PLEASEEEE MATCHING WITH CAPTAINS ON TINDER WITH USHI AND KITA PLEASEEE IM ON MY HANDS AND KNEES 🙁

Haunted

Toji cannot move on, until he realized too late.

Warnings: Angst, slightest fluff (reader and baby 'gumi moment)

You were just a girl, standing in front of a man, asking him to love you.

How hard was that for him? Yes, he wasn’t good with his words but he wasn’t good at anything else either. He was just there.

Maybe because the woman he truly loved—he was still mourning over her. His sad eyes every time he watched an old couple dance together, wishing he had been doing that but with her. The cute babies babble with their mothers as Megumi babbles with his father, how he wished his wife was still here instead of you. He never said it, but that’s what it felt like. 

And perhaps that's what it was. 

Sometimes he curses himself out when he accidentally calls you his wife's name. During intimate times only. You tried—trying to keep the emotions in as if it wasn’t breaking every part of you, was the hardest part. “Look he’s walking...” You smiled at the dark haired baby who was walking towards you. Toji smiled, making sure he’d record every second of it; deep down he wished his wife was the one the baby was walking towards instead of you.

And it was wrong—so wrong. 

“This relationship, I’m with you but Toji—Toji this is the loneliest I’ve ever felt.” You whispered while he ate his leftovers, his brows still furrowed from the argument occurring earlier. Having Toji work from 9–5 wasn’t the best but good thing he had you, helping him out with so much. Picking up groceries, picking up his lovely son—until you mentioned that one of his teachers mistaken you as his biological mother. That right there was enough to make Toji angry for weeks at least.

But not this time.

He stopped chewing on his food after you spoke, waiting for more of an explanation. Which you figured he needed, “I don’t think you’re in love with me–” 

“I like you [name], a lot.” He cleared his throat. He leaned back on his chair as his arms crossed waiting for you to continue the sentence he interrupted. 

Right, he liked you a lot. These three rough years you’ve been dating Toji—that particular l word was never uttered once, not even if he was drunk, or having a special moment with you. You huffed trying to find the right words for Toji to understand. That was until little Megumi started crying from his room. “I’ll try to put him back to sleep, finish eating.” He watched as your fragile little body sulked its way to Megumi’s room.

He knew this was gonna happen, he knew you were bound to leave him sooner or later. 

You smiled as you opened the door to see the little Megumi standing on top of his little bed. His hands wiping his tears as he ran towards you, his arms now wrapping around your legs. “Sleep with mama and papa.” He cried out as you leaned down to pick up the little boy. “[name] and papa, not mama okay?” You corrected him, if Toji were to find out that he had been calling you that, then that argument would’ve climaxed.

The little boy nodded, his tears now gone as you swayed him around. “Sleep with you.” He mumbled, leaning his head on your shoulder as he played with a strand of your hair. “Just for tonight.” You whispered, watching Megumi pick up his head and smile. Content with your answer. 

Toji’s heart could just swell at the sight. You treated his son as if he was your own and nothing looked so much better right now, except for the fact that he wished it was his wife.

Megumi was now soundly sleeping between you and Toji, “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” His eyes shut tightly hearing those piercing words leave your mouth. It hurt when his wife left him, but this hurt was different—different because he knew it was coming yet he didn’t want to do anything about it. 

“I’m sorry—”

“You don’t need to be the one apologizing.” He watched your soft gaze stare at completely nothing. He was confused, this was his fault. He never treated you how you needed deserved to be treated. “It was my fault for throwing myself at a man who simply was not ready.”

The next morning was silent—baby ‘gumi was confused at the saddened look on your face. Constantly walking up to you asking if you were okay. He was still just a baby, yet he read the room so well. “I’m sure we can work this out—” Toji now sitting next to you on the couch, some cartoon playing in the back as Megumi’s little head sat on your lap. “You’re not ready, Toji.” You nodded, eyes still glued on the tv as if it was meant for you and not the little Megumi. 

“And how are you so sure—”

“Tell me you love me then.” Your eyes are now fixed on Toji’s. It was hard, he felt as if his mouth had been glued shut. You sigh, bringing your gaze back to the tv, “I love you—but it’s hard when it’s one sided Toji.” 

It hurt much more, seeing you drive away as the clueless Megumi waved you out. Poor thing thinks you’re simply going to the store. The house that once felt like home was so dull now. Toji sat little ‘gumi down on the couch. 

His constant, “mama?” or “[name]?” while he kept his gaze on the door every so often. Nothing prepared Toji for this. Megumi cried that he wanted to sleep with his mama and papa, his heart swelled knowing that he had been talking about you.

You were gone, just like his wife. But it hurt—it hurt so much more knowing that you’re alive trying your best to…move on. He stayed up late that same night, stumbling upon a video from two years ago. When Megumi first learned how to walk. You and Toji had just started dating but the look of happiness plastered your face as you watched the little baby walking. 

That was one thing Toji never forgot about, how much you loved kids. Telling him how once you had kids of your own you would finally be able to live in peace. How he heard of it less and less as the years went on, he wonders if you still think that.

next part ->

sleeping between LOGAN and WADE means getting absolutely sandwiched. they’re both 6’2 and both superheroes? yeah you’re getting crushed.

LOGAN sleeps behind you. His arms around your body and his large, rough hands on your stomach, practically absorbing your body heat. His face buried in your hair or your neck. Your back against his chest. Don’t even think for a second that you might be able to get up without waking him up. You’re not. He’s holding you like a teddy bear, you’re not escaping. He definitely growls in his sleep. And trust, him and Wade are gonna sleep as naked as possible. In nothing but their boxers, maybe a t-shirt. Skin to skin sleep for them >>>

WADE on the other hand, lays in front of you. His legs tangled in yours and his arm slung over you and Logan’s bodies. Your face practically stuffed into his chest or neck. He’d hug you if Logan didn’t entirely have you in his possession. So he just forces his way into y’all’s cuddling as much as possible. Logan definitely grumbles about it into your skin but he doesn’t do anything about it besides scratch stab him occasionally.

There’ll be nights where Wade manages to steal you and Logan “reluctantly” hooks onto him so he can hold you. And best believe, Logan turned your bed into a somewhat nest so there will never be a warmer place to be. Or when you lay at an angle, your head on Wade’s chest and Logan’s hands on your hips and thighs. Either way, you’re stuck between them and you’re never escaping.

Teaching Dabi how to eat pussy the way you like it but he’s so desperately sloppy and messy about it that you just hump his face with one hand gripping his hair and the other tight on your own throat.

He’s inexperienced, mostly, he doesn’t give often if not at all to the partners he’s had in the past, few and far between; but then you came along and all of a sudden he’s offering and begging and demanding. He’s so used to seeing pussy eating in porn, in magazines that he’s got no rhythm, no method, no thought behind his guzzling and slurping and biting. So when you anchor yourself to him with a frustrated little whine, lifting your hips and grinding smoothly and sweetly against his tongue and his nose; Touya swears sees new colours and hears new sounds. The wet click of your cunt against his lips and chin, the shuddering of your thighs either side of his head, your mumbles and gasps against your constricted throat, and your encouraging praises of him just staying right there, just like that Touya. He cums loud and wet as he looks up at you through his lashes, half angry that you’re not teaching him like you said but half insane over the state of you, using him to your heart’s content.

I Can Do It Better.

{ Obanai x Mitsuri x Fem! Reader} smut

Warnings: explicit sex, threesome, puthy eating, fingering, spitting, rough sex, slapping, name calling, cervix bruising, a bit of dub-con? forced cum swallowing, semi-forced sex tbh the reader didn’t realize what she getting into

A/N: I offer you more food, I hope you enjoy since I teased the shit out of this. Hopefully I didn’t set your expectations too high 😭

Word count: 6.6k

“Please?” Mitsuri was hugging Obanai’s arm tightly, blinking at him with wide eyes. How was he supposed to say no when she was batting her eyelashes like that? “I’ll think about it.” Obanai could never say no to that woman, no matter how hard he tried. “Thank you!” Her arms wrapped around his neck, practically suffocating him against her chest. “I’ll let you bring it up at lunch.” He concluded as she pulled away.

So what exactly was Mitsuri trying so desperately to convince him on? You. She was trying to convince him to let you share their bed for a night. Obanai knew how much she loved people, it was just part of her nature. While he also knew the only person she felt romantically for was him, it was still a bit jarring to hear her bring up the idea of a threesome.

Most men would probably be ecstatic if their girlfriend was bringing up the idea of adding another beautiful girl to the mix. But Obanai knew you, and well…he didn’t like you. The main reason for his dislike was because of the affection Mitsuri bestowed upon you. She treated you just a little differently than everyone else, it was starting to remind him of how she treated him. In his eyes, you were becoming competition.

“Good afternoon!” Your voice reached his ears and he visibly flinched. “Good afternoon, y/n!” Mitsuri motioned you to sit next to her at the table, leaving Obanai alone on the other side. “Nice to see you, Obanai.” You weren’t exactly fond of the snake pillar, but it was only because of his stand-off attitude towards you. For Mitsuri’s sake, you tried to suck it up.

You smiled as the waitress dropped off an ungodly amount of food, most of which would be consumed by the girl sitting next to you. It was normal for Mitsuri to arrive earlier than the other people in her party to get her food ordered. That way it would all be ready by the time others arrived. “Aren’t you going to say hello back to me, Obanai?” You thanked Mitsuri softly as she handed you a bowl of udon.

“Hi.” Was all you got, not even bothering to look at you.

“Obanai! Be nice, I’m sorry about him y/n.” You shook your head, slightly annoyed that the pink haired girl had to try and cover her boyfriend's ass. “Oh you have nothing to apologize for, I’m used to his cold attitude.” You slurped down some of your food, eyeing Obanai who didn’t have anything in front of him.

The man wouldn’t eat out in public, if it meant he had to take off the bandages. As much as you didn’t like the man, you knew better than to ever bring those scars up, at least that's what you imagined resided under there. “Will you eat later?” Obanai was watching Mitsuri down her second bowl with a smile, one that faltered when he heard your voice. “Yes.”

“Obanai always eats when we get home! I make sure of it!”

“That’s good!” You could have sworn Obanai mimicked you under his breath. You decided to ignore the man, focusing your attention on the woman beside you. “So why did you invite me to lunch, Mitsuri?” It wasn’t every day that you got the privilege of eating lunch with the two pillars. “Oh! We can get into that in a little while, enjoy your food.”

That didn’t make you feel any better, the nerves in your stomach making you lose your appetite a bit. “When you put it like that Mitsuri, it sounds bad.” You glanced over to see Kaburamaru wiggle his head in the direction of your food.“Does it?” She was replacing her empty bowl with a third as she spoke. “It sounds like we are going to off her after the meal.” Obanai’s cheek rested against his hand now.

“Well…I am certainly trying to get her off.” You choked on your food at that, a vein in Obanai’s forehead beginning to twitch. “You’re what?” Your head whipped around to face the woman, a blush apparent on her cheeks. “Okay fine, I’ll just tell you now.” Your eyes shot over to Obanai who suddenly seemed disinterested in the conversation. “I want to have a threesome. Me, you and Obanai.”

You continued to stare at the man across from you in shock, eyes not leaving him as you responded to Mitsuri. “You’re telling me this man is okay with that?” You found it hard to believe Obanai would ever agree to something like that, then again he’d give Mitsuri whatever she wanted. “I’m allowing it because Mitsuri wants it.”

“Well if that’s the case, I’d be happy to accept if Obanai stopped kicking me under the table.” You narrowed your eyes at him, Mitsuri’s head moved to look under the table. The second she did, he stopped. “Obanai! What did I tell you.” Her bottom lip trembled, effectively stopping any more attacks on you.

The rest of your lunch continued in a comfortable silence. Both you and Obanai watching as Mitsuri downed twelve whole bowls of udon and three plates of onigiri. “So I have to ask…when exactly is this threesome to happen?” You felt nervous butterflies at the idea of sharing a bed with Mitsuri. “Today? I think today will be good.” Mitsuri was writing a thank you note for the cooks and servers while Obanai paid.

“Today?” She certainly wasn’t giving you much time to prepare yourself. You didn’t realize yet that part of your nerves were coming from the idea of Obanai seeing you naked. “Is that not okay? Do you have a mission?” Mitsuri seemed to deflate at your hesitant response. “No! I just wasn’t expecting it to happen so soon.” You tried to relax the nerves you felt before you made yourself sick.

“It’s nothing to get scared about! It’s me! And Obanai…but mostly me. I know you two don’t get along all that well, but he won’t do anything you don’t want.” She finished her note with a little heart, leaving it by the empty dishes. She took your hand after, following you towards the entrance while giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Are you ready my love?” You had never heard the man use such a sweet tone.

“Sure am.” You held back a laugh as his face morphed into one of disgust at your response. Mitsuri began trying to stifle her giggles behind you. “I can’t stand you.” He was walking out the door as he spoke. “Then sit down.” Mitsuri’s giggles burst out from behind you, watching Obanai’s eyes roll. “Don’t make me change my mind.” You highly doubted he’d ever change his mind when it came to a decision involving Mitsuri.

“How about we get some drinks?” You could honestly use some liquid courage for this. You weren’t that intimidated by Mitsuri, Obanai was more daunting than she was. “Oh that’s a good idea!” Mitsuri jumped at the thought, breast bouncing in a way that had both sets of eyes zeroing in on her. “I think you could both use something to relax, help you get in the mood.”

Mitsuri hooked her arm with Obanai, pulling him to her so she was sandwiched between the two of you as she walked. You felt his eyes land on you, you decided to ignore it since you were positive it was a glare. “You get one sip, you’re a lightweight and you know it. Y/N and I get the rest, unless she’s a lightweight too.” “I’m no lightweight Obanai, you don’t have to worry about me.” You found it a bit hard to believe the man handled alcohol well. “That settles it then.”

“Well that certainly did settle it” you shook your head as you downed your third cup of sake. Obanai had yet to have any, the bandages still wrapped around his face. “You gotta take them off eventually.” Mitsuri poked his cheek, her own were slightly rosy from the single cup of sake she had thirty minutes prior.

You were sitting on the floor of their shared bedroom, your back pressed to the foot of their bed. “I’ll take them off when I’m ready.” One of your few questions had been answered by the time you reached their estate, Kaburamaru was not present when the two had sex. Turns out, Kaburamaru has his very own room.

“I think I’ll be sober by the time you’re ready.” You're feeling a bit tipsy, the sake was warming you up from the inside out. Your eyes trailed to Mitsuri’s legs, up towards her breasts and then back to her thighs. You felt your mouth water, you wished the man next to you would hurry up and join the fun so you could.

“Her eyes aren’t down there.” You felt your cheeks heat as Obanai called you out. “I know they aren’t.” You glanced up at him before looking back at Mitsuri, a dopey grin appearing on her face. “Obanai? Can we please get started? At least let us have some fun while you get ready.” She drew out nearly every word, putting her hands together in a begging motion that made her breasts look even larger.

You watched Obanai do exactly what he had just scolded you for, a scoff leaving your lips as you glared at him. “Of course you can, baby, have fun.” The sudden switch up was still catching you off guard. Mitsuri wasted no time, nearly knocking the empty cup out of your hands as she crashed her lips to yours. “Mmph! Mi-mm-Mitsuri!” You pulled away from her, drool already covering your lips.

“On the bed, I don’t want to do this on the floor.” You began to laugh, cupping her cheeks to squish them together when she began to pout. You yelped in shock when Mitsuri pulled you up and pushed you to the bed in one swift movement. You landed with a thump on your stomach, rolling over as Mitsuri climbed on top of you. “This is going to be so much fun.” She cooed softly, as if she wanted only you to hear her.

Your eyes traveled lower yet again to where her chest was pressed against your own. You felt intoxicated, and not because of the sake you had consumed. “Kiss me.” You didn’t intend to sound so desperate, the whine that left the woman above you was all you could think about as her lips met yours again in a more proper first kiss.

She began tugging at your kimono, her teeth sinking into your bottom lip to ask for entrance. “I’m not used to seeing you on top.” You barely registered Obanai’s voice, not when Mitsuri had already begun to grind herself against you. Everything was happening quickly, Mitsuri was far more eager than you had been expecting.

You gathered yourself, leg coming up to hook around Mitsuri’s waist. You used that for leverage as you flipped her over so you were on top. Her pink braids splay out around her, the kimono nearly coming undone has her breasts spilled out. “Oh…fuck.” Your cheeks went hot as you felt your clit begin to throb between your legs. The sensation fueling you to kiss her again.

“So…” you kissed her “hot…” and again “Mitsuri.” And again.

Your hands moved up her body slowly, feeling every curve through the thin kimono as you finally pulled it apart completely. You parted from her lips again, taking in every inch of her now fully exposed breasts. “Holy fuck ‘Suri…” your words were slightly slurred, the drool pooling in your mouth slightly comical to you as you looked at her breasts.

They were, in every sense of the word, perfect.

You pushed yourself upwards so you were on your knees, looking down at her and nearly crumbling at the sight.

“You are one lucky bastard, Obanai.” You nearly yelled as you looked over to see him sitting on the bed beside the two of you. When the hell did he even get up there? You glanced down at Mitsuri again, hands shakily coming up to cup both breasts.

Halfway there, it registered in your mind what you had just seen. You looked back up, staring at him in shock, this was the very first time you were seeing the man without his bandages. “Don’t look at me like that.” You didn’t say a word, mouth slightly parted but nothing would come out. When you realized how poorly that reaction may be taken, you choked it out. “You’re beautiful.”

It killed you just a bit to compliment the man, you noticed the way his eyes opened slightly wider before directing his attention on Mitsuri. What you didn’t realize was Mitsuri’s look of hope, her green eyes twinkling under the dim light of the bedroom. Your eyes shifted between the two of them, and by the two of them I mean Obanai’s scars and Mitsuri’s breasts.

You decided it was better to focus on Mitsuri, it was unlikely Obanai would even want to touch you during this whole event. Her breasts were warm and soft under your fingers, definitely better than you could have ever imagined. You glanced up every few seconds to gauge her reaction, watching her lower lip tremble as you ghosted her nipple.

You felt Obanai’s eyes boring into you, as if ready to strike if you made a single wrong move. Carefully, with shaky fingers, you pinched the sensitive pink flesh, feeling Mitsuri jolt as a choked moan left her lips. “We’ll be here all day if you move that slow.” You gasped as Obanai practically shoved you away, causing you to land on the mattress with a thump.

“How about I show you what she likes and dislikes?” You wanted to yell at him for taking your moment, but the moment his lips crashed against Mitsuri’s…you were entranced. You watched thin fingers snake up her body until they met her breast, squeezing the flesh a few times before rolling her nipple between his fingers. Mitsuri moaned against his lips, back arching slightly as he helped her remove her arms from her kimono.

Obanai was still fully dressed in his corps uniform, the first few buttons undone but that was it. You watched red splotches appear on her skin wherever the uniform lingered for too long. Maybe it was the slight buzz you had going that gave you confidence, but you pushed him off of her. “What the fuck?” He gave you a glare that was so cold you could have shivered, that was until his eyes trailed to your chest. Your breasts had fully spilled out of the kimono’s top, a small smirk tugged at his lips as you tried to cover yourself.

“Not to be rude, but your uniform was irritating her skin.” The slight red patches were already starting to fade. Obanai’s eyes actually widened a bit, looking at Mitsuri in shock. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Obanai began undoing his uniform without hesitation. “Oh I don’t care! Deal with all the technical stuff later! Just make me feel good.” Mitsuri’s hand pulled at your kimono, causing it to fall open once more as she pulled you on top of her.

“Don’t worry about him, y/n~ just have fun with me.” You were breast to breast, your cheeks were probably on fire at this point. You reposition yourself so your thighs cage in her waist, allowing her to pull the top of your kimono off as well. You glanced beside you, Obanai was topless now, his belt also thrown off to the side but his pants were still on. You had to force your eyes down, you didn’t expect him to have the body he did.

Muscles covered his entire frame, it would make sense considering how often he trained…but still.

Your lips were back on Mitsuri’s, tongues sliding along each other as you attempted to take the rest of her kimono off. The throb between your legs became hard to ignore as you pulled the belt loose that held the material together. You wanted to pull away from her again, just to see her whole body exposed to you but she refused. Her hands came down to squeeze the flesh of your ass, holding you in place.

“Let me…taste you.” You choked out between each kiss, her grip loosening at the thought. You took the wiggle room as a yes, lips traveling down to her jaw and then her neck. You sucked along her pulse point, leaving red marks in your wake. You were going to cover her in your marks just to spite Obanai. He seemed to catch on to your little stunt, grabbing a fistful of your hair he yanked you back.

“Cut the shit.” His voice paired with his newly revealed scars actually made you shiver this time. “Make me.” His grip loosened just enough for you to go back down, teeth grazing her collarbone and making her whimper. You moved further down, lips finally meeting the plush of her chest. You sucked on each bit of sensitive flesh until it was turning purple, finally letting your teeth graze her perked nipples. “Y/n!” You felt confident when she cried your name like that.

You moved to her other breast, repeating the same motions until she had tears leaking down her cheeks. “You really are sensitive, huh Mitsuri?” You wiped her tears with your thumb, you could feel your own arousal leaking onto your underwear as you kissed her again. You decided you didn’t want to waste anymore time toying with her, not when Obanai could easily overpower you and do as he pleased. You moved yourself off the bed, falling to your knees. “You okay with this, Mitsuri?” You were tugging her kimono out from under her, tossing it to the floor.

All that was left between your mouth and her cunt was the flimsy underwear with a wet patch from her arousal. “Y-yes…please…yes.” You're pulling off the rest of your clothes, leaving you in nothing but your underwear as well. You grabbed her thighs, dragging her towards the bed’s edge. “I’m going to enjoy this.” You were looking at Obanai as you spoke, thr scowl on his face only pushing you more.

You hooked your fingers under the waistband, tugging them off her and throwing them to the floor as well. Your eyes glanced up at him once more before turning your full attention to Mitsuri’s cunt. Your eyes widened considerably as you tried to fully absorb what you were looking at. If you thought her breasts were perfect, you clearly hadn’t taken a look at her cunt.

You ran shaky hands up her thighs, coaxing her to spread them wider for you. “You are…one lucky son of a bitch Obanai.” You could have sworn that from the corner of your eye, he smirked. He knew he was lucky, but he himself still didn’t understand how he managed to get a woman like Mitsuri. You made eye contact with the pink haired girl over her own plump chest, a slight nod of her head absolutely assured you that she was ready.

You used two fingers to carefully spread her slick lips apart, swallowing thickly as you were met with plump pink flesh and her dripping entrance. Never in your life did you think you’d wish to have a dick, you could only begin to imagine the pleasure she would be able to bring you if you did. “Fuck…” your voice felt hoarse, as if it hurt to talk. Your tongue darted outwards, wetting your lips before you moved closer, mouth hovering just over her twitching clit.

You could feel Obanai’s eyes boring into you, as if waiting for you to make a single wrong move. Lowering your mouth felt like it took an eternity, the nerves in your stomach mixing with your own needy desires were killing you. You poked at her clit with your tongue, licking up the pulsing bundle slowly until she began to whine. “Y/n…y/n…’lease~” you couldn’t keep the woman waiting, teasing clearly wasn’t something she enjoyed.

So you began to move with more intention, tongue wiggling side to side in quick motions. “O-oh!” Her hips bucked upwards, pushing you further into her fluttering cunt. You steadied yourself by holding onto the jiggling flesh of her thighs, suffocating yourself on her dripping pussy. You could feel her quivering beneath you, delicate fingers digging into your scalp just to keep you in place.

“Gonna…gonna come…” her words were slurred, as if drunk off of your tongue. Her cries weren’t enough, you wanted to hear her scream. Carefully you plunged a single digit into her wet entrance, the action alone causing her to release a high pitched moan. You pumped slowly, massaging her gooey walls with your finger before slowly introducing a second. You could tell she enjoyed the second addition by the way her cunt clenched around you, squeezing your fingers so tightly you could barely move.

You finally got the courage to look upward, mouth never leaving her pulsing clit as you locked eyes with Obanai.

The man looked livid, disappointed even. As if he had been hoping this entire time that you’d fail. That irritated you, fingers moving just a little harder until you pressed into a spongy part that ripped a scream from the pink haired woman’s throat. “O-oh! Oh! Y/n!” You felt hot all over, and not because of her thighs encasing your head. The persistent pulsing between your legs was beginning to get on your nerves.

Obanai on the other hand was fuming, he was so certain you’d fail. There were tears streaking Mitsuri’s face for fuck sake, the way her thighs trembled? He was furious at your obvious experience. You - on the other hand -felt Mitsuri grow wetter, her walls beginning to make squelching noises around your fingers as you continued. All that could be heard were her muffled cries, her thighs essentially putting your head in a chokehold as you began sucking the bundle of nerves.

You knew she was close by the way her walls nearly held your fingers in place, wails turning into breathy gasps as she reached her end. All it took was a few more pumps, just a little harsher sucking, and she was spilling over you. Or rather…on to you. You nearly yelled in surprise as warm liquid gushed down your chin and neck, leaking slowly onto your bare breasts. You pulled her thighs away from your head, gasping for breath as you looked down at the mess she had created.

After a moment of shocked silence, Obanai’s patience snapped.

He shot forward, grabbing a fistful of your hair again and yanking your off your knees. “Fuck! That hurts!” Your eyes widened considerably when his nails dug into your cheek, effectively shutting you up. “I’ve had just about enough of you.” His face was inches from yours, you were nearly standing now. You took in his face, eyes trailing down to his lips. “You think I’d kiss you? You don’t deserve that. You’re nothing to me, don’t forget it.” You flinched as he forcefully opened your mouth, spitting into it with a cruel smirk.

“Swallow it.”

You did as you were told, it’s not like you had a choice. Humiliation flooded your cheeks, eyes downcast in shame as he forced you down on the mattress. “Obanai…” Mitsuri’s voice sounded far away, as if she was about to fall asleep. “Don’t worry about anything, she’s fine.” That was a bold lie coming from him, especially as his hand came down to hold your head in place against the mattress.

“Be careful…with her please.” Mitsuri was slowly shifting to her side, pulling herself fully into the mattress to see what exactly her boyfriend planned on doing to you. “Ain’t got no need for these.” You gasped as he ripped your underwear clean off, skin burning slightly from the force. His hand moved from your head to your back, then down to your hips.

“You better listen to every fucking word I say.” He was cold, calloused fingers grazing the tender flesh of your hips as he pulled you up. Your knees now sunk into the mattress, you were too afraid to lift your head.

You heard rustling behind you, signifying he was undressing the rest of his body. You snuck a glance backwards, catching the smallest glimpse of him through your spread legs. “I can’t fuck Mitsuri like this, she’s too sensitive. You on the other hand? You’re going to take it and fucking appreciate it.” He was back by your side, pressing down on your back, forcing your ass up in the air. “Careful Obanai…don’t hurt her.” You whined at Mitsuri’s pleas, you could feel his anger just by the way he was pushing you down.

“She’ll survive, she’ll just need help walking after.”

A swift slap rang through the room, you barely had time to process what he did. Instead, red hot pain bloomed across your asscheek in a way that had you clawing at the sheets. Another hit had a scream crawling up your throat, tears burning your eyes as Obanai abused the already hot skin. “H-hey!” Those pleas fell on deaf ears as Obanai hauled off for a third time.

“I’m going to enjoy this.” He mimicked you from earlier, the bed dipping as he put his mouth right against your ear. “You did this to yourself.” The next hit wasn’t to your ass, but your pussy. You cried out this time, muscles contracting uncontrollably until the stinging stopped. “Look at you, how fucking pathetic. You’re dripping onto my sheets…filthy. At least you are a little more fucking obedient now.” His hand cupped your sex, rubbing slowly.

Two fingers parted your lips, sliding down your slit until he reached your clit. You groaned softly as he pinched it, eyes squeezing shut as he changed the pressure every few seconds. “You don’t even deserve this.” You gasped as his fingers left you, turning your head to try and look back at him. Your mouth parted as he forced both fingers inside, pressing down on your tongue so you had to taste your own arousal.

He pulled his fingers away a moment later, letting his hand fall to your waist. Your whole body stiffened, the bulbous head of his cock sliding along your slit. “You’re being cruel, Obanai.” Your eyes traveled upwards, looking at Mitsuri who seemed rather surprised by his actions. “She likes it, don’t you y/n?” His nails dug into you, forcing a choked “yes” from you. “Oh?” Mitsuri still seemed uncertain.

You watched Obanai lean towards her, coaxing her up to kiss him. “She’ll tell me to stop if it becomes too much, alright?” The nails biting into your skin told a different story. “Just sit back and enjoy the show.” Mitsuri seemed a little more trusting at that, moving to settle herself amongst the pillows by the head of the bed. You were beginning to regret this.

Obanai’s cold demeanor returned nearly instant, forcing his head through your entrance. You buried your face into the mattress, knuckles turning white as he began to spear you on his cock. It wasn’t exactly painful, just uncomfortable. Especially with the way you were second guessing the whole thing. When Mitsuri suggested a threesome, you didn’t think it would turn into Obanai forcefully entering you.

Your walls molded to every inch he pushed in, suctioning around him with a vice like grip. So much so that he was beginning to struggle. “Relax.” His nails ran down your hips to your thighs, goosebumps followed in their wake. Your walls spasmed wildly around him, easing just enough for him to bottom out. “Not as good as her, but you’ll do.” You could only whimper in response.

He pulled back slowly, only half way before slamming his hips forward again. You were silently thanking anyone who would listen for the fact that he was starting a bit slow. Anything else and you may have had to tap out…if he’d even allow it that is. Obanai’s thrusts built in tempo, from slow and steady thrusts to practically pulling all the way out of you before slamming back in.

It was as if every ounce of his frustration was being pounded out and into you. Every time he had ever held back when fucking Mitsuri was being relieved in you. You pulled your face from the mattress just a bit, pressing your cheek into the drool mark you had already made.

You were positive there would be fingerprint shaped bruises left on your skin, his grip refused to ease up. You knew part of the reason was so you couldn’t run away from him, his vice-like grip was keeping you in place. You hadn’t even realized the moans that were spilling out of you, partially dazed as you tried to figure out if this was worth it.

“C’mon you can be louder…or is this not enough for you?”

A particularly harsh thrust had his balls slapping your cunt with a wet smack. You gurgled out some sort of response, too dazed to really figure it out. You couldn’t even muster a proper yell as your hair was yanked backwards yet again, Obanai pulled you towards him as he pushed his hips forward. Pleasure and pain blossomed through your body as he hit your cervix.

“W-wait wait…fuck…” he repeated the motion regardless of your pleas, tears leaking down your cheeks as he let your hair go. You began panting, looking over at Mitsuri with blurry eyes as her boyfriend continued to abuse your cunt. You felt like you had been lit on fire, each thrust that separated your slick walls brought you closer to your release. You had to wonder if he’d even let you come.

“You know…heh…you really got some fucking nerve.” He pulled out completely, watching your arousal ooze from your abused entrance. He plunged into you again, pulling your hips towards him as he did. There was something so satisfying to Obanai each time he hit your cervix. He never did this to Mitsuri, too afraid to hurt her. You on the other hand were allowing him to release all the pent up frustration he had held in.

“H-how…how…” you tried to wipe the drool from your mouth. You finally used your elbows to give you some leverage instead of smushing your face into the mattress below. He didn’t respond to you, instead hauling back and landing another harsh blow to your ass cheek. He showed you a little bit of mercy this time, choosing the other cheek instead of the one that had a red hand shaped welt forming on it.

“You acted so shocked…so—ha—innocent at lunch. Just to come into my home and put me to shame.” Is that what it is? Had he never made her squirt before—

Another slap echoed the room, followed by your pained cry. Embarrassment flooding your cheeks for the second time as you felt yourself get wetter. “You fucking like it.” Obanai had bent over you, his chest pressing into your upper back. “How fucking sick. You actually enjoy me abusing you like this…it’s too bad we can’t do this more often. You’re a great stress reliever.” You buried your face into the mattress, he truly saw you as nothing but a fuck toy.

What was even worse was the build up you felt. You couldn’t believe you were about to come just from this man’s dick. Each thrust had you seeing stars “I can feel you. Come on, come for me. Give me the fucking satisfaction.” One hand let go of your hips, snaking around your body to pinch your clit. Your entire body jerked backwards to try and get away from his hand, but that only helped him go deeper behind you.

You moved forward to try and lessen the blow of his thrusts. Each push inside of you was becoming too much. Your hips jerked again when he pinched your clit, you had no way of escaping what Obanai wanted to do to you. Mitsuri watched a cruel smirk creep up his face as you gave up on trying to get away. “Do…do you want me to help?” Her voice snapped Obanai out of his daze, cheeks turning pink.

“No.” His voice was gruff, hand burying in your hair again to pull you up. You yelped when your back met his chest, scalp sore from his previous stunts. His mouth pressed directly into your ear now. “Nowhere to run.” His arm hooked around your abdomen, holding you in place as he continued his assault. “You act like you don’t want this yet you are prolonging your release… I can feel it.”

You wanted to hide your face, you were trying your damn hardest not to come, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. You were stuck honestly, did you want to swallow your pride or prolong the “torture”? You felt it building up, it would happen whether you wanted it to or not. “There we go.” He cooed in your ear, walls spasming around him as you came.

“See that wasn’t so bad?” He let go of you completely, laughing as you fell to the mattress in a heap. You couldn’t catch your breath, not with the way he continued to slam his hips into you. “M-Mitsuri!” You wailed finally, hand reaching out for the pink haired girl’s hand. She crawled across the bed, laying on her stomach as she began to kiss your fingertips. “You’re doing so well y/n!”

“She is. I’m rather surprised.” You wailed as he buried himself deeply inside of you, head putting so much pressure on your cervix that you wanted to crawl away from him. “Are you gonna come in her, Obanai?” You didn’t expect the two to begin conversing, you glanced between them in shock. “Hell no.” He noticed you looking at him, the scars on his lips only extended his smirk. “She knows she isn’t worthy enough for that.”

He leaned down now, blocking Mitsuri from view as his eyes locked with yours. He blinked, moving closer to you while still buried inside your cunt. “You don’t get the privilege of my cum.” He growled those words right into your ear as he pulled himself out of you. You could finally breathe again, it was as if your body sighed in relief from not being stuffed so full anymore.

Obanai dragged you to the edge of the mattress. “On your knees.” His voice was gruff, irritated despite the sickly sweet voice he was using only a moment prior.. When you didn’t move fast enough, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and practically ripping it out of your head as he pulled you down himself. You landed on the wood floor with a thump, lips parting to cry out in pain. He used that to his advantage, shoving his entire length down your throat in the same cruel way he had stuffed your cunt.

“Mmhmmphm!” You gagged loudly as he hit the back of your throat, clawing at his thighs for merch. “I bet you wish I was back in that tight cunt Huh? Now you gotta deal with me another way.” tears began leaking down your face, dripping to your chest and thighs. Drool coated your chin as he held you there, unmoving. You squealed as he pinched your nose shit, effectively shutting out any air. You tried to pull your head back, only to be met by a softer, delicate hand.

“Stay still and he’ll stop.” You shifted your eyes to see Mitsuri, having changed her position so she could watch you. You stilled as she said, forcing your body to relax regardless of the lack of oxygen. He finally let go, allowing his cock to slip past your lips and allow you to breathe. You gasped for breath, coughing a few times as your whole body shook. Mitsuri’s hand was still on the back of your head, not allowing you to go anywhere.

“Better?” She was reaching with her other hand to wipe your tear streaked face. “We can’t stop now. I’ve come. You’ve come. Obanai still needs to.” Her eyes were wide and innocent as if she didn’t see anything wrong with the scene before her. Obanai had even said he doesn’t go this rough with her…how was she not confused? Scared even?

“Are you okay for him to keep going?” Did you really have a choice? You nodded regardless, mouth parting as he pressed his head to your lips. He pushed in slower than he had the first time, still pushing until he hit the back of your throat. You were shocked he was actually giving you a second to adjust. “Can I move now, Mitsuri?” Oh. He didn’t move because of Mitsuri.

“Go ahead.”

Your heart picked up in pace as both hands came up to hold your head. You choked around him again, his hips beginning to move at a forceful pace. Your eyes squeezed shut as tears started falling again, embarrassment flooding your whole body as he began to moan. “So good, still not as good as Mitsuri…but damn…” the backhanded comments had you scrapping your nails down his pale thighs.

“You want my cum, don’t you? How sad that you didn’t get it where you wanted it.” His drool was covering your chin, neck and chest as he continued. “How stupid do you have to be to think I’d ever spill even a drop of my cum in you? You seriously don’t deserve that.” You cried around him when a slap hit your cheek. Not nearly as hard as the ones he dealt to your ass, but it stung nonetheless.

His release sprayed the back of your throat, the sudden intrusion making you jump. “Sh-ha-shit.” You stared up at him, struggling to swallow whatever he gave you. He looked oddly beautiful as he came. “There we go!” Mitsuri cheered beside you, using her hand again to wipe your stray tears. “You made such a mess.” She disappeared from your vision, rustling could be heard around the room. You looked back at Obanai, is it done? Is it over?”

He pulled out of you slowly, moving to sit on the edge of the bed with a deep sigh. You began rubbing your sore jaw, jumping a little as Mitsuri appeared in front of you with a wet cloth. “Let’s clean up a bit and take a nap.” You tried to say okay but all that came out was a hoarse jumble of noises. “Sorry.” Your eyes shot up to Obanai, for the first time he actually looked apologetic.

He seemed a little surprised when you looked at him, his face shifting into one of disinterest. “Let’s get into bed, ‘m sleepy.” She looked adorable as she yawned, helping you off the floor and onto the bed. “I-Is it okay? For me to s-stay?” You were crawling under the covers as you spoke, your entire body aching. “It’s fine, shut up and sleep.” Obanai got in bed with you, perfectly sandwiching you between the two of them.

A mix of emotions flooded you along with an endless stream of questions. Why did I enjoy that? Was the one that rang through your head the most as you slowly drifted to sleep. Obanai waited until both your breathing and Mitsuri’s had evened out, signifying you were asleep. He laid on his side for a moment, taking in your sleeping face. He held his breath, not exactly sure what compelled him to do what he did next.

With a gentle hand against your cheek he leaned forward, placing a soft, barely there kiss above your brow.

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ how long does it take to fuck your brother's best friend? (four whole days)

synopsis. suguru comes home to visit from college at the same time you do—except he brings satoru along. this is going to be a long break

word count. 8.5k (i am tired of this tomfoolery)

contents. college! au, brother's best friend! satoru, fem! reader, minors do not interact, three-year age gap (you're both early twenties), slightly mean satoru (when you’re kids), slight enemies to lovers, jealous! satoru, mentions of reader having an ex-bf, male masturbation, satoru is taller + carries reader, cunnilingus, fingering, handjobs, unprotected sex, brief mentions of alcohol (satoru), creampie, pet names (baby + sweetheart), not proofread i could not be bothered i’m sorry

notes. this was not supposed to be this long bye i am embarrassingly down bad for the blue-eyed freak

everyone knows that where there is satoru, there is suguru—and likewise, where there is suguru, there is satoru.

they’re a bit of a packaged deal, really. satoru befriends your brother in what you think must be some twisted stroke of luck—there is no way suguru would lower his standards for some rich bastard who’s had life made for him since the day he was born. but apparently, he does, and you’re stuck with a white-haired nuisance in your house at least once a week. for years.

you’ve known satoru since he was a whiny, snot-faced, and spoiled little brat. back then, he used to call you toothless—you were six, it’s normal for children at the age of six to lose a few teeth. just because satoru is nine and has grown his teeth back doesn’t mean he escaped the toothless phase himself—but satoru is just a jerk like that, pushes your buttons, and calls out your insecurities to get a good laugh.

you don’t smile with your mouth open even once around him that summer, not until suguru assures you that regardless of how many teeth you have, you have a lovely smile.

when you’re twelve, puberty does its thing, and now you’re stuck with acne-prone skin—also a normal occurrence for people your age, but satoru makes sure to point out the giant pimple on your forehead every time he sees you. you make sure to let him know his haircut is as awful as his sense of style, and suguru tries his best not to choke himself with his charger as you both bicker.

satoru is gone that entire summer for a family cruise that you’re sure costs double your house—he comes back frighteningly taller than you remember him within the span of just a few weeks.

it’s been like that since you were kids. he comes over, finds a new thing to pick on through his smug grins and smooth chuckles, and you fume as you bite back with just as snarky rebuttals. he makes sure to never cross the line of going too far—it’s more for suguru’s sake, you’re fairly sure—but stays right on the dot of getting just under your skin.

he’s annoying. a jerk. a rich snob. a privileged dickhead. he’s rude and disrespectful, with no tact, let alone any semblance of respect. you don’t understand what could possibly make suguru want to hang around such a douchebag, but suguru cares about satoru—and satoru has always been there for your brother.

you don’t understand it, but you respect it. as long as he doesn’t wet your entire bathroom sink and mirror in the mornings after he stays over, you suppose you can coexist.

but you haven’t seen him in ages—not outside of suguru’s instagram stories and posts. it’s been a long few years since the two of them have left for college, and by the time you leave too, life has its funny way of working, and, well…you don’t bump into him anymore. it doesn’t occur to you that satoru is not the same guy you used to know until you come back home to visit after your second year of college.

“suguru,” you call, “i borrowed your hoodie. but you can have it back—”

you cut yourself off when you open the door to your brother’s room, and lo and behold, stands a very shirtless gojo satoru, the white-haired and blue-eyed asshole you’ve had to deal with since childhood. except he’s way taller than you remember him—just how much does this guy grow, exactly? his shoulders are broader and….and since when did he have abs? there’s a small tattoo just under his collarbone—when did he even get that? his hair is also longer, just enough to fall over his forehead and curtain those striking blue eyes of his.

he looks…well, handsome. very handsome, in fact. dangerously handsome that it catches you by surprise as you blink.

he’s still shirtless, holding his t-shirt in his hands as he grins.

“hey, toothless,” he greets, voice deeper than the last time you heard it—but it still sounds relatively the same. you think you’d always recognize satoru’s voice, whether you’d like to or not. and, of course, he just has to still use that ridiculous nickname after all these years. “long time no see.”

“i have all my teeth now—i have for a long time, y’know. and put a shirt on, you freak,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “where’s suguru?”

“what, you don’t enjoy the view?” he motions at his bare torso, like the shameless bastard he is, “most girls love this view—”

“and yet, you’re still single,” you cut him off, staring at him pointedly.

he grins impossibly wider, tugging his shirt over his body swiftly—you have to exercise all ounces of control not to gulp as you watch his biceps flex.

“keepin’ track of my love life?” he wiggles his brows, “i know older men can be appealing but have a little class. your poor brother would lose his shit if you went after his best friend—”

“satoru,” you sigh, pinching your nose, “do you age backward or something? how are you still this obnoxious after so long?”

“i practice in the mirror,” he winks, “it’s my charm.”

“that’s hardly charming,” you roll your eyes, “anyway, whenever suguru comes back, let him know i left his hoodie, yeah?”

“sure,” he chuckles.

and then you close the door as you leave—right before you stop, pause, and open it up again as you’re sticking your head back in when you make a shocking realization.

“wait, how long are you here for?” you ask, eyes wide.

he has the audacity to look smug as he taps his chin and pretends to think—“oh, y’know. just the rest of break. my old man took my mom on some trip, so i’m killing time here,” he shrugs.

great. lovely. wonderful. just what you needed.

you wish he’d drop dead—maybe suguru will finally be forced to go outside of his one-man circle and actually befriend some respectable people.

“you can’t just stay at your place?” you hiss, “it’s certainly big enough.”

“well, why be lonely in an empty home when we can have fun here?” he hums, “consider yourself lucky—you get to be housemates with me for a—”

“keep to yourself,” you warn, cutting him off again through narrowed eyes and a dangerous glare—satoru only looks more amused, raising his hands up in surrender.

with that, you turn again and almost shut the door when he calls for you—“hey, toothless,” he says lowly, making you pause before turning to him with a raised brow. he smiles—it’s so unlike that usual smirk of his…somehow this one is a bit gentler as he murmurs, “you look good. grew up well, y’know.”

you blink. you’re not ready for that…didn’t expect a compliment from gojo satoru himself—especially not after all this time of throwing mediocre insults your way.

you decide he must be messing with you, so you purse your lips as you click your teeth in irritation. “yeah, sure,” you say dryly.

you can hear his chuckles as you close the door again—this is going to be a long break.

—————

just as expected, the house is simply not big enough for you and satoru.

the first time you run into him happens to be first thing after waking up—you’re walking up to the door just as he twists the knob and opens it, walking out shirtless. again.

this time, however, he’s got beads of water rolling down his skin from his shower, right between his pecs, as a towel hangs around his shoulders. you can see his tattoo from up close now, a small infinity sign right under his collarbone that contrasts against his pale skin.

how tacky, you think—just as you’d expect, even his choice of tattoos is questionable.

his hair is wet—it’s sticking to his forehead instead of the multiple directions it usually scatters around in that messy way it always does. you’ve only felt satoru’s hair once—when you were fifteen, and you’d hit him in the back of the head as you walked past him at the breakfast table. he’d made a jab at your dark circles. tests were around the corner, and unlike satoru, your grades actually mattered. you didn’t expect his hair to be so soft, but it is, and you almost itch to twirl the strands around your fingers for a quick feel.

instead, you scowl and stomp off to your room as soon as your dishes are washed.

his hair is probably just as soft now—maybe even softer now that he actually probably cares to look after it. you’ve heard suguru grumble about using two-in-one shampoo too many times when he comes back from spending the night at satoru’s. for a second, your fingers twitch to reach up and brush through a few strands on his forehead—just to feel them because they look soft. nothing else.

the urge is quickly killed as soon as he opens his mouth, however.

“oh, hey there, roomie,” he grins, “you’re really doing all you can to catch me half naked, huh?”

“don’t flatter yourself,” you grumble.

“i’m just sayin’,” he chuckles, “that’s twice now. if you ask nicely, i might walk around like this just for you.”

it’s way too early for this.

by early, it’s actually late noon. now that finals aren’t killing your free time, you stay up until ungodly hours to catch up with your social life—and it doesn’t help that you can hear satoru and suguru stay up playing video games the next room over, either. suguru is probably still sleeping.

that’s a bit of a shocker, in fact—usually, it’s satoru that has to be dragged out of your brother’s room to have breakfast (or brunch, really) before the kitchen is cleared up. why satoru is up first is beyond you.

maybe it’s just a cruel way for the universe to enjoy watching more of your veins pop.

“does that apply to asking you to leave? because then i suppose i can ask rather politely.”

he grins, eyes sparkling with amusement as he shoots you that smile with those pearly whites that irritate you to no end. you’re not sure why, but something about his smile looks so much different nowadays—something about it just seems so….mature.

that’s a word you didn’t think you’d ever use to describe satoru.

“mm, not quite,” he hums, “you’re still stuck with me.”

“whatever,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. “move, i want to shower before suguru wakes up.”

“you have time,” he steps to the side, letting you enter the bathroom, “he’s probably not waking up anytime soon—woah.”

satoru’s shirt is on the floor—why, you may ask? because he’s an annoying idiot who doesn’t have to clean up after himself when people have always been around to do it for him. he never has to care to aim and toss his clothes into the hamper because the maids will pick up after him anyway. old habits die hard, you suppose—you’ve listened to suguru complain about satoru’s messiness not improving even after being his roommate for the last few years. it’s never been your problem, but you don’t appreciate it now that you’re slipping over the fabric on the tiled floor, falling backwards with a squeal.

but satoru’s quick—he catches you with those strong arms of his and wraps them tightly around you, keeping you securely in place as he steadies you against his chest.

his bare chest, in fact.

you can feel the slight dampness seeping into your shirt, and you can feel his hot breath on your neck as he exhales in relief once he makes sure you’re safe. you almost shiver—almost, but you manage to scrape together enough self-control to stay painfully still in his grasp.

“you okay?” he murmurs gently, voice a low whisper against your skin. there’s no bite to his words. no amusement or teasing or even smugness. it’s genuine, the way he checks on you.

this is…new. very, very new.

“yeah,” you breathe, letting out a sharp breath. and then—“maybe keep your clothes in the fucking hamper next time, though.”

“sorry,” the smile in his voice is almost audible—you can’t see it from where you are, but you can hear it in his voice. you roll your eyes, and satoru makes no move to loosen his arms around you. for some reason, you don’t move.

you’re not sure why, but you just don’t.

“you’re still just as messy, huh?” you roll your eyes—he laughs, and it’s a smooth, boyish chuckle that almost makes you wonder for a moment if this is why girls seem to love satoru so much despite his god-awful personality.

it’s a pretty beautiful sound—you hate that you have to admit that to yourself.

“yeah,” he admits, “it drives suguru nuts.”

“yeah, i can’t imagine why,” you snort. it’s like that for a moment—satoru’s muscled arms around you and hard chest pressed against your back. finally, you clear your throat. “you can let go now, you know.”

“right,” he mumbles, slowly pulling away—and when you turn to face him….is that disappointment? on his face? you don’t get a chance to be sure because then he’s bending down to pick up his shirt before he’s standing—he’s already wiped the expression from his features completely by then. “sorry about that, toothless. i’ll keep my shirts off the floor next time.”

“that would be so kind of you,” you smile sarcastically.

and then you shut the door in his face and exhale as you lean against the wall.

this is going to be a longer break than you thought.

—————

the next time you run into him, it’s late at night. everyone is asleep—even your brother and his headache of a best friend, if the silence tells you anything. you can’t sleep, though, so you make your way to the kitchen to hunt for snacks. you’re skimming through the pantry before your eyes land on a surprise—a box of strawberry pocky sits nice and enticingly, right there for you to open and devour.

you grin, reaching over when—

“those are mine,” satoru calls, stepping into the kitchen, “brought them over myself. you should ask before touching people’s things.”

“you literally ate my leftovers the other night,” you say incredulously.

“those were yours? i thought they were suguru’s.” he raises a brow in surprise, making you click your teeth in irritation.

“the principle of asking still applies,” you purse your lips. and then defiantly, you open the box and grab a pack right before his eyes.

he scowls—but you know he doesn’t actually mind because he waits for you to finish grabbing yours before taking the box and grabbing his own pack and a coke from the fridge. you both take a seat at the kitchen table, across from each other, as you open the packaging and silently eat your newfound snack.

it’s satoru who breaks the silence first.

“do you still throw away the ends of these?”

you huff indignantly, not meeting his eyes as you take a bite off the strawberry-covered end, stopping at just where the cookie portion is uncoated. “yes. i’m eating these for the coating—not the bland biscuit part.”

“what’re you, five?” he snickers, earning a glare from you. defiantly, you pop the end of the pocky stick into your mouth just to prove a point—and then the look of distaste makes him cackle louder. 

“shut up,” you hiss, “you talk too much.”

“the ladies love it when i do,” he bats his lashes—you stare at him blankly, unimpressed.

“yeah, as if.”

“hey, my ex-girlfriend totally did,” he defends.

ex-girlfriend? that’s a bit of a shocker—you didn’t know satoru dated anyone in the last few years, you haven’t seen or heard anything of it through suguru’s end. in all realness, you didn’t even think satoru was the boyfriend type…but then again, he’s not really the anything type. he just kind of exists to take up space and be the bane of your existence. 

“i hope the poor girl is recovering well after dating you,” you shake your head, feigning a concerned look on your face that makes him roll his eyes—they’re still disturbingly bright even in the dark kitchen, dimly lit by the slightest bit of moonlight pouring in through the small window.

“i dated her freshman and sophomore year,” he says casually. you also didn’t expect that—that it lasted that long. something about satoru doesn’t strike you as the long-term relationship kind of guy. something about him doesn’t seem like the relationship kind of guy at all. not because he’s the type to mess around casually, but because he seems the type to seem disinterested all around—he’s snobby like that. “she was…alright, i guess.”

yeah. very snobby.

“you are such a sick bastard,” you spit.

he snorts, taking a bite of his pocky as he shakes his head in amusement. you’re as feisty as ever—it’s always fun riling you up, even if unintentionally.

“hey, it’s not like she was bad. she was just…well, she wasn’t interested in me like that either,” he shrugs, “i think it was just the sex. it was good, can’t lie there.”

“you’re so gross,” you roll your eyes, “have some decorum.”

“what, you’re still sixteen?” he raises a brow, lips curling into a smirk as he reaches for another pocky, “can’t say the word s-e-x?”

“i don’t broadcast my sexual activities out in the open,” you shrug.

satoru chuckles, taking a bite that more or less finishes the entire stick in one go before he presses a finger to his lips, “shh. don’t say that too loud—suguru will come chase you from his room if he hears.”

“suguru,” you groan, “he’s such a pain to have around sometimes. y’know i dated this one guy last year. i think suguru might’ve paid him to dump me.”

“i know. he definitely thought about it,” satoru hums, “he used to go off about it all the time. he was right, though—that guy was a total prick.”

something about you is mildly shocked that satoru knows about your private life—sure, it’s not outrageous or even the slightest bit unlikely that suguru mentions you. satoru and suguru are best friends, and you happen to be suguru’s sister—of course, suguru is bound to mention you here and there. it’s just the fact that satoru even pays attention to anything to do with you that surprises you—although you suppose it would be a good way for him to find his next source to push your buttons.

“i’m not surprised you think he’s a prick,” you nod, “it takes one to know one, after all.”

“oh yeah?” he snorts, waving you off, “i do, in fact remember anniversaries, y’know.”

“okay,” you sigh, defeated—your ex-boyfriend is admittedly not at the top of the list of your brightest choices. not even up halfway on the list. in fact, he’s so low on the list of good choices you’ve made, that willingly choosing to interact with satoru feels like an exceptional decision in comparison. and that’s saying something. “he was pretty bad. but he was really hot. when a guy looks like that, his values are the least of my worries.”

it’s a joke—you’re sure he knows that. but satoru takes a long sip from his coke, silent for a moment. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so serious, especially so suddenly.

“he can’t be that hot,” he mutters.

“oh he was really hot. probably the hottest guy i’ve ever talked to—” satoru bites his pocky a bit aggressively at that, “and he was so tall. maybe taller than you—how tall are you again? anyway, he was pretty enough to overlook his shortcomings.”

“he’s probably not taller than me,” he grumbles, frowning. you snort—men and their fragile little egos, you think in amusement.

“he was,” you tease, “he was so tall, i’d let him do whatever he wanted.”

“that’s a terrible way to look at it,” he scrunches his brows, “you shouldn’t let some guy walk all over you because he’s tall and his face is a bit easy on the eyes—”

“i know you’re not talking—”

“i’m serious,” he cuts you off. something about him reminds you of suguru for a moment—like he cares who you’re with because he has a reason to. as if you mean something to him, as if knowing someone who doesn’t deserve you has you in their palms is upsetting.

but then you shake the thought out of your head—satoru doesn’t care. he’s never had a reason to, and you don’t exactly plan to give him one, either.

“okay, dad,” you roll your eyes, “i learned my lesson. i have standards now.”

“good,” he nods—and then, as if to keep himself in character, he adds, “because i don’t want to help suguru kill someone, and it’s over something lame like forgetting his little sister’s anniversary. i’d like to go to jail for something more badass.”

“you and badass don’t belong in the same sentence,” you raise a brow. “let’s be realistic.”

“oh yeah? that’s rich coming from—”

“guys, it is five in the morning,” suguru grumbles, throwing a water bottle at satoru’s head. you glance at the kitchen entrance, eyeing a half-asleep and very irritable suguru as he crosses his arms, “can’t you idiots fight over who’s more of a loser at reasonable hours? some of us like to sleep.”

“want one?” you offer your pack of pocky, holding it out to him.

suguru blinks, contemplating for a second before sighing and trudging over.

“yeah,” he mutters, flicking your forehead. “gimme that.”

you watch woefully as suguru takes the entirety of your pack, swiftly sitting next to satoru and leaving you empty-handed. satoru snickers obnoxiously at the deflated look on your face—and then he holds out his pack to you.

you look between him and the pack for a moment before giving him a genuine smile. it’s a rare sight—he drinks it in as you carefully take one and bicker over something with suguru.

you’re pretty when you smile, he thinks—pretty enough that if you had horrible values (which you don’t), he might feel inclined to understand your (awful) reasoning for a moment.

and then he blinks and shakes the thoughts out of his head—it’s going to be a long break.

—————

satoru meets you when you’re six. 

he’s nine at the time, and he feels on top of the world knowing he’s three whole years older than you—in hindsight, three years is not a very large gap, but to nine-year-old him, it feels like centuries. he’s remembered you as the fun little drama queen that’s too easy to poke fun at for years—that’s all you’ve always been: suguru’s younger sister who puffs her cheeks out and scowls way too often to be normal, the girl that’s way too easy to tease than should be standard. 

somehow, he wasn’t expecting for you to come back so grown…and so hot. suddenly, it really hits him that you’re not a kid—have not really been for a long time now. he’s always treated you like you’re way younger than he is, way too little to be in his presence and be worthy of it—but you’ve really become a fine young woman.

a magnetizing one, in fact.

it’s now his third night at your house—your parents are as lovely and welcoming as ever, and suguru is always a good time to be around. but somehow, satoru is not satisfied. not anywhere near sated by the few, minimal moments of contact with you. 

when did you get so pretty? although, as much as satoru has always liked to poke fun at you, you’ve never been ugly. not even a little—but you’ve grown into your features better, outgrown the awkward teenage era of your life, and now present yourself with a newfound confidence that just looks…so good. satoru doesn’t see his best friend's kid sister anymore—no, there’s something so alluring about you now.

the nail on the coffin that solidifies he’s officially screwed is when you mention your ex-boyfriend—why would your dating life make him this irrationally angry? why is the thought of someone being on the receiving end of your praise (and shameless heart-eyes) so aggravating for him? 

he doesn’t know—but what he does know is that the raging boner has been killing him all morning ever since he woke up from…well, less than proper dreams about you.

so now he’s here, forehead pressed against your shower wall as the hot water hits his back, swollen cock in his fist as he thumbs at the tip, teasing the slit just the way he likes. he thinks about you—how he’d show you what makes him feel good, how you’d probably learn fast and take care of him just the way he needs. 

your hand would look so much daintier compared to his—smaller, but he’s sure it would still feel infinitely better. 

he bites his lip, fighting back a moan as he strokes himself slowly, pre cum smeared along the length of his hard, aching cock—red and angry at the tip, leaking with more pre cum no matter how many times his thumb collects every drop. 

“f-fuck—” he breathes, and his voice lets out a shaky, breathy little call of your name—he’s screwed if anyone hears it. he’s sure you and suguru will both band together to kill him, but thankfully, the words are lost in the sound of the shower running. “fuck baby,” he says hoarsely, voice cracking ever so slightly as he whines. 

it’s soft and quiet, the noises he makes—careful and deliberately hushed to make sure no one hears the improper way he’s thinking of you right now. but fuck, your tits are so pretty when you walk out of your room in a t-shirt in the mornings—he can just tell you’re not wearing a bra. he can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop trying to picture what they’d look like uncovered and bouncing.

“jus’ like that, baby,” he pants, whimpering softly as he squeezes around his tip, teasing himself with that slow, painful pace of his. 

satoru is sure that if it were you, that if the hand stroking his cock right now was yours, you would never let him cum so easily—you’d drag it out just like this, pump him slowly and twist your hand around him in a pace that’s painfully not enough before ever thinking about letting him come undone. 

it’s just the way that you are—never ready to back down from a challenge, unwilling to go down without a fight. but he loves it, he thinks—lives for the way you keep him on his toes and work for the satisfaction. 

“more,” he gasps, “n-need more—gimme more, sweetheart.”

he imagines it—the way you’d kiss his jaw, maybe even the corner of his mouth, as you hum. say please, toru, you’d probably say—and fuck, he’d kill to hear you say toru. 

“please,” he rasps, “please, baby. d-don’t tease.”

he can practically hear your light giggles, the sweet, okay, baby. no more teasing, that you might whisper. he’d also kill to hear you call him baby—he’s almost nauseous at the idea that some other guy must’ve heard the pet name from your lips before him. and then he lets himself pump his erection faster, squeezing tighter as his thighs quiver while he stands in the shower. 

fuck—you feel so good. you’re not even here, but he’s sure you do, and he’s desperate to envision it. it practically hurts—the way he’s so hard and swollen and ready to release. just for you, he wants to tell you, he’s going to cum all for you. 

“baby,” he whimpers, “‘m so, so close—fuck ‘m gonna cum. ‘s for you—gonna cum for you—ngh, sh-shit.”

and then there’s cum on the tile walls, on his hands, on his abs as they flex with every labored breath. satoru cums—hard. his eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted with a silent cry as he pants and strokes himself through his high. you’d kiss him, he likes to think, on his jaw and cheeks and maybe the tip of his nose as you sit on his lap and work him through his orgasm. you’d watch him closely, take in the way he comes undone for you, maybe even call him your pretty boy as he paints your hand white with his seed.

would you praise him? murmur softly into his ear and seal the gentle words with a kiss to his skin? would you stroke his hair from his face as you admire his blissful, fucked out little expression? maybe he’d ask you then—maybe he’d ask you to admit he’s way more handsome than that douchebag you dated as your hand holds his softening cock, sticky with his release.

god, what he wouldn’t do to see your hands coated with his cum—did you do this for your ex? did he look as hot as you claim he was when he came for you? the thought makes him sour—he grits his teeth and clenches his jaw at the idea, panting and catching his breath as he stares down at the mess he’s made.

he should feel bad—this is wrong. so, so wrong—suguru would kill him if he was aware satoru was lusting over his little sister. but it felt so fucking good—he’s never cum as hard as when he’s pictured cumming for you. 

it can’t be that wrong, if that’s the case—can it?

——

“suguru,” your voice is shrill, deadly—like you’re out for blood. “next time you jack off in the shower, maybe clean the fucking wall? are you joking?”

“wha—i definitely cleaned that,” suguru defends. 

oh, fuck, satoru thinks—he forgot to clean that. so he makes himself very scarce and stays within the confinements of suguru’s bedroom—his messy habits are starting to really catch up to him. if his defense, he really would clean that up…it’s just that he was a bit distracted. 

“so you admit you jack off in our shower? our shower?” you sound inconsolable, downright devastated, and borderline hysterical. having siblings seems like a lot of trouble, he thinks—but then again, sometimes satoru is jealous of your bond with suguru. it’d be nice to have someone in his family he can actually depend on. “keep that shit for your bedroom, you jackass!”

“well, how am i supposed to do that when satoru is there? you tell me.”

“i don’t know! figure it the fuck out—you guys probably jack off together anyway.”

“what?” suguru sounds appalled, “we do not—that’s outrageous.”

“whatever,” you say—you sound almost murderous as you warn, “next time you better clean up your fucking mess, you asshole.”

satoru can’t help but smile a little—your pointer finger is definitely held up as you scold suguru—you’re so cute when you’re mad, he thinks. he almost wants to step out and catch a glimpse, but he decides against it for now.

silently, satoru thanks his best friend for taking one for the team—even if it was unknowingly.

—————

it’s night four. 

satoru has surprisingly kept to himself—he even promptly looked away after meeting your eyes in the kitchen yesterday morning as you walked in for breakfast. that’s…new. a lot about satoru is new. 

he’s taller and more muscular now—at one point, suguru used to tower over his scrawny little form. now he’s seemed to grow into his body, seemed to learn how to style himself better, and actually do his hair a bit. it’s still messy now that he’s just lazing around in your home—but it’s oddly handsome. 

scarily handsome, in fact. 

you don’t enjoy the idea of thinking about the jerk of your childhood like that—but ever since you felt the hard press of his chest against your back, sometimes you wonder what it’s like to know satoru outside of just your older brother’s obnoxious friend. 

maybe, somewhere along the line, had you put your pride aside and actually tried to get to know him, maybe you both could at least be friendly. but then again, there’s never been any real animosity between you two—you can share a lighthearted talk from time to time, like that night in the kitchen. 

you decide not to dwell on it too much, decide that he’s not really worth your thoughts when he’s just a guy who’s always been a bit too spoiled to learn how to be humble. instead, you go down to the kitchen to grab another pack of strawberry pocky—satoru will just have to deal with it. if he doesn’t want his snacks eaten, he shouldn’t keep them in the pantry where anyone could stumble across them.

you walk into the kitchen until—oh. it’s satoru. again.

“oh, hey,” he grins cheekily, taking a sip of his coke—he needs to break the habit of having so much sugar this late at night…but then again, why would it matter to you? “stalkin’ me?”

“for an unwelcomed guest, you sure do talk a lot,” you roll your eyes, making his lips curl into a smug little smirk. 

“i don’t know—your parents seem to love having me over. what if i become their newest son?”

“i doubt my parents are looking to adopt you,” you raise a brow, slightly amused. 

he hums, sipping his coke before blinking at you through those long, perfect lashes of his. “well, there are other ways to blend into a family. marriage, for example, is a great way.”

“you and my brother might as well marry each other,” you snort, “no one else will do it.”

“who said anything about suguru?” he winks, chuckling when your face twists into an exaggerated look of horror—always as dramatic as ever, you are. he can’t help but find an endearing side to it now.

satoru stands, walks over to where you are and stands in front of you as you scoff, shaking your head as you huff out a disbelieving chuckle. 

“that’s pushing it,” you muse, “marrying you would be the last open option i’d have left—and even then i doubt i’d ever take it.”

“yeah?” he raises a brow, leaning in so close, you can practically feel his breath fan over you. he smells like expensive cologne and your shampoo—why is he using yours instead of suguru’s? before you can even ask him what he’s doing, he throws away the empty can of coke in the trash can behind you, eyes bright with amusement as your breath hitches.

it’s like he knows—the fucking asshole.

“yeah,” you breathe, “you don’t deserve me,” you try to say matter-of-factly. it comes off a bit more breathless than you intended—the air feels suffocating. maybe because satoru is so close, maybe because his breath is on your face, maybe because all you can smell and feel and hear is him. 

you can’t find it in yourself to pull away—why aren’t you pulling away? it’s just like that day he caught you, when his arms wrapped around you and all you felt like doing was lean into his chest. what about satoru and you has shifted so quickly to make you want to do that? what makes him so easy to fall into when all you’ve always known was to shove at him?

he hums, leaning in closer and closer until his forehead touches yours. “you know who didn’t deserve you?” he asks, “that shitty ex of yours.”

you look up at him with wide eyes, speechless as his hands find purchase of your hips, grabbing them and pulling you closer—and against better judgment, your hands lay themselves across his chest. it’s as firm as you remember it. 

“how would you know—”

“heard suguru rant about it all the time,” he murmurs, “how he forgot your dates. got you a shitty birthday present. didn’t show up to your anniversary. made you hang out with his friends and didn’t even meet half of yours. you’re tellin’ me he deserves you more than me?”

“he was hot—”

“yeah? and i’m not?”

he’s cocky—you hate that about him. always did. but he’s so close, so intoxicating, so irresistible, and fuck, he is hot—so incredibly hot, you’ve been losing sleep over it the last four nights no matter how hard you try to deny it. 

“satoru, what are you—”

“y’know, i’ve been helping suguru pick your birthday presents since you were twelve. i’d pick you the best gifts,” his nose is brushing against yours now, lips just millimeters away from his as he speaks—“and i never forget an important date. i’m very punctual too, believe it or not. i’d meet your little friends—show ‘em what a catch i am when you introduce me.”

“and what am i supposed to do with this information?” you ask defiantly.

it’s a last-ditch effort—you both know this. you know exactly what he wants you to do with this information. 

“i don’t know, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “what do you think?”

and then you’re kissing him—because fuck, satoru is right there, and how could you not? his chest is under your palms, his lips are right against yours, and you can feel his thumb rub circles into your hips. 

so you kiss him—loop your arms around his neck and tug him closer and press your lips to his. he groans, responds almost instantly as his mouth molds against yours, kissing you deeper as his hand moves to cup your cheek.

your lips are softer than he thought, and his hair is silky against your fingers. you tug at the strands, grab a handful, and feel them against your fingers like you’ve wanted to for so long. and when he nips at your bottom lip, who are you to deny him? your lips part, letting his tongue slide in and taste you with a breathy sigh that makes your knees wobble. 

“s-satoru,” you stutter, whispering between kisses, “suguru might come in like last time—”

“god,” he groans, head burying into your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the skin, “don’t fucking talk about your brother right now. please.”

“my room,” you say urgently—it’s all he needs to hear before his hands are on your ass, grabbing you as you wrap your legs around his hips. it’s urgent, the way his mouth is back on yours—he doesn’t pull away even once the entire walk to your room, not even when he lets your back fall onto the mattress as he hovers over you, pressing kisses along your collarbone. 

no bra, he notes happily, his hand sneaking under your shirt to toy with your pert nipples. 

“god, you’ve been driving me fuckin’ crazy,” he mumbles, tugging the hem of your shirt over your arms and tossing it over his shoulder. he stares, takes in the sight of the same tits he’s been fantasizing over for the last few days in awe. “you know that? been thinkin’ about these for days,” he says lowly, cupping your tit and massaging as he presses a kiss to your jaw. 

“you’re shameless,” you mutter, snorting before you cut yourself off with a gasp as he squeezes your nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers and pulling a soft whine from you.

“shhh,” he chuckles, tilting his head toward the wall next to you, “don’t want suguru to hear, do you? that wouldn’t be nice, would it?”

“it’ll be worse for you than me,” you grin, tugging at the hem of his own shirt, indicating you want it off. he grins widely, wiggling his brows and making you purse your lips.

“wanna see me shirtless again, huh? third times the charm, as they say,” he winks. you would retort with something as witty, but then your eyes fall on that tattoo again—right under his collarbone, making your hand reach out to trace it with your thumb. 

“what compelled you to get this corny little tattoo of yours,” you grin, giggling as you trace over the small infinity sign. 

for the first time, you think you witness satoru shy, blushing as he rubs the back of his neck and chuckles awkwardly. “that…that was an accident. when i got drunk for the first time.”

“oh,” you snort, “you’re so weak, satoru—”

“do me a favor, sweetheart,” he hums, cutting you off, “as much as i love when you say my name, say toru for me, yeah? i wanna hear it.”

you roll your eyes, huffing as your hand finds the back of his head and pulls him into another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he grinds the throbbing erection in his sweats over your heated core. 

“toru,” you say breathlessly, “more.”

that’s all he needs to hear—satoru doesn’t waste a second before he’s crawling between your legs, sliding your cute little pajama pants down your legs before meeting your dripping pussy.

it’s wet—so wet, he almost wants to chuckle and tease you a bit. just for old-time's sake. but the ache that shoots down to his cock reminds him that he’s in no position to tease you when he’s not faring any better himself. so he spreads your legs, kisses lightly at your clit in a feather-like touch that has you whimpering and clutching the sheets in anticipation.

“how pretty,” he mumbles, “been hiding this pretty little thing all this time. what a perfect pussy.”

“satoru,” you gasp in embarrassment, hands reaching for his hair and tugging him closer to where you need him most—equal parts because you really need his mouth on your cunt and equal parts because you really need him to shut up. 

but he chuckles, takes his time to spread your folds open with his thumbs, and watches in wonder as you flutter around nothing, arousal dripping and leaving a mess. it’s perfect—you’re perfect, and he wants to take his time with you. 

“god, you’re soaked,” he groans, chuckling as he murmurs, “that’s fuckin’ cute.”

before you can even whine at the way his words are shameless, his mouth is back to kissing your clit, lips wrapping around it as he sucks and rolls his tongue along the sensitive bud. his fingers sink deep into you, pushing past your folds and slowly bullying into you until the tips of his fingers curl and brush against a spot that makes you squeal. 

you gasp a breathy, “fuck, toru—” before he hums around your clit, vibrations making you whimper as he thrusts his fingers back in to hit that spot again. it’s sensitive, the way he makes you feel—your nerves are on fire, and your head is light, and fuck, it feels so good you can’t help but sob brokenly and squeeze your thighs around his head. he moans against your cunt, pulling his fingers out before letting his tongue lick a stripe along your slit, tasting you with a sharp inhale. 

“f-feels good,” you whimper, biting your lip as your eyes crinkle at the corners from squeezing shut.

“yeah?” he hums, kissing your inner thigh, leaving a wet little sheen of his spit and your arousal on the skin, “that’s a good girl—just keep telling me how good i make you feel, kay?”

he could stay buried nose-deep into your pussy for as long as you let him—tongue alternating between fucking into you and rolling over your swollen clit, hearing the broken little gasps and whines of his name as you repeat toru over and over again like a prayer. his hand grips at your thigh, sinking his fingertips into the plush skin and rubbing soothingly with his thumb as you rut your hips and grind against his face. 

satoru has half a mind to watch it again—to lick and suck at your core again and again just so he could burn into his mind what you look like when you cum. it’s divine—like he’s halfway to stepping into heaven and has to pause just to admire the sight before him. 

your hips leave the mattress as your back arches, and your fingers tug relentlessly at his roots as your walls quiver, letting satoru taste every drop of your release as you press a palm to your hand and try to keep yourself from squealing at the pleasure.

suguru is right next door. you can’t wake him—can’t let him know this is what you and his best friend get up to in the late hours of the night. 

it’s not until satoru pulls away, catching his breath as he wipes the wet trail on his chin does he realize how hard he is—how badly he’s aching as his cock strains against his sweats. he hisses as he frees himself; ridding his sweats and boxers and wrapping a large hand around the tip of his erection and smearing the leaking pre cum along his length. 

you watch in awe, reaching over and replacing his hand with yours. satoru was right—your hand is infinitely smaller than his, and yet, it feels a great deal better. so much better, in fact, that his arms shake as he hovers over you, burying his head into your neck and groaning as you slowly stroke him, squeezing at the tip and rolling your thumb through the slit.

he didn’t even have to show you what he wanted, what makes him feel good, what makes his mind fog with pleasure and burn through every nerve. no, you figure it all out on your own, pulling strangled moans and hushed gasps from him that make your clit ache once more. 

“fuck, baby,” he pants, “can’t last long like this—c’mon, g-gotta feel you.” gently, he pries your hand from his thick, pulsing cock, laying it against your stomach as he peers down in fascination. “i’ll be right here,” he hums, drawing a line on your skin right where his tip ends, “see that? that’s where you’ll feel me, sweetheart.”

“then let me feel you,” you murmur, cupping his cheeks and brushing a thumb over the skin, “fuck me, toru—wan’ it so bad.”

so he does—drags his tip along your folds and collects the slick pooling at your entrance before pushing his tip past your folds, splitting you in half as he slowly buries himself to the hilt. his jaw is clenched, breath labored as he waits for you to adjust, lets you kiss his cheeks and nose as you murmur how handsome he is, how perfect he feels, how good is to you. 

“that asshole ever make you cum?” he asks lowly, “he ever eat your pussy like that? make you cum hard enough you had to cover your mouth so you’re not screaming his name?”

“no,” you breathe, quivering as his thumb rolls over your clit in slow circles, still painfully still as he stares down at you, “n-no, never. just you—only you—”

“good,” he grins, “that’s what i like to hear. and when i make you cum on my cock, make sure to tell me he’s never done that either, yeah?”

“you’re full of it,” you scoff, “always have been.”

“and you’re full of me,” he says cheekily, chuckling as you glare half-heartedly. “can i move, baby? please? need more, ‘s not enough. n-need more—”

“yeah,” you whimper, pulling him closer, chests brushing against each other as your lips meet in a sloppy kiss, “yeah—need more too, toru.”

satoru, in all his years of knowing you, has never seen the side of you that could be this gentle. the side that glides your hands over his back, feeling every flex and every pull of his muscles, gently caressing the skin like it’s holy, like it’s not worthy of marks—instead to be worshipped and revered with thoughtful touches. your lips sear into every part of him they can find—his lips, his forehead, his nose, his hair as his face digs into your neck. even your voice is a gentle whisper of his name, so soft and careful, it’s like saying it wrong could break him. 

your hips buck up in tandem with his, meeting his rhythm as he slams into you, his balls slapping against your skin as he buries his cock into you as deep as it’ll go with every harsh thrust. you can feel his tip kissing against that sweet spot in the back of your walls, your abused cunt sucking him in and hugging around him as he groans. 

the friction feels sickening, like he’ll pass out any second, like he’s floating between the precipice of pleasure and the edge of consciousness. 

you do that to him—he doesn’t know how or when or why, but you make him feel like he doesn’t have a grip on his own senses. he doesn’t mind it so much, he thinks—doesn’t hate the idea of letting himself fall into your palm and wrap around him. it feels nicer that way, like it’s where he belongs.

“fuck, ‘s so tight,” he rasps, whining into your neck as your hand cups the back of his head, holding him in place. his hips are rutting into you sloppily now, barely maintaining the rhythm from before as he nears his high—but that doesn't stop him from angling into you perfectly, slamming into your sensitive spot every time without fail. “c-cum—’m gonna cum. cum with me, sweetheart.”

“‘m so close, toru,” you sob—and then, just as his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing harsh, desperate little circles to get you over the edge, you cum again—harder than the last time, spasming around his cock and pulling him in as you squeeze around him. “t-toru,” you gasp brokenly, “fuck, ‘s good—so good.”

“baby,” he moans lowly, “fuck, you’re so perfect. prettiest thing ever—prettiest pussy ever. i, sh-shit—” your orgasm quickly has him falling into his own, hot, thick ropes of cum spilling into you with every twitch of his cock, sweet little noises pulled from his throat that he sings into your neck, fucking his load into you. 

it’s messy, the way cum spills out of you and coats his cock—but it’s perfect and feels so, so right. you can’t help but think how perfectly satoru fits against you as his body slumps on top of yours, panting and spent as he cages you in his arms.

your hand doesn’t leave his hair—now that you know how it feels, you don’t think you can stop threading your fingers through it, ever. 

“wow, toothless,” he chuckles after a bit, “you’re seriously obsessed with me, huh? i mean, how long have you been nursing this crush on me, hmm? thinking about your brother’s best friend, you naughty little thing—”

“satoru, would you shut that mouth for once,” you hiss, rolling your eyes—still, there’s an affectionate grin on your lips this time as he chuckles into your skin. 

“oh baby, i’m afraid this mouth never shuts, so you should get used—”

suddenly, you both freeze as you hear suguru’s voice through the door. “you two better not be fucking doing what i think you’re doing,” he growls, making your jaw drop and satoru’s eyes widen.

fuck—that was never supposed to happen. suguru was never supposed to hear, let alone know.

“hey,” satoru starts, “if suguru kicks me out of our place, i can come be your new permanent housemate, right?”

do not comment about a part 2

yeah he can come live with me any time and as long as he pays by sucking my tiddies i shall provide all food and utilities and everything

perv!hinata almost going feral after meeting airhead!you during a beach volleyball skirmish just as the sun is going down. you’re at the front row of the crowd in your little bikini set, top barely covering your delicious tits as it bounces when you cheer him on, shaking your fists in makeshift pom-poms.

he couldn’t help the stir of his cock in his shorts as he hears you shout his name in a saccharine tone, wondering if that’s how you’d sound in the bedroom.

hinata getting all fired up from all the cheering, especially from you, that him and his teammate manage to win the skirmish 2-0 in a breeze if it meant he get to talk to you sooner. and how he thanked the gods when you’re still in the same place after the game, seemingly waiting for him with stars in your eyes.

he tried to be respectful at first, gaze trying to stray away from your cleavage as you babbled to him how amazing he was. then you told him how hot and sexy he looked until he turned beet red from your forwardness.

him flushed even redder when you reached out for his arm, pulling it plush against your bikini clad breasts, asking him to teach you how to play beach volleyball. and he can’t say no to a perfect opportunity.

he’s more than happy to help, although some of his methods maybe questionable. he leads you both to a more secluded area of the beach, just behind a closed hut where the street lights barely shine, reasoning with you that it’s better if there’s no distractions around you.

after that he shows you the right form to receive and he watches in excitement as you try to mirror his stance, pressing your tits together with your arms out then hitting the ball, hinata holding back a groan when he watches them jiggle from the hit.

he acts nonchalant about it, clearing his throat with crossed arms and telling you that your posture is off before proceeding to stand behind you to ‘help you the proper way’ instead of showing you side by side. the tent in his shorts only tighten as his fingers dig into the fat of your hips and a squeak of surprise leaves your mouth.

Keep reading

" 'cause I don't want to be in love with another, even in another life."

Keigo loved you as Icarus loved the sun—too close, too much.

The story of Icarus is a greek myth. One where Icarus made his own wings and was warned of the impending dangers of the sun. He ignored them and flew near it anyway—burning his wings before falling to his death.

hawks x reader & slight dabi x reader

warning; this may be the best piece of fiction i have ever written

Keigo didn't know where exactly he was walking to.

All he knew was that he was on break. As a boy who had just freshly turned sixteen, he was working full time to become one of the greatest heroes to live. It was his dream, one he would work hard to fulfill no matter what it took.

He's walking through an unfamiliar neighborhood. It was a lot like the one he grew up in when he was younger. While this one didn't seem necessarily dangerous, the run down houses and poorly taken care of lawns indicated this wasn't a wealthy area like the ones he was slowly beginning to become accustomed to with his new lifestyle.

But there are children running and playing around, adults sitting on their porches and chatting away as they smoke. It was different than what he once knew. He wonders if maybe his old neighborhood is like this now—more open, more free, where people could roam the streets without fear

He almost didn't hear you at first. His steps were optimistic and a little quicker than they usually were as he walked down the sidewalk. He lifted one of his wings to cover his gaze from the relentless sun that beat down on Japan. He almost passed the small sound he heard as an animal scurrying by, but he heard it again—a quiet whimper that suddenly sounded a lot more human.

His footsteps slow in front of the dark alley, and he carefully side steps to enter it. He sees you almost immediately, with your knees pulled to your chest, fingers tugging harshly at the strands of your matted hair as you held your head in your hands

"Hey," Keigo quickly said, kneeling down onto the dirty ground completely as he sits in front of you. His eyes are wide with worry as his heart beats faster at your state. What happened to you to have you sitting outside and all alone like this? You couldn't be older than him, maybe you were younger—he decides you're the same age as him when your eyes meet his. The look on your face was similar to an animal that had been kicked down too many times, and you instantly push your feet in front of you and backed yourself into the brick wall behind you when you hear his voice

You're embarrassed to meet his gaze. Seriously, a boy your age was crouching down in front of you during the absolute worst time possible and looking at you with a boyish grin that was too kind for your heart to take. He was dressed in odd clothes you've never seen before, majestic red wings twitching in anticipation behind him as he looks at you with gentle eyes—a striking hue of gold that captivated you in an instant

"Who are you?"

Your voice comes out rougher than you intended it to, strained and hoarse from crying too much as your fingers press into the concrete beneath you. You know you're a mess right now—eyes red and cheeks puffy, clothes tattered and blood smearing your arms from being hit too many times. But Keigo doesn't look at you with any less kindness than he would to a bunny

"I'm Hawks! A hero in training, who's here to save people just like yourself," He smiles, moving to sit beside you as he rests his strong back against the wall. His frame was a lot larger than yours and you stiffen beside him, a rare form of envy forming in your stomach as you realize this well put together boy sitting beside you probably got three meals a day judging by the size of his muscles and happy grin—he was far too cheerful for you right now, and you simply didn't have the energy or strength to deal with it.

"Please leave me alone.," You mutter quietly, discreetly wiping any stray tears lingering with your knuckle. He's quiet for a moment, before he starts speaking again. His voice was softer this time around.

"It's okay. I know it's bad right now—but, I can help. Tell me, dont'cha think these wings can fight off whatever’s hurting you?" He huffs, standing up suddenly to his full height as he spreads his wings out behind him—a show of power. You can see his pearly white teeth poke through his charming smile, and he holds his arms out as he looks down at you

You let out a huff of laughter unlike yourself, your lips forming a wobbly smile as you slowly nod your head

"Unfortunately there's nothing you can really do to help me. I'm...kinda hopeless."

He smiles at your words. A feeling of trepidation prickles at your skin hotly as you prepare to be made fun of. You can already imagine what his taunting laugh would sound like when you suddenly feel a heavy wing wrap around your frail shoulders as he pulls you in for a hug, sitting back beside you on the ground

Your shoulder bumps against his as he pulls you into his side, and Keigo's smile falters when he sees how alarmed you are by the simple gesture. He loosens his hold on you just the slightest bit before sending you an apologetic smile

"You know, the only way out of hard times is through them. Trust me. Why don't you get up and come with me?" He smiles, and the sight of it takes your breath away

You had no one who loved you to go back to, no one who would care if you were gone forever.

But here, six pm on what had begun as any other day, came your savior. A boy with a smile as golden as his eyes. He was devastatingly beautiful—and he reminded you quite a bit of an angel. He looked and behaved just like one, and you realize he is one.

Keigo watches your hands play with the frayed fabric of your sleeve as you stare into his eyes. Your hand twitches as you reach it out towards him, before ultimately curling into a fist as you place it in your lap

He can see the hesitation in your eyes. You'd just realized how dirty your hands were, calloused from going unloved and dirty from digging your fingers into the dirt mere hours earlier when you were crying

He uncurls your fist, intertwining his fingers with yours before squeezing gently—his fingers tainted in a quick instant as he grins

He had a really boyish smile. And full cheeks, too. Ones that looked like apples whenever he smiled. You squeeze his hand back as he tugs you up to stand

The sun is setting in the horizon, catching his eyes and wisps of beautiful blonde hair in its rays as he walks with you, hand in hand.

You will forever remember the following years of your life with Keigo, the boy who had taken care of you when the world had turned their back, as lovely.

The Hero Public Safety Commission was the organization Keigo worked for. You entered the facility with him, gawked at by all the employees who worked there. The walk across the building began as a long one with all the stares you were receiving, but Keigo wrapped a single wing around your frame to hide you from their intruding gazes

In a matter of months you were implemented into the same program as him. Side by side, you and Keigo became friends.

You've never had a friend, and neither had he. You were slowly introduced and implemented into a new society, one that shined brighter and warmer than the darkness you had grown up in.

Keigo was a beacon of hope for you. The two of you became a tangible thing. One never caught without the other. From training together to getting your licenses, you slowly built a new life for yourself with him.

The past was being forgotten slowly, but surely. The dark times you'd spent cowering under your own parents disappeared as they wasted away—just like all you had ever known.

Keigo made you forget those things. He brought you closer and closer to his heart—allowing you to understand and see what love was like. You unknowingly had done the same for him, teaching Keigo Takami the gentleness of true love.

But you didn't have time actively pursue a relationship with him. While the words were unspoken, the love between the two of you was strong and braided into your very being

"Y/n."

Keigo lays a casual arm around your shoulder, peering around before pressing a hard kiss onto your cheek that has you leaning away from him with a groan. Now freshly twenty, Keigo had grown into an adult. His younger features remained, but they were sharper now. He had grown taller and packed impressive muscle over the years too, growing into an admirable hero.

"Gross. Lay off, birdie." You grin, tilting away from him with a heartfelt smile as he laughs loudly

You had grown up too. Your first few days with Keigo were nothing but eye opening. Suddenly, you had a warm meal placed in front of you and someone to share it with. He made sure you went to bed every night with a full stomach, helping you grow into your figure and get stronger.

As an emerging hero, you were right behind Keigo, forever holding his hand as he paved a path for the two of you with nothing but determination in those beautiful eyes of his

"We got a mission to go on. Think you're ready for this one? We gotta take down a reallll bad villain." He teases, removing his arm from your shoulder as he slides into the seat across from you. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, and you try and avert your eyes from the way his muscles flexed under his compression tee

"When have I ever chickened out of a mission? Are you ready, Hawks?"

Keigo likes it when you say his hero name like that. It rolls off your tongue nicely, stirring something deep within him with immense joy

"I was born ready. Now, come on. We can hit the movies after this mission if we finish early!"

You smile, unknowing of what the day would bring.

The two of you are transported throughout Japan on the usual camouflaged vehicle, going to the villain's reported hideout as you look over his records and files in your hands. Apparently, this villain was one who'd been stealing medicine from all sorts of hospital facilities and wreaking havoc in his trail as he did—reports showed he may plan on reselling them for outrageous prices abroad.

After reviewing the geography of the area, the van rolls to a stop, giving you and Keigo your signal to get out and begin. Breaking in was easier than you thought it would be, but the building was far bigger than you'd anticipated. It would take hours to go through each room and collect the necessary evidence.

"All right then, let's split up." Keigo proposes, tightening his grip on the small walkie talkie attached to his hip as you turn to him in surprise

"Split up? But, well—isn't that a little risky for a mission like this?" You question, hoping he doesn't catch the hesitation in your voice as you mutter the words

He looks up. He'd caught the shift in your voice and understood how you felt immediately—he always did.

"Usually, yeah. But I got a good feeling about today! Plus, I wanna finish this quickly so I can take us somewhere nice after the movies..." He says, trailing off with a soft grin as he suddenly hooks his finger in the loop of your jeans—pulling you closer to him.

The action has your breath hitching in your throat before you see his hands quickly move to your walkie talkie, working on changing the settings so the SOS button was more accessible. You take a quick, steadying breath before letting out a huff, grumbling profanities under your breath and going on about how he scared you. Keigo just laughs, eyes twinkling as he gazes up at you through blonde lashes.

He lets go of your waist once he's all done, looking around the dusty room with attentive eyes

"I'd send one of my feathers with you so I know where you are, but I don't want it to catch unnecessary attention. That's why I tweaked our walkies a bit. You take the left wing and I'll take the right one so we meet in the middle. Think you can do that, Y/n?" He smirks as you roll your shoulders, sending back an equally amused grin.

"Let's see who gets to the middle first." You say, and his eyes light up at the sound of your challenge

"It's on! Loser does the paperwork summary of the mission!" He yells over his shoulder as his wings flap above you, with one last grin—he flies down the hall and turns towards the right wing with immeasurable speed

You take off the moment after he does, skidding to a stop in front of every door you came across before efficiently checking through them for evidence or trace of the villain

Your mission's main objective was catching the villain—as for all the medicines he'd stolen, they'd be collected by the higher ups soon after.

Most of the rooms were empty. Mainly filled with sparse bookshelves coated with dust as you checked for slots in the walls or anywhere something may be hidden. You wonder if Keigo's found anything before you see a dim light coming from one of the rooms down the hall

Your footsteps are stealthy and silent as you slowly approach the room with caution, your hand held out and ready to activate your quirk at any given moment

A shift of movement from inside confirms your suspicions, and you immediately corner the threat, shoving them hard and driving their back into the wall of the small room

A man that must've been in his mid forties stares at you slack jawed, eyes blown out in terror as a small grunt leaves his throat from where your knee was pushing into his stomach

"Don't move. Stay still so I can take the necessary procedures to take you into custody, sir." You tell him, eyes narrowing as you take in his features—yes, this was the supposed villain you had to find.

This man was keeping hundred of patients from receiving the medicine and care they deserved. The thought flared a spark of anger in you—and you were young, just twenty and filled with a lot of emotion. That's the only reason you pushed your knee further into his gut before a small, strangled sound leaves his throat

No. Not his throat, from behind you.

Someone else was here.

Your grip on him loosens as you whip around, a scowl on your face at you own stupidness. Not confirming the number of enemies in a room was a rookie mistake you'd made in the heat of the moment.

A small girl lays on a dinky hospital bed, her small eyes watery as she glares at you. She couldn't be much older than five, but the look on her face has you loosening your grip on what you'd soon learn is her father

The truth of the situation dawns on you as you look between the father-daughter duo. Multiple IV's were hooked up to her, and her heart rate monitor began to beep rapidly as she watched you

"Let him go! Let my papa go!"

She's wailing, little chest simply unable to keep up with her racking sobs as your eyes soften

"It's ok, I'm just—"

She suddenly lets out a loud cry, and you realize the man under you had started crying as well when you feel something wet on your palm. His chest is shuddering from his quiet and pained sobs, and you kneel beside him with your heart beating erratically

You weren't taught how to deal with this. You were trained how to fight against someone with murderous intent, you were trained to deal with villains who had long range weapons—but you were never trained for anything like this.

"P-Please stop crying." You whisper, not sure if you're directing it to the little girl or the father

There's shouting in the hallway, and the man stills underneath you at the menacing sound as the little girl freezes, her small frame shaking with terror as she continued mumbling her father's name over and over again

What was the Commission doing here? They shouldn't be here—this was a mission for only Keigo and you. They enter with large guns, and suddenly the girl is sobbing all over again as one of them rams the end of their weapon into side of her father's head

You yelp, kicking the Commission worker in the knee as he buckles, quickly turning to catch the girl's father a moment after

"He surrendered! He surrendered, stop it!"

The man looks at you through his mask in confusion before Hawks suddenly bursts into the small room—his eyes quickly locating yours as he heaves out a sigh of releif

He strides across the room in a few steps before wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. He's pulling away moments later to look over your body for any signs of injuries

"Are you all right? No injuries? No—"

"Did you call them?" You speak, baffled and bewildered as he nods quickly

"You didn't your answer your walkie–dammit I called you eight times, Y/n!"

You still at the memory of you turning down its volume when you were approaching the room. You had meant to turn it back on once you'd gotten the threat under control, but....

"I'm...I'm sorry." You speak, but your apology doesn't sound sincere at all. Your eyes are wide and distracted as they haul the limp man out of the room. The little girl cries softly now as one of the men carefully bring her out too

Keigo pays no attention to either of them—his gaze focused solely on you and beyond worried

"You can't turn it off like that. I thought—I thought—"

He wraps you in a sudden hug again, the sound of the workers exiting the room swiftly leaving the two of you standing in silence

Slowly, his breathing evens out as you wrap your arms around him loosely, before tightening them

"He was stealing medicine for his daughter. She was sick, Kei." You whisper, and Keigo knows your mind is scattered when you mistakingly utter his real name

He sighs, cradling your face in his large palms. He rubs a thumb over your cheekbone, eyes trailing over your features just to confirm one last time you had no injuries

"Look at me."

You do. But your mind can't help but think of the little girl's sickly state. So much like yours when you were younger, pale from malnourishment and eyes sunken from too many sleepless nights. And something shifts in your gaze as Keigo holds you

"He still stole. It was wrong, but...I understand why you're upset. You need to understand he put hundreds of other lives at risk. That's not ok." He mumbles, gliding his thumb over your cheek as you lean into his touch

"I..."

He shakes his head, knowing you weren't ready to talk anymore before he takes your hand, squeezing it reassuringly

"We'll talk about this later, all right?"

You nod, thankful for the distraction.

You never did get to have that talk with him. If only Keigo knew how much this mission would affect you. If only. He would cradle your face for hours and tell you to let it all out—but he didn't. He thought he was doing the right thing when he didn't push you to speak your thoughts.

That day was the beginning of the end.

Keigo didn't know when he had begun to lose you. All he knew was that it started slow, growing over the years before the hand he used to hold was suddenly too far out of reach for him to grasp.

He watches the news play on the big TV screens as he stands in the middle of his agency, a crowd gathering around him to watch as well as they murmur their shock and disapproval

Your face was plastered among the League's, your eyes devoid of the light he had once lit as the words WANTED blare alarmingly on the bottom of the screen. It was just yesterday when he asked you out on a date for the first time.

"I'm tired, Keigo."

He had been laying on the edge of your bed, his usual smile faltering as he gently squeezed your calf

"I know—that's why I want to take your mind off of everything! You know, we haven't been able to hang out much. I know you're busy with whatever you're doing, so...I thought it'd be good for us."

You've never wanted to kiss him so badly. He was out of his usual hero attire, laying at the foot of your bed with that same smile from all those years ago. Except this time, you don't take the hand he's offering you.

"How about another time? I just...need to rest for a bit, ya'know?" You try smiling, and he quickly nods

"That's ok—I'll wait for you. Even if I'm an old, crippled man by the end of it." He jokes, standing up and pressing a quick kiss onto your forehead before he turns to leave. The sting of your rejection is brutal—but he'd meant what he'd said.

He'd wait forever for you, if he had to.

You want to tug him back, tell him everything on your mind and how you're unraveling right in front of him—but he gives you one last smile and a cheesy thumbs up before closing the door.

That was the night you met up with the notorious Dabi who promised to help you.

You had stared at the answer on your anonymous question with a sense of fulfillment taking place of the dread that was once in your chest. After posting the thread where you voiced your feelings on society and how stuck you were—a stranger offered you a role too intriguing to not check out.

Imagine both you and Dabi's surprise when you'd first met.

He had bewitched you the same way Keigo—Hawks—had done all those years ago. Promising you a brighter future if you joined him to fight for his cause. His piercing gaze had softened a degree by the end of his conversation with you. Dabi had found someone worthy. A perfect addition to the League—just what he was looking for.

"I love you."

You'd never spoken the words to Keigo before. But with Dabi—your heart burned as bright as his flames. Maybe it would be reduced to ashes by the end of your time with him, but you didn't care.

Dabi's fingers pause from where they were trailing down your cheek, before he smashes his lips into yours. As the League became more and more well known, you and Dabi's romantic relationship did too.

It was true love for Dabi. But was it true love for you?

You weren't in the right headspace. But he didn't care. Dabi took advantage of it, making you solely his in the process. Consuming you and your noble thoughts the way smoke engulfed clean air.

Some nights, you'd watch Keigo's most recent interviews when you were alone. He'd lost his spark, the light in his eyes you loved to see so much. And you knew it was your fault. But the world was crumbling around you, and you couldn't bring yourself to fix it.

The Commission and Agency marked you up as their one and only failure. Maybe it wouldn't have happened if they hadn't killed the little girl's father after slamming him with charge after charge. If they had just listened, things could have been different. And maybe you shouldn't have let someone else's pathetic life affect you so much—but it happened anyway.

Dabi listened to your mindless chatter all the time. Threading his rough palm through your hair as you told him how much you were growing to hate the world. Even when he made love to you, he whispered into your ear how he'd make a better world just for you. His initial plans of destroying it all had flourished into building something anew—like a phoenix rising from the ashes. All for you.

But the war came quicker than you wanted it to. You told yourself you were ready to face Keigo—to help All For One take down your best friend and everything you'd once known. All For One never sensed any hesitation from you, nor did he sense any hatred. But on the battlefield, as he lifted Hawks into the air by his neck—something in the air shifted.

Hatred and fury like no other surged through it. And your attack came raining down on him like a gunship. No other hero was able to inflict the amount of damage you did, all because it was so unexpected and strong.

It was the sight of your Keigo about to get his wings taken away that awoke something inside of you you'd thought had been burned. You could see the intent in All For One's eyes—his lips curling into a malicious and disgusting grin as he gripped Hawk's throat and stared at his wings with greedy hunger.

The same red wings that sixteen year old boy used to shield you.

You're able to get All For One down for about a minute, dread filling your stomach when the realization that he would kill you for that stupid move when he wakes up hits you. Keigo is barely able to sit up, so weak and so bloodied, but so in love. He croaks your name like he was calling out to a God to save him.

You're by his side in an instant, your wet tears washing away the dirt on your face as you cradle his face in your lap, kissing him all over softly and murmuring the word sorry over and over again.

Everything hurts. He wants to yell at you—tell you how you broke his heart when you left. Shattered his resolve and took the remnants of his kid self with you. But war was a tragic thing, and before he could tell you it was okay, or that he was sorry too, or even just that he loved you—

He was met with a hue of blood similar to the color of his wings being splattered all over his face as All For One sunk one of Keigo's stray feathers into your back, effectively ending it all as Keigo watched the life drain from your eyes.

Keigo Takami was never the same after that day.

sitting in between tojis legs and letting him play with ur nipples while whimpering n squirming !!! ^.^

“stop movin.”

the man grumbles, left hand sprawled over the fat of your tummy to hold you still. his right hand snakes under your loose top, rough pads of his fingertips coming up to tweak at your sensitive nipples.

“stop it , you pervert !”

his hand gropes the fat of your tit, thumb brushing over the sensitive nub.

“y’like it. doesn’t that make you the perv baby?”

you exempt a noise halfway between a gasp and a moan, head falling back into the divot of toji’s shoulder. your hand comes up to his, pulling at his hand in an attempt to stop the assault on your tits.

“stop it baby . let it happen, it feels good, doesn’t it?”

“but.. mmf— ‘s sensitive toji..”

his face brushes up against yours, pressing a sloppy kiss onto your swollen lips. your moans come out as gasps, feeling a chuckle reverberate from his mouth into yours when he realizes you’re unable to keep up with his pace.

“y’r nipples are so sore. dirty girl, y’want me to suck on ‘em?”

knowing him , he would anyways even if you had said no.

he flips you around , mounting your body onto his so that you’re facing him, scrunching your shirt up above your tits just enough to suckle on your fat buds, his roaming fingers coming up to tweak at the other.

somehow, it felt even dirtier allowing the man to feel you up with your shirt all bunched up instead of completely off .

“hah.. t-toji .”

“mm..”

he mumbles into your fat tit, the vibration making you shiver.

“g-gonna.. gonna cum, toji, wait—“

‘nasty girl .’

he mumbles into your chest followed with a chuckle , you sigh at the feeling. “cum f’me then . ”

and you rightfully do, body shivering as your hands grasp tighter onto the bed of toji’s hair. your moans turn into heavy gasps, whining when toji pulls off of your nipple with an obnoxiously loud ‘pop!’

his face is plaqued with a shit eating grin, one that resembles his growing pride.

his mouth connects to your bud by a string of his spit, flicking his tongue on your tit once again to clean you off.

he gives your bud a tough squeeze with his fingers, earning a deserving slap to his hand.

“owie ! stop it toji , y’r such a perv . . !”

“oh baby .” he lays his body atop of yours, pressing a hot kiss onto your lips.

“y’ just came untouched , ‘nd you’re calling me the perv ? get your facts straight , doll .”

anyways that recent ask about if Compass!Nemi could have kids in a perfect world has me thinking about this little bit from an upcoming chapter (ft a bloody, beaten Sanemi)

“I’d make babies with you,” he slurs, his head falling heavily onto his arm.

“No, you wouldn’t,” your fingers peel his eye lids back, studying the way his pupils react to the light. “You don’t want kids, remember?”

Thankfully, Sanemi’s eyes dilate the way you think they’re supposed to. No concussion, at least.

“Said I can’t have ‘em, not that I didn’t want ‘em. Two different things.” He groans as you turn your attention to the many bruises blooming along his ribs, nauseating whorls of black and purple rapidly covering the left side of his torso. “I’d only have ‘em if it was with you. We’d make a whole truckload.”

“That’s ambitious,” you tear a wad of paper towel from its holder on the table and shove the wad in front of his lips. “Cough.”

With a wince, Sanemi complies. He coughs once, twice, before he rolls his face against his forearm. You inspect the paper towel with excruciating precision, searching for any sign of red among the spittle staining its fibers, but there is none to be found.

Sighing, you crumple the towel in your hand and slump into the seat next to his. If any ribs are indeed broken, they haven’t punctured his lungs. You’ll take your silver linings where you can get them.

Sanemi continues pouring his heart out all over your table, the lids of his eyes growing heavy. “Kids and grandkids, too. I’d do it all with ya, if we were anywhere but here”.

BONUS

“I think you’d make a damn good mom, for what it’s worth. ‘M sorry I’m takin’ that away from you.”

lovesick loverboy

FLAVOR PROFILE—gn+afab!reader, references to pregnancy but nothing super intense+nothing gendered, oral sex (m!receiving), breeding, creampie, cum play, soft domestic Chuuya, Chuuya with baby fever, rough sex, dirty talk, teasing, nicknames (babydoll, baby, pretty, daddy in the sense of the breeding kink)

ABV—3.3k

tags, with love—@chuuminn @thewickedjazzy

He's holding his breath.

He doesn't realize it until you look to him, your eyes filled with laughter as the baby on the hip of the woman next to you reaches again for your hair.

I don't mind, you'd insisted with a smile when the mother apologized sheepishly over her shoulder for her handsy, outgoing child—you really don't, and the restaurant lobby is rather packed, after all. It isn't somewhere Chuuya would usually take you out (he'd rather bring you somewhere more upscale and less public) but this is one of your favorite places, and when you'd suggested it for date night this month, he couldn't help but agree after seeing how excited you got to show it to him.

And now he's exhaling, subtly as he can, as you turn back to the baby, untangling its little grasp from your hair and offering up your fingers instead; a tiny hand wraps entirely around your index finger, and when your face lights up with a grin and you coo, the baby mirrors you, giggling in that way that babies do—all teeth, squinted eyes, and pink, chubby cheeks. The opposite tiny hand swats at you, which you laugh through but direct a quiet, hey, play nice to, and now that Chuuya relaxes his shoulders, he's able to feel his face go red not from lack of oxygen but from how unbelievably fucking adorable the scene playing out in front of him is.

He doesn't stop thinking about it, even after you and the baby have waved a regretful and playful goodbye as you made your way to your table—one in a more secluded corner, much to his relief. Or, maybe, much to his disadvantage. There are images playing through his mind like a movie—you with an infant on your hip, cradled in your arms; it sports a pop of bright ginger hair on its soft little head, and you kiss it with such care. You, spoon-feeding a baby, you dancing with its tiny feet on top of yours, you lighting up at its first intelligable words. Its auburn tuft gets longer. Maybe it's a boy. Chuuya's son. In a span of seconds, the boy child's early years flash before him—reading with him sleepy and cuddled between you, pitting him against one another in comical prank wars, opening his birthday presents, walking him to school, gently washing his locks that he got from his father.

Yes, he's fucked for tonight.

Once you're both seated—he pulls your chair out for you like the textbook gentleman he is, though his mind swims—you tilt your head on your hands and raise an eyebrow at him.

"You alright, honey?" you ask. "You're a little red."

"Yeah, yeah," he brushes you off. He can't get a thing past you. "Just warm in here, 's'all."

"It's not exactly our usual type of spot." You turn a little red yourself. "Sorry, Chuu."

"No," he half-snaps, thinking he'd come off as stuck up—fuck, he ought to assert himself softer right now, "no, I don't mean—it's not the place, it's just—"

When he pauses to swallow, you tilt your head even more. It's rare that your slick-tongued, spitfire of a boyfriend is ever lost for words, so something must be up. You find a splinter of anxiety run through you as you wait for him to say something like he has to leave, boss's orders—it wouldn't be the first or last time something like that had happened on date night, but his next words both quell your fear and spark your attention.

"—it was just really cute watching you with that baby."

Ah, you think, smirking. "Really? You think so?"

Chuuya nods, loosening his tie a bit, hoping you'll make maybe one more little quip and then let it go so he can focus on letting it go. It's absurd to him that something so small and innocent has him hot beneath the collar. You're at dinner, at your favorite place—he's not planning to ruin it over the fact that he can feel his dick twitching to life in his pants over thinking about you parenting his child. That can be for later. He's going to focus on letting it go and also the array of sandwiches the restaurant offers on the cute, laminated menu with curly designs framing the perimeter that he suddenly finds very intriguing.

He knows you're going to speak again. He just hopes it won't be the next words that are falling from your mouth as you bat your lashes at him coyly.

But it is.

Your gaze flicks down to the menu—there's a wrap from here you always get, you're eyeing it with familiarity—but you've been here a million times; you hardly need to zero in on that, not when you've reduced the man in front of you to short puffs of breath as he scans the menu with vacant eyes. He is much more interesting. Chuuya Nakahara, feared mafioso, most powerful ability user in Japan if not the world: flustered at the mere image of his partner bantering with a baby.

You right yourself, looking thoughtful. "You think we'd be good parents, Chuu?"

But that coyness doesn't leave your voice; he hesitates to look up at you, knowing you'll be sipping your complementary glass of water in a manner to match, avoiding his eyes so he has to chase them so he can answer you with a sharp glare instead of the words he's thinking that will come out cracked and desperate—a yeah, we would, or even don't be silly, because who is he kidding? He's a mafioso. He's got his hands full trying to protect you as it is. He's killed people. He's certainly not the worst of the worst—he likes to think of himself as a man of morals, despite his profession—but there are certainly circumstances for a child of the both of yours to possibly end up entangled in that make his stomach turn even now, before anything has happened, before anything can happen, but he's righted himself after the challenge of your question and the words are tumbling out, confident, bold, the way you're used to hearing them—a challenge right back to see if you'll bite—

"Maybe we should find out."

Your eyes lock onto his then; a waitress floats by to refill your water glasses and ask if you're ready to order.

"We're gonna order to go," you say cordially, closing your menu. "If it's not too much trouble. Something came up."

"Of course," she chirps, pen and notepad scribbling down whatever it is that comes out of his mouth next—it might what you got, it might not be, but Chuuya's hardly focused on that enough to know—to care. "We'll get those right out for ya. Sit tight for about fifteen minutes, yeah?"

—

You sit tight for about fifteen minutes in the dining room, and then about fifteen minutes more on the back of Chuuya's motorcycle—the ride to your apartment should normally take about thirty. You clutch the takeout bag, but you're more invested in the arm you have wrapped around his middle which drops down to stroke his thigh at red lights; it has his knuckles tight around the throttle.

It has his fingertip mashing madly against the elevator button up to your place; he's impatient, it's evident in the way his heels hardly meet the floor as he strides in, finds you, immediately hikes your leg up against him and kisses you hard before the doors slide shut. He doesn't care who sees. Pretty soon, he figures, everyone will be able to tell anyway; you'll be cradling his kid, the spitting image of him, on your hip everywhere you go and there'll be no doubt who you belong to. What's an innocent kiss in the elevator?

By the grace of some god—or maybe, to Chuuya's ilk—no one stops you on the way up. Well, less time to spend stumbling toward the door as you're grabbing the hem of his shirt, untucking it frantically from his pants; he's guiding you by the back of your neck through the door and slamming it shut as you toss your takeout on the counter and promptly forget about it entirely in favor of wrangling each other into your bedroom.

It's late, but not so late that a sliver of sunset doesn't fall like a invitation across the sheets of your bed, left messy and slept in and loved in from the night before. An orange beam strikes across Chuuya's face, already flushed on his own account and yours, as you crawl atop him, slot your hips together; his hat falls over the edge of the bed and you take it as an opportunity to card your fingers through his fiery bangs while he works your shirt up and off. Cup his jaw, allowing for hot puffs of breath against your lips. Linger down his throat and into the line of buttons that keeps you—not for long—from his gorgeous, sculpted chest and middle.

And the gasps you pull from him when your hands splay across his pecs, up his shoulders as you kiss and bite your way down—they're like song.

"Oh, babydoll..." Chuuya's sighing, flicking his head up to watch you, then back at the bliss you so easily administer to his worn body; he's all rough edges, so ready to go, it's almost like torture to have you teasing your way down his abdomen with you tongue, taking it slow compared to where he wants to take you—but then again, it's you, so fuck it, he'll take everything you give him. Your touch is enough to send him reeling in the sweetest way.

When you work his cock out of his dress pants, he's throbbing, sticky.

"God, I really got you riled up, huh, Chuu?" you tease, tracing a ring around the head of his cock that sends his head back again; he props himself up on his elbows to watch you, hungrily, still red, now redder at your words. "Something so simple, too."

"'S'it so strange to get hard thinkin' about knockin' you up?" he teases back, albeit more breathless than you.

You relish in the small moments like this where you have control—where you're allowed to giggle and circle your tongue over the path your thumb just traced, lapping up his precum and letting your fingers settle delicately around his length. Where you get him to explain himself in low groans and lashes fluttering over his freckled cheeks. You make it a little show for him, every time, like it's customary, never mind how disgustingly you're soaking through your pants right now. You grind on nothing, acutely aware of how empty you are but so enamored with the man you have at your mercy in front of you as you hollow your cheeks and dip your chin to fit a few inches of him in your warm mouth. Low groan. You throb, sticky, too.

"Fuck..." he breathes, still-gloved hand coming to push your hair out of your face; you, doe-eyed and drooling, is a sight he won't, can't miss. You look so pretty sinking your face down onto him, and it sends a shimmer of pleasure all the way to his toes when your tongue traces another circle, this time around the middle of his cock; he's going to lose it so fast, he knows it.

Chuuya loves to watch you worship his cock.

Which leaves him momentarily torn between letting you keep going, letting you keep wiggling your ass in the air so cutely as you suck him, turn him into putty with your lips and tongue, or pulling you off him and stuffing you full as quickly as he possibly can. He watches you, watches you; mouth falling open when you swirl, eyes rolling back when you play with his balls, frozen, in heaven until he comes back to what it was he dragged you home so quick to do: make a baby.

Your nose is just reaching the coarse, red tuft of hair at the base of his cock when he's working you up, off him by your hair, by your wrists, willing you up onto your knees so he can shove his hands between the wretched barrier called your pants and yank them down. You fall into him, kissing him, ever harder.

"Chuuya," you gasp when the waist of your pants and underwear are at your thighs and you feel two cool leather digits circling around your clit. "Ah—"

"Baby, 'need to fuck you, now," he mumbles with urgency against your lips; you're so fucking wet that you just tip onto your back to kick off your garments—he does the same with the rest of his— and spread yourself wide open for him, taking note of the wild look in his eyes next to all the lust, all the lovesickness. You hold yourself open, clenching around nothing, feeling every inch of him as he slinks up your body and slides into you so easily, like he's meant to be there, like he's meant to be pumping you full.

"Gonna fill me up, Chuu?" You're relentless. For now. "Gonna have it drippin' outta me?"

"Unh—agh, oh, fuck," he curses as you clench around him now. "Not gonna let any of it go to waste, babydoll." You rock your hips as he bottoms out and you're reaching for his wrists, his hands, tearing his gloves off his lithe fingers as they're the only thing that keeps you from feeling him so fully now and soon they're gone, too, with the rest of your clothing, and you have him, you have his fingers between yours, clasping hard like they did around the handles of his bike while you left a wet patch on the seat, turning whiter than they ever have, it seems, now that he has a mission beyond just filling you up. He's going to do that, of course, but it's more than just cum; it's him. He wants to put a fucking baby in you.

Which is what he mutters against your neck as he moves, pulls back, and thrusts forward roughly the way he always does on the first one—just to hear you yelp. Now it's his turn to chuckle. You've had your control, and even though he knows more about the control you exert even when you're under him than he'll ever tell you, he relishes in it, too. The way you squirm, the way your knees snap shut around his waist; he smiles into your skin as he picks up his pace, leaning up to watch your head nod against the pillow with the force underscoring his rhythm.

"Fuck, Chuuya," you whisper as the tip of his nose brushes yours. "Love you."

"Love you," he chants back without a second thought, ginger curls curtaining against your face. "Gonna give you my fucking kids. Know we'll be the best parents."

You would giggle again if he wasn't knocking the wind out of you with his next stroke; this time, as it flashes across the back of his eyelids, it does across yours, too. A little redheaded baby, with your eyes, your nose. It has Chuuya pistoning into your cunt, sends sounds of your lovemaking echoing off the walls. The sunbeam slips out of the room, painting you both in the evening; a perfect evening, orange and blue, so much like him, deep like your love and the moans he tears from your throat each time he bullies his way against the entrance to your womb.

Chuuya spends time working you and himself up—he always does. He knows how to angle himself in a way, knows how to fuck steadily in a way that not only drives you over the edge, but turns him into something more of an animal than a man just because it sends you arching, crying—he feeds off of you feeding off of him. A dance that, as those visions flash by him, he thinks, not for the first or last time, he only ever wants to dance with you.

"Chuuya," you cry again—it soon becomes the one of the only things you can get out coherently, other than, "Please, please—"

"W-want that? Wanna make me a daddy?" he presses between feral kisses; you bite each other's lips, you dig your heels into his back, you carve crescents with your fingernails into his knuckles as you nod—it's all you can do amidst his pace, amidst how steadily he's pounding into that spot that makes you scream.

A yes hurtles out of you, strained and broken; a string of more garbled yeses follow, intermixed with pleases and fucks, as your gradually more and more fucked-out brain latches onto to the word. "Wan' give you a fuckin' baby, Chuu, wan' make—unh, wan' make you a daddy, please, need y'tuh cum in me, Chuuya—" and his name trails off into a strangled groan as he releases one of your hands to reach down to your clit.

He rubs you with a quickness that sends lightning to the tips of each of your limbs. He feels your ribs press up, press into his; he watches your eyes roll back; he feels you claw at him with pure abandon as you ripple and heave against each other. He could fuck you forever. He will fuck you forever.

"'M so fuckin' close, pretty," Chuuya growls.

"Cum in me, Chuu," you whimper back, voice shaking as each rough thrust shatters it a little bit more. "P-please, please, please, don't fuh—don't fucking—unh—don't stop!"

Your teeth grind; a bead of sweat falls from Chuuya's forehead onto yours and you groan, almost twist from the pleasure that courses through you all the way to your fingers and toes, abruptly shortening his harsh thrusts as you trap him in the grip of your legs around his waist, his back, his ass, like a vise. You feel him pulse. He doesn't let up. Your orgasm crashes over you like thunder; twitching, creaming, milking him as you pull him down to your mouth to swallow the curses he sobs out as his own climax catapults through him, hot, heavy.

"Unh—ah, ah, baby, I'm—oh, fuck!"

"Fuck, yes—"

Your name, babbled and cracked; warmth spreading throughout you, tremors subsiding, and Chuuya, winded, letting his face fall into your shoulder as he weakly lets his hips come to a stop. You squeeze him closer, looking for air, rolling against him until you're both totally spent. Totally glowing.

"Fuck," he says again, lifting his auburn head like he's in a trance. "Fuck, lift those hips up, babydoll."

Without pulling out of you, he grabs an extra pillow and folds it, wedging it beneath your trembling hips; you look to him, hazy, as he leans down to press one kiss to each of your shoulders.

"Gotta make sure it stays in there, yeah?"

You let out a breathless laugh. "Oh, god, Chuuya."

"Yeah?" he asks again, pulling back to grin down at you, his two-toned eyes still swimming with all that lust, all that love. He circles his hips. "Give me a second before we go again."

"Again?" you repeat, smirking back at him; he sits up and peers down to your messy hole, still stuffed with him. He scoops up an escaping droplet of his cum and tucks it back between your folds, which still spasm softly. Your mouth falls into an o at the intrusion of his finger next to his cock.

"Gotta make sure you gimme a baby," he rasps slyly, and you giggle once more, mirroring the glimmer in his conspiratory eyes. Conspiring to love you for a long time.

"Alright, daddy."