a people pleaser and Shoto is emotionally stunted. You’ve ruined our lives.”

“Oh. Oh my goodness. Shoto.” There’s no way you could have anticipated this sad fucking trauma dump and you aren’t quite sure what to say. You try to remember if Miss Midnight had given you any other good advice on talking with trauma victims. You recall her telling you to ask gentle questions to better understand, if the person seemed like they wanted to talk. “How did that make you feel?”

Shoto looks very uncomfortable as he thinks through his next words. He shifts from foot to foot anxiously. “It made me feel stupid, Y/N. Like everyone else knows how to approach social situations except for me. Like I’m just a clueless idiot.”

“Shoto. Shoto, you’re not an idiot. Not at all.” You mumble, running a hand through your hair in frustration on Shoto’s behalf. “What Natsuo said isn’t right. And it’s definitely not true. I think that you just tend to be more private with your emotions. And that’s perfectly alright. Over the past few weeks you’ve been emotionally vulnerable with me plenty of times.”

Shoto chews on this for a moment, really letting your words roll around in that interesting brain of his. “You really think that, Y/N? You’re not just trying to make me feel better, are you?”

“Shoto. I promise you I will never lie to you. I respect you and value your friendship too much for that. I swear you are not emotionally stunted. It sounds like Natsuo is having his own issues and decided to unnecessarily shit on you and the rest of your family to upset your dad.”

“I didn’t think of it that way.” Shoto says, breathing out a deep sigh of tension. “He was really angry at dad that day.”

“It sounds like he’ll say just about anything to get under your dad’s skin. And he didn’t just pick on you – he talked some smack about your sister as well. Do you think Fuyumi is a ‘people pleaser?’”

“No. She’s kind and independent and she takes care of us all the best she can since mom went to the hospital. I have never thought of her as a people pleaser.” Shoto says almost instantly.

“So if Natsuo is wrong about Fuyumi, then he’s likely also wrong about you. Right?” You try to help him make the connection.

“You’re right.” Shoto huffs out another deep breath and rolls out his shoulders stiffly. “I’ll need to think more about this.”

You nod quietly in confirmation. You can’t even imagine how much family and childhood trauma Shoto has buried that he needs to process. From what Shoto has told you and implied with stories about his past, this comment from Natsuo is likely only the tip of the iceberg of Todoroki family drama. You decide to divert his attention away from family issues so he doesn’t get stuck in an anxiety loop about it.

“And here’s another thing I want you to get through your mind – I don’t want you to ‘step aside’ for Honenuki.” You take a step closer to him, crowding his space. In typical Shoto Todoroki fashion, he does not move to step back. He just stares down at you questioningly. “I want you. Romantically. Emotionally. Physically. I don’t want Juzo Honenuki the way that I want you.” You say, vehemently.

Shoto raises his hand as if he’s going to caress your cheek – his hand hovers mere centimeters away from your soft skin before he drops it back to his side limply. You mourn the loss of the almost-contact with a light ache in your chest.

“But what about the way he kissed you?” Shoto has this wrecked look on his face as he says this, it’s as if you are a complete mystery to him. “It looked like…it meant something.”

You think about this for a moment, trying to figure out the right words for Shoto.

“I think that I liked the kiss in a way – but probably not the way you think! I liked having the attention the kiss gave me. It was nice to have a public display of affection like that…and also the way that Honenuki focused so much energy on me in just a few seconds, it was definitely thrilling. But I suppose that’s the entire point of Spin The Bottle – it adds a layer of intensity onto everything. All in all, I think he’s nice. But it’s not quite the same as when I kiss you.”

At these words, you see Shoto visibly relax. His shoulders seem to become a little less tense.

“Plus, he’s not a member of the Squirtle Squad.” You add, smiling. Shoto snorts lightly through his nose at the joke.

He’s quiet for a beat before he asks you a question you aren’t expecting: “Is this how you felt when you thought that I was hooking up with Momo? That’s why you were so angry, wasn’t it?” Shoto says slowly, realization dawning on him. “I have been very confused about that, but I think now I understand.”

You exhale loudly, still embarrassed about the whole Momo debacle. “Yeah, admittedly I massively overreacted to that whole situation. I was just having so many feelings and I thought what has been happening between us is too good to be true. And so when I thought there was even the slightest chance that you were hooking up with Momo…well, I got jealous. And possessive. And that’s not fair to either of us. You were open with me from the start and I let my insecurities get in the way of the truth.” Now you’re spilling your guts right outside the biggest party of the century. You hope to God that no one walks by and overhears the two of you.

“Ah…so this feeling I’m having – it might be insecurity?” Shoto says thoughtfully. He bites his lip and you can see the wheels turning in his brain as he pieces it all together.

“It could be! It sounds like you’re having a big combination of emotions right now, and you might need some time to sort through it all. But that’s totally fine! You can take all the time you need to figure out your feelings.” You say warmly, and Shoto’s face finally relaxes into a soft smile. He appreciates the guidance, and the permission to just feel.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Shoto says gently. “You know…I’m always impressed at your ability to approach difficult situations with thoughtfulness and kindness. That’s why I like you so much. You’re going to be such a great hero.” You glow at the words. You feel your cheeks heating up as he stares at you with that intense eye contact of his. You notice for the first time that his grey eye has flecks of hazel around the iris.

You break the eye contact, looking at your shoes as you share your next thoughts. “Listen, Shoto…at the expense of being a bit mean to Honenuki…he wasn’t nearly as good a kisser as you.” You say, holding your hand out for Shoto to take. He gratefully accepts, slipping his fingers into yours and interlocking them. It feels good to finally touch him. All night, he’s been just out of reach. His fingers are warm and comforting as they press into your own. “He didn’t really ‘do; it for me, you know? Also, this is called waffling.” You can’t help but snort out, enjoying the confusion on Shoto’s face. You nod your head at your joined hands.

“…waffling?” He says weakly, looking at your interlaced fingers with wary interest.

“Yeah, because our fingers are crisscrossed together, kinda like how a waffle looks? Oh never mind.” You shake your head with a grin, making a mental note to show Shoto a picture of an American style waffle later on Google so you can explain more in depth.

“I feel like I learn something new from you every time we talk.” Shoto tilts his head to the side, doglike, as he considers your interlaced fingers. “I grew up with little to no exposure to pop culture, and so I feel like I’m missing a decent amount of context for modern romantic practices.”

“Shoto. My dude. What are ‘modern romantic practices?’ You can just say dating.” You say mockingly, but he knows you don’t mean it. He cracks a smile, and the butterflies in your stomach rejoice at the flash of bright Todoroki teeth. You squeeze his hand softly and then recall that you have feelings to work through as well. Since you’re both being so vulnerable and share-y, you’ve got plenty of questions to fire back at Shoto. “Hey – can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” He squeezes your hand back lightly.

“How did you feel kissing Fujita?”

An embarrassed sort of look crosses over his features – he subconsciously wrinkles his nose in discomfort.

“Is that the name of the girl from General Studies? Shinsou’s old classmate?”

“Yes. She’s very nice – I got to hang out with her before the party. Apparently she’s friendly with Mina.” You say, trying to speak kindly of a girl who very well could be your romantic rival in the quest for Shoto Todoroki’s dick.

“Oh. I didn’t even think to ask her name.” Shoto says in surprise. “That’s rude of me, isn’t it?”

“It all happened so quickly, I’m sure she wasn’t insulted by you forgetting to ask her name.” You try to sound casual, but you’re bouncing a bit on your feet. You’re nervous about what he might say about the kiss.

“Were you jealous, Y/N? The way you were jealous when you thought I was seeing Momo in a romantic context?” There’s a teasing smile pulling at the edge of his lips, but he has the decency to bite it back.

“Um, well, of course I was jealous when you kissed someone else! But I also know that it was just a game, and so I didn’t let it bother me so deeply.” You think back to the gentle way he had kissed the young woman’s cheek. “I was most envious of the fact that you were able to kiss her out in the open, in front of all our friends. Nothing was hidden. She was allowed to gush about it with the other girls, and it wasn’t a big secret. I wish…” You trail off, flapping your free arm in exasperation.

“Y/N. That kiss meant nothing to me.” The sentence tumbles from his lips before he can even think. He squeezes your hand harder this time and holds your gaze. “I was embarrassed that I was put on the spot like that. Everything happened so fast and I didn’t feel like I could say no. I wish I could have said no.”

“Oh.” You say, a sinking feeling in your chest. “Shoto, you should absolutely not have felt forced to participate. It was meant to be a fun game to bring everyone together and to be silly. I’m so, so sorry you essentially felt forced into it.”

“It felt like my brain wasn’t working quickly enough. Mina was just talking so fast, and everyone was looking at me. I was trying to keep a cool head but I was overwhelmed by all the eyes staring at me.”

You are going to need to have a talk with Mina about this, you have a feeling not everyone else was thrilled and comfortable with their role in the game. Shoto was likely not the only one feeling so distraught right now.

Shoto’s eyes roam the wall above your head as he thinks out loud. “How am I going to be a hero if I can’t make quick decisions under pressure?”

“Oh my goodness, Shoto! You can’t think like that!” You’re a little startled at how rattled he seems to be about this whole thing.

“Sometimes I don’t understand things as quickly as everyone else. I feel like I’m always a little behind socially.” He admits, eyes still dodging your own. “And at this point, I’m not sure if I’ll ever catch up. My Dad always says so, at least.”

“Shoto.” You reach out and grab his hand in an attempt to ground him. He’s clearly in an anxiety spiral downwards. “Shoto listen to me – everyone learns and grows at their own pace. Like I said earlier…we’re teenagers and we’re just figuring things out! It’s alright if you don’t understand every social situation right away. Being a hero is about having your heart in the right place and having quick reaction time in battle. You have both of those things in spades. As for the social awareness – well as a hero you’ll have a PR rep who can take care of all that. And as a hero-in-training, you have me.” You smile up at him. “You can always ask me for my perspective on a situation. And I can try to step in next time something gets too overwhelming – I can be your social buffer!”

His stormy expression seems to soften a bit and he finally meets your gaze. “You’d do that?”

“Of course!” You say resolutely. “And like I said – a hero is defined by their true heart and their willingness to jump into action to help people in trouble. Your heroism isn’t measured by your inability to resist peer pressure in high school.”

“Well when you say it like that…” Shoto shrugs, clearly feeling a little silly for his intense reaction to the spin the bottle debacle. “Maybe I’m overthinking this. I have a lot to process about tonight.”

“Yeah. Agreed.” You say, relieved that the two of you are figuring it out. But still…you need to be absolutely certain that you’re on the same page about everything.

“So you’re saying you didn’t have any feelings while kissing Fujita?” You ask slowly, trying not to seem too upset by the whole thing. After all, Shoto had admitted to feeling overwhelmed and not wanting to participate in the crazy game the first place.

“Oh. Well…she was kind of cute, I guess. But I didn’t really feel anything when I kissed her face.” He thinks for a moment. “It wasn’t like when we kissed for the first time. The first time our lips met, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Like I needed more of you as quickly as possible or I would explode.” You feel your cheeks heat up a bit at these words.

He continues, “That’s really my only baseline for this sort of thing. So similar to you and Honenuki – it was a pleasant experience, but it didn’t really “do” it for me.” He smiles as he meets your eyes. He squeezes your hand yet again, a secret language you’re creating together. He’s trying to convey that he feels comfortable physically this way only with you.

“So it seems that we both feel similarly about the whole experience.” You say, giving his hand a squeeze back.

“That does appear to be the case.” Shoto agrees. “And it seems like we are both very attracted to each other.” He steps closer to you, getting into your personal space.

“Mmhmm.” You say distantly, looking up into his sparkling mismatched eyes as he leans down to capture your lips with his own. A spark ignites in your chest as your mouths connect and it feels so goddamn right. You drop Shoto’s hand so that you can wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer. You need him so badly you wish you could pull him into you somehow, for your bodies to meld and become one being.

Voices down the hall cause you to jump apart. You stare at each other with wide eyes – this is bad. If anyone sees the two of you together, your cover will be absolutely blown. It’s one thing to be seen kissing during Spin the Bottle, it’s another thing to get caught canoodling together in secret. Mr. Aizawa’s whole “no relationships” policy reverberates in your head. If someone were to see you and Shoto and start a rumor about the two of you being together…well, it was only a matter of time before your teacher catches wind of it and puts a swift end to your sexual exploration of Shoto Todoroki.

“Quick. Hide.” Shoto hisses under his breath, as the voices grow nearer. You look at him blankly, a proverbial deer in the headlights. There’s nowhere to hide – you’re in a damn hallway!

Shoto rapidly looks left and then right, searching for a way out. The hall is much too long and neither of you lives on this floor – by the time you manage to get to the end of the hall to the staircase, you would already be caught together. Despite this, Shoto grabs your hand and pulls you down the hall in the direction of the stairs. He stops in front of a door and wrenches it open, roughly pushing you inside. You yelp in surprise as you trip over something and almost fall to the ground. Shoto scoops you up in his strong hero arms and closes the door behind you both with a soft thud.

You try to take in your surroundings, but the room is dim and crowded with shadowy objects. It takes you a moment to piece together where you are.

“Oh my God – this is the janitorial closet. I didn’t even think to hide here.” You breathe out, realizing that you had just tripped over a mop. Shoto nods and presses against you in the small space, his tense body imploring you to keep quiet.

The voices get louder, and you realize that its Kirishima and Mina discussing something heatedly.

“I can’t believe you did that!” Eijiro says roughly. “In front of everyone. Mina, that was really shitty of you.”

“Well excuse me – weren’t you saying just last week that you wanted to kiss me? You wrote me that little note and everything. ‘Oh Mina, I think about your lips every day.’ Or some poetic shit like that. I didn’t think you’d have a problem with it.” Your pink friend shoots back defensively, her tone scalding hot.

“Mina…Mina I’ve been wanting to kiss you so damn badly. But not like that. Not in front of all our friends and classmates.” Eijiro says in a deflated sort of tone, the fight seeping out of him. “That wasn’t how I pictured our first kiss going.”

“Oh, so you’re embarrassed by me? Well you can fuck all the way off then.” Mina says almost shrilly, completely missing the point Kirishima is trying to make.

“Really, Mina? You really mean that? You’re acting like you don’t know me at all.” Eijiro sounds heartbroken, yet angry. “Fine. Enjoy the rest of the lame party – I’m going to bed.”

“Eijiro – wait.” Mina says, her tone panicky. She clearly wasn’t expecting things to go this way.

“No. I need some time alone.” He says soundly, adding: “I need you to respect my personal space for once.” His tone is cold as ice. He stomps off down the hall to return to his room, clearly finished with the conversation. You can just picture Mina looking after him, crestfallen.

You hear let out a loud Mina groan of frustration. She lands a hard kick on the janitor closet door and you nearly jump out of your skin at the unexpected bang! After a moment, you hear her footsteps headed back down the hall and towards the party.

Your heart sinks a bit. Mina has been mooning over Kirishima for a while now, and you know that this confrontation is likely to crush her boisterous spirit. However, you think that if Kirishima was uncomfortable with the kiss, he has the right to air his grievances. After all, hadn’t the teachers been trying to teach you all about the importance of consent in relationships? You chew on your lip, not sure how to feel about the situation. Mina had certainly pushed things a bit too far for certain classmates with her exuberant approach to Spin the Bottle. She is definitely going to need to learn to have a bit more empathy and situational awareness when it comes to handling crowds as a Pro Hero – not everyone appreciates being told what to do.

“I should go after her.” You whisper to Shoto, who’s still holding you securely to his chest.

 “This seems like a private matter between Kirishima and Aishido. She sounds angry and may want to be left alone. Plus…how would you explain how you overheard them arguing?” He has a good point there – you’re not sure how you would explain to your friend that you were ease dropping on her from inside of the janitor’s closet. “I think you need to give her a couple of minutes to sit with this.”

“And when did you become so great at reading social interactions?” You say, half teasingly. “Weren’t you just telling me you weren’t great at things like this?”

You can picture Shoto’s bright smile in the dark. “I just know that if I were in either of their shoes, I would need some time alone to process my thoughts and feelings. And I’m fairly unhappy on Kirishima’s behalf. It seems like everyone could use some time to cool off.”

“Ugh…you’re right, Shoto. I know you’re right.” You try to put yourself in Mina’s shoes as well. You bet she’s feeling pretty embarrassed right now and likely needs a hot minute.

“I think maybe I need to get better at sorting through my feelings.” Shoto says thoughtfully. “I appreciate the way you are able to guide me through processing how I feel, but I would like to get to a point where I can do that on my own. The better I become at managing my emotions and feelings, the less likely I’ll be to lash out at people the way my father does.”

In response, you reach up and caress his soft face. Now that you’re alone, he easily leans into the touch in a way that’s heartbreakingly sweet. He lets you run your hand through his bangs and into his hair, touching him so gently that he lets out a soft sigh of contentment at the contact. You almost forgot what a sucker he is for a light touch.

“You, Shoto Todoroki, are a good person.” You say as you continue to comb your fingers through his soft hair. “You are not your father. You are soft and sweet and strong.” He closes his eyes, focusing on your voice and your gentle touch in the dark. “You are good.”

His eyes flutter closed and he leans into your touch. He breathes slowly and deeply, you can tell he’s savoring this time with you. You try to commit this moment to memory – the smooth curve of his cheek, the steady beat of his breathing, the way his long lashes flutter as he opens his mismatched eyes to look at you.

“Thank you.” He breathes, turning his head so he can plant a soft kiss on the palm of your hand. “Thank you.” He says again more quietly, bringing his hand up to cover your own as he presses his lips to the pulse point of your wrist.

You stand like that for a bit, breathing together in the thick darkness of the janitor closet. With a thrill, you realize how trope-y it is to be alone with a hot guy in a closet during a big illegal party. You feel like you’re in a high school romcom or something. Based on what he says next, Shoto seems to be having the same train of thought.

“I like it when you remind me that I’m a good person, and that I’ll be a good hero. Your confidence – it gives me so much strength.” Shoto pauses and interlaces his hand with your own, bringing your waffling hands down to rest at your hip.

“You know…” Shoto says slyly, eyes wide and endless as he throws you a hot gaze. “I like being good. But being locked in this closet with you, while all of our friends are just a few feet away…well, I’d kind of like to be a little bad for a moment.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“What do you mean?” You ask, surprised at the sudden shift in his tone.

“Let me show you.” He says, his voice dropping lower as he drops your hand and moves to reposition you both.

He easily spins you around so that your back is now against his chest. He places his hands on your hips – and it’s not the gentle way Honenuki had held your hips earlier. No, Shoto is being rough on purpose. This is a side you’ve never seen of him before. And goddamn you love it. Your pussy comes to life at the motion. You make a mental note to invest in more panties – Shoto is really giving your underwear drawer a run for its money today.

Todoroki’s fingers hold you in a grip that’s almost bruising as he presses against you. He slowly kisses a trail up the back of your neck before sliding his hands up over your top. He reaches your breasts and begins to knead them lightly over the fabric of your shirt and bra. You groan at the unexpected sensual contact, feeling a spark flare in between your legs in response to Shoto’s touches.

“I’m still feeling a little jealous of the way Honenuki was able to kiss you in front of everyone. Would it be alright if I…explored those feelings?” Shoto finds your nipple through your bra and gives it a pert squeeze.

“W-what do you mean?” You practically purr out as he returns his lips to the curve of your neck.

“Let me show you how jealous you made me.” He whispers wetly into your ear, tracing soft circles around your clothed breasts with his fingertips. You feel yourself start to get wet from the simple motion.

“Dude we shouldn’t – there’s no lock on this door.” You try to resist temptation as he continues to plant kisses on your exposed skin. Maybe if you’re stealthy the two of you can sneak up the stairs and into one of your dorm rooms? You’ll need to be careful, though; especially with both Classes A and B all buzzed and hanging out in the dorm building.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ve got it covered.” Shoto says, and you can hear a smile in his voice. He releases a hand from one of your boobs and reaches out to grasp the door handle. In the low light coming in under the doorjamb, you watch as he freezes the doorknob shut, a sheet of ice running across the knob and part of the door. “No one can get in now. No accidental interruptions.”

Okay, you were totally not expecting that.

“Honenuki made you this jealous?” You ask as he wipes a few ice crystals onto his pant leg.

“Yeah. I’m feeling kind of…aggressive? Possessive?” Shoto tries to name the emotions pumping through his veins like fire. “I want to show you that I can give you things that Honenuki can’t.”

“I thought I already made it pretty clear that I like you more than Honenuki, Todoroki.” You tease; he puts his hands on your hips again and pulls you back into him. You can feel him starting to become hard against the smooth curve of your ass. He grinds into you slowly and you gasp at the contact.

“I know, and I’m grateful you’re reminding me. But I still feel an overwhelming need to show you – physically.” He draws you into his arms, his head dropping onto your shoulder. “Would you be up for something new?”

You don’t even need to think. “Yes.” You feel something electric and hot zipping through your veins – what could Shoto possibly have in mind? Despite his claimed feelings of “aggression,” he’s still being so sweet and gentle with his words. You muse that even though Shoto has a flame burning brightly inside of him, this Todoroki is nothing like his father.

“Would you be okay with me…using my teeth a bit? I’d really like to leave a hickey on your skin.” He nuzzles your neck with his nose, causing goose bumps to break out across your body at the touch.

“Y-yeah.” You stutter out, absolute putty in his hands. “Just nothing too big. Make sure it can be easily hidden under my clothing. You know Mr. Aizawa’s rules about hooking up.”

“Now why,” Shoto plants a kiss on your neck. “Would you” another kiss “mention Mr. Aizawa at a time like this?” He’s teasing. Had someone asked you a month ago if Shoto Todoroki was capable of teasing, you would have said absolutely not. But now this beautiful boy is kissing your neck and roasting the hell out of you. Jeez.

“Alright. I’m going to go very slowly, and I’ll do it on your shoulder just to be sure it doesn’t show.” He continues to kiss down your neck and towards your collarbone.

He brings his hand up to your collar so he can move the fabric of your top aside to expose more skin. “Can I take off your shirt? It might make things easier.” He gets back to kissing as he awaits your confirmation.

“Please!” Is all you manage to choke out as you feel his tongue run across your clavicle. He drops his hands down to the hem of your shirt and slowly pulls it upwards, the soft fabric flowing against your sensitive skin like a river. You raise your arms up above your head and he guides the top up and over your head, your hair becoming staticky as he goes.

“Much better.” He breathes as he carefully places the shirt on a nearby shelf of cleaning supplies.

You stand there in your bra and shiver as the cool air hits the bare skin of your stomach. “Oh no, you’re cold.” Shoto brings his hot hand down to rest on your belly and modulates his temperature with his quirk, slowly warming you up. Satisfied with your body temperature, he resumes kissing across your shoulder. He uses the colder of his hands to lightly pull your bra strap down your shoulder so he has better access to your smooth skin.

“Alright, you ready?” He asks calmly, tracing over your collarbone with his cold finger. You shiver, this time with anticipation.

“Yes.”

“Good.” Shoto ghosts the edge of his teeth across the length of your shoulder before choosing a spot close to your neck.

“Holy Fuck, Shoto.” You hiss out and you can feel him smile against your shoulder as he sinks his teeth lightly into your delicate skin and sucks, leaving a tiny mark. He kisses the area repeatedly before sucking on the skin more roughly, ensuring that a small bruise will form. After a few moments more, he runs his tongue soothingly along the hickey. At this point you’re dripping wet with both of your hands holding on to Shoto’s hot arm for dear life.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He says, almost smug as he traces an icy finger across his handy work. “What would you like me to do next?”

“Touch me, please.” You whine out, almost desperately. Shoto obliges, bringing both his hands back to your breasts to play with your nipples over your bra.

“Like this?” He asks softly, continuing to kiss and suck along your shoulder.

“I need more!” You throw your head back into his chest, and he runs the palm of his cold hand down your toned stomach. He pauses his hand just above the waistband of your skirt.

“You know…” Shoto breathes thickly as he continues to feel your tummy under his fingertips. “I’ve always been attracted to how muscular you are.” This takes you by surprise.

“Really?” You manage to whisper out, you try to ignore the way that your cunt is throbbing with need between your legs. “Sometimes I convince myself that you’d go for someone more petite and feminine.”

Shoto pauses, drumming his fingers thoughtfully against the smooth expanse of your waist. With each movement of his fingers, you can practically imagine how it would feel to have him repeat the rhythm on your clit.

“Hm. No.” He seems to be deep in thought. “I’m attracted to the way you take care of yourself and train to be a good hero. Sometimes…” He pauses and licks his lips, sounding a bit embarrassed as he says this next part. “Sometimes I get turned on when I see you lifting in the gym. Or when I see you throw one of our classmates across the mat during sparring practice. Your strength is just so…sexy.” He says the last word low with want before he presses a hot kiss to your neck.

“Oh!” You know he’s not intentionally talking dirty to you - but the way he’s praising you and divulging his secret horniness for your strength is so damn hot. You can’t believe you ever wondered if he’d go for a more petite girl like Fujita. The way he’s praising your physique and workout routine is too genuine, too adoring. Too horny.

“You like watching me bench press?” You say cheekily, recalling a moment a few months ago when you had made awkward eye contact with Shoto at the gym. At the time, you’d thought it was just a coincidence – your eyes had accidentally met while you were completing some reps on the bench and he was doing pull ups nearby. But now that he had divulged his attraction to your lifting…

“Yes.” He buries his face in your neck, radiating heat. “The look in your eyes when you bench. Fuck.”

“How hard are you right now, Shoto?” You groan, rolling your ass against him. He makes a noise in the back of his throat in answer to your question. “Yeah that’s what I thought. Unzip your pants – I want to give you a handy.” You start to pull away from him so you can turn around, but he holds you fast in his arms.

“No.” He says soundly, surprising you. You’re certain that most men aren’t quick to turn down a hand job. “I appreciate the offer, but there’s something else I want to do right now. If you’re up for it.”

“Oh yeah?” This whole situation is unexpected – hooking up in a closet during a secret party? Yeah, definitely not on your UA bucket list. You tilt your head so you can look at him more clearly. His eyes are stormy, his hair mussed up just so. He looks so devastatingly hot and needy, you practically cum on the spot.

“I’ve been wondering…” He says quietly, running a finger back and forth on your lower stomach, causing your pussy to quiver in your panties. “What would it feel like to touch you…more intimately?”

“More intimately?” You squeak, and you feel his fingers slide under the elastic waistband of your skirt, tracing gently across the delicate skin of your waist. You feel your pulse quicken as you realize what he’s getting at. He kisses up your neck and you feel his breath in your ear – hot and wet. He traces his fingers across the waistband of your panties now, moving his fingertips in a slow, circular motion. You’re so wet you can barely stand it. It’s not a stretch for your brain and body to imagine how that motion would feel on your bare pussy.

“Ever since you gave me a hand job for the first time…well, I’ve been wanting to return the favor.” Shoto says softly, and your brain feels like its full of static. Is he saying what you think he’s saying? He wants to finger you and get you off?!

Of course, you’ve thought about this scenario before. You’ve gotten off to it about a dozen times – picturing the way that Shoto’s fingers would feel curled up inside of you and pulsing against your most intimate spot. But you’ve never been touched before like that, and to be perfectly honest you weren’t sure how to ask Shoto if he’d be up for it. In your mind, a dick is so much more straightforward. Just jerk at it and eventually you’re likely to get it right, right? Would it take Shoto a while to figure out the complexities of female anatomy? What if he thinks it’s gross how wet you get, or how gooey you feel inside?

You blush at the thought, but your body is so needy for him that you shove all of your insecurities away and lean more into his touch. Clearly he’s wanted to do this for some time. And everyone needs to start somewhere before mastery, so he might as well do it for the first time with you, right?

His fingers flutter just above the hem of your skort, uncertain. You shimmy your hips lightly, encouraging him to go further. He sucks in a breath and moves his fingertips smoothly under your waistband, feeling the gentle pull of the elastic. His movements are confident and precise – you wonder if his actions are partially fueled by his raucous jealousy of Honenuki, because after a moment of playing with your skort’s waistband, he slides his fingers beneath the thin fabric of your panties to explore your pussy.

You groan at the sudden contact – his strong fingers fan gently across your vulva, taking in the feel of it. Experimentally, he traces a single finger between your lips and dips it towards your core.

“You’re so…wet.” He barely breathes out into your ear as he swipes his finger around the lips of your pussy, feeling your slick spread across his fingers. He unintentionally hits your clit and you moan at how good his calloused finger feels against you. He mimics the motion, eliciting another sweet sigh from your lips.

“Oh…does that feel good?” He whispers as he rubs a slow circle around the spot, testing the waters. You nod breathlessly as you enjoy the way he’s playing with you. He caresses you like that for a big, letting you really get a feel for his fingers. You groan when he draws his hand away, wanting him to continue on.

He lifts his hand to his mouth and starts sucking on his pointer and index fingers.

“Shoto, what are you - ?” But you shut up as he slips the hand back beneath your skort, his saliva covered finger doing wet loop-di-loops around your clit in a way that makes you see stars. “Jesus – fuck! Shoto! Sho…” You start mumbling nonsense as he pleasures you, drawing a finger down to poke at your entrance.

“Can I…can I go inside?” Shoto whispers thickly, asking for your consent.

“Yes. Yeah. Please.” You’re practically begging. He wastes no time and slowly slips inside you. You’re so wet and turned on that you take his finger into you easily. As he softly pushes a finger into your needy cunt, you can’t help but moan at the light stretch. You’ve never felt so full before. Your pussy clenches around his finger and he gasps at the slight constriction. He starts to slowly thrust his finger in and out of your pussy, letting you enjoy the feel of the smooth penetration.

“I’d like to see Honenuki do this.” He whispers as he finger fucks you softly. You whimper in reply.

“I have something to admit.” You gasp out as he continues to finger you, slowly slipping his pointer finger in and out of your slick entrance and gauging your reaction.

“What?” He says absentmindedly, completely focused on the way your gummy walls squeeze his finger with each light thrust. You wonder if he’s imagining how his cock would feel pushing into your tight heat.

“You know how we used Mineta as a distraction to get Mr. Vlad King away from the party?” You say breathlessly.

“Yeah.” He kisses the side of your neck, wet and open-mouthed.

“Well I promised that in exchange for his help…I’d kiss him.”

Shoto pauses his movements, causing you to moan at the loss of friction. He then shifts his position, leaning so that his back is against the door. He places his free hand on your stomach, his other hand still between your legs. He pushes you forward so you’re almost bent double. He slides his fingers around your swollen clit before slipping back inside your entrance. He adds a second finger, stretching you our and pushing into your core insistently. He starts to thrust his fingers inside you at an almost brutal pace that causes the air to leave your lungs. Your ass bounces relentlessly against his clothed cock as he works at you.

“I’m going to need you to stop.” Thrust. “Kissing.” Thrust. “Other.” Thrust. “People.”

The authority seeping into his voice, paired with his two skillful fingers pushing inside you are too much to bear. If it weren’t for Shoto’s strong hand holding your stomach and anchoring you, your shaking legs would be giving out right now. Your pussy flexes and flutters around his hungry fingers, pushing you over the edge.

“S-Shoto. Shoto! I’m gonna…I’m gonna…”

“Please, Y/N.” Shoto groans from somewhere near your shoulder, sounding desperate. “I want to feel you finish around my fingers.”

And that’s literally all it takes.

His needy words bring you to the brink and you try to stifle a moan of satisfaction as you cum on Shoto’s capable fingertips. It’s so delicious and oh so terribly dirty. Your legs continue to shake and your head falls back against Shoto’s steady body as you absolutely lose yourself to your pleasure. You don’t give a fuck if anyone hears you, you’re too far gone as you cry out “Shoto!” over and over, relishing the way his name sounds on your lips. It’s like an oath, a prayer as you ride out your orgasm in this tiny supply closet. You almost forget that mere feet away, the biggest party the UA dorms have ever seen is continuing to rage. You vaguely wonder what your classmates would think if they knew how slutty you are, drunk on the feel of Shoto’s hand in your panties.

Shoto gets a feel for your orgasm and tries to match the pace of your frantic hips – he’s a gentleman, after all. He wants to help you ride it out as long as possible. He lets out a moan of pleasure as you thrust and grind back into him with abandon. The swell of your ass bouncing back against his cock is too much, and you hear Shoto curse under his breath.

When you finally stop thrusting back into his fingers, he takes the hint and slowly slides his hand out from your pants. His fingers are absolutely soaked.

You watch in awe as he brings his hand to his lips without hesitation, sucking for a moment on fingers covered in your slick. “Wow.” She says quietly. “You taste…really good.”

“Jesus Christ Shoto.” You say, shaky legs nearly buckling under the weight of his hotness. He wraps his hand around your waist, holding you steady. He ghosts a kiss across the nape of your neck, your shoulder, wherever he can reach at this odd angle. You stand there in silence until your breathing slows – your back against his chest.

He smells amazing, intoxicating. You don’t think he’s wearing cologne – but he’s covered in this indescribably clean, expensive scent. Your cloudy brain guesses that it’s some kind of fancy shampoo that only old money has access to. You want to bathe in the scent, marinate in it. You try to commit it to your memory.

Shoto’s chest rises and falls in time with your own breathing. It’s gentle and it anchors you to the moment. It makes you long for bed – if only it was the end of the night already. If you could sink to the ground, you could probably fall asleep on the closet’s carpet. You want to tuck yourself into his soft sweater, surrounded by that delicious expensive shampoo scent. He holds you to him, giving no sign that he wants to let go.

When your soul finally finds its way back into your body, you shake your head to clear it a bit.

“Shoto…” You whisper, voice thick and sleepy. “Shoto, can I get you off now baby?”

Shoto smooths his hands over your hips appreciatively. “That’s alright…I, um. I’m fine.”

You blink awake, brain rapidly putting the pieces together. You think back to the way you were insistently rocking your ass against him, the way he had cursed under his breath earlier as he worked you up to your orgasm.

“Holy shit. Shoto did you just…? Oh my god. You came in your pants didn’t you?” You step forward and away from him, and his hands release you easily. You turn to look him up and down, eyes wide.

Shoto meets your eyes, cheeks red with shame. His pants are absolutely ruined – you can see the damp spot where his dick is pressed up against the fabric.

“Touching you like that…it was too much. And the way you were grinding on me. I couldn’t…” You can tell he’s ashamed from the way his voice wavers and dips. He doesn’t even attempt to cover himself, he just lets his arms hang at his sides uselessly.

“Shoto – no. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about!” You quickly try to reassure him. His eyes are bright with humiliation as he looks down at himself. “You just need to throw those pants into the wash and everything will be good as new.”

Shoto actually chuckles at this, the mood in the tiny closet shifting and instantly becoming lighter.

“Y/N…you’re just so sweet. I can’t even begin to explain to you the things you do to me.” He reaches out and drags you back into his arms. “I’ve never been so attracted to someone in my life.” He squeezes his arms lightly around you, holding you to him. Your hair is soft against his cheek as he snakes up hand to hold the nape of your neck. No one’s ever held you like this, so tenderly.

He exhales softly, his breath warm as it lightly tussles your hair. “We should get back to the party, shouldn’t we?”

“Can we just go clean up and go to bed?” You say, your voice drawling lazily. “We can sneak up to my room and snuggle up with my plushies. We can sleep in tomorrow.”

“That’s tempting.” Shoto presses a kiss to your temple. “But I think that the party crew is going to miss their leader. And I think that Mina could use a friend.”

He’s right. You know he’s right.

“Yeah.” You take a deep breath in. “And Hatsume can’t hold off Mr. King forever. I should check in with her.”

“That crazy support course girl is involved in this?” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“That genius crazy support course girl is involved in this.” You amend, laughing quietly. “Let’s get out of here, Shoto.”

He nods and scoots away from you so he can place his hot hand on the frozen doorknob. Steam fills the room as he melts down the ice around the door and you marvel at how much control he has over his quirk.

He cracks open the door to the hall and you both blink uncomfortably in the light that shines into the closet with a brightness that’s almost violent. Shoto pops his head into the hall and quickly comes back inside to huddle up next to you.

“It’s all clear, Y/N. I’m going to head up to my room and change. See you back at the party?”

You nod, suddenly all business. “See you back at the party, Shoto.”

You both dart out into the long empty hall, going your separate ways. You skitter up to your room to change your panties and tame your hair. Shoto veers off towards his dorm to change out of his own pants.

Neither of you notices the pair of sunglasses that lies abandoned on the closet floor.

End of Chapter 8

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Author's Notes:

Okay hey fam!

How we doin'!? I hope it was worth the wait for Chapter 8!

I'm dying to know how you all felt about these latest Spin the Bottle developments 👀 Quite a few of you predicted that The Reader would end up "kissing" Honenuki and I love that! Honestly I think that Juzo Honenuki would be SUPER hot in bed 🤷‍♀️ He's so sweet and tender and idk the skeleton face is cool AF. Honestly happy to be back in the "smut zone" with this chapter - I hope you enjoyed the spicy scene towards the end.

Not gonna lie, this chapter has been the hardest for me to write so far! There are a lot of emotions that are getting processed here - The Reader is trying to learn from her mistakes and give Shoto the benefit of the doubt after she assumed that Shoto and Momo were hooking up. But she's jealous that Shoto kissed someone else and she wants to talk about it! Shoto is processing the fact that he didn't want to participate in the game in the first place! It brings out a lot of his insecurities! PLUS he is jealous AF when he sees Honenuki smooch our dear Reader! On top of that...literally everyone is horny in this chapter. Writing the dialogue for the post-kiss discussion between Shoto and the Reader this was TOUGH!

Also I'm getting way too precious with this story and trying to make it something that satisfies everyone/avoids plot holes. I think I will need to be a little less strict with myself about the plot here to keep things fun and keep updates going regularly. This story is pushing me a lot as a writer and I'm excited about that! But TBH I'm also just here to have some smutty literary fun. This is my first long form fic so I'm gonna try to give myself some more grace as I write.

Anyway...that's all for now folks! I hope you have a lovely New Year! I can't wait to see all the good things that 2025 has in store for all of us! <3

XOXO,

Red Riot Unbreakable Heart ❤️

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❄️🔥THE ICYTHOTS🔥❄️

Want to join or be removed from the tag list - let me know! Once again, this is an ADULT ONLY blog. The IcyThot club is exclusively dedicated to the Shoto's First Kiss series and will only include A18+. Do not request to be added unless you are over 18. If your blog is ageless/your age isn't listed in the bio you cannot be an IcyThot member! I'm also adding the "sexual content" label/tags.

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[hoe4hotchner]

Lured Into Darkness | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!fem!Reader | WC: 3.6k  | CW: General case talk, reader recently lost someone, cemetery, reader is put in danger, hotch gets in a fight, no use of Y/N. | Summary: The BAU is hunting an unsub who targets victims visiting cemeteries. After profiling the unsub, Hotch sends you undercover, knowing you fit the killer's MO.

The dimly lit conference room buzzed with an undercurrent of tension as the BAU team gathered at the front, their expressions serious and focused. Photographs of recent victims adorned the projector screen, the stark contrast of life and death lingering in the air. The local police force was seated around the table, their faces reflecting a mix of disbelief and concern.

Hotch stood at the front, his authoritative presence commanding the room. “The unsub we’re dealing with is targeting individuals visiting cemeteries, specifically those appearing emotionally distressed,” he explained, his tone steady. “Based on the victimology, we believe he selects targets who are mourning recently lost loved ones or those displaying signs of vulnerability.”

Morgan stepped forward, his brow furrowing. “We suspect he’s using the guise of a grieving visitor to approach his victims. This allows him to gain their trust and connect with them before making his move.”

“Exactly,” Hotch continued, clicking to the next slide showcasing a timeline of the murders. “Our first victim was found last month, and since then, two more have followed. Each incident occurred during the late afternoon hours, suggesting a pattern that could indicate the unsub's confidence in his environment. We need to increase patrols at local cemeteries in this area.” Hotch clicked the remote again and a red circle outlined the zone.

“Do we have any leads on his identity?” one of the officers asked, his voice edged with urgency.

“Not yet,” Reid replied, his voice rising above the quiet murmur. “But we believe he has some background in psychology or social work, which allows him to manipulate his victims’ emotions.”

As Hotch wrapped up the briefing, the atmosphere was thick with determination and fear. The police exchanged concerned glances, their seriousness mirroring the weight of the information. Hotch concluded the briefing, “The unsub will likely strike again if we don’t intervene quickly.”

As the room began to disperse, Hotch signaled for his team to stay behind. They gathered around the table, concern etched on their faces. “I need to discuss our next steps,” he said, his tone shifting to a more urgent cadence. “We’re going to need a lure to draw him out.” “What do you mean, Hotch?” Morgan asked, crossing his arms.

Hotch took a breath, locking eyes with each of them, then finally resting his gaze on you. “Based on the profile, he targets those who are grieving. We need to send in someone who fits that profile.”

Your heart raced as you realized where this was heading. “You want me to go in as bait,” you stated, trying to sound calm despite the knot in your stomach.

Hotch nodded. “You’ll be our best chance to draw him out. You fit his victim profile, and we need to use what he’s looking for. The police will assist, but I need you to be cautious.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” you asked, your voice steady but laced with concern. “I don’t want to put myself in harm’s way.”

Hotch’s expression softened, but there was an edge of determination in his gaze. “We’re all at risk in this line of work. I wouldn’t put you in this position if I didn’t think you could handle it. You’re strong, and I trust you.” Morgan stepped in, trying to lighten the mood a bit. “Besides, you’ve got the rest of us watching your back. We won’t let anything happen to you.” You smiled weakly, grateful for the support but still apprehensive. “Okay, then. What’s the plan?”

Hotch leaned closer, pulling out a map of the cemetery and outlining the areas where you would be stationed. “You’ll set up near the middle, where we can station patrols nearby. We’ll have eyes on you at all times, and as soon as we see any suspicious activity, we’ll move in.”

As the details of the mission unfolded, you felt a mix of excitement and fear. You were familiar with the risks, but the thought of putting yourself in the line of fire still sent a shiver down your spine.

Once the briefing was complete, you all made your way out of the room, the weight of the situation heavy on your shoulders as you mentally prepared yourself for what was to come.

Hotch remained close to you, his presence both reassuring and intense.

“Are you really okay with this?” he asked quietly, just as you were about to walk out the door.

You paused, meeting his gaze. “I’ll do whatever it takes to stop this guy. We can’t let him hurt anyone else.”

Hotch’s eyes softened, and for a moment, the tension eased. “Just promise me you’ll be careful. I don’t want to lose anyone, especially not you.”

You nodded, a flicker of warmth spreading in your chest at his concern. “I promise.”

As you stepped outside into the cool evening air, you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. The mission loomed ahead, and you knew there was no turning back now. You were committed to this, ready to face whatever darkness lay ahead in that cemetery.

The cemetery loomed ahead, its ancient stones partially veiled by a thick layer of fog that clung to the ground like a shroud. It became apparent to everyone that the mission wouldn't go as planned, and that you likely would be put in more danger than anticipated.

Streetlights flickered in the distance, casting eerie shadows that twisted and turned with the night breeze. You stood by the entrance, heart pounding, and tried to calm the whirlwind of emotions churning within you.

Hotch watched you from a distance, his gaze unwavering. The rest of the team had set up a perimeter, their silhouettes blending into the darkness as they spread out, ready for the mission to unfold. You took a deep breath, feeling the cool air fill your lungs, and closed your eyes for a moment, focusing on the task ahead.

Before stepping into the cemetery, you needed to work yourself into character. You had to appear vulnerable, like an easy target. It felt strange to manipulate your emotions this way, but the thought of saving lives kept you grounded. Slowly, you recalled a few memories—times when you’d felt loss and sorrow. You remembered a cherished friend who had passed away, the grief still fresh in your mind, even if buried deep beneath the surface.

With each memory, you let the emotions rise, allowing the familiar ache to spread through your chest. The first tear fell, and you quickly swiped at it, reminding yourself that this was part of the act. As you let the sadness wash over you, more tears followed, blurring your vision. You took a shaky breath, letting the sobs threaten to break free.

Hotch observed quietly, his heart aching for you. He admired your ability to cry on command — something not everyone could do. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen you turn your emotions into a weapon, but it always left him in awe. You had a strength that was often hidden behind your bravado, and he respected that about you.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice low, breaking the stillness.

You nodded, wiping your tears hastily. “Yeah. Just… give me a moment.”

With a determined breath, you stepped forward, your feet crunching against the gravel path leading into the cemetery. The fog enveloped you, swallowing your figure until you disappeared from view, leaving Hotch and the team behind.

As you walked deeper into the cemetery, you let the tears flow freely, keeping your head down, shoulders shaking with feigned sobs. You glanced up occasionally, ensuring you were still walking on the right path, yet deep down, you were aware of the risk you were taking and scouted for the unsub as well.

The fog thickened, curling around the gravestones like ghostly fingers, and you felt a chill race down your spine. It was eerie, the silence wrapping around you, broken only by the sound of your own soft sobs. You made your way toward a cluster of graves, where the headstones jutted out like jagged teeth in the mist.

As you settled near a particularly ornate stone, you kept your eyes peeled for any movement in the shadows. You felt exposed and vulnerable, and for a fleeting moment, doubt crept in. What if this was a mistake?

But you shook your head, reminding yourself of the stakes. This was about more than just you; it was about stopping a killer who preyed on those who mourned. With each heartbeat, you could almost hear the whispers of those who had come before you, their stories intertwining with your own as you fought against the looming darkness.

Back at the entrance, Hotch stood with his arms crossed, scanning the fog for any sign of danger. Morgan joined him, his brow furrowed with concern. “You think she’s going to be okay out there?”

Hotch’s jaw tightened as he focused on the obscured figures moving in the fog. “She knows what she’s doing. She’s strong.”

“Yeah, but it’s not just about strength,” Morgan replied, glancing sideways at Hotch. “You care about her. We all do. It’s hard to watch her put herself in danger like this.”

“I know,” Hotch admitted, his voice a low murmur. “But we have a job to do. If she can lure him out, we can finally put an end to this.”

As the minutes ticked by, the tension in the air thickened. You felt your heart race as you lingered near the graves, feeling the weight of the night pressing down on you. Just as you began to doubt yourself, a rustling sound emerged from the shadows, causing your heart to leap into your throat.

You forced yourself to continue sobbing, not wanting to alert the presence lurking nearby. The sound grew louder, echoing in the stillness of the cemetery. A figure emerged from the fog, dark and menacing, standing at the edge of the path.

Your breath caught in your throat as he stepped closer, his eyes locked onto you. He wore a twisted smile, one that sent chills racing through your body.

“Why are you crying, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice smooth and dangerous. “Are you lost?”

You didn’t reply, keeping your gaze lowered, but your instincts screamed at you to be cautious. The plan was working; he was drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

As he stepped closer, you sensed the tension building on the perimeter, the team poised to strike. You took a deep breath, your heart pounding, as you prepared for the moment you had been waiting for — the moment to draw him out into the open, where he could be apprehended.

The fog swirled around you both, and the darkness seemed to close in, but you stood your ground, ready to face whatever would come next.

The air felt thick as you kept your eyes trained on the approaching figure, your heart pounding in your chest. The he moved closer, his twisted smile growing wider as he took in your tear-streaked face.

“Lost, are we?” he taunted, his voice laced with malice. “You shouldn’t be out here all alone. It’s not safe.” He stepped forward, invading your personal space, his eyes glinting with a excitement.

You swallowed hard, forcing your voice to shake as you replied, “I-I’m just here to visit someone. Please… just leave me alone.”

He tilted his head, feigning concern. “Oh, sweetheart, I can’t do that. You look so vulnerable, just begging for someone to help you.” He reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm, and you felt a cold shiver run down your spine.

That was your cue. Underneath your sleeve, you pressed the small button hidden in the fabric of your shirt. It was a signal for the team — your lifeline — and you prayed they would arrive in time.

The unsub’s gaze sharpened, and the air grew heavy with danger. “What are you doing?” he asked, the mockery in his tone quickly morphing into a more sinister threat.

Suddenly, he lunged at you, fingers curled into claws, aiming for your throat. You instinctively dodged, adrenaline coursing through your veins, but he was quicker than you anticipated. His hands connected with your shoulder, sending you crashing against a nearby gravestone.

A sharp pain radiated through your body, but your instincts kicked in, pushing you to scramble back to your feet. You glanced around, your heart racing as the fog thickened, concealing any sign of your team.

“Crying won’t save you now,” he sneered, lunging again. His hands grasped your wrist, his grip like iron, and you gasped, fear pooling in your stomach.

“Get away from her!”

The shout pierced through the fog like a gunshot, and you looked up just as Hotch emerged from the mist, eyes blazing with fury. He charged forward, a force of nature, and the unsub’s eyes widened in realization that he was not alone anymore.

Hotch’s presence was commanding, but you could see the worry flickering in his eyes as he quickly assessed the situation. He could see that you were in danger, and that instinctual protectiveness flared within him.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Hotch tackled the unsub, forcing him away from you. The two men collided with a heavy thud, and you stumbled back, your breath catching in your throat as you watched the struggle unfold.

Hotch grappled with the unsub, fists flying as he landed a blow to the man’s midsection, sending him staggering back. “You’re done!” he growled, fury lacing his voice.

The unsub recovered quickly, swinging a wild punch at Hotch’s face, but Hotch ducked, countering with a swift jab to the gut. They fought like two predators locked in a deadly dance, the fog swirling around them, heightening the sense of danger.

“Hotch!” you shouted, panic rising in your chest as you watched the two men exchange blows. You were still shaken from the encounter, but you knew you needed to act.

The sound of footsteps echoed in the distance, and the rest of the team emerged from the fog, weapons drawn and ready. Morgan, Reid, and JJ rushed toward you, their eyes scanning for any signs of danger.

“Get down!” Morgan shouted, moving to your side, placing himself between you and the chaos of the fight.

But you couldn’t just stand there. “I’m fine!” you insisted, shaking off the fear that threatened to overtake you. “It’s Hotch! He needs help!”

As if on cue, the unsub landed a punch to Hotch’s jaw, sending him stumbling back. The moment was crucial, and the tide of the fight seemed to shift dangerously in the unsub’s favor.

“Hotch!” you cried out again, your heart racing as you watched him gather himself, determination etched on his face.

Reid and JJ rushed in, flanking Hotch, and without a second thought, they surrounded the unsub. With Morgan joining the fray, it became a concerted effort to take him down.

The unsub, realizing he was outnumbered, roared in frustration, but Hotch wasn’t about to let him escape. He lunged forward again, his movements swift and calculated.

“Get off me!” the unsub snarled, pushing against Hotch, but you could see the determination in Hotch’s eyes, the way he fought for you, and the lives of others.

With one final coordinated effort, Hotch and Morgan tackled the unsub to the ground. The man struggled, but it was futile. Reid swiftly pulled out his handcuffs and secured the unsub’s wrists behind his back, effectively ending the threat.

As the adrenaline began to fade, you took a shaky breath, relief flooding through you. Hotch stood, breathing heavily, his eyes searching for you through the haze of fog.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and urgent as he approached you, concern etched into his features.

You nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks, a mixture of fear and gratitude. “I’m fine, just a little shaken.”

Hotch reached out, gently brushing his fingers against your cheek to wipe away your tears. “You did great. I was worried about you.”

The tension in the air gradually dissipated as the medics arrived on the scene, their presence a welcome relief amidst the chaos. The unsub was now securely restrained and taken away, leaving the team to regroup and recover from the harrowing encounter.

You stood off to the side, wrapped tightly in a thin emergency blanket, your eyes feeling heavy from the adrenaline and the tears that had streamed down your face. Despite the comfort of the blanket, a chill lingered in your bones, both from the cold fog and the fear that had gripped you moments before. The mascara stains on your cheeks served as stark reminders of how close you had come to a tragedy.

As you watched the medics tend to Hotch, your heart ached for him. He stood by the ambulance, his jaw slightly swollen from the punch he had taken. But even with the pain etched on his face, he wore an expression of quiet determination, ensuring that everyone was accounted for and safe before he turned his attention to himself.

“Just a bruise,” he assured the medic, brushing off their concern as they examined him closely. You knew better than to believe him; Hotch was tough, but he was not invincible. It frustrated you that he wouldn’t take a moment to acknowledge his own pain, especially after risking everything to save you.

You took a deep breath, summoning your strength as you approached him, your heart pounding with gratitude. “Hotch,” you called softly, drawing his attention.

He turned to you, his dark eyes softening as he took in your appearance — your tired eyes, the way you clutched the blanket around your shoulders, and the tear-streaked remnants of your mascara. It broke his heart to see you like this, vulnerable and shaken.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and filled with concern, despite the medic still prodding at his jaw.

You nodded, though your voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m fine, just… Thank you for saving me back there.”

Hotch’s gaze held yours for a moment, and you could see the weight of what had happened settling on him, too. “You did well,” he replied, his tone sincere. “You stayed calm under pressure, and that was impressive.”

A small smile flickered on your lips, but it quickly faded as you glanced at the medics still fussing over him. “You need to let them check you out properly,” you urged, stepping closer.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “It’s just a bruise. I’ve had worse.”

“Hotch, please,” you pressed, the worry evident in your voice. “You took a hit to protect me. The least you can do is make sure you’re okay.”

He paused, the corners of his mouth twitching in a reluctant smile as he regarded your persistence. “I’ll be fine, I promise. But thank you for worrying about me.”

“Of course, I worry about you,” you said, your voice steady despite the emotional tumult swirling inside you. “You mean a lot to me.”

His expression shifted the soft intensity in his gaze making your heart flutter. “You mean a lot to me, too.”

Just then, one of the medics gestured to Hotch to sit on the ledge of the open ambulance. Reluctantly, he complied, and you watched as they carefully examined the swelling on his jaw.

You took a seat next to him, your blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders, feeling a need to be close to him after everything that had happened. The warmth of his presence was reassuring, a balm for your frayed nerves.

“You were incredible back there,” you murmured, glancing up at him as he winced slightly from the medic applying ice to his face. “I don’t think I could have done what you did.”

He shrugged, a slight grimace crossing his features. “I had to protect you. That’s my job.”

“Still, it doesn’t make it any less brave,” you replied, your voice firm. “You jumped in without a second thought.”

A silence fell between you, filled only with the soft sounds of the medics discussing Hotch’s injury. He turned to face you, the tenderness in his eyes evident. “I couldn’t lose you,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Not after all the things that has happened.”

Your heart soared at his words, the weight of the moment pressing down on both of you. In the chaos and fear, a bond had formed between you, and it felt unbreakable.

“Thank you for being there,” you said softly, feeling the warmth of his gaze envelop you like a protective shield. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, shaking his head slightly. “I’ll always be there for you. Always.”

Just then, the medic finished his examination, giving Hotch a nod of approval. “You’re good to go, Agent. Just keep an eye on that bruise, and you should be fine.”

Hotch stood, brushing off his pants as he glanced around for the rest of the team, who were now regrouping a short distance away. He seemed to be contemplating something, his expression a mix of determination and concern.

“Come on,” he said, his tone shifting back to its usual authority. “Let’s head back and regroup with the team. We still have a case to wrap up.”

You nodded, standing alongside him as you both made your way toward the others. And just then, the connection you had felt between each other had been wrapped up and put on a shelf for another time.

[gamblersdoll]

Are request open please and if they are can I get virgin x kirishima

hey baby, requests are open.

virginity loss, fem reader oral, (received)

“you sure youre ready, baby?” he asks, hands on your thighs and his forehead on yours. a blush covers his cheeks, darker than the red in his hair and he nervously chuckles. “i dont want to force you, so please tell me—“

“im okay, we can do this, okay?” you reassure him, kissing his lips and he groans in the kiss. he nods, licking his lips as he pulls away.

his hands— oh how big his hands were, softly push you down to the mattress and he slowly climbs over you, a kiss pressed to your lips. his teeth softly graze against your lips, his hands pulling your clothes off of you slow as he can possibly go.. which was agonizingly slow. his lips move from yours, a string of spit breaking from the both of you as he kisses your collarbone. no words are exchanged, at least not yet.

“you okay, up there?” he asks, looking up at you like a concerned and confused puppy as he kisses your shivering stomach. he watches you nod, moving himself lower and he reaches your pantied pussy.

he takes a deep whiff of you, his eyes rolling back as he had them closed and he presses a kiss to the top of your clit. you smelt ethereal to him, his mouth watering as he hooked his middle finger in your panties to pull them down.

he watches how your clit jumps to the contact of the cool air in his room, a light chuckle to his lips as he looks up to you again. “do.. i have your permission, my love?”

you nod, his hand staying on your tummy as he licks a long stripe up your folds. he watches your face, seeing how it contorts into pleasure from his sweet assault to your pretty cunny. you look so beautiful to him, your moans sound even better than he imagined. his thumb reaches down, drawing small circles into your clit as he flicks his tongue up and down against your clit. you feel good to him, your body writhing against his mouth and he sometimes mistakens you to try and wiggle away.

you pat his head, signaling that you were ready for him, for all of him. he nods against your pussy, gathering all of the spit inside of his mouth so he can pucker his lips to release all of it onto your folds and some for his aching cock. his body moves on its own, climbing back ontop of you and kissing you again. “you ready, baby?”

“mhm..” you nod, a heat to your cheeks as you feel him smudge his tip against your clit and folds, both of you groaning.

he presses his cock forwards, a stretch youve never felt and you dig your fingers into his shoulder. fuck, he was big.. and hes so slow with it, too.

“shh, shh.. try and relax baby, ive got you.” he says, his forehead pressed against yours and he pulls back, smudging his tip to your clit again. “we’re still going slow.. dont worry.”

you take deep breathes, feeling his cock slip deeper each time he would slowly pull forward, to pull back— just to rub his cock against your clit a few more minutes. you didnt mind, it actually helping you to relax and allow yourself to allow him inside of you.

you both sit there for a second, deep breaths and kisses between each time. he opens his eyes to you, hair sprawled out and chest rising and falling. “you.. you ready? youre okay, right? we can stop if you want, i swear i wont be mad.”

“im okay, eiji.” you chuckle, and he taps for you to lighten up.

“i can feel you laughing from down here..” he says, pulling his hips back and pushing them forward slowly, watching your face form into a tight one. “just a few more strokes baby, itll feel better in a second.”

you relax into the bed more, him being right and allowing his cock to slip deeper and deeper into your walls. you nod to him, saying you felt the pain of ‘virginity’ being loss and you felt good. he nods back, still being a tad slow and he kisses your lips.

“oh, baby..” he whispers out, his hips becoming a little faster as he watched your folds suck him in with a glistening kiss. “you feel so good.” he praises, a hand on your hip as he draws circles into your clit again. “think you can let go for me, all the way?”

your moans echo through the walls of the room, his tip kissing your cervix every now and then as your walls clench around him. the groans from his lips find their way into your mouth, him nodding his head against you as hid hips pull away and slowly slam into yours.

“kiri..” you moan, tapping his shoulderblades and face contorting. your mouth drops, looking down to where the both of your bodies meet for the first time. his hands go to the headboard above you, looking back up to him.

“me too baby, me too.” he says, his tummy becoming tight. he growls a little, a whine coming after it and he gets faster with his pace. “come for me, just like that, oh youre so good.” he says, pushing the hair from your face as he watches your eyes roll to the back of your head.

you feel pure bliss, a cry coming from your throat. you never thought coming on a cock would feel this good, your fingers dont compare to the situation you were in now.

his orgasm comes quickly as well, a groan as he shoved his head into your breasts, which freaks you out for a second.

“wait, did you put a—“

“condom? yeah?” he quickly says, pulling himself away and pulls his cock up, showing the cream coated rubber around his cock and he pulls it off. “i got too into the moment and forgot to mention it.. im sorry,”

“no, no.. its fine.” you reassure, kissing his lips. “i just thought you didnt put one on.”

“what kind of man do you think i am?” he scoffs, tying the rubber into a knot and throwing it in the trashcan.

you both jump at the sound of three loud bangs on the wall, then hear a shout. ‘if yer goin to fuck, keep it down!’

sorry, denki.

[anantaru]

DAY 5 — APHRODISIACS

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — sampo, jing yuan

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, aphrodisiacs, lots of teasing, big men being sweet and content with you, fingering, handjob, very sweaty but cute

𖧡 — SAMPO

sampo finds himself entranced by the beauty of your eyes, and you can see it in the light of his mannerism when he, well— when his face starts glistening red, a kind of blushing that shows the real intentions of a human, a sort of compliment to the eyes and the delicate sweetness within his facial expression was like a chain reaction setting your blood on fire.

if only those particular emotions haven't been enhanced by the stimulant you swallowed together just a second ago.

sampo sighs across your cheeks while you're fondling around with the belt of his pants, his own grip on you dissolving of strength; he was either growing tired, which was unlikely, or the love potion was already in effect. you're for certain when you reach inside his pants to feel his erection throb on your palm, the twitch of his cock signaling you that sampo was on the verge of it, already— his girth hard and the slit glinting of his pre while you're stroking up and down the skin in slow thrusts.

"isn't that fun, baby?" you coo at him, closing your eyes before mouthing a wet spot on his neck, listening to sampo attempting to stabilize his breathing, yet how was he able to achieve that when you're rounding your hand around his erection in an unforgiving pace, desperately pressing closer into your hand until you're discerning an echo of small, hasty "please, please... more."

but, what you didn't know was that the usual confident and flashy man wouldn't let you take control of him that easily, and he tips a hand over to your thighs right after, while your legs— and that wasn't surprising to him at all, rubbed together for the life of them, thrusting up into nothing but air while you're fisting his cock to make him cum, almost tipping him over the edge of a tasteful climax when it was you who was suffering from not being touched and pleased.

but sampo, your sweet boyfriend, he has got you, okay? and his hand slips off your body before finding your wet core, in particular wrapping inside the hem of your pants before slipping his hand down, his mouth flooding with saliva at the trace of your liquids gushing on his digits. you're leaning back now, your hand working and becoming faster while one digit prods at your soaked slit, circling around your hole before letting himself naturally be engulfed into you.

by now, you're leaning your entire weight against sampo's broad chest, becoming tired and your poor head, it feels heavy on your shoulders when you're moving around, his sweet gaze lingering on your trembling skin that it hits him low in the gut, your pussy was so wet and easily effected by his fingers pressing into your sweet spots, quickly slipping another in to feel how you're stretching, becoming tighter and gushing of your slick.

there was nothing else to say, you're only whining, blindsided by the finely tuned electric shuffles on your core, clearly ignoring the side effects of the aphrodisiac wrecking havoc inside your frame as you slobber all around his digits, a direct similarity to the tightness of your own grip on his aching cock.

𖧡 — JING YUAN

oh, what a way with words jing yuan possessed;

the lightheadedness is only temporarily, i promise. and with a great sense of security embedded on his words, the man mutters and assures your bottled up worries before you're nodding your head all eager, quite willing to try out the love potion in his hand.

the general made a noise of satisfaction before placing the stimulant on top of your tongue, he's so excited he feels like he's about to jump out of his boots, groaning with anticipated pleasure when you close your mouth right after to swallow it down, all obedient for him, fluttering your lashes shyly— if only you knew that those reactions had his heart rushing under his ribcage, it was so sickly sweet of you, he could honestly just pepper you with kisses for eternity.

"how do you feel?" jing yuan murmurs against your parted lips craving for air, truly he was enraptured by your delicate movements, his thumb pressing just over your chin, forcing you to gaze up at him.

"i feel good, a little hot though." and you wrap your arms around his neck for stability before you feel how one of his hands snake down your body— your stomach to be more precise, as jing yuan quietly wiggles his hand in between your panties.

those mewls, your obscene sounding winces, he could drink in all your noises like a fine, old wine and be pleased by the feeling of becoming tipsy right afterwards, smirking all heavenly when you're pulling him closer before he ghosts his first digit over your slit, tapping on it— once, twice, just one more time to make it leak from the attention.

he can remember how you're always whining about how his cock was too big for you and that the scorching stretch on your hole was almost more pain than pleasure, yet he remembers to prep you before giving you the real deal, splitting your pussy when he leans in to go straight to your mouth, catching your lower lip in between his teeth before suckling on it.

at the second, once he adds another finger, you wince at the little burn in your core and jing yuan cannot help himself but groan into your mouth, the deep, rumbling tone vibrating across your body, leaving you no other choice but to lean forward and thaw yourself into his frame, humping his fingers almost as if in heat, your lips thrumming to catch up on air with your pussy prickling at his touch, the materials of your panties almost sheer from sweat when he realizes just how wetter you were tonight.

jing yuan pauses his hand to think for a moment, and you whine out weakly at the loss of his movements once he realizes that you might be able to take his dripping cock a little earlier tonight.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[chaepink]

DAY 8: 7 MINUTES IN HELL | RUINED ORGASM

tanjiro is just so innocent and adorable that you can't help be mean to him when the two of you are paired up for 7 minutes in heaven

⋆ ࣪. ❤︎ PAIRING ⸻ tanjiro kamado x reader

⋆ ࣪. ❤︎ WARNINGS ⸻ dom!reader, mean!reader, shy!virgin!tanjiro, dom/sub dynamics, praise, dacryphilia, begging, hand job (in a cramped closet), ruined orgasm, mention of drinking, college au, 7 minutes in heaven

⋆ ࣪. ❤︎ WORDS ⸻ 2.5k words

KINKTOBER EVENT

It was supposed to be a harmless party. You only went there for the food and for some fun with your friends, not to flirt or hookup with anyone. But when one of your friends dragged you to a crowd of people, telling you that they were playing 7 minutes in heaven, you were too tipsy to say no.

So here you are, sitting in a circle with some strangers and friends as the glass bottle in the middle spins around to decide which two people would go into a closet and do who knows what.

Minutes pass as the first pair gets chosen which turns out to be one of your friends and her crush. Good for her, you think, watching as they make their way towards the closet designated for this game.

Seven minutes pass and you hear an alarm ring to signal the end of the first pair.

You grimace a little when you see two people exit the closet, the girl giggling and the guy smirking at his friends with a hand around her waist. You see them leave the room and your mind immediately assumes they're going to fuck later.

Maybe you should leave the game, you're not really looking for a hookup at the moment nor a significant other.

"andddd the next pair is [name] and tanjiro! Please make your way towards the closet over there."

You snap out of your train of thought and widen your eyes, your head snapping towards the middle. You weren't expecting to be chosen so early in the game, especially with such a huge group playing.

Normally the person you usually get paired up with isn't your type, which ends up with the two of you just sitting in the closet in awkward silence as the seven minutes count down.

But as you look up from the bottle in the middle take a look at tanjiro, you can't help but think he's rather cute with his face already bright red, pretty eyes, and stuttered replies to his friends' teasing.

You remember seeing him around a few times as well as in a few of your classes at the back of the room by himself. He's always either reading a book or typing on his laptop.

The one time you two were paired up for a class project he was still quiet but weirdly enough, he avoided your eye contact whenever you were talking to him and throughout the whole project, he was all red and stuttering. You assumed that he didn't like social interaction and that's why he was acting so weird with you.

Even now, you haven't even realized that he was at the same party as you.

As you stand up, you see him sneaks a glance at you and he only turns even redder when he notices that you've caught him looking at you. To ease his nerves, you offer him a small smile which he quickly turns away from.

Your friends loudly cheer you on and you can only laugh at them, rolling your eyes at how drunk they are.

You make your way to the designated closet and open it to find a dimly lit room. You sit on the floor, patiently waiting for tanjiro. The strong smell of alcohol floods your nose and you slightly cringe.

Seconds pass and a small thought in your head wonders if tanjiro is actually going to enter or not. It would be awkward enough for you two to just sit here in silence but it would be even worse if he didn't come in at all and you were left to spend all seven minutes in here alone.

Your thoughts get interrupted by a quiet knock and a certain squeaky voice asking a question.

"Can i- Can i c-come in?" There's a slight pause and before you can answer, you hear the same voice speak again . "P-Please?"

You giggle at his cute mannerism and the way he nicely asked to enter.

"Yes tanjiro, you can come in." From outside the door, tanjiro feels his heart beat faster at the way his name came from your mouth. Even though you said it rather normally, it was the fact he heard you, his crush, say his name.

The door opens and you see Tanjiro enter, noticing the faint blush still on his face and the nervous expression that he has on.

He shuts the door and hesitates where to sit on the floor before he opts to sit side to side with you—far enough so that he hopes you wouldn't feel uncomfortable but still rather close due to how little room the closet offered.

The two of you just sit there in awkward silence as you take glances at the boy from the corner of your eyes. You notice him blush a little and let out a nervous cough before turning his head to look away from you, leading you to realize he may have noticed you looking at him.

"Oh sorry." You curse at yourself for embarrassing yourself like that before you quickly regain your composure. "We don't have to do anything if you don't want to, of course. Like we can do what we're doing right now and sit here in silence the entire time."

You notice him cringe at the mention at how, instead of doing what you're normally supposed to do during 7 minutes of heaven, the two of you are just sitting here in silence.

But its not as if tanjiro thinks he has the guts himself to even do anything with you in this closet. He's sure he'll make a fool out of himself if he even tried to talk to you!

You realize what you just said and widen your eyes. You place a hand between the two of you as you lean your face closer to him to apologize. Tanjiro has to hold back a shiver when he feels your body coming closer.

"I didn't mean it like that it's just-"

You can't find anything else to say as words die on your tongue but soon your eyes start to roam his body, noticing the way he's sitting. His right knee is pressed against his chest as his left is straightened across the floor, leading you to notice the rather obvious bulge in his pants.

"Holy shit are you hard right now?"

You notice him freeze up before quickly bringing his left knee to his chest, covering his bulge from you.

"N-No."

Even with the dim light, you're sure your vision didn't betray you. You lean even closer to him, the alcohol in you only giving you more confidence. You grin at the blush on his face.

"Don't try to hide it, i'm sure i saw correctly Tanjiro." Deciding to have a little fun with him, you move to whisper into his ear.

"You know, i can help you if you want." Tanjiro shivers at the feeling of your hot breath on his ear as he tries to silence a whimper but you hear it anyways.

He squeezes his legs together and covers his face with his arms.

"Please." You barely hear the small plea he lets out but you grin when you realize what he's begging for.

"Please what, hm?" You tilt your head at him in feign confusion. He slowly raises his head to look at you with a flushed face and tears in his eyes.

"Please help me, it hurts."

Something in you yells for you to absolutely make those tears in his eyes fall and you coo at him as you begin to crawl towards him, leading him to quickly move backwards and into a wall.

You have him backed against a wall as he squeezes his eyes shut, avoiding your stare yet again. His legs are slightly open and you use your hands to push them apart, exposing his his bulge to you.

Your hand ghosts over the bulge, making him gasp.

"When did you get this, huh? Did i cause this?" He nods slowly and you tap his cheek with your other hand. "Words, baby. I can't do anything if I don't know what you're thinking about."

Tanjiro whines at the pet name as he slowly opens his mouth to answer.

"Y-Yes." Your heart swells at how adorable he's being as you ghost over the bulge again.

"That means i have to fix it, doesn't it? Since i caused it in the first place."

He immediately widens his eyes and looks at you. Before he could say anything, you place your full hand on the bulge and squeeze. Tanjiro throws a hand over his mouth to muffle the moan he let out but you quickly shove the hand away with a 'tsk'.

"I wanna hear how good im making you feel, tanjiro. Let out your noises for me, alright?" Tanjiro can only open his mouth but nothing comes out, the words he was going to say dying on his tongue.

So he nods. He awaits another squeeze but instead your hand trails up his pants and grips the waist of his pants, feeling the heat radiating from his body.

"Be a good boy and take this off, yeah?" You don't have to say it twice as Tanjiro rushes to follow your command, quickly unzipping his pants and shimmying out of it before haphazardly throwing it somewhere in the cramped closet. Then he sits back down in front of you, eyes wide and waiting for your next order.

His obedience and rush to follow your commands only spurs you on even more.

Your eyes rake his body and you watch as Tanjiro turn shyer after realizing how he just acted. Your eyes trail from his red face to his still covered chest and down to his crotch where the bulge is still visible.

Squinting your eyes a little, you're able to make out a small wet patch on his underwear where his dick is. God, is he so pathetic.

You lazily trail your nail up and down his dick, a mere thin material separating you from where you know Tanjiro wants you the most.

Sure you could just make him cum right then and there but of course, whats the fun in that?

A sly grin appears on your face.

"You're already so hard and I've barely really done anything, isn't that right?" You can't help but laugh, making Tanjiro turn red in shame and embarrassment.

"What? It's almost like you're a virgin or something." Tanjiro halts at that and his reaction makes realization dawn on you. Oh.

"Shit, are you actually a virgin?" You raise your eyebrows when Tanjiro shyly nods. But weirdly enough, you don't mind that he's a virgin. Something in you screams for you to absolutely ruin him.

"If thats so," you murmur at him. "Then don't worry, i'll make you feel good."

Without hesitation, you slip his dick out of his underwear, revealing it to the cold air which makes Tanjiro shiver. You notice how red it is, most likely from how uncomfortable it was in his pants. Wrapping a hand around it, you watch as pre drips from the tip and down. Slowly, you begin to pump his dick up and down.

Tanjiro chokes on his spit as the sudden shock of pleasure. The tightness and warmth of your hand and the way you're squeezing his dick has him throwing his head back against the wall. His jaw goes slack at the addicting feeling. He's masturbated before but nothing can compare to how you're stroking and touching his dick.

Soon enough, whines and moans—all coming from him—fill the room. It's not long till you begin to speed up, your thumb rubbing his tip and gathering the pre that escaped from the top.

The contrast of your softness before and your demeanor now has his head spinning.

"O-Oh god."

"How's it feel, Tanjiro?" You say, teasingly. Sure his adorable noises that are loud enough for someone outside the door to hear tell you enough about how he's feeling but you think it'll be cute if he tries to tell you verbally.

"It f-feels so good. Please- ah! Please! K-Keep going.."

He squeezes his eyes shut and bites his hand to keep his noises quiet. You notice small tears threatening to fall from the corner of his eyes.

"Let those tears fall, Tanjiro. I want to see you cry from how good you're feeling."

He feels something weird stirring in his stomach at that. Something inside him wants to listen to your orders, to have you praise him. So when the pleasure continues to rack up his body, he feels those tears falling down his face. You feel him begin thrusting into your fist eagerly and you coo at him. His dick begins to leak out even more pre, coating your hand in the substance.

"So eager, aren't you?" He nods rapidly, preferring not to say anything in fear on embarrassing him due to just the amount of noises escaping him. The room floods with the wet sound of your hand against his dick. It sounds so lewd that Tanjiro lets out a whimper.

"Such a good boy."

The feeling in his stomach grows bigger and its almost like a coil about to snap. He feels the need to tell you.

"[N-Name] please! I'm so c-close pleasepleaseplease-"

He speeds up his thrusting, wanting so bad to get to his high. It feels so close yet so far but when you suddenly lift your hand off his throbbing dick, his orgasm suddenly feels too far. The loss of warmth around his dick hits him before the lack of pleasure does and he's quick to snap his eyes open to look at you.

He panics at the feeling of his orgasm fading away and he quickly grabs your hand.

"W-Wait please!"

You click your tongue in displeasure, making Tanjiro instantly drop your hand. You admire the sight in front of you. His hair is ruffled up, button up shirt stained a little from his cum, and dick out and hard. The position he's in looks so sinful with his legs spread out to show his whole body to you.

"[Name] why did you stop!" He cries out, feeling his dick throb. It's so hard it hurts. "I-I was so close!"

You only give him a small smile. "You haven't been keeping track of the time have you?"

He doesn't get it but then it hits him, the game you two have been playing. Though before he could say anything else, he hears a voice shout from outside.

"7 minutes is up!"

He stares at you in shock. Did you know that it was almost time and that's why you teased him like that? Realization dawns on him, you're so mean.

"Did you-" You slightly shrug but the grin on your face gives it away. You knew that time was almost up and so you gave him the pleasure of a handjob only to rip away the feeling at the last second. You gave him a glimpse of what actual pleasure feels like and left him addicted and wanting more.

Tanjiro can only stare when you stand up to brush off your pants. "Well you heard them, time's up."

You grin at him and make your way towards the door, feeling his eyes on you the entire time. But before you leave him in the closet, you decide to tease him just a little more.

"Find me after this party, alright? Maybe next time we can do something longer than 7 minutes."

And then you shut the door, leaving Tanjiro blushing red and hoping to run into you later again. Sure, you're mean. But he realizes how much he loves it when you are.

note: lol this is so unrealistic cause this is def longer than 7 minutes. its fiction tho

🏷️: @Vealize21 @fabitheraven @sourissue @jksstuffposts @gallantys @tired-of-life-86 @ineedsleeporilldie @aphoneixnamed-angel @flawlessvictorymentality @wowonamo @euphiroo @saintravey @tomiokx @archer-fb @d1gitalbathh @lifesucksweswallow @rxflen @Aspengagrimlin @ilovemenwhowhimperandbeg @laraleafs @vampcubus @22rhianna2006 @katebaku7710 @mysicklove @uniquebeautylove1 @willburzone

[ancientwastedlores]

Don't Be Kind To It (Homelander x Reader)

The overwhelming amount of love Homelander Only Breaks His Favorite Toys got really hit me in the feels. Some of you asked for a part II, and much like Homelander, I aim to please (and love the praise).

[tags: @helreyy @discowizard88 @slasherho]

This one is lightly inspired by Hozier's "It Will Come Back," and we get a glimpse into Homelander's perspective as well.

Hope you enjoy it! <3

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Don't Be Kind To It

Don't let it in with no intention to keep it Jesus Christ, don't be kind to it

You're a smart cookie. And you know Homelander better than he knows himself. You expect him to stalk you, watch you from rooftops, send you gifts that have an agenda, and force Vought's Crime Analytics department to keep an eye on you.

So, you wait. You listen for the telltale whoosh of air, the crackle of energy that signals his arrival. Every gust of wind sends your heart hammering; every creak of the floorboards makes your blood run cold. You scan the skyline for a flash of red and blue, bracing yourself for the inevitable.

At first, you think he’s just toying with you, letting you stew in paranoia. You brace for him to materialize at the most inconvenient moment, smug and victorious. Yet days turn into weeks, and his absence becomes undeniable. You tell yourself he’s good at what he does—too good—but the truth begins to sink in: it’s not just you. Nobody has seen him.

No staged rescues. No public appearances. Not even a leaked video of him losing his temper. Ashley let slip that his tracking chip went dead 3 days ago. Vought is scrambling to spin the story - a secret overseas mission? A long-deserved vacation?

But the inner circle is panicking. The people who know him best—the ones who know what he’s capable of—are terrified.

Where the fuck is Homelander?

But... another thought creeps in, invasive and unwelcome, like a splinter under your skin.

Isn't he going to fight for me?

The selfishness of it makes you recoil, but it’s there, undeniable and raw. After everything, after all the suffocating control and emotional whiplash, you almost wanted him to stay obsessed with you. To prove that you still mattered to him. To prove that you had power over the most powerful man alive.

The realization is a gut punch. Maybe you’re not as different from him as you thought. Maybe his possessiveness, his need for control, rubbed off on you more than you care to admit. Maybe you’ve become just as twisted as him, longing for attention—even the toxic kind—because it’s better than silence.

And now, silence is all there is.

It wraps around you like a noose, tightening with every passing day. His absence presses on your chest, cutting off your circulation, making it hard to breathe. You tell yourself it’s relief—that this is what you wanted—but the emptiness feels like punishment. You try to convince yourself he’s sulking, biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to make you regret leaving him.

But the longer it stretches on, the more it begins to feel permanent.

You could care less what this means for Vought. All the company seems to care about is who will lead the Seven now. Should they try to replace Homelander or lean into the “team-first” narrative Ashley has been pushing? PR scrambles to keep the media from asking too many questions, trotting out The Deep and Black Noir to cover for him.

But the public isn’t buying it.

Those who love him are afraid he is hurt. Those who hate him post conspiracy theories about Homelander going rogue - which feels way more accurate.

Either way, if Homelander doesn’t want to be found, no one can find him.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Your days stretch out unfathomably long. You expected to feel free, to savor the clean air and the wide-open spaces of a world without him. Instead, his absence is louder than his presence ever was.

When he was there, he consumed everything: every thought, every moment, every inch of your life. You hated it, resented it, but at least you understood it. His attention, no matter how suffocating, meant you mattered.

But now there’s nothing.

The silence echoes like a scream, reverberating through every corner of your mind. Every sleepless night, every anxious thought loops back to him. Where is he? What is he doing? Is he coming back?

You start to wonder if this is how he wanted it—to leave you drowning in uncertainty, gasping for closure you’ll never get. Maybe this is his ultimate revenge.

Or maybe…

Maybe he’s broken in ways even you can’t fix.

You almost wish for his cruelty, for the familiar push-and-pull of his twisted affection. Because this? This void where he once loomed so large?

It feels like dying.

No. You have to seek him out. You can't quite tell if it's for his sake or yours... you can figure that out later.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Monster's Lament

The room is dark, lit only by the faint glow of the moon filtering through cracked blinds. Dust floats in the air, settling over the relics of a forgotten time—old Vought propaganda posters peeling from the walls, a long-dead television covered in grime. It’s quiet here, too quiet, save for the clock that's miraculously still ticking.

Homelander sits slumped in a battered chair, his suit grimy, his cape discarded on the floor in a crumpled heap. His head is in his hands, his golden locks disheveled, the picture of a god brought low.

“You warned her,” a voice says, syrupy sweet.

Homelander doesn’t look up, doesn’t need to—he knows where it’s coming from.

The mirror.

He lifts his gaze reluctantly, and there it is: his own reflection staring back at him, but not quite right. The eyes burn brighter, the teeth are sharper, the smile is crueler. It leans forward as if trying to crawl out of the glass.

"You warned her," it sings again. "But did she listeeeen." "Not now, okay?" Homelander pleads.

The face in the mirror laughs. "Jesus fucking Christ, this is so pathetic. What are you waiting for, for her to come find you? For her to need you?" "She does need me." “Oh, sure. Because you gave her everything. The flying, the fancy dinners, the cape-flipping bullshit. But what did she give you?” It leans closer, its grin widening. “Pity. That’s what. You wanted love, and all you ever got was pity.”

“That’s not true,” Homelander growls, but his voice wavers.

“Isn’t it?” The reflection tilts its head, almost playfully. “She stayed because she felt sorry for you. The broken little boy in the big man’s body. She didn’t love you, not really. She loved the idea of fixing you. And when she couldn’t—”

“Shut up!” Homelander’s voice cracks as he lurches to his feet, his hands trembling.

The reflection’s grin doesn’t falter. If anything, it grows wider. “What’s the matter, Johnny? Don’t like the truth?”

He stands frozen, a deer in headlights. He never learned to deal with complex emotions, and even after all this time, it wraps around him like a boa constrictor, cutting off his air supply and rooting him to the ground.

And the reflection starts to sing. “Don’t feed me, honey. Don’t be kind to me.”

The lyrics echo around Homelander, twisting like a blade.

"Don't give it a hand, offer it a soul Honey, make this easy Leave it to the land, this is what it knows."

"STOP IT" Homelander cries.

"Don't let me in with no intention to keep me Jesus Christ, don't be kind to me Honey, don't feed me, I will come back"

"You're supposed to be on MY side." Homelander says. "I am. This is what that looks like," It replies.

Homelander's stares ahead, his fists clenched, his jaw tights, his eyes ready to burn holes into the mirror. The silence stretches, heavy and suffocating.

Homelander closes his eyes, but her face is there, burned into his eyelids. The way she looked at him—like he was more than the sum of his power, more than the monster everyone else saw. He hates her for it. He loves her for it.

“Why did you leave?” he whispers to himself.

The reflection’s smile vanishes. For a moment, it almost looks… pitying.

“Because you allowed it,” it says simply.

The words hit like a punch to the gut.

"She fed you ONCE. And you kept going to her like a stray fucking dog. You took her mercy and her love and you became weak. Nobody wants weakness, Johnny." It leans forward, smiling, canines gleaming, "Whatcha gonna do about it?"

Homelander looks at the ground. Shame and desperation wash over him, and he blinks tears back.

"You're going to claim her. And you'll make sure she never, ever leaves again. Right?"

Homelander doesn't look up from the floor.

It gets irritated. "Right?"

Silence.

It rolls its eyes. "Do you want ME to do it?"

Homelander looks up, hope obvious in his bright blue eyes.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

You don’t intend to start looking for him. It just… happens.

It begins with small, idle habits—clicking on articles about Vought’s latest scandals, scrolling through old news coverage, and watching grainy footage of staged rescues from years past. Your eyes search for him automatically, for that familiar streak of red and blue cutting through the chaos.

Then it escalates.

You start wandering the city at night, tracing the paths he once flew you along. You visit the rooftops where he used to land with a flourish, his cape billowing dramatically in the wind. You linger outside the exclusive restaurants where he once paraded you like a trophy, his smile razor-sharp as he soaked in the envy of the other diners.

But it’s not just the glamorous places.

You walk down seedy alleys and explore dark corners—the forgotten places he claimed as private retreats. The places where he could let his guard down, where the mask of America’s golden boy slipped.

It feels grotesque, this act of seeking him out. Like you’re willingly feeding the monster you swore you’d escape. You hate yourself for it, for the way your heart leaps at the thought of seeing him again, even if it’s just to tell him to his face that you’re done.

But you can’t stop.

You start putting yourself in danger—not consciously, but recklessly enough that it’s obvious even to you. Walking alone through neighborhoods that turn predatory after dark. Taking late-night trains without any plan or destination. Part of you hopes he’ll swoop in, cape flaring, to save you in one of his dramatic displays of power.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, one night, it’s Black Noir who finds you.

The alley is suffocatingly narrow, the air heavy with the mingling stench of rotting garbage and damp asphalt. The dim, flickering streetlight overhead barely illuminates the passage as two men circle you like predators. Their laughter is low and ugly, their shadows long and distorted against the brick walls.

You freeze, your breath caught somewhere between a scream and a sob, as one of them lunges toward you. You pray even now that he'll swoop in from somewhere.

And then he’s there.

Black Noir steps from the shadows like death itself. His arrival is so silent, so abrupt, that the men don’t even notice him until it’s too late. A gloved hand clamps down on one man’s shoulder, spinning him around with an almost casual effort. Noir doesn’t waste time. The blow is swift, brutal—a single strike to the man’s temple that sends him crumpling to the ground.

The second man barely has time to react, stumbling backward with a terrified curse. Noir closes the distance in an instant, his movements fluid and precise. A sharp crack echoes through the alley as the man’s arm is wrenched at an unnatural angle. He screams, but Noir silences him with a swift knee to the ribs. He falls, gasping and broken, as Noir turns to you.

The black Kevlar of his suit gleams faintly in the dim light, the contours of his armor making him seem more shadow than man. His helmet hides his face entirely, the opaque visor reflecting your terrified expression back at you. He stands perfectly still, his chest rising and falling with controlled breaths, his presence both menacing and oddly comforting.

You crumble to the ground, your legs giving out beneath you as adrenaline and fear collide in your veins. Relief washes over you, but it’s tainted by something darker—frustration, disappointment, an aching sense of abandonment.

Noir kneels on the ground to make sure you're okay.

“Why—why isn’t he here?” you sob, your voice breaking. The words spill out of you, raw and unfiltered, as you pound your fists weakly against Noir’s chest.

He doesn’t move.

“Why won’t he come for me?” you cry, your hands trembling against the hard, unyielding surface of his armor. “He’s supposed to be here. He’s always here.”

Noir doesn’t answer. Of course, he doesn’t. He simply stands there, a silent sentinel as your emotions spill over in a torrent of tears and ragged gasps. His helmet tilts ever so slightly, as if he’s observing you, but he offers no comfort, no words of reassurance.

You clutch at him like a drowning person reaching for a lifeline, your fingers curling around the slick fabric of his suit. The tears come harder now, soaking into the Kevlar as you press your face against him.

“I hate him,” you whisper through clenched teeth, though the bitterness in your voice is softened by the despair in your heart. “I hate him for leaving.”

Noir stands up, lifting you with him, and lets you go once he's sure you're standing straight. His silence is maddening. Why isn't he angry that you're being ungrateful? Why isn't he at least talking about Homelander disappearing? ANYTHING?

You finally step back, your hands trembling as you wipe at your tear-streaked face. Your gaze meets Noir’s visor, and for a moment, you imagine you see something there—pity, perhaps, or understanding. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the blank, inscrutable void of his masked expression.

“Thank you,” you whisper hoarsely, though the words feel hollow. What you really want to say is, Why wasn’t it him?

Noir doesn’t react. He simply steps back, his movements as quiet and calculated as ever, before melting into the shadows.

You’re alone again, the weight of Homelander's absence pressing down on you like a physical force.

But... a thought creeps in. If Black Noir came, then Homelander must know, too. They all have access to the same intel. He knows where you are and what you’re doing, and still—still—he hasn’t come for you.

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GUYS, I think this is going to be a three-parter. Bear with me. The next chapter will be the last. Let me know what you guys think and if you want to be tagged to the third one!

Thank you for all the love 😭😭

[trulyumai]

His Little Wife

Synopsis: Messmer is away, fending off the shadows of the land; for weeks, months, his wife awaits his return until finally, she's by her husbands side once more.

Pairing: Messmer x Reader (Pre-Fallen Messmer)

Warnings: None

A/N: Finals are kicking my ass. RIP to my GPA. Also, so anxious for the drop of the DLC, this man has invaded my thoughts. Because of no release yet, I can only go off of so much information/lore, some things I just had to fabricate.

Enjoy!

Listen and read with my Messmer playlist ! https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4Lv2RUNKH2voR45QP07ryd?si=WjtWV47iSiywnT7JhADyUg&pi=u-iz0Wfu53T36-

The crackling of fire danced across her pupils, illuminating the worried expression delicately held upon her face.

Glancing upon the door repeatedly, thoughts incessantly pushed and shoved into her mind. Fears, doubts, all involving one man.

Messmer; he was to return today. 

After a long voyage and incessant errands for his mother, he could finally retire home to his little cottage: his little wife.

With her index and thumb, she twirled the silver and gold inscribed ring placed upon her finger, circling it on and off as troubled worries paraded around with ease. 

Not being able to bear it once more she bolted up, needing something- anything to occupy the heavy mind she bore. 

Picking up the nearest broom, she heard a small, frail creaking of a door being unlatched. 

Her front door was inches open, the iron latch swung to and fro as the material of the door grinded against the floor. 

Pulling her shawl close, she skirted across the room before eyeing the garden entrance. It was pouring; the rain was coming sideways, she noticed, repeatedly making the woman blink the wet, unwanted drops from her lashes.  

The light shine from the Erdleaf flowers littered the stone clad walkway, making a perfect path to the cozy home the younger lady made home merely months prior. . 

Grabbing the door, she stubbornly tried to latch it closed once more, the wind fought with the action, pushing against it with a rebelling strength. 

Letting out a huff the girl placed herself entirely on the frame, letting the door shut with a loud slam. 

Reaching up and fiddling with the lock her hands were wet; slippery from the invaded droplets of rain. 

Finally having it closed her figure slouched against the wood, lightly out of breath and now soaked, the smell of petrichor invaded her senses, shoving past the natural wood and honey scent that usually parades around the cabin. 

It was then she noticed the figure standing just beside the fireplace, warming their limbs like they announced their being in the humble home. 

The tiny gasp that emitted through the air caught the gangly man's attention, slowly he tipped his head to the side to look at the woman. 

His darling wife. 

“Messmer,” shaky steps bounded towards the red-headed knight, to which he smiled at. Turning to meet her grasp he wrapped the length of his arms around her body and with ease lifted her so their gazes could meet, noses merely inches from one another. 

She laughed sweetly, touching the tip of her nose to his before descending down to place her plush lips onto his cracked and weathered ones. 

He was so tired, exhaustion seeped through his bones like a newfound plague and if he concentrated enough, little black dots would enter the spaces between his vision, signaling for the man to rest.

He ignored the blackened shapes, blinked them away as his little wife littered his battered face with small, sickly sweet kisses. 

“My Lady,” Oh, by the gods she missed the deep timber of his voice, how it resonated just right with her ears, nestled safely between her heart and mind, and echoed between the cavities of her chest. 

“I've missed you, Darling!” Tears sprung from the woman's face and he could do nothing but coax them away. His hands were massive, engulfing the whole side of her face before swooping under her eyes, dismissing the flowing liquid entirely. 

“And I, you. I apologize for the delay, my sweet, there were more filthy curses laying about than usual.” 

Ah, curses. It was his job to protect the golden order; lay waste to any ill fit redeemers that defied the natural rule. 

With Godwyn holding dominion over the Golden Order, he was soon to be King of Leyndell. Now, his mother stepped in, ordered more protection, and more soldiers to be present in the East and West ends of the capital. 

This meant that everyone had to be present and in support of his newfound excellency. Even Messmer. 

“They don't deserve you,” she mumbled against his neck, tracing her fingertips up and down the column of his throat. 

“Perhaps not, but mother does not seem to understand my devotion just yet.” 

He walked, not bothering to hold onto her as each of the woman's legs was tightly wrapped around his torso, with her arms looping around the muscles of his shoulders. 

Messmer reached out, grabbing the oak railing around the stairs before ascending up, trying but failing to ignore the sloppy kisses below his jaw. 

Noticing the kept bed he softly growled, grabbing the woman's legs with a newfound strength and lightly shoved her on the soft furs. 

“Thou hasn’t been sleeping?” 

It was then he took in her state; the darkened bags, messy hair and wrinkled clothing. 

Smiling sheepishly up at the man no words needed to be said, the answer was clear.

Blowing air from her mouth she moved the strands of hair that littered her face, they blew with the pressure, lightly tickling the man that stared down at the woman. 

Too tired to argue he sighed instead, shrugging off his armor and worn down boots.  

Not bothering to fall as gracefully as his wife he allowed his legs to give out, toppling onto the woman even as she let out a desperate squeak. 

Before entirely crushing her with his weight, he places his elbows on either side, digging his nose into the side of her face. 

He dreamed of this moment for weeks. 

The rain slammed against the wood of their home and usually, he would be worried of its pressure. 

But today, he would clear his mind. 

He would simply cease to be, with his darling little wife sleeping soundly under him. 

Yes, the order could wait. 

For how could he spread such a message of hope when his wife missed him so? 

[6ix9inewiturmom]

The Scare- Chris Sturniolo

Summary: you end up having one of the biggest pregnancy scares of your life while chris is in boston

Warnings: Cursing, Crying, use of Y/N, talks of sex, taking a pregnancy test

A/n: may be tmi but lowkey relate to this so this was easy to write LMFAOO, ENJOY

PSA: DO NOT USE MY WORK FOR “inspiration” OR ANYTHING ELSE!!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Chris has been in Boston for the last 2 weeks, and he's finally coming home. I decided to shower and shave before he came home because that man is the most sexually active 20-year-old I've ever met, the Facetime sex at 3 am for him isn't nearly enough to satisfy both of our needs.

After my hour-long shower, I'm digging through my shared bathroom with Chris in an attempt to find my body lotion to prevent my dry ass skin in this heat when I find my box of tampons, which got me thinking I haven't had a period in a while and Chris and I aren't the safest people when it comes to sex because neither of us can even remember to put a condom on, it always fucks up my mood.

“Shit,” I say to my self.

Chris and I are only 20 and with his career there's no fucking way in HELL we can have a kid or even raise a kid, I am nowhere near ready to raise an actual child.

I open my Flo app and see the little circle that's normally red is grey ‘1 week late’

“Shit shit shit,” I say out loud again, panicking.

I can't keep it from him, he's gonna see the pregnancy test in the trash. Would he be mad if I kept it from him? Should I just tell him? Should I go to Tara?

After about 30 minutes of standing in the bathroom looking at the message in my phone, panicking about what to do, I just decided I was gonna tell Chris, he loves me, and we've talked about having kids way later in life anyway, he couldn't be mad.

I finally built up the courage and got dressed in a pair of tight ripped jeans and a baby tee, with some Converse, and sat on the couch waiting for Chris to come home going through Tiktok and whatever else was on my phone.

“BABY IM HOME” Chris yells from the stairs

I squeal in excitement as I spot Chris and run towards him. Jumping into his arms, he effortlessly lifts me, allowing me to wrap my legs around his waist.

“Umm Y/N there are other people here too you know? Also, Chris get out of the fucking way so we can fucking put our shit down” Nick says in annoyance.

“Well hello to you too Nick,” I say jumping out of Chris’ arms moving out of the doorway, and letting Matt and Nick come inside the house.

“Sorry babes, we've all been up since about 6 am Boston time trying to catch our flight we almost missed because your fucking boyfriend wouldn't get the hell out of bed” Nick replies sending me a soft smile and giving me a soft hug.

“To be fair none of us went to bed at a decent time, mom was making sure we had everything packed so we didn't leave anything behind” matt defends.

“Thank you, Matt, now Y/N do you wanna take a nap? I know we were gonna go out to dinner but I'm very fucking jet lagged and kinda just want to order dinner and watch movies with you” Chris wraps his arms around my waist nuzzling his head between my neck as my hands rest on his shoulders.

“Thats fine with me i don't mind” i pull away from his embrace and smile at him.

Chris grabs his luggage and my hand and guides me to our shared bedroom. As we enter the room he seats his luggage down and plops on the bed letting out a groan of frustration.

“I have missed this damn bed, don't ask me how I slept in that bed at my mom's house for god knows how long because this one is so much more comfortable,” Chris says adjusting the way he's laying to rest his head down on the pillows. “Now after 2 weeks of no sex and just my right hand, I'm gonna need to fuck the ever-loving shit out of you” he smirks at me patting his lap and signaling me to sit on it.

“Yeah so about that” give him an awkward smile “So I didn't know how to approach this to you, 'cause you know we're not the most responsible sexually active humans” I start babbling getting nervous of his reaction based on the puzzled look on his face.

“Y/N what the hell are you getting at? cause if you don’t wanna have sex with me right now that’s fine just say that, but considering our last facetime call the constant ‘oh chris i need your cock’ was really misleading to me” he says with a puzzled faced.

“Chris i’m late” i breathe out.

“late for what? did we have reservations for dinner? did you have something for work?” he says with frustration in his voice.

“No Chris my period, I'm late, my period is LATE, I'm 1 week late today,” I say aggressively from his lack of acknowledgement.

“wait we haven’t had sex in 2 weeks? i’m confused” he sits up moving to the edge of the bed.

“last time we had sex i was ovulating, remember when i told you like a while ago that if im ovulating means im FERTILE?” i say in frustration.

“Fuck” he runs his fingers through his hair “Did you take a test? Do you know for sure that you are pregnant?” he questions

“No, and no, I didn't wanna take a test without you, and I for SURE didn't wanna hide it from you,” I say softly sitting next to him on the bed.

“So why the hell are you freaking out now? You don't know for sure that you are” he asks placing his head in his hands.

“Because you and I are nowhere near ready for a fucking kid Chris, your career, and my inability to even fucking care for myself some days, yeah there's no fucking way I can care for a child who can't even speak on its emotions, Chris” I stand up out of frustration and start pacing.

I can tell Chris obviously got upset with my statement about our ability to care for a child but i was stressed and honestly wasn't thinking.

"I want you to know that I care about you deeply, Y/N. If you are indeed pregnant, please know that I will do everything in my power to support you and our child. Even if it means giving up my career, I will do it willingly. Let's go get a pregnancy test and we can talk about everything else later, okay? I am here for you, and I will always be." he says, his voice filled with empathy and understanding as he gently cups my cheeks in his hands, rubbing them softly up and down and warm smile spreads across his face.

As our eyes meet, a warm smile spreads across his face and I can't help but return it. He takes my hand in his and gently guides me towards the living room, his grip firm yet gentle. The coolness of his skin against mine sends shivers down my spine.

“Girl, were you guys arguing? Normally after we come home from Boston it's all ‘Oh Chris more, more’ typically a traumatic event” Nick says mocking me with a smile plastered across his face.

“Y/N and I are running to CVS so well be back in a little,” Chris says walking him and me down the stairs and to my car.

The drive to CVS was filled with a bunch of conversations and laughter, talking about if I was pregnant how we would raise our child, and Chris talking about the dad jokes he's gonna have, and considering he's a triplet he carries the genetic that I'm probably gonna twins or triplets.

“How many of these things do we need? What brand is best? why are there so many options?” Chris says holding 3 boxes of pregnancy tests and struggling to figure out which one to pick “fuck it why don't we buy all of them and use one pack tonight then we'll have the extra on hand in case our irresponsibility gets the best of us” he continues.

Chris and I walked up to the front counter and dropped the boxes of tests. The worker behind the counter took a look at the tests and then looked back at us, giving us a fake smile. After ringing up the purchase, we made our way to my car.

“So do you think you are pregnant?” Chris says breaking the silence.

“I mean normally my cycles are normal and a week late is not normal at all but it could be my hormones changing or something, but I do wanna make sure,” I say glancing at Chris nervously biting his nails.

“You were right about how irresponsible we are with our sex lives but when we first started fucking we knew the risk of everything and I mean our kids would be pretty cute,” he says placing his hand on my leg and rubbing a small circle with his thumb.

Chris and I pulled up into the driveway. As we got out of the car, he held my hand tightly and carried the CVS bag in the other hand as we made our way into the house and up the staircase.

“did you get any snacks?” Nick says eating a bowl of popcorn on the couch with Matt watching the most random movie on Netflix.

“Uhm no I just got a couple of personal things” I say nervously holding up the bag and sending a warm smile to Nick.

Chris and I pretty much B lined to the bathroom, anxiously “So which one do we use?” Chris says looking down at the boxes.

“Just give me the one that says Clearblue” i say softly laughing as Chris opens the box for me and inspects it before handing me the little stick.

“Do you want me to hold the stick while you piss? I'm sorry I have no idea how these things work” he says laughing allowing his back to slide down the wall and sit with his back against the shower door.

“Chris it's fine i know how to use these, believe me my friends in highschool weren't the most responsible either” I say laughing beginning to pee on the little white and blue stick.

“So how long do we wait?” Chris says helping me take a seat on the floor next to him.

“5 minutes” I breathe out setting a 5-minute timer on my phone and leaning my head against the shower door.

As we sat in the bathroom, waiting for the pregnancy test to show its result, the silence felt palpable. It wasn't an awkward silence, but rather a deafening one that seemed to fill the entire room. With just the two of us present, we anxiously waited for the five minutes to pass.

“Would it be a bad thing if I wanted it to be positive?” Chris chuckles.

“I wouldn't necessarily say a bad thing, there's a part of me that kind of wants it to be positive too” i smile back at Chris.

The alarm on my phone quickly broke the once-loving moment sending us into a panic. Chris and I stand up walking to the counter.

“Wait should we film it in case you are then we could always have it if you could be pregnant?” Chris’ gaze softens as he looks at me.

“Chris not the time” I softly laugh out.

“Right,” he nods smiling back at me. “WAIT” he grabs my hand “Whatever happens, I love you,” he says in a serious tone.

With a warm smile, I gaze lovingly at him and reciprocate his affectionate words, "I love you too Christopher." However, my attention is quickly drawn towards the counter where the pregnancy test lays face down, taunting my nerves. With trembling hands, I muster up the courage to pick it up and slowly turn it around to face me, my heart pounding in anticipation of the result.

‘Not Pregnant’

“YES, MORE CREAMPIES” Chris shrieks wrapping his arms around my waist and picking me up, and spinning me around as I giggle out of excitement.

He carefully seats me down back flat on my feet. Our moment was quickly interrupted by both Nick and Matt barging through the door.

“ARE YOU GUYS- wait is that a pregnancy test? Y/N ARE YOU PREGNANT?” Nick yelled as Matt's eyes widened at the little blue stick in my hands.

“Please for the love of god, I don't want a little Chris running around, or two, or even three” Matt places his hand on his forehead.

“No she is not” Chris chuckles at the boys’ comment.

“THANK YOU,” matt and nick say in unison.

“Wrap it before you tap it next time Chris,” Nick says walking away and back to the living room.

“Now I'll say it again, after 2 weeks of Facetime sex I would like to absolutely fuck your brains out” Chris says smirking down at me.

“Please do” I smile as he picks me up gripping the backs of my thighs as my legs wrap around his waist leading me to the bedroom.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N pt 2: I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THISSSSSS AND TYSM TO @cosmicmistake42069 FOR THIS INSPIRATION!!