Not in a way you’d been with him anyway. He didn’t know whether that was for the better. The first thing he thought was you posted him. Of course you would. He was not patched, burnt or looking like someone who escaped the psychiatric ward. Without proper clothing, jumping out of a window, frantically running towards the opposite direction. Was it a matter of appearance? Or did you just not like him enough? He wouldn’t know, you hadn’t spoken in a month. And some days. That’s when you told him you needed space. Seriously, people needed to come up with better excuses, this one was over-saturated. Was it bad he clung onto you? It’s not like you had many friends, all he had asked was more of your time. Your stupid job wasn’t even that important—he never bothered finding out what you did exactly, it’s not like he didn’t care, he just wanted you there. The rest of your whereabouts were none of his business as long as you were not conversing (excessively) with anyone else. Because even then, why would you need to do that? He could do it for you.

He had no actual job, well, classifying as a villain doesn’t get you far in life, he called himself a freelancer. Freelancer in murder and theft, maybe. But he felt like he had a share in serving divine justice. A modern vigilante so to say. Any accidental death was a misfortune, a predetermined fate. He didn’t want to pretend to be integrated in society for you to like him, he was lucky because he didn’t have to. Which then reminded him of how he met you.  

Petting strays at night wasn’t careful of you, especially with the crime rates in the city. But you had done so regardless, he remembers it vividly: You in an alley, on your knees, not caring about the dirt coming in direct contact, extending your hand. The cat was barely visible, he could only make out its yellow eyes. But then, the cat saw him, he knew cats had brilliant vision and it left you, perhaps in thought he had food you didn’t. You turned your head only to take a step back. Not smart, you landed on your ass as you opened your mouth. Did he scare you? Of course, what a stupid thing to ask. Under other circumstances he’d leave. Making fun of strangers wasn’t really his thing, not unless they deserved it, but the cat seemed to take a liking to him. Animals loved him, his mom used to tell him not to trust people who repelled them, it was a bad sign. Animals had instinct, animals could tell. He decided to pet the little guy (or girl?), as he kneeled down and softly touched its head. That was another thing about cats. They didn’t give a fuck about the staples or burnt odor, they just wanted food and the occasional touch. He liked cats. He could see himself in them. Something in the domesticity of the situation must've calmed you down because you fixed your posture and to his surprise approached him. It was still dark, you were still a woman and alone in an alley. 

‘’He likes you.’’ You told him. Had you already figured out it was a male stray? Dabi must’ve underestimated you. Your voice hid a whine, a soft protest but it was not annoyance and he shifted his gaze.

‘’Yeah.’’ was all he said. 

‘’Can I?’’ You asked. Why were you asking for permission, this wasn’t even his cat. 

‘’Sure.’’

You were so close, trying not to scare the cat and also touch him, he noticed. Your finger tried to avoid his but the cat’s head was unfortunately not that big so you eventually grazed a digit over him. You hadn’t flinched back then, hadn’t even scrunched your nose, were you not afraid? Didn’t the smell and appearance repel you? Apparently not, you seemed so invested in getting the cat to like you. It wasn’t like it didn’t. The stray ended up loving you, purring at your touch and looking in your eyes, like a man in love. And maybe it wasn’t just the cat. 

-

Within three days of your first encounter he had you on his chest, in your apartment of course, where else could he have you? He wanted to fuck you the first time he saw you, but the urge wasn’t that violent, which had taken him by suprise. You also did not seem like the type to give it up easily. He’d have to do some mental jumping jacks to get you, he didn’t worry about revealing too much though; he didn't have a lot to say, his old identity long buried away with his sensitivity. He still didn’t feel like hurting you. The first night he told you his name, Dabi, and it was so convincing, he too had believed it. You exchanged trivial information neither cared about and he offered company on your way back. He scolded you for being alone in the neighborhood, like some good samaritan, he laughed as he guided you through dimly lit alleys with zero traffic. 

‘’Want to come inside?’’ You had asked. Already? Were you that easy? But who was he to say no?

Your place was small, as expected, neat and tidy, with a few clothes on the bed, nothing bad. It smelled nice too, he noticed a small plant on the coffee table. How gullible to let him in like that. Dabi imagined how many times you must’ve been wronged in life. But you being you—it was probably something that flew over your head daily. You’d call it compromise, he’d call it stupidity.

He had fucked you in missionary that night, a true gentleman, easing his way inside and slightly towering, making sure the stapled skin under his sternum didn’t touch your sensitive one. You were soaking by the time you stopped making out and he slid a finger inside, warm and enticing, his cock hardened in primal ways. He had softly thrown you on your bed (his definition of soft wasn’t exactly soft, you had let out a groan, was it bad?) and climbed on top. You were looking at him expectantly, your eyes glassy, was that pain or excitement, Dabi would bet bucks on the latter. The way you had shyly parted your legs, not for his cock, but to fit him in between was sickeningly pretty, he could swear he was almost…nervous to slip his cock inside. And he was right, trying to fit it inside failed him two or three times while he pretended to toy your clit with his cockhead. You didn’t seem to mind, his act must’ve been convincing, you were softly moaning and your eyes dared to look at the sight of his swollen tip against your lower lips, was it pretty? He had fucked you as hard as he would allow himself—your body could take it, he had to be honest, the more he stuffed you, the more he needed to drive his cock further into your soft walls, there was no room for play pretend romance here. But you seemed to like it too, wrapping your arms around the bare part of his back, fingers accidentally trailing the stapled skin and groaning near his face. ‘’Fuck.. right there.. D-Dabi! More!’’ More? Sure, you could have more. A patched arm strongly pinned a leg above your head, touching the bed frame, as his stiff and pained cock violated your cunt, he could feel how deep he was and constantly fought the urge to spill already. As for you? Tears from your eyes fell down your now stained sheets as you screamed. Pleasure, pain, honestly he didn’t care much about what it was, your pussy clamping down on him the last thing he felt before he bit down your neck, almost ripping out the skin tissue. His cum slowly trickled out, while both of you panted, each exhale synchronizing with the clock ticking in the kitchen. 

There were no voids you could fill, he knew it, interacting with others proved to be a daily reminder. But there were voids you soothed, pain you healed just with your head resting where a heart used to be. Heart beating irregularly, like his feet in his childhood, with excitement, with a different type of eagerness. These weren’t thoughts he made that night and that’s how he knew he liked you. That night his mind was blank for the very first time, carefree from reality, from the ugliness of living—you had sex with some stained villain, who hadn’t only stained your cunt, but your sheets too, your morals indirectly and heart along the way. These thoughts came to him when he saw the photo. Space. You said you needed space. There wasn’t any relationship established, what the fuck you needed space for? Because now he had found something to give waking up a reason. Someone to regularly satisfy his cock with, someone to take away his thoughts and halt his aimless wandering. And you needed space. How lame. You know what? He could give you space. Indirectly of course. He’d still follow you around, check the whereabouts and conversations, sit outside your house and watch you get undressed. But you looked happy. And he couldn’t decipher in what way. Was he a friend? Who gives a fuck about the guy anyway, why were you smiling like that? You never posted him, that's for sure, you knew in the three months of irregular hanging out (to call it dating would be a joke) that he hated it. And so you never did, even though he wanted you to deep down. Something small. A grocery store visit, one you made when he said he’d cook dinner (he had burnt it). But you never did and now here you are posting with someone irrelevant. 

Murder wasn’t the answer. Stupidly enough it was always associated with morality. But you’d think Dabi would have none of that. He thought murder was stupid. No second of his time ought to be wasted for the next guy. Though he had to admit, he often contemplated whether you’d want this. You didn’t know shit about him. But a sudden murder would definitely have you crawling for protection. And who better than the one who committed it? He honestly wouldn’t go out of his way to do all that. He wanted you organically. It had been a long time since he wanted someone. But you sufficed. You were enough. You never asked, never complained, not even when you’d come home from work, exhausted and dirty and he was waiting at your door. Not even when you were shoved against the cupboards and fucked without remorse—you still wrapped your legs around him and whimpered on his neck. And fuck if that didn’t feel good. He hugged you in your sleep. You’d both sleep in opposite directions, you first of course, so you’d never notice he switched sides and brought a leg over yours, resting his head on your throat, feeling each breath, each pulse. You’d wake up confused at the position, he’d say he didn’t remember. These were the few nights he could reach REM state. No vivid dreams of course, a shipwreck maybe and some elevator descending, lack of control or whatever bullshit he read once. He could still dream though, a miserable reminder he was still human. 

He was always mean. The world didn’t care to mold someone into being nice. What would that even be? He thought nice meant exchange. Be nice and you’d get a pair of shoes. Act nice and you’ll get to watch TV. Treat others with respect and you’d be the family’s topic of discussion over Christmas. Sure, there were selfless people, he wasn’t crazy to think there weren’t a few of them left. You’d be his prime example. And you weren’t even stupid. But your willingness to help and give bordered exploitation. It hit him like lightning. You needed to get away, the real world was doing damage to people like you. If you were with him, you wouldn't have to think twice about being taken advantage of. He’d still be mean, you wouldn’t change that. But at least you’d sleep assured knowing that he’d never, ever demand something from you. Well…besides your presence, though he’d take you as you are, so in retrospect you’d come to appreciate him for the service. 

When he came to pick you up (abduct sounded rough—you’d also want this eventually) you had just finished work. To others you seemed fine, to him you looked exhausted. No need for mask, no need for clothes, he had everything arranged. You hadn’t objected much, he tried the kind approach first, he had only asked you to go for a ride with him in a car he stole, something you’d never know. The place was a dump, a couch covered in dust and a rusty kitchen, but you’d both make it work. It wasn’t like he couldn’t find money. He would, eventually. He remembers the way your eyes widened, what were you expecting, a trip to the countryside for some mimosas? You should’ve known better. ‘’What are we doing here?’’ You had asked, looking him in the eyes, you seemed frightened like the first time you saw him in the alley, it all ends in the beginning of the cycle, such a paradox, he thought. ‘’This is our new place.’’ He cooed as he approached you, you took a step back. There really was no reason for you to be scared, you’d grow to understand the only thing scaring you would be losing him. 

He had tried to kiss you but you protested, pushing him away, a shame really and he wanted to continue with the nice approach. Well then again nice didn’t really exist so it wouldn't have worked anyway. He kissed you, your mouth was closed but not for long before it was forced open, arms snaking around your waist and pinning you to a wall collecting condensation since god knows when. He was on your neck, kissing, biting, frenzied moves really, he needed you more than he needed whatever kept him alive. Three months ago, he stopped thinking. Now, the only thing he thought was you. He dragged you to the dusty sofa, he thought of using his quirk to burn the fabric, but ripping it out came naturally. You were laid out naked and shivering, his hands grabbed your waist—was this warm enough for you? You whispered something, maybe it was louder than a whisper, stop or whatever but he couldn’t listen. He found your cunt immediately, he was almost drooling at the sight, when was he that hungry ever again? Something about your life. People behind. You said something, he didn’t listen. You weren’t that wet like the first time, he understood. Women, they need emotional connection. Maybe a sloppier kiss to get them going. He found your mouth again, forcing you to kiss him back while he gorged on yours, a small movement in your hips, a pad of his finger back on your cunt. Wetter, perfect. He slid up a finger, curling it while his thumb grazed over your clit, you whimpered. That was a sound he could finally register. He’d bring back that smile, but it’d be for him only. One finger turned to two and eventually three, he needed to stretch you out to take him, nothing had changed since the first time, just his eagerness. His cock throbbed in his black pants, he wanted to taste you. 

You moaned and attempted to touch his hair. He didn’t mind but this wasn’t the time. He moved his head lower, spreading your thighs open and spitting on your clit. Spittle dripped down your slit and his index finger trailed it along the entrance, earning him a moan. See, you already enjoyed this too much. This would be your life now on, he’d fuck you till you wouldn’t want another thing. Captivity had a good side after all. He’d treat you so well, he wouldn’t even have to force all that domestic bullshit on you. You’d do it willingly. He eats your cunt out like it's the most sacred meal, sloppily and without coordination, pushing his tongue inside and gripping your thighs forcefully and what is this? You buck your hips up, wanting more, needy little slut. Perfect, so perfect for making him stop thinking. Making him forget. His cock must leak precum, it feels uncomfortable and he wants you to coat his tongue, he really does, but please understand, he needs you. Now. To bother removing his pants fully would be hilarious, he has neither time nor desire to do so, they’re slid down half way, his cock jumps on his abdomen and he gives it an impatient stroke—looking at you always. Let me go. You say, what? Were you stupid? Right before the best part? Right before the start of a new life? Of a life you should be living years ago? Delusional, you’re delusional. ‘’You love me, baby.’’ He tells you and lets his cockhead slip in your entrance, bit by bit until he’s bottomed out and you wince, he doesn’t move just for a second, this should be enough and then starts thrusting without consideration. Like it’s an incentive, like you’re a hole that needs filling, a mere means to an end. You protest a bit more, if you get louder he might have to get violent on you, please understand he doesn’t want this. You’ll get it, eventually. He can’t decipher the look on your face, it certainly doesn’t scream happy like in the photo. 

And then he’s reminded of the photo and a rage is born. ‘’Did he fuck you this good?’’ He spears his cock inside, you are hitting against the arm of the couch, your mouth contracts and you dampen his cock, so he must be doing something right. ‘’Tell me, did he fuck this cunt?’’ He asks and you just moan—are you dumb? Why aren’t you answering? His arms envelop your throat, pressing on the carotid artery as your muffled moans get even more constricted, he spits on your face and demands an answer. Dirty. Slut. Dirty. ‘’N-o’’ comes out your mouth. He hadn’t tainted you? He hadn’t touched you. ‘’I’m sorry.’’ He wipes the saliva off your cheeks, it’s so...wet? Are you crying? Why are you crying? He hates it. ‘’I’m sorry.’’ He kisses you while he plunges deeper, you groan and try to avoid him, stop doing this, you’re his now, it’s final. ‘’I’ll make you feel better, alright?’’ He breathes out, he knows you like his fingers, he knows. His thumb circles achingly, longingly even on your puffy clit while you clench around him, your breathing is labored, you have to cum—cum now! On his cock, show him how much you love him. A few more strokes and he has you clamping down, more tears, so many tears and you moan out his fake name, with anger maybe or an orgasm high, he can’t tell and he doesn’t care either, it’s enough. He needs to steal a kiss one last time and feel the way you squeeze and soak all around to let his load paint you white, maybe he is like a woman after all, longing for emotion, even when he has to fulfill plain instincts. You don’t talk after it, you don’t even blink, you aren’t passed out, are you? He wasn’t that hard, come on now. He has to remove himself, clean you up, the couch and he the least of his priorities. You need to get accustomed. You’ll love it. 

You never ask. About the photo. About your family. About anything prior. But that’s not something he dwells upon, he doesn’t like to look back. You still sleep next to him, well, there aren’t many other options available, yet you do. You still breathe softly in your sleep, he still hugs you from behind. You’ve become a sedative, a very much needed one. He dreams some days, an elevator falling, a shipwreck. Only, you’re there this time. 

You always wanted a doll. The dolls weren’t like the ones you saw on the black and white advertisements in your mom’s weekly newspapers. They were pretty—had doe eyes and a cute hat, a white jacket over a pink knitted dress, their hair was almost always in pigtails with wrapped-around ribbons. You always wanted this one doll. 

‘’Sweetie, we can’t afford a doll, you know your father’s hardly making ends meet.’’ Your mom told you over dinner, while your father remained silent. You never knew whether he had nothing to say because he didn’t care or he felt sad. You weren’t close, maybe you weren’t sure because you were afraid of him.

Father used to yell, he wasn’t a patient man. Mom was late to make food? Yell. Clean his clothes? Yell. When you came late from school, he’d yell. Your mom justified it, he was exhausted, working all day in the field. But you really wanted that doll. 

‘’Mom, please! I will pay you back.’’ You desperately begged, you were only ten, of course you couldn't pay back. Your mom sighed and let you down after that. You didn't cry, only crawled to your bed as you silently begged for the doll to magically appear when you’d wake up. 

The old lady noticed you frequently. You’d walk for half an hour after school (the shop was the only addition the village had ever gotten and while diametrically opposite from your house, you were more than willing to take the extra mile) — only to stand outside. You hesitated to touch the window, remembering this one time your dad pushed you and you fell down the stairs because you’d made mom upset. You had touched the kitchen window. Your mom cried, your dad had eaten his soup in silence and gone to bed. You wanted to ask the lady the price, you wanted to know if there was another way but while just ten, you were smart for your age. You knew that regardless of the answer, the doll would never be yours. 

It was hide and seek day with your friends. The village’s stadium-like field offered a variety of hidden spots (behind a bleacher, the toilets, the church across or the trees around). The bleachers screeched but you all were pros at disguise so it worked most of the time. Upon getting there, you saw the usual faces, some kids you knew, one of them lived close to you. Across the field sat a boy you didn’t know. Funny, you thought. You knew almost everyone in the village and he seemed of school age, how come you didn't recognize him? Daylight fell behind the roofed bleachers, signaling your time to go. You wouldn’t want to make father upset.

‘’This is the last time you talk about the doll.’’ He told you that night as he brought a hand to your face, his tone was stern but he seemed calm. Your right cheek burned but you couldn't cry. You had realized that the more he rejected you, the more immune you became—pain stopped having emotional ties. You still wanted that goddamn doll.

You were sent to your room but even then tears wouldn’t spill. Your window allowed you to jump from a reasonable height and it was past your parents bedtime so you found yourself in the cold night within minutes. You had no watch, not that it mattered anyway as your feet dragged you towards the woods. You knew your way in, you had mastered it back when dad used to drag you to the fields— people really were afraid of forests, as if they would suck them in, leave them confined but the trees never harmed, they just listened. How many times had they heard you cry? A lighter stolen from your father’s nightstand (the one in his drawers, you did not want another altercation) led you down a slope. You weren’t afraid, you knew it led to a creek, an ardent stream flowing day and night. People from the village used to come often (if they had the strength, they now visited wells closer to the center) — the water was cold and clear, maybe too cold for a swim, you’d realized once you experimentally submerged your feet in it and they froze. 

‘’Why can’t I have that doll, dad?’’ You cried, the water drowning your muffled sounds, it soothed you and allowed you to be yourself. ‘’Why, why why!’’ You screamed, tears fell down your cheeks, as you frantically wiped them with your hand, wincing at the feeling to your right, father really made a point with that one. ‘’Why can’t you tell him I want that doll, mom?’’ And you cried and cried until a sound — a rustle of leaves startled you. 

‘’You shouldn’t be here.’’ A voice rang behind you as you quickly turned around. The boy with the dark hair and oddly colored eyes, you thought they looked purple but that wouldn't make sense and he was too far away this morning.

‘’W-who are you?’’ You retreated, you were too close to the stream. 

‘’Just go home, it’s dangerous to be out there.’’ He said as you furrowed your brows.

With childish stubbornness you told him that it was none of his business but the more you talked the more he approached you and you suddenly lost your balance, your back dragging you towards the water as a hand grabbed you and pulled you back up. 

‘’Please leave now.’’ The boy said firmly and let his hand go. You lowered your head ashamed and lit your father’s cheap Zippo to guide yourself back home. Who was this guy?

-

His name was Geto, you found out because you asked your fourth grade teacher, who told you she couldn’t ever reach his parents to ask why they never sent their son to school. Legislation was non-existent, the village had no childcare protection otherwise you would have been sent away years ago. No one cared after all; children born there were raised to become farmers or whatever they were forced into. 

Geto never showed up to school, he would however show up after, while all of you played in the field, silently observing and reading from a book. You didn’t think he could read. 

You had once invited him to come play but he had declined the offer, ‘’No, thank you.’’ He had said as you asked for his name. ‘’Suguru.’’ Pretty name. 

-

The pain was enough to make you cry this time. 

‘’Want to tell me who the hell this Suguru is and why he left a stupid doll for you?’’ He shouted— his hands had already left a mark on your arms from pushing you, his nails had dug inside. The slap after was violent and strong and it made you dizzy while you coughed, there was no blood but your jaw hurt. 

‘’I- he’s from my school I— d-don’t know anything... about a doll..’’ You choked while his eyes burned. It wasn’t often he was that lively, you guessed anger really was a strong motivator.

‘’Well, you finally got your stupid doll. What is it, did he fuck you?’’ He spat as your mother interrupted.

‘’Honey! She’s only ten!’’ And she cried, and you cried and he threw the beautiful, pink dressed, hand sewn doll to your face, it hit your forehead and you stumbled and fell to the floor. 

‘’Stupid, all of you are stupid.’’ He growled and went upstairs. Your mother gave you a pitiful look and silently left for the kitchen. Your weakened arm reached out to the doll beside you.

She’s pretty, thank you, Suguru.

You shakily grabbed it, a teardrop stained the beige thread and brought it to your chest.

But Suguru. The damage you’d done.

-

You had never seen him with his eyes wide open before. It was kind of funny, you had to admit, he looked at you—his expression a mixture of shock and pain, what had he done? The kids (your friends) hadn’t really said anything, they were all familiar with your family’s background, experiencing more or less the same themselves. But Suguru... he was different. 

‘’Thank you for the doll.’’ You smiled, he hadn't.

His eyes had darkened back then, his mouth formed a tight line as he apologized. 

‘’I.. didn’t know.’’ He said, ‘’I’m sorry, I– I just heard you talking about it, you know.. that night and thought it might have cheered you up. I’m sorry.’’ He spoke and you reassured him that you appreciated it. You did. It was like he knew which doll you liked, the one he chose was the one you desperately wanted. You played with her every night, talking to her in silence and telling her that Suguru was a nice kid. Yeah, you liked Suguru and felt sorry internally for thinking of him as responsible for your fathers actions at first.

But Suguru didn’t understand—a need suddenly appeared that day. When he had first seen you, he knew you were careless. Knew you were angry and hurt. The words that came out of your mouth concealed emotions he wasn’t all too familiar with. On the contrary, he found the passion and pain intriguing. He didn’t think he’d ever expressed the two. When he saw you on the field, weak, trembling, the doll held firmly in your arms as you thanked him with your bruised eyes, that was when the feeling awakened in him.

Suguru always had a strong sense of justice. He hated whomever stole from the shops (he knew the suspects and would throw gravels at them), he helped injured animals by bringing them to a tree house he’d built on his own, he stopped fights and hated exploitation towards the defenseless. Your sight alone hadn’t awakened his sense of justice, no, that was almost as innate as his sense of hunger—you made him want to protect. You made him feel a need as basic as hunger to protect you. You didn’t deserve it and he was not one to forget.

In an ironic way, the incident brought you both closer. You would hang out daily after school (your efforts to convince him to come were fruitless), you’d take a walk towards the woods, the stream under the steep slope had been your secret hideout. You didn’t need to lie to your parents, they still thought you played in the field while you were with Suguru. As for Suguru’s parents, that you didn’t know about. He didn’t speak much and when he did, he told you about his plans to save the world. From what exactly, he didn’t even know himself. Days turned to months and months into years as you and Suguru grew older, still teenagers but doing other things now, such as buying alcohol with Suguru’s money (you never asked and he always wore his father’s clothes; somehow he convinced clerks he was of age), drove around in his dad’s car and got both your ears pierced. Well... he had them stretched and you helped with that.

You’d never forget that day—you were equipped with needles and xylocaine, it was apparently a numbing anesthetic. Both of you knew nothing about proper sterilization, you hadn’t even heated or marked the spot you wanted, all you had was a needle and dreams. Your piercings were easier, it was after all a small hole and it burned like hell but that was nothing. Suguru’s on the other hand had been a torture. It was understandable that for someone without an already pierced earlobe, stretches as a first was masochism itself. But Suguru didn’t utter a word. Not when the needle (cold and dirty) pierced the lobe. Not when the silver stretch couldn’t squeeze through the bloody ear. Not even when you felt the excess skin on your hands and you winced, kind of disgusted. You often wondered how Suguru always maintained composure and secretly admired him. If only you weren’t that weak. The stretch operation was deemed successful and celebrated accordingly: with cheap liquor and cigarettes (for the occasion). It wasn’t even two days later, when you noticed Suguru’s earlobes. Black gauges decorated them instead of the initial silver stretches, which you’d told him to let heal at least for a week, his lobes were in bad condition.

He was always selfish. 

-

The last time you talked was a year ago. One year and fifty-three days. He hadn’t come back, he didn’t have anyone he cared to visit. He had been acting strangely this one time he came to pick up clothes, looking above people’s shoulders, scratching his neck and forehead, contemplating. He looked malnourished and joyless.

When you found a handwritten note (how you missed his handwriting) with a simple “come to spot” a year later, you felt your heart race. It had a time and an S. at the bottom. You were hardly surviving at the time, school almost came to an end, an adult already and you hadn’t even graduated and your dad was becoming harder on you. There wasn’t much thought on your after school plans, all you wanted was to get away. To escape. The rest would come later.

The sun was done shining when you stepped down the known slope, the volume of the stream, as if nothing had changed, threatening to drown life on its way. You’d sat on your back, looking at the sky above as day and night merged in the interim.

A flame nearby caused you to stand up. What had happened? Where was he? Faint animal noises and movement could be heard but the slope was deep and you’d have to climb up, which would take you some time and then... what about him? Should you run, go look for him? You were about to climb back up when a shadow casted above you. There he stood, in what you presumed a school uniform and a bloodied face, dark hair swept back and falling down his shoulders while his eyes landed on you. You took a step back. 

‘’W-what happened? Is everyone alright? Are you alright!’’ You shouted, why did you shout? The words mixed up. He could only smile as he kneeled, jumped and landed in front of you. You examined the blood up close—it had started to dry, leaving crusts under his eyes, which he scratched before he spoke. 

‘’It’s alright, I’m here.’’ He spoke softly, almost whispering and apologetically smiled. Something seemed off. What wasn’t he telling you? What were those voices and why was it quiet all of a sudden? Your nostrils flared, a strong smell of smoke made you dizzy. 

‘’S-suguru.. what's—what’s going on? We have to go look, maybe someone’s hurt, maybe they need—’’

‘’I said, I’m here.’’ He raised his voice an octave, same smile on his face, making his eyes crinkle, but it felt odd. It felt forced.

‘’I know what happened to them.’’ The fake smile fell about as quickly as it’d appeared, each word equalled a step toward you. You were moving closer to the angry stream behind, you had to cough from the smoke entering your lungs.

‘’W-what do you mean you know? What happened!’’ You thought you yelled, maybe you hadn't, your voice cracked, cutting the question in half.

‘’I killed them.’’ He said with the same ease he’d propose a ride in his dad’s car. He noticed your eyes widen, your hands covering your mouth from the smoke that would soon engulf you both fully, flames he had set on a village that didn’t matter at the end.

You blinked; he presumed this was the part you’d start crying and lashing out so he inhaled.

‘’Aren’t you happy? Your parents are gone.’’ He heard you yelp. He was really doing you a favor, all these incompetent people you surrounded yourself with had to be gone. Sure, your parents weren’t your choice but you’d be better off without them anyway.

‘’W-why...’’ You couldn't breathe properly, your lungs were filled with smoke as your heart palpitated abnormally, you tried—tried like hell—to scream but syllables came out broken, constricted and incoherent and the more you tried to make your chords work, the more you lost your voice. Your eyes shed tears in silence, they spilled on your clothes as if on cue—you couldn’t approach him, you were terrified as you looked around. For help? You didn't know.

‘’What are you looking for? I’m right here.’’ He said as he took a step closer. 

‘’Don’t touch me!’’ You choked—it was barely audible.

‘’What did you say?’’ His brows furrowed. 

‘’I-I said– don’t touch me!’’ You managed and he sighed.

‘’After everything I’ve done for you...You know, I really could’ve just killed you before. You are after all useless to society. You can’t even see them.’’

Killed you? Useless? The eyes you used to know didn't belong to him anymore, someone else's blood distorted them. You found yourself thinking about his face more than what you just heard. Had he killed them all? Your parents? His parents? Your old classmates? You sobbed but he continued to look down on you and talk.

‘’Everyone’s gone, for you. And that’s my thank you? Your parents, the stupid kids from school, the doll lady…’’ 

‘’Why! What have they ever done to you?’’ Your knees betrayed you, you felt the ground beneath you.

‘’They never cared about you. The old lady would never give you that doll for free. She hated you being outside her window everyday, what a nasty child she called you, did you know that? Your dad? Fuck,now if that wasn’t a blessing! This cunt abused you and your mother for years... well, your mom had to go too, there’s no way a conspirator gets off the hook that easily. As for everyone else... they were just useless, you know? Thinking, feeling, cursing, swearing. Disgusting beings create us all more problems. You know, you ought to be an exception to this.’’

‘’I- I want to go. L—Let me go..’’ You stood up, he wasn’t holding you; you felt like a hostage. Why?

‘’You're sick...’’ You continued, a disgust behind your swollen eyes as he squinted his. 

‘’I'm sick?’’ His eyes, though you couldn’t see much, lit up under a moon trying to glow behind smoke clouds. 

‘’That’s funny for you to say because last I remember you were weak and a victim, not me. Seriously, I thought you’d be happier about it. I granted you temporary freedom, shouldn’t you be a bit more grateful? I always wanted to protect you...’’ His steps brought him millimeters apart, one more step and you'd be gone with the stream. 

‘’I always wanted to be there for you.. I thought I felt something every time I looked at you. You were so... vulnerable and exposed, I’d be there for you. But you know what?’’ He took a step forward as you fell — he was quick to catch your waist this time. 

‘’I realized, I just fucking hate you.’’ He spits as his breath hits your face, you shut your eyes and turn your head away. 

His arm pushes your shoulder down, forcing you to kneel on the ground, your knees sting as he continues. 

‘’I asked myself, why should I protect the weak? There must be some flaw within them that makes them stupid, don’t you agree? Why should you have to endure your father’s abuse instead of doing something about it? Why’d you have to cry on my shoulder because you were too weak to act on it? You had to come here to cry about it, remember? Pathetic.’’ He says, face filled with revulsion.

The pain in your knees is nothing compared to that in your chest, you break with each word that comes out of his mouth, he seems passionate—a true hatred reflecting on his eyes and you wish to be dead in that moment. 

‘’W-why..why–’’ You try to fill your lungs with air as you suddenly feel a leg on your ribs, a kick that sends you almost in the water—he’s kicked you and you’re lying on hard ground while he’s still standing.

‘’Why,why,why. Shut up already. I told you why. I do not like the weak and you aren’t an exception. See, I could have you killed so easily.’’

He smiles as his palm grips your scalp and you’re being dragged all the way to where soil meets the stream, pain hits different spots on your spine along the way. You don’t have time to understand what’s happening until your head is immersed in the water.

Cold. Dark. No air. You can’t think, it feels like an eternity before your head’s out and you gasp—lungs filled more with water than smoke and you wish to die. 

‘’S..st–’’ You can’t continue, his palm brings your numbed limbs and spinning wet head close to his, the dried blood touches your cheek. 

‘’There’s one thing I’d like, before we say goodbye.’’ He breathes on your face, his eyes linger on your drained lips. 

‘’I’d like to see the weak in you one last time.’’ His lips are on yours, they feel so warm and you’re shivering, trembling under his touch as his tongue slides without a second in your dried mouth. His saliva soaks the perimeter of your palate and your mouth doesn’t move—water washes off some blood on him. 

‘’Will you kiss me or have a swim again?’’ He asks ever so politely and you sob.

‘’P-please...’’ But this mustn’t have been the right answer because you find yourself underwater, this time it lasts longer (or so you think) before you resurface and gasp. You wish for an end.

‘’Let’s try again, hm?’’ He says, as he brings his lips back on yours, a warm tongue pushes past them, salivating in your dry throat.

You kiss him back, softly and slowly, following his rhythm as his hands already search for your wet chest, slender fingers trail down your neck and poke at the crevices. They stop at your sternum, groping the skin and he growls in your mouth, you move mechanically as your heart shatters.

You used to love him. You never told him of course, that would be stupid, you didn’t think he’d ever love you back—well, in your defense you didn't think he could love anyone back but you did. The first time he gifted you the doll, when you cried on his shoulders, when you pierced his ears. Looking back, he wasn’t always selfish. 

He continues the journey of his hands, his mouth is still attached to yours, it shouldn’t feel good, but it feels warm, and you need more heat, you’re freezing and can’t breathe. He hums as he finds your skirt, perfect and accessible, he thinks. You’re shuddering under his touch. He can't tell whether it's from the cold water or not but he doesn't mind. 

A finger finds your slit over your panties, as he vertically traces your skin along the way. He starts from your belly button, passes over your clit and teases in between folds, a light touch that upsets you. 

‘’Stop.’’ You whisper, weakened and confused. Wet and cold. But he doesn't.

He is rubbing your cunt slowly, he has removed his mouth and only plants soft kisses sporadically; a kiss each time he rubs up and down, tender and laced with care as the first moan escapes your lips and he catches it with his mouth. He takes it, you’d be embarrassed to let him know you enjoy this, it’s okay. He doesn't want to ridicule you, just to show you world order, that's all. 

Your underwear gets pushed aside as warm fingers now touch your bare entrance, he had gathered heat from your cunt and his spit—he had to spit, you weren’t that wet. But that would change, he was confident in it. 

His slender fingers part your lower lips slowly as he thrusts one in your cunt. It’s not violent but it’s enough to push your body upward as you sigh, a mixture of unwarranted pleasure and disgust by the predicament. He likes your soft sigh, he wants more.

‘’It’ll feel better, I promise.’’ He smiles gently and you fight the urge to gag, your cunt suddenly makes disturbing noises, as he now works two fingers deep within you, steady pace, straight in the middle. A thumb brushes past your clit, as he removes both fingers and circles it slowly... so slowly you melt, you feel like you ache but.. what is it? It's an ache you like, it's an ache you can't fight and don't want—but you can't do anything about it and—

‘’I think this should work.’’ His hand is removed and brought to his mouth to taste you. 

“Sweet.” He smiles. 

His pants are quickly removed, the need with which he hurries is comical—under other circumstances you’d laugh, you had never seen him so impatient and unreserved but it’s different now, now that he almost drowned you and is about to kill you. Why couldn’t this just end? 

You don’t look at him, you don’t want to, but you make out an arm that brushes against his groin as he slowly moves it up and down his cock. He likes the sight, it’s almost like straight out of a painting: you sprawled out, wet in every sense, a smoke filled scenery behind you and your precious, weak cunt for him to savour. Yeah, that was this day’s highlight, he thinks and grins. 

His thoughts excite him, precum exits his slit with each stroke as he kneels down and plants a delicate kiss on your knees. 

‘’I’d always protect you.’’ He murmurs, as a hard cock slides in between your legs and you draw a sharp breath. It hurts. Fuck, it hurts like crazy, he is hurting you with his size, he fills out your whole cunt, you feel like you can’t take anymore and then— then he pushes more, slowly, bit by bit until you shriek, begging for him to stop. 

‘’I--is too much! S-suguru–” You wince, as he carelessly continues.

‘’Who’s Suguru?’’ He frowns, a hand coming to clasp around your neck and he stays still. Your cunt can’t adjust but he’s not doing it to help you, he wants an answer.

‘’It’s Geto now.’’ He grumbles as he starts moving in your walls while you squeeze instinctively.

You are too tight, he takes it you’ve never been fucked before, makes sense and yet he likes it better this way. Your face distorts in pain but you’ll soon feel better, he knows because he was a virgin last year too. How he wished for this moment to come. Everything was perfect, you were perfect, your cunt was perfect, your eyes... perfect. Maybe the weak had something to offer after all. A blind faith and a good heart.

‘’S-Suguru–’’ You wrongly moan and a palm slaps across your hurt cheek, a flashback of your dad’s hand making your skin crawl, it was the same spot. Your walls are too tight to take him and he fights the urge to groan.

‘’Last time.. unless you want a bath, pretty.’’ He says as he thrusts his cock repeatedly toward the same direction, your cervix—hitting a bunch of soft, vulnerable spots along the way, fuck, you were so perfect and untainted, he wishes you were different, maybe like him.

He’d take you with him on his journey to cleanse the world from filthy creatures that polluted it, that had his friends dead, that cost the Jujutsu High lives daily, that had his friend constantly on stupid missions and for whom? Ungrateful filthy pigs—no, they weren’t pigs, at least pigs knew their place, they were monkeys, always eager for more, for power that didn’t belong to them, monkeys ready to snatch and never give; disregarding consequences for all others. If only you weren’t one of them. 

He watches your pretty mouth contract, your head arched back and eyes closed in shame as he brings you closer, he can tell by the way you squeeze his length inside, shit, you’re making his cock too wet, your slick smudges your thighs and squelching sounds almost cover your tormented sighs each time he sinks into you. 

‘’D–Does that feel good?’’ He asks while you pant, tears fall down the sides of your face, a red mark of his fingers on your left cheek but you don't answer.

‘’Answer–agh..answer me.’’ He orders, picking up his pace until you can’t anymore.

‘’Y-yes!’’ You cry out, stinging nettles dig in your back contrasting the pleasure in your core that grows—such a lewd thing, you’d come to hate yourself for it. If you were to live, of course.

He’s close too, thrusts becoming uncalculated and erratic yet never really seeming to stop being pleasurable, a rough thumb now circles around your swollen nub, making your legs jerk.

‘’Fuck–Sugu—fuck!’’ You clench around him, the heat coiling low ready to betray you and you see him part his mouth. He doesn't correct you.

‘’Let go baby, I love you.’’ He whispers as you shut your eyes and it's these words that have you ride out an orgasm so intense, you choke on moans and wrap your wounded legs around him. Arms circle his back as his mouth finds yours.

He kisses you as he slides his cock as deep as he can, pads of his fingers removing wet strands from your forehead; he cusses out.

‘’Fuck, mine—forever.” He grunts and finishes inside, nibbling on your neck, as your tangled legs bring him even closer, breaths synchronizing where your chests meet.

He stays within your silky walls, relishing any moment he can before he removes himself, leaving you split, stained and quivering. He lifts up the elastic of his pants. 

His time is running out, the spectacle in front of him clouds his reason—you look so pretty, with his cum oozing from your hole, your ashamed hands covering your chest and your eyes waiting for his next move. If only you weren’t flawed. If only you weren’t weak.

To kill you would be easy, he only stalls in case you want to add any last words. And you do. 

You look at the man who used to be a boy, the one who gifted you the thing you wished for most in the world; not the doll, but love and you smile. Your left eye is bruised and can hardly open, one of his blows must’ve accidentally landed on the wrong side of your face or maybe it’s the water pressure, you can’t think, as you open your mouth to speak. 

‘’Behind you.’’ You whisper, as your right eye catches a small, bug-like shadow buzzing around his hair, ready to attack his neck. 

Seriously, couldn't his brother not bring you over his place for summer break? He gets it, Yuji is young and can never say no, his best friend turned him down for a summer course and Choso guesses you were his second choice. Though Yuji would never tell him that. Or you for the matter. Choso can't wrap his head around why Yuji likes you so much. He knows his brother, no actually, he loves his brother so he knows it's not some crush otherwise Yuji would've shyly approached him and confessed. It seems like his brother just genuinely has a great time with you and that pisses him off. You're loud, that's fine, so is Yuji. But Yuji’s smart, caring, sensitive. You on the other hand... you break things on your way, stumble, laugh obnoxiously and make a mess in his clean kitchen. You're insufferable. So of course, Choso scoffs and rejects Yuji's offer at first.

"She's not coming over, Yu." He tells his little brother, "This was supposed to be our bonding time, remember? I planned out both weeks for us." Choso was excited—he really was. Getting to have his brother around was the best thing that could've happened to him. He'd take Yuji to the movies, carousel, beach, for beers; ok, no, he laughs, he'd definitely get them in a club, maybe a casino? Some strip show? Yuji was an adult now and Choso couldn't wait to listen to his college stories; though he knew there probably weren't many, judging by how nice his brother was. Really, a very likeable kid (adult, he corrects himself).

Yuji begs him. Tells him you'll help around the house, says you've never travelled before, you don't have any plans and you won't cause trouble. It's when Choso starts doubting himself. Ok sure, Choso isn't young per se, but he's definitely fun to be around, right? Does his brother seriously not think he's cool enough anymore? Would he be sad if he said no? He can't stand the thought of making his brother sad. Not because of him, that's certain. This is why he now has you in his house strutting around in flimsy shorts and a barely covering shirt, puffy eyes from your sleep and messy hair. On his kitchen counter asking if there's coffee. He scoffs.

"I made some. For Yuji. You can get some yourself.” He's been up hours ago, went for his run and excitedly waits for his brother to wake up. But now you’re there. Choso couldn't wake Yuji up, he practically spoiled him anyway he could, sleep was no exception. However, you and Yuji unfortunately do not share the same schedule so he is cursed (because blessed would be a euphemism at best) with your presence.

"Alright, damn." You groan, ever since you got there, he seems constantly pissed off with you, but you just woke up, you’re groggy and in his house so you can't do much but yawn. You walk past him, he's too absorbed in his phone, not bothering to look. 

"When do you think Yuji will be up?" He asks, as the smell of coffee suddenly makes you feel alive again.

"Oh I don't know, I'll wake him up soon, we'll go for a swim today." You giggle, you'd been so excited to go to the beach, swimsuits were the first thing you packed. Yuji told you about this beach he wanted you to go to, you’d promised to bring your polaroid and take pictures.

"No, you're not." Choso lifts his head up as he puts the phone down. "Me and Yuji have plans today. You can chill here, we'll be back before 9." It’s sharp and sounds non-negotiable as you stop in your tracks.

"What plans? I didn't know—"

"Why would you? This is our day, you guys can hang later or whatever." But Choso is already pissed. Like actually pissed. If you don’t know then…hadn't Yuji told you or were you just that dumb? He weighs in on the latter. Regardless, he can't argue with a girl his brother's age.

"But I–" You try to protest, as you stand next to the counter, your mug in your hands and you haven't even taken a sip when you’re cut off.

"I'll go wake him up now. Oh, and wear some proper clothing, will you? You've taken this family trip way too seriously." He spits and heads upstairs, leaving you dumbfounded. Coffee suddenly doesn't make you feel that alive. 

-

Yuji is sad. Sad because none of you want to compromise. Choso arranged for them to rent bikes and tour around town; the boardwalk along the seafront was ideal for the activity. His brother had always been athletic and loved the idea so Choso had contacted the shop owner to rent in advance. He knew he was creepy, who the hell rented a bike a week prior? It’s not like they wouldn’t find one. Still, the store closed at 4 PM and it was already past one (Yuji and his sleep) so they’d have to hurry. He’d prepared lunch and was excited for some brotherly time. As for you? Choso honestly didn’t care. You could go for a walk for all that mattered, it’d be four hours at most, you’d be fine. But then there was you, reminding Yuji of the impulsive promise he gave you twelve hours ago. The truth lies in the middle. Yuji mixed up the days—could you blame him? You and Choso bombarded him with plans and ideas meanwhile the poor boy only wanted to rest and enjoy his vacation. So he’d told you about today, when he’d promised Choso days ago. 

‘’Guys, I’m so sorry.’’ Yuji frowns as you both look at him. ‘’I promise, we can do both! One has to call it off so we can do theirs tomorrow.’’ His eyes gleam like usual, but he looks anxious. Probably because he knows both of you. 

‘’But you promised me first.’’ Choso speaks, he doesn’t sound condescending, he’d never raise his voice at his baby brother.

‘’Yeah, well he promised me yesterday!’’ You retort childishly. It’s like a race you two have, who will answer first, a competition, who can win Yuji over.

‘’Please don’t fight, we can do both, come on now, who wants to do their activity tomorrow?’’ Yuji sighs, looking across the kitchen table. He’s the youngest, but he sounds like a kindergarten teacher at the moment.

‘’Yuji, what do you want?’’ Choso emphasizes. Good, that should give him his answer, he thinks.

‘’Yeah, Yuji, why don’t you tell Choso our plan is waay more fun?’’ You consider sticking out your tongue but one look at Choso and you keep your mouth shut.

‘’You know I can’t choose! I love both.’’ He pouts. ‘’Don’t make me do this, can’t you guys figure it out on your own? I’m serious. I’m sorry…” Yuji’s eyes fall. Choso can tell and he suddenly feels responsible. Not for his plans, no. For seeing a sadness cross his brother's face. His heart aches seeing him so passionate to end this stupid debate, so caring, never wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings. He deep down wishes he came first. Choso’s older now and he realizes he can’t continue; a sigh leaves his lips as he speaks up. 

‘’It’s fine, Yu. Be back soon.’’ He backs off. Again. He has to put up a front for his brother. He doesn’t bother giving you a glance, as he exits the kitchen. He wonders if he’s ever despised someone that much before. To the point of choking them…no, not that. That’d be too nice for you. You deserve an agonizing death. He imagines your body stretched out on a medieval rack as your limbs crack one by one. You hadn’t been there more than a day and you were already fucking up his schedule. And in his own house, too. As if dressing like some whore wasn’t enough, seriously what ever happened to modesty? In his head his thoughts make sense, a stranger meddling in his newly amended relationship with his brother. Did you even know how much he cherished him? The lengths he’d go to protect and be there for him? This summer break was supposed to be more than a brotherly reunion. He wanted to be Yuji’s friend this time. He bets you don’t even know what it’s like to have no one around. 

He might go for another run, he considers. You’d be gone within a week. But even when his thoughts subside, he still thinks of ways to put you in your place for good.

-

By the time you’re home, polaroids in your bag and salt on your skin, Choso is pacing up and down the living room. It’s 8:30 PM and Yuji hasn't texted him since noon. 

‘’Where the hell were you, Yuji?’’ Choso completely ignores you as he looks at his brother, who is licking off a half melted ice cream and flaunts a newly acquired tan.

‘’Did you get a sunburn?’’ Choso’s anxious, damn it that kid, always failing to reapply SPF.

‘’I’m fine, nii chan.’’ Yuji laughs, as some ice cream falls on the floor. ‘’I’ll go take a shower or do you wanna go first?’’ He asks you.

‘’She can go first.’’ Choso tells him and you’re taken aback.

‘’Really?’’ You sound surprised. There’s no way he’d ever be kind to you, you knew that seconds after you met him. 

‘’Yeah, want to have some time with Yuji, before we head out.’’ He sounds casual as he brings a wipe to clean Yuji’s ice cream. His back muscles flex under his compression shirt, he looks kind of messy, had he worked out again? Unruly hair falls on his eyes as you try to tear away your gaze.

‘’C-cool.. I’m going upstairs.’’ You announce and leave, stumbling on the first step. What did you think of right now? 

Choso’s bathroom is spacious and allows you to take your sweet time rinsing salt and sunscreen off your skin. Yuji may have not been sunburnt but you couldn’t say the same. Your skin aches as you lather your back and thighs, were you sunburnt everywhere? You make a mental note to apply some moisturizing cream you brought. You had a good time with Yuji, he told you about his best friend’s summer course (financial crime, corruption and money laundering— dude sounded weird) and not being able to make it, how they’d meet and how his relationship with Choso had drastically changed in the span of a year. Yuji didn’t even know about Choso and took some time to warm up to him. As his brother, that is. But Choso was the best brother he could have, he told you. You had trouble believing that. Choso’s demeanor was far from.. best. You sigh remembering your brief coffee encounter. How he’d looked at you above his phone, his cold eyes with tired bags under as his long hair fell on his face, unruly and..sexy. What? Why do you think that? Your mind goes through images like a film projector—his long torso peeking under his compression shirt as he stretched and accidentally revealed a v-line and a happy trail. You feel a sting as water falls down the drain; the lotus and white tea fragrance from the body foam he has envelops your face. You close your eyes and think of him in more…compromising scenarios. Behind you for example. Strong arms snaking around your waist as he presses against you, droplets falling between you while his mouth latches on your neck. A muscular, veiny hand finding your chest and caressing gently…only to move to your lower belly and lazily circle around the entrance. You fight the urge to let a soft moan as you imagine him teasing. Yeah, he’d definitely tease your slit up and down, pecking on your neck until you begged. ‘’Choso..please! J-just one finger!’’ and he’d laugh, mouth contracting on your delicate neck and rubbing around your clit. You’re getting yourself off, what the hell are you doing right now? But could you really blame yourself? You never thought of Choso like that but you do now so you can’t question it further. You let a finger slip slowly inside you. It’s wet and fills you up well—not as good as you think Choso’s thick, calloused fingers would, but it does the job. You wonder how good he’d feel and you’re getting yourself off only by picturing his fingers. You’re suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door. 

‘’Aren’t you done yet? It’s been half an hour. Get out.’’ Choso growls behind the door, you remove your finger and quickly gulp down. 

‘’I’m almost done.’’ You faintly say, shit, the man you had fingers in your cunt for, interrupted your daydream…of him. You quickly rinse off excess shampoo and exit. God, you needed to get laid instantly. 

-

When you come downstairs, Yuji is nowhere to be found. Choso is sitting on the couch, the TV plays a show he doesn’t watch as he scrolls on his phone.

‘’Where’s Yuji?’’ You’re wearing Yuji’s old T-shirt from when he was a gamer and skater and nothing under it. In your defense, it’s long and covers almost up to your knees. He doesn’t turn around.

‘’He left. Sent him off to meet his friend, his parents dropped him off.’’

‘’What friend?’’ As far as you knew Yuji told you all his friends were busy with summer courses.

‘’His best friend, Megumi, don’t even know that?” He sneers. Megumi? The money laundering guy?

But he—

‘’He’s not staying long.’’ He has to be joking. 

‘’Why didn’t you tell me? I wanted to meet him, Yuji told me–’’

‘’Why should I? Yuji needs time with some real friends. Told him you felt sick or whatever.’’ 

‘’Are you serious? Why would you do that? Where are they?’’ You can’t believe this guy, first he treats you like a pile of shit, then he’s nice to you by offering you to go first…wait. Did he send you up first so he could convince Yuji to go out without you? Could he be so shitty?

‘’Oh my fucking God, that’s why you told me to shower first didn’t you? What did you even tell Yuji?’’ This guy is unbelievable and you fight the urge to rip his hair out from the back. 

‘’Does it matter? He’s already gone. Serves you right.’’ Choso sounds relaxed, like he just stated tomorrow’s itinerary. 

‘’And what am I supposed to do here, huh? God, you’re so fucking annoying, I swear I’m texting Yuji right now.’’ You realize your phone’s upstairs and before you can turn around, a strong palm grabs your wrist forcefully.

‘’One more step and you’ll be spitting blood.’’ His eyes burn as you feel the pain from his grip.

‘’Let— go...’’ You ask, more like beg as he throws your hand away, it burns, partly due to the sun but also from the pressure of his grasp. 

You slowly drag your feet to the kitchen as you think of ways to hurt him. You hate this guy, you simply exist and he decides upon making your life living hell. Sure, he doesn’t do anything dramatic but he’s constantly interfering with your friendship. Yuji wants you there, he acts like he’s some unprotected child and constantly monitors him. You grab a glass from the cupboard as you feel the words slip out your mouth involuntarily.

‘’Yuji doesn’t like you.’’ You lie and before you even have the chance to have a sip, the glass soars in the air and falls with a loud thump, shattering in a million pieces as you’re turned to look at him. 

‘’What the fuck did you just say?’’ He spits. He scares you, you think, the way he’s hovering; he seems really angered.

‘’I said–’’ You can’t continue. Because he slaps you. On your face. With his palm. And it hurts so badly, you feel tears prick at your eyes, your wrist hurts and you can’t move around— each time the burn catches up to you. 

‘’Why don’t you say that again?’’ He goes on, he has not moved and still waits for your answer.

‘’S-stop..!” You muffle, as you bring a hand to your face, you want this resolved immediately, you’re kind of defenseless, since your phone’s out of your reach and you are alone. He also is extremely strong and it doesn’t help that you anger him, his muscles tense and you notice the veins on his neck pulsating.

‘’Useless bitch.’’ He hisses, ‘’Yuji doesn’t like me? Look at you and your pathetic self. You think he likes you? Yuji likes everyone, wake the fuck up. At first I thought he fucked you, cause why else would anyone want to hang out with you?’’ Choso is fed up with you. Fed up with being nice, fed up with compromising. In all honesty, he’d probably be fed up with anyone but Yuji, but you’re just the cherry on top. Did you seriously think you could try to contact Yuji? The fact you even dared to speak on his name angers him even more. And that’s why he continues while you break down slowly. 

‘’You come here, in my place to hang out with my brother. Dressing up like some common cockwhore and you know what? I really wouldn’t give a fuck, but taking him away from me? Did you two have fun at the beach? You wanted him to fuck, yeah? Otherwise, what are you even good for?’’ He goes on to bring a hand on your cheeks, squishing and bringing your mouth to open like a fish. Tears that welled up in your eyes now fall sideways as he mocks. Your back slams against the counter, you think you feel your feet touch glass splinters as you tremble. You ache everywhere and he keeps going. 

‘’S–ow-’’ You manage, you can’t articulate coherently and feel nauseous. 

‘’Wanna speak up?’’ His mouth twitches but he still isn’t fully smiling. He has to hide it for now. Each moment that goes by, he feels an immense pleasure. It’s like he takes out all his anger that he kept inside the previous days and he doesn’t want to stop. Not when his palm moves your pathetic face left and right, like he’s viewing some artifact. In the insanity of it all, he feels his cock hard. He is unconsciously rubbing on your t-shirt (Yuji’s t-shirt) and your face looks oddly pretty, puffy cheeks adorned with tears and wide pleading eyes. 

‘’L-uh- oh’’ You try to speak out and he gets exactly what you’re trying to communicate. 

‘’Y-Yu- i’’ You call out his brother's name. Seriously, it's like you’re asking for it.

‘’What about my brother, huh?’’ A hand is removed as more air fills your lungs. You sob. You feel searing pain in your chest, among all other body parts— fingerprints sit on both of your cheeks. 

‘’Y-Yuji— is.. he..is not..’’ You can hardly keep up, he is in close proximity and your tailbone hits against the counter from the way he has his body pressed onto you. A hardness pokes at your belly and you think that this wasn’t what you had in mind in the shower. He is aggressive and looks like he won’t back off soon.

‘’Not what? Speak the fuck up.’’ 

‘’N-not like this.’’ You cry. You can’t understand how these two are even related. Yuji’s a sunshine, the kindest soul you’ve known, of course he wouldn’t want to fuck you, he just felt sorry that you didn’t have plans and offered up some company. He’d do it for anyone. You were naive at times but you knew it was the reason you were there. Yuji couldn’t say no. He must’ve also not been aware of his brother’s rage otherwise you wouldn’t find yourself in this position. 

‘’You’re right.’’ Choso takes you out of your thoughts. ‘’He isn’t. But I am. It’s your lucky day.’’ His left hand is on the counter behind you, so there goes your chance to leave. To your left, there’s an exit. You could run. But your eyes betray you and his palm abrasively pushes your left shoulder back. 

‘’Don’t even fucking consider this.’’ He says as his knee nudges yours to the side. You’re standing the whole time and the rough poke makes your legs buckle—you almost fall but you’re brought to stand upright as he lifts Yuji’s shirt.

‘’Shit, wearing his shirt and everything, as if you’d ever be good enough to be his girlfriend.’’ He mocks, but his eyes aren’t on you, they’re on your chest as you wriggle under him. 

Choso is determined this punishment exceeds medieval torture. And you should definitely look on the bright side, you’d enjoy it by the end.

‘’Finger yourself.’’ He orders and your eyes widen. 

‘’W-what..’’ You tremble. He raises his right hand and you flinch but he goes on to move a strand stuck on your lips.

‘’Stop playing deaf. Touch your cunt like you did in the shower. What? Think I didn’t listen? That’s the type of nasty whore you are.’’

You can’t do it. You can’t— so he does it for you. His right palm brings your hand in between your open legs as you feel your own palm push against your entrance. He touches on your middle finger and slowly brings it in between your lower lips. He slips in your finger, which has to contract by the pressure he’s applying but his rough hand touches you too and you cry.

‘’C-Choso.. s—stop..’’ He moves your finger up and down your pussy, which lubricates steadily the more something’s thrusted inside it and then decides to stick his finger too. You gasp as it fills you fully and he finally breaks out a smile, seeing you cute and vulnerable like this really makes his cock hard. Your pretty eyes beg for him to stop but he can’t; it’s too good and you’re almost enjoying it already. 

‘’That’s right. It feels good, doesn’t it? Bet you were thinking about Yuji in the shower, weren’t you? It’s okay, I can show you how I fuck too.” Choso wants to turn you around and stuff his cock inside you without protest but that wouldn’t count as torture so he has to suppress his strained urge. He’ll make good use of that nuisance of a mouth you have first.

Both hands are removed from your cunt, slick trickles down your forcibly open thighs— the position makes your hips automatically open and buck up and you’re panting, scared and embarrassed that your body betrays you. Choso’s face is flushed, a red scarring which you hadn’t seen up close, seems even more crimson, as he gets you off the counter and pushes your elbows down. You’re dropped on the floor, right in front of a long bulge—you can pretty much expect what’s to follow but still make a timid effort.

‘’Cho–Choso, please..’’ but before you know it, his sweatpants are removed and you’re cut off by his cock in your mouth. Salty precum lingers on your tongue—not long, before he starts thrusting his hips in your mouth, fucking your face. You choke and gargle; he’s big and his girth squeezes around your palate as he hits the back of your throat, “Fucking finally..” he groans, “..good for once.” He praises, as if you make some conscious effort. 

He suddenly pulls out—spittle falls down his cock as he grabs you by the roots of your hair. You must be a funny sight, plush, swollen lips, puffy eyes, a wet, anticipating cunt and precum staining his brother’s shirt as he brings his face closer. Something urges him to kiss you. He wants to taste your desperation. He brings his mouth on yours, it’s wet and he pushes his tongue inside, he can taste the fluids as you cry. 

‘’Kiss me.” He says and tries harder. This time you comply, his tongue searches your open mouth as you follow his lead. His right palm rests on the counter behind you, trapping you in an embrace, which oddly enough creates a heat in your core. His mouth, despite the forcefulness, feels soft and you aimlessly try to close your legs in hope the nasty feeling goes away. You smell his scent, it must be his shower gel, lotus…and something else you read on the label but can’t remember now. You let tears fall from your eyes as you try to inhale only through your nose— mouth too occupied being devoured by him. 

Choso loves kissing you. He thinks to himself you are perfect, in your own way. So pretty with your mouth distracted and your legs open. For him, only. Yuji would be off limits after that. Not that you’d approach either one after, he guesses. Your kisses only make him eager to stuff your cunt more, his cock aches by the minute, that’s why he lifts you up. You’re so pliable, he thinks. He manhandles you and all you’ve said is a couple broken ‘’please’’. Did you actually want this? He considers the possibility, he isn’t unattractive in the slightest.

Your shirt has to go. He knows it’s Yuji’s but that doesn’t matter now that it has his precum on it. He finds himself wondering whether he fights internally against Yuji or you right now, seeing how he feels a pang of jealousy towards his little brother. But the idea is crazy so he brushes it off hurriedly. Your soft, squishy tits rise and fall to the pace of your anxiety. 

‘’You have pretty tits, does this hurt?’’ He asks as he slaps across your nipple, the skin around burns tenfold and you cry out.

‘’...h-hurts..’’ You yelp and he feigns sorrow.

‘’Aww, sorry, let me make this feel better. We’ve neglected her for some time, haven't we?’’ He looks at your cunt— glistening and lovely, ready to be defiled as he brings a thumb to play with your clit. 

‘’Spit.’’ You’re not that wet, what? It’s okay, he will change it.

You shyly gather spit and let a small glob fall down his digits as he pumps two fingers abruptly inside. Three strokes and your cunt starts drooling, he enjoys the sounds. But more than anything, he enjoys your tormented face, fighting to admit the pleasure you’re getting. His rough thumb circles around your clit as you’re forced to touch behind his neck to not fall off, you grip down his nape, failing to conceal your moans. 

‘’Cho-choso..mhm’’ You whine, brokenly, it pains you to feel so good, so fast. You don’t want this. You don’t.

‘’...Already squeezing down like some slut huh..’’ It takes Choso a lot of strength to not cum in the air like some loser, he’s delayed this too much and now you look irresistible, being fucked by his fingers on his counter. While you cry. And his brother’s out. 

‘’-Mm- Cho- Choso.. stop!’’ You moan, feeling close to an orgasm as he pumps faster and circles the nub simultaneously. Your fluids stain all the way up to his knuckles and if he keeps this up, you’ll probably coat his palm entirely.

‘’---f-fuck Cho–’’ He removes the fingers just before you can give in to the feeling— you pant frustrated. 

‘’Enough. Let’s test out how well that cunt feels… for a slut like yourself.’’ You want to protest, want to tell him to fuck off and leave you alone, but that’s clearly not an option. In a split second you’re turned over, thrown across the kitchen table, your limbs are stretched out and the direct contact makes you wince, as you clash with your chest. Choso admires the view. He spreads your legs out and you look ready to be fucked into oblivion.

He gives his stiff cock a couple thrusts, his red tip leaks his precum and he groans before his cockhead bumps with your entrance. You moan and he hasn’t even entered you yet as he brings a hand on the curve of your ass and smacks it. 

‘’Stop being so desperate, it’s embarrassing.’’ He sighs as he rubs his cockhead across your slit.

‘’P–please Cho–Choso..’’ You moan, understanding that you have it bad. ‘’W-want you in me...’’ You can’t even lie to yourself at this point, you’re pent up and need him. The rest of unresolved feelings is something you’ll deal with later. 

‘’Fucking needy slut, maybe Yuji was right bringing you over here. Gonna get fucked by his bro like some passed around whore? Want him to stuff you too?’’

‘’N-no! Choso! P–please- ugh.. need you..only you!” You beg as you move your hips, your dignity dissolved a long time ago. 

Choso mumbles something under his breath and pushes his cock to slide in your creamy walls as you moan—desperately. His cock is large and it hurts way more than his fingers, he hasn’t bottomed out yet but you already feel suffocated.

‘’Ch-Choso!’’

‘’What is it, slut? Be patient.’’ He huffs, but he isn’t patient himself as he prods at your cunt deeper, you’re way too tight to take him, squeezing down the entirety (or at least most of what can fit) in your little hole and he has to sigh. Your back muscles contract as your helpless hands tug at the table while he thrusts deeper and deeper, he brings his torso close to yours so he’s next to your hair, which he removes.

‘’Does that feel good? You take me so well for a common whore, baby.’’ He whispers on your neck, you shudder and cry out. 

‘’Mhmagh- Cho-Cho! Y-yes..feels s-so good! Don’t stop! Cho–’’

‘’Are you fucking stupid? Don't…don’t tell me what to do.’’ He straightens himself and grabs your hips. His cock lunges in your cunt, he’s poking at what feels like your cervix, when he slaps your reddened ass. It should appall you, it should make you wince but he notices your pussy tightening and clamping down. So you’re enjoying this? What a nasty fucking slut that you are. 

‘’C-Cho– i ughn I’m cumming fuck!’’ You sob and he fastens his pace. You’re overstimulated, overly teased and over the edge. Your hands scratch against the table as his palms hold your head firm and to the side, he pushes you downward and thrusts his cock in and out, each pump making you gradually lose eyesight until you do… fully. Your vision darkens completely and you blink rapidly as you let go screaming.

‘’C-choso aagh!’’ But he doesn’t listen, his head’s too clouded with the need to fill you up, the need to have his cum seep out your hole as he grabs Yuji’s shirt next to him, rolls it around and hangs it over your neck. You’re being lifted—your back is arched upward, the angle is excruciatingly painful; you’re too sensitive and his cock slides way too deep.

‘’Shit– don’t have much to say now, huh?’’ He asks but you’re choking and fighting for air, your ass bumps against his groin and he needs about three thrusts and a hard final slap on your flesh to finish. 

‘’Fuuuck–shit, r-right there, stay the fuck up!’’ He orders, but it’s not like you have many places to go as you feel a warmth filling you up; it’s funny, you’ve never had anyone come inside before. His load spurts and trickles out and he lets go of the scarf made on the spot, falling on top of you.

He slowly slides his softening cock out and doesn’t tell you another word while his chest rises and falls on your back. He can’t lie to himself, you were too nice. The softness in your shivering skin and sad eyes was too kind. Maybe he shouldn’t have been that hard on you, slapping you like some fly. He clears his throat as he climbs off you. You remain laid out, you seem passed out or freshly dead—you sport multiple marks and semen falls down his counter.

‘’We have to clean up before Yuji gets back.’’ You can barely register what he says but you make out the ‘we’ in the beginning. At least he acknowledges your existence, you think as you try to find your friend’s shirt. 

-

When Yuji returns Choso tells him you’re asleep. He can’t let him know he was cleaning bodily fluids off the kitchen counter. Yuji doesn’t ask more, he is excited to let Choso know about Megumi’s course and Choso listens, though he’s tired. By the time Yuji wakes up, you’re gone, having left a note behind that you ‘’didn’t feel well and changed the flight tickets.’’ When he tries calling you, you don’t pick up and he tells Choso.

‘’I’m sure she’s fine.’’ Choso made breakfast— it’s biking day, the sun shines and Yuji actually woke up earlier than expected (11 AM). His house feels silent, empty in a funny way, almost like you left and took its joy with you. Yuji is visibly upset but Choso reassures him everything’s fine.

‘’Yeah… I guess you’re right. You did say she felt sick yesterday..’’ He reminds him. Did he say that? Well, Choso thinks, it definitely sounds better than letting his little brother know of the sickening things he did— your punishment for daring to be his friend. Maybe he wasn’t lying to Yuji when he said that.

‘’I’ll try again later.’’ Yuji smiles. His voice doesn’t have its usual excitedness but Choso will work on it. He doesn’t have much time. 

‘’We’re still going, right?’’

‘’Sure.’’ Yuji smiles half-heartedly as he stands up.

He heads upstairs and Choso picks up the breakfast plates and puts them in the sink. He stands right at the spot he had you pinned twelve hours ago—defenseless and crying as he slapped you, facefucked you, fingered, choked and ultimately humiliated you. He knows the excuse that he made you cum and the way you looked at him barely holds up. Even if you liked him, it wasn’t right.

Why are you there again? Right, your friends wanted to go to that after party, as if the club wasn't enough. What was supposed to be a night out ended up with you in the local internet café (the only after hours spot) while your friends decided to go to a house party with loud techno music, which definitely wasn’t your vibe. You and your friends lived close and would often call a taxi on your way home, money wasn’t enough for you to ride solo today though—you prayed in times like these that you at least had a job; you wouldn’t have to rely on anyone then. 

You knew pretty much everyone there, it’s not like the town had more than ten thousand residents and considering the age group and schools you’d all gone to, the internet café only had a few unknown members. On today’s shift was none other than Tomura of course, that guy was taking up as many shifts as his body would allow him to, apparently there was this rumor a family member was in crucial condition and they were in need. Tomura Shigaraki was one of these people you had branded as incel. Though hardworking (he kept a house of his own, cleaning and doing all chores by himself while providing for whomever he had), you still considered the guy as one. Now—you know the term is heavy, matter of fact, quite offending and serious as an allegation but it’s not like there weren’t rumors. Rumors he’d bash women and call them prostitutes, try to sleep with girls and trash them to his friends a day later, hating them for anything they did and claiming true love didn’t exist nowadays because “all women are sluts, who need money and validation.” Plus, he worked at the local internet café (should be enough reason), engaging in heated conversations with his friends and fellow streamers. God, one look in their chats and you'd get as violent as possible— (not much, you'd discovered it the hard way). Thus, it was no surprise that when you enter the place, you hear whispers and scoffs.

‘’The hell are you doing here?’’ A voice was heard from within, the café had the computer screens up front, a bar and a couch with TV in the back. Tomura was occupied in the designated bar the place had (you often wondered what kind of needs these people had—all they ever consumed was energy drinks and pre-packaged meals, takeouts were for reasons of competitive market prohibited).

‘’Just dropping by for a couple of hours, will leave soon.’’ You sigh as you take a seat on the couch, not bothering to talk to anyone, it wasn’t like they cared anyway. Loud noise and laughter can be heard all around, a couple of guys swearing and some younger boys excitedly standing above their screens. The store had a 16+ policy, but of course, no one ever checked so kids could practically stare unattended. Tomura also encouraged younger boys to play, such a piece of shit, you think, getting them to learn young. 

‘’Oh my fucking God, a slut just joined!’’ You hear some guy swear, presumably because a girl joined their online server. These guys were so disgusting, you cringe, it was no wonder they were celibate without wanting it. You stand up, you need to kill some time and you're feeling bored, you think about starting a fight with Tomura, how else could you have a little bit of fun?

You weren’t ever necessarily afraid of the guy, even though you had to admit, he looked intimidating. Quite tall with a pale complexion, ashy, dull hair and scars across his face; no one actually knew much about him and whether he was troubled, it’s not like he ever showed to work beaten up or high and usually kept a low profile. The only frightening thing this man had was his smile, it terrified you sometimes as it looked downright evil. 

‘’Getting them to learn young, huh?’’ You ask him, he’s washing up some cups from the previous round of gross gaming guys, who have now left.

‘’What?’’ He responds, not bothering to look up. 

‘’How to not get women, I mean.’’ You sigh as he huffs in annoyance.

‘’You should be grateful I let a female in my store in the first place.’’ He retorts, but doesn’t seem very angry, just ironic. Usual.

My store (you decide to skip over 'female') sounds funny but you choose not to comment on it. 

‘’So how long until you guys close?’’ You don't bother with the vocabulary—it’s routine at this point. It also never ends well and you had a great night so far, why ruin it now?

‘’Two hours.’’ 

‘’Mind if I sit on the couch? I’ll be quiet I promise’’ You ask—technically beg, as you see no other options.

‘’Ugh.. yeah I mind. There’s some guys wanting to use it, I have a group for GTA on the PS5.’’

‘’Seriously? People still play that?’’ You whine but force yourself to continue.

 ‘’Can I sit with you then?’’ It takes strength—but you say it regardless. You came to terms with the fact he was your last resort minutes ago.

‘’Sure. But you need to make yourself useful. Here, take this.’’ He hands you a wet sponge, ‘’Wash these up... carefully, while I go clean the floors.’’ He orders, as if you’re part of the staff (and new on the job apparently.)

‘’Do you actually want me to wash freaking dishes? I just came here to chill, I don’t even bother anyone!’’ You start feeling annoyed with the chores, you aren’t 16 and he isn’t your mom.

‘’You can always leave.’’ The running tap stops and he turns to you, practically shoving the wet gloves on your chest. 

‘’Or...you can stop being a brat and be of use during your stay, I have two hours left.’’ He smiles, that same smile that makes your skin crawl and blood boil as he moves away.

‘’Fuck! My dress, you asshole!’’ A wet patch now covers the too short dress as you glance at the time on your phone. 

Two hours. Two hours until your friends leave and he closes up anyway.

-

Tomura was at least true to his words. Within two insufferable hours of having to listen to appalling conversations between men (hardly to be considered as such), plate washing and the toilet being constantly occupied, the last customers get up to leave. 

You dry your hands and plop down the couch exhausted.

‘’Finally.’’ You exhale checking your phone, your friends hadn’t given you any life signs in the meantime, so you decide to patiently wait, they’d message eventually. Tomura is done sweeping the nasty floors from crumbs and dried Monster remnants, which he still has to mop (for the fourth time, you note and you've only been there some hours). You notice how restless he seems—the guy has been running the whole night after ignorant customers, who had not once shown basic respect for the order of the place yet never complained. Truly a shame he has such a misogynistic mindset, you think. He could get women, if he wanted to. 

It’s around 6:30 AM, when he presses a button to close the store's roll-up shutters halfway. Small light outside makes its way in but the place is still relatively dark, as he places the mop near the wall and takes a seat next to you.

‘’Fuuck, I’m so tired.’’ He sighs, making sure to spread his legs on the couch as much as he can, not caring (of course) about you also sitting on it. 

You always branded Tomura as an incel, that you knew about. But despite that, you now can’t help but feel for him, not knowing much about him at the same time. Sure, he technically isn’t the nicest guy but a look around would show you that he tries enough for a job kicking his ass. You find yourself sympathizing with a man, whose ideals you hate and try to brush these thoughts off.

‘’And why the fuck am I an incel anyway?’’ He asks, his head rests on the couch and his eyes are closed, he is scrunching severely—almost threatening to fall down. And he manspreads. A lot.

‘’W-well– I..’’ You never thought he’d caught on to that, stammering to stand your ground as you continue. ‘’Well, there have been rumors about you.’’ You say, but it doesn’t come off as confident as you’d hoped for. You also realize, it sounds kind of stupid.

‘’Reaaally? And you made sure to believe them, right?’’ His tone’s laced with irony but the way he talks like he whispers in a raspy voice doesn't annoy you anymore. It makes you more... uncomfortable? On the edge? Excited?...what?

‘’It’s not like you don’t claim it yourself.’’ You retort, finally finding some courage. You notice him looking at you as you awkwardly shuffle in your seat.

‘’All I’ve ever said was that I think women are good for nothing. And I still believe that, but I wouldn’t waste more of my time on that.’’ The statement makes you roll your eyes.

‘’How can you generalize a whole group of people, who are literally in no way inferior to you, you can’t tell me you’ve tried—’’ 

‘’Listen dollface, unless you want to change my mind there’s no reason to fuss that much, my opinion won’t change.’’

Unless you want to change my mind?

‘’I-I don’t.’’ You stammer, because the answer and pet name (dollface??) takes you by surprise and he laughs.

‘’Relax, you branded me an incel.’’ He jokes, ‘’don’t want the rape allegations on me too.’’ 

The more he talks, the more your mind races and you curse yourself. He seems..funny? He has a mole under his lips—fuck, it looks cute...He also looks good so (stupid as it is, yes!) you silently want his attention. Why can’t he just look you in the eyes more?

This is so wrong. He must've noticed your lost gaze as he speaks up.

‘’Wanna watch a movie?’’ He proposes and you nod, anything is better than the silence hanging in the air. Silence you caused. For thinking... things about him. 

Of course Tomura ends up choosing the most depressing film anyone can possibly watch in an internet café at 6 AM, Fallen Angels, and the dramatic cuts make it hard for you to concentrate. He at a certain point leans closer to you but you justify it, how else would he be able to see?

During this one scene, the woman pleasured herself with her legs closed, rubbing together and that’s when you feel a soft hand touch on your thigh. The dress you wore rode up, because your legs rested on the table ahead so it gave him the space he needed. The movement made you tingle and your core involuntarily contracted. The smooth fingers teasingly trailed up and down your leg, from your knees to your inner thighs. You didn’t want to look at him—he was too close and the scene seemed endless. But…he went on about it as if nothing was happening. 

Without saying a word, he carried on. A pad of his finger tip dangerously close to your now heated entrance, the images flashing before your eyes lewd, his hand tempting and threatening to reach your already soaked cunt—all this while the two of you hadn’t even shared a kiss. But he doesn't stop, looking ahead and acting like everything’s fine, until he touches your lower lips and you hiss, his finger traces the wet spot over your underwear while you try to move and speak up. 

‘’W–what are y—’’

‘’Shh..’’ is all he says. 

You want to tell him no. But no to what? You like the feeling of his two fingers against your folds. His palm moves your panties to the side and he stuffs them inside—they dampen from the fluids. How is he that quick? You can’t form a response but you’re about to ask him why—

‘’All that and I haven’t even kissed you.’’ He murmurs, gaze still fixated on the television ahead as you moan, when he slowly pumps them within your walls. Fuck, are you turned on by this?

‘’P-please..’’ You whisper, turning to look at him and for the first time, his eyes are removed from the stupid TV, a sly smile on his features as he tears away his hand.

‘’What is it? Want the incel to kiss you? Maybe even fuck you to prove a point?’’ He says and you frown.

‘’I—no, I have to go.’’ You get up, fixing (lowering) your dress—you have nowhere to go but you’ll figure it out eventually. You think staying longer only plays into his cruel intentions and whilst you can’t deny the pleasure he could give you, your pride’s in the way.

‘’You’re not going anywhere.’’ A wet hand clasps around your wrist and brings you on his lap, as he grins; you seem confused at the sensation. You are hiding the TV screen but he couldn't care less, he never paid attention to the movie.

‘’Feel the stain you left, too?’’ He says as he brings your face closer with the sticky palm grabbing you by the hair. You softly moan, noticing the small mole up close and feeling a bulge poke where your bodies meet. You sway your hips in a silent effort to have him initiate a kiss, you feel desperate and curse yourself again internally. He can only smile.

(You were so clueless, walking around in that slutty dress earlier—making him hard like that, did you even know it?)

He’s quick to kiss you, eager for more already, as mouths clash, teeth collide, the need you both have exceeds proper manners. You sloppily grind against him, the friction from a long outline beneath you makes it hard to think.

‘’I’m guessing, you’re really fucking the incel then.’’ He half smirks as he grabs you and repositions you to sit on his now fully hard cock that throbs in his pants; he lifts your dress above your ass and guides your hips sluggishly back and forth—he’s tormenting you and he enjoys it to the fullest.

‘’T-tomura..p-please.’’ You whine, the urge to have him inside you makes you blabber.

‘’Please what?’’ He slides a hand behind your waist, lowering it to find your slit from behind, his fingers pet your cunt and you moan. Loudly. He is tugging at your panties, the fabric annoys him and he wants full access and the words. The words to prove his point.

‘’P–please...fuck me already!’’ You breathe out and he groans to the sound of your voice. 

The ironic remark he prepared evaporates as he quickly pushes you back, just enough to not fall off his lap and quickly unzips his pants, thanking god for not wearing a belt. 

His pants and underwear are sloppily moved down his knees, as his cock jumps with a pop on his lower abdomen, stiff with a weeping tip. Pretty veins throb around it as your eyes widen.

Shit, he’s big, can you take him?

‘’I’d ask for a nice blowjob, dollface, but wouldn’t want the feminists after me.’’ He says as he brings you close, kissing you yet again, a string of spit runs down your jaw, as your hands roam his tangled, uncombed hair. 

He positions you on his cock, one hand snakes around your waist while the other one clings to the back of your scalp and you’re swiftly lifted by the head and pushed down on him, as you let out a scream.

‘’Shut the fuck up.’’ He hisses, quickly looking around, the sensation from almost his whole length makes you tremble, he feels too full, too painful...too good.

‘’Shit, c’mon now you got this.’’ He encourages as you hesitantly move up and down his cock, gripping his shoulders and looking at him; he seems more concentrated on the sensation than your body, staring at you while you wrap around his length.

‘’Fuck...dollface, this too much for ya?’’ He tries not to grunt and you give your best not to cry, each moment that goes by turning the initial pain to pleasure—your cunt adjusts slowly and bit by bit to his girth. 

‘’T-tomura... y-yes..it’s too much!’’ You whine, sweat forms in your forehead as his hand finds your swollen clit and circles it while your nails dig deeper in his shirt.

‘’You can take it.’’ He says, he feels you squeezing him in, you bounce with dedication on his legs, making the couch squeak as if on some sex tape—you want to bring yourself even closer. So nasty, aren't you? Acting righteous, only to fuck yourself on his cock like a desperate whore.

‘’I-ugh-p-please..’’ You try to speak but he secures his hand around your torso and sinks (lower than before) down the couch. Two strong hands force you to stay still in the air while he drills himself into you at a steady pace, kind of sloppily too. Both of you moan, the position gives equal pleasure, your clit bumps on his groin and his cock reaches your g-spot with ease.

‘’S–Shit, you’re squeezing way too much, haven’t you been fucked like this before?’’ He sounds annoyed but the stammer in his voice betrays him.

Not like this, you want to say but can’t really speak the words. Your weight falls entirely on him, he doesn’t mind one bit—he loves it actually, this skin on skin contact as he guides you on his cock, it feels surreal. He hits soft and spongy spots inside while you slowly fall apart. 

‘’T-Tomura right there..I ugh—I'm close!’’ The sensation overwhelms you, his eyes are still fixated on your face, yeah I can tell, he thinks. He gets off on your desperation, mouth parted all for him? Your eyes threaten to spill by the way he tears apart your cunt and morals bit by bit.. it’s–

‘’Tomura, aren't you closing yet?’’ Someone asks from outside, interrupting the moment. The shutters only reveal a pair of shoes. 

‘’Yeah, I’m on it.’’ Shigaraki stops composed, cockwarming you in a funny way, while a hand, his hand covers your mouth. Your eyes widen as slick trickles down his thighs in silence.

‘’Alright, see you then.’’ The man leaves and he cusses him out. (''Cunt.'')

‘’We’re not done.’’ He turns his attention back to you and seizes your face, bringing your mouth closer.

‘’Open up.’’ He orders and you do, clenching around him in anticipation.

He spits in it and closes the gap with his index finger. 

‘’Swallow or I won’t continue.’’ You quickly gulp down.

‘’So obedient all of a sudden, aren't you?’’ Sarcasm evident as he gives your ass a solid hit, before starting to get back on his pace, only more rough this time, he longs for your release on him. You’re moving up and down his length, trying to grab anything accessible really, his hair, the back of the couch, under his shirt and you feel your orgasm resurface stronger; the delay highlighted all of your senses.

‘’T-Tomura—’’ You shudder, as his cock hits your g-spot expertly–fuck, this guy wasn't some incel–and your swollen clit has to brush one last time past his groin before you feel an overwhelming orgasm take over. You clamp down his length and moan embarrassingly (Fuck Tomura! I–I'm...too good!) This time he lets you, he needs to hear this.

‘’Fuuck—agh, look at you dollface.’’ He hums, a feminist creaming herself on my cock, he wants to add but it’s too many words and you just came so he wastes no time. He brings your neck close to his mouth and bites on it, teeth sink into your flesh and hands force you all the way down. His cum spills inside and he groans, trying to stifle his moans by biting down the sensitive skin even harder. 

And fuck if that isn’t hot.

He keeps you on him, arms fasten around your waist with cum dripping onto his lowered pants but neither of you bother to care; ragged breaths and the sounds of the film still playing are audible as more light enters through the rolled shutters.

God must’ve been on your side that day because a message appears on your screen moments after you both wordlessly got up and cleaned yourselves in the bathroom. Tomura would have to clean again, you think, as the message on your phone signals your time to leave.

You turn to look at him, he has removed his shirt and small nail scratches decorate his pale back and you..smile. What the hell? Was this..? Oh no—You try to find an appropriate goodbye.

See you soon? Thanks for the mind blowing dick? You aren’t the incel I thought you were? Everything seems embarrassing at present time. 

‘’I-I’ll be seeing you soon.’’ You opt for that, stupid as it is, you still look at him in anticipation. He turns to you, hands on the mop cleaning near the couch and nods. 

Great, you think, that was a disaster. You defeatedly walk (actually stoop to get past the almost closed door) feeling like a hooker after a client, miserable and kind of used. This is always the worst part. 

You feel an arm touch your shoulder, you’ve only taken a few steps in the daylight.

‘’Take this in case you revoke your incel statement.’’

Shigaraki: i think he’s into gaslighting and coercion and ik the latter doesn’t classify as a kink (more like an offense) but hear me out:

he brought you to that miserable bar the LoV hangs out in and can’t stop touching you, while you’re forced to sit on his lap. you love public, right? well, no and he knows. whether the LoV watches or not doesn't matter, he wants to see your attitude change, once you can't hide the fact he's fucking you over fabric anymore. his cock twitches, when he stops and you silently beg with your eyes. he'll tell you that he thought you didn't like this while you’ll apologize for even thinking that.

when alone, he’ll have you sprawled on the bed, parting your legs and asking you which you prefer, his fingers or tongue. you’ll brokenly breathe out a “fingers, please” as he’ll sneer and..oblige. he’s clearly skilled, his fingertips tease your cunt as if he’s strumming close chords on a guitar and fuck—you look pretty as shit watching him push them inside. ‘’so you’re saying that you don't like my tongue, yeah?’’ he’ll feign sorrow, you never said that but he makes you reflect on it. ‘’you know what i think? i think you’ll like my tongue just fine’’ he’ll tell you and start sucking on the swelled nub as you tremble. ‘’actually.. you’ll like it more’’

once you shamelessly cum on his tongue exhausted, he’ll continue. ‘’ready for the main event?’’ he’ll ask as you beg him to at least wait a second, you ache down there but he obviously doesn’t care. ‘’there’s no time to wait..come on baby, you know it feels better the second time around.’’ he’ll tell you as his tip splits your folds. you ultimately consider that he might be right after all. actually, he’s never wrong.

Overhaul: this man has an edging kink.. before you say anything, it’s not what you think.

he’ll have you on that examination table (not too heavy on his medical kink tho), mask and gloves on, of course what did you think? that he’d make an exception? the fact he’s even touching you is enough boundaries crossed for him. his gloved hand will spread your juices across your pussy, as he winces behind the bird mask. he hates dirt, bodily fluids, liquids, any bodily emission/discharge, call it whatever you want. the moment he senses your pulse and legs jerking, he’ll remove his hand in fear you might cum on his gloves. you’ll whimper upset but he doesn’t really care, you should thank him for allowing you this proximity in the first place.

same with sex. condoms with him is like the concept of gravity — self fucking explanatory. sometimes he’ll even use two. don’t get him wrong, it’s not like you are the problem, it’s more like your body, he feels like he purifies you each time he thrusts calculated in your cunt (he's delusional). he likes you being vocal as long as you don’t accidentally spit on him, which will earn you a slap.

to prove that the issue is not you, the man will not allow himself to cum inside you, even with the (2) condoms on. he just prefers transmitting the ‘filth’ directly onto you, which means he’ll have you pump his cock and receive all his load (wherever it lands, he makes sure it's angled towards you). 

he's a weirdo of course, but he makes up for it in aftercare. he sterilizes you like there’s no tomorrow. if you’re lucky and you make him cum quick and clean, he might offer a cup of tea and your favorite snack. 

Dabi: sadomasochism. i’ve seen both variations separately done for him before — i just think he’s both.

obviously he’s more into the first (sadism). will treat you like a potato sack, lifting you up without asking, throwing (literally throwing) you to the bed, not caring about where you’ll land and ripping/burning the fabric that clings onto you. assaults your cunt—spits on it and slaps the clit with his hands (sometimes too hard, it makes you cry).

facefucks you the minute you get a hold of his cock, he doesn’t even give you a second, he will grab your head and move it to an unforgiving pace. definitely a cheek slapper — needs to feel his dick in your gums from outside. he might pinch your nose shut and leave you with no airway to..survive. but it’s ok, you make it out alive.

has ropes and recently bought a leash and a collar. it’s red with a black handle and he uses it each time you talk too much. might get bored just holding the handle as he needs to touch (bruise) you, so he’ll hang it to the bed’s end and just pull at the steel. shoots his cum inside only when you're loud enough to make his ears ring. (rip neighbors, they're already considering moving out after they called the cops on him and he almost fried them)

until..

the thing is.. Dabi lives in the past, he doesn’t share his life with anyone so how is he supposed to not dwell on it by himself? has a lot of inflicted pain he can’t share but subconsciously craves. the first time you take liberty in causing him pain ever so little is accidental. you are on top, he’s setting the pace, sure, but your weight falls on his face as your arms enclose his neck. you’re not trying, hell, you don’t even know how to choke someone properly (why would you?) but you need to hold on to something and you think you’re imagining it when you hear a very soft moan. no, you’re definitely imagining it. it will cross your mind later on.

after that, you try to experiment in the territory, you’re in missionary and he thrusts inside you while you bring his neck close and squeeze again. this time you deliberately apply pressure as he hisses a fuck so.. you slap him. it’s a light, small smack on his cheek, again, you don’t want to piss him off but he groans, this time louder and you grin. you might end up slapping him harder the more the sex progresses, the staples hurt your knuckles but he’s making desperate (sexy) sounds.

he’s not gonna be descriptive since he is waay too embarrassed (you will never hear a ‘’shit, i love it when you cause me pain, babe’’) but you don’t care, his expressions tell you everything you need to know.

You know, the type of man who’s scrawny, awkward and with a small ribcage (not from working out, genetics, you cuss). The one who doesn't put emphasis on his clothing, wearing whichever clean tshirt he can find, a pile of dirty clothes accumulating in his bedroom. The one who has water bottles, take out bags, cigarettes or weed papers and a nasty sink in his apartment. The one who has messy hair, tired eyes and cannot socialize for the life of him. The one who scratches his head, looks down awkwardly as he crosses his legs and sits weirdly on a chair. The type to never initiate a first move, friendship.. let’s not even talk about sex. There’s something about these men, you wouldn't call it a fetish, no, you don’t judge people by body types, that’s weird. It’s just that you notice a pattern here. Cause everytime you find these traits, you kind of guess their personality too. And maybe sometimes..you’re wrong.

They’re the same ones that will bend you in half, once they get the slightest hint you might be into them. The type to inexplicably know how to work their fingers in your little cunt, hell, you’d think they were pros in another life, the mastery in pace, roughness and multitasking is crazy here. These guys have you wet your panties like you can’t. By yourself. Alone. They kiss you while they’re at it too, don’t think they can’t do both. They kiss softly, open mouthed but desperately at the same time, kind of like they don’t want you to be able to breathe anymore. And… you can’t, but they don’t stop until you push their shoulders back, breathing through your nose isn't enough.

They’re the type to stay silent when you suck them off, concentrated and focused on your performance. They might bite their lips and hum softly, you’d think they don’t even like it even when you’re gagging down their whole length (palm included, as they’re large and girthy). Your throat aches and you haven’t even stopped the act and here they are silent and unappreciative, you might think. Well, you’re wrong. They appreciate it more than they let on. Do you know what it took for them to master this composure? Endless nights of jerking off just to the sight of your pretty pussy, cumming and cumming until they could build up some endurance. Mind you, they are talented but lack in the sexual experience department. Porn doesn’t get them off, they think it’s performative and staged, can’t get hard watching some poor woman fake moan and look at the camera, they think it’s embarrassing. No, instead they can easily picture you, with your legs spread and your pretty cunt glistening — anticipating their touch. Be it their skilled, slender fingers, their drooling mouth (yes, they drool inside) or their throbbing cock, they can’t get enough of your widened eyes and parted mouth and you can't stop silently begging just for a touch. And they cum, they aren’t too loud even when alone so imagine how much they try to stifle their moans when with you. You may have started deepthroating them, but their cock jerked the moment you ran your tongue down their shaft once, didn’t you notice it? They take it, you didn’t. They are close to cumming, they bite their tongue and can feel the metallic taste of blood their sinking teeth left, shit, they wouldn’t be able to taste you properly later on; they think and cuss instead of thinking the trouble they'll have swallowing down food. 

They quietly push you off, they really want to cum but these men are selfless. They don’t want to put anyone's pleasure above yours so they throw you on the bed. That’s where you were wrong too. You see them, a skeleton in clothes and think ‘’damn, this guy really is a loser’’..well, if he is, then he certainly is a strong one, these dudes have muscles you can’t even see and the rage that fuels them, makes up for it. They want to lick up a strip from your hole trickling down your left thigh, shit, they're so tempted, they might come on the mattress for all they care but their cock throbs when you ask them to fuck you instead.. if that's what you want, who are they to say no?

Their lanky chest presses against you, you can feel the pressure from their protruding bones on your skin, as they sigh, their sticky slit coming in contact with your also wet (soaked) entrance. They might just sigh but their brain is fighting a hard battle right now, to not cum just by the friction and the mess of fluids. Once you beg repeatedly (‘’please—baby, please!’’) and they can’t take it anymore, they awkwardly push the length past your folds, it slams in you violently as their sternum clashes onto you. You moan, it feels heavenly, a remarkable girth that stuffs you to the brim. They don't bottom out yet, you think fuck it, there's more? Oh sure, there is. They will shyly push more in, inch after inch, these men are NOT talkative but will make sure you are ok for good measure, wouldn't want you fainting or in pain due to their stupid cock. Little do they know, you want more and fast, but that's ok, whatever you order, they deliver. You can't tell, if they do it with skill or instinct but the thrusts are calculated and timed and they bring you close to an intense orgasm, they know it — they are observers, noticing the type and volume of moans that exit your mouth each time, that is why a slender pad of their finger is brought against your clit. They know how to hover and tilt their hips inside you simultaneously as they tease you. ‘’B–baby, oh my god.. please’’ you mewl, you shut your eyes and they’re close too. You just squeeze too damn much, whether you know it or not (they never tell you that they'd sell their soul to feel like this every day). Soon enough you're cumming, screaming loudly, only.. it's real with you, your body can’t lie and so can’t your eyes, glossy and ready to spill teardrops. These men will not be vocal (or at least they'll try not to be) but this is their breaking point, it's too much — you're too much and they finally whimper, not loud but just enough for you to hear as they let a big load inside you. They’re a deprived and awkward mess, that doesn't believe you would even bat them an eye, when you met them. Well, maybe it's their time to re-evaluate you.

—

(wrote this with surprise surprise.. Shiggy in mind but it suits others too)

He was a regular, came to the store every day to get his coffee. No sugar. Iced. The order was unlike him, he seemed sweet, or at least friendly and inviting, he had the type of eyes your friends gushed over when talking about their favorite movie stars, too blue, too inquiring.

At first he smiled and handed you a bill, told you to keep the change and asked you if he could sit outside for a bit. Of course, why wouldn’t he? The store offered it and he knew it, he was just being polite. He would read from a book, whose cover you couldn’t see, seemed too absorbed and you often wondered how he could concentrate with the café’s obnoxiously loud music (owner’s order to attract customers). He’d more than often catch bystanders attention, be it his white hair, his tall physique or his peculiar blindfold, which he wore sometimes instead of sunglasses, the man was attracting people like a magnet. This one time a couple of girls sat down next to him and talked purposefully loud. He lifted his chair and brought it closer to the register, closer to you. Yet, he still didn’t speak.

The first time he spoke to you besides a thanks and can I sit outside for a bit was when a customer harassed you verbally. You got the order wrong and while you offered a second free drink, he started calling you worthless. Your eyes watered and voice broke as he stepped in

“Please do not offend the barista, it was a simple mistake.” He spoke calmly while being twice the size of the customer.

“This is none of your business, sir..” The customer scoffed as he tried standing upright to make himself taller.

“I said.” Satoru sighed “Please get the fuck out the store or it will be..sir.” While there wasn't any physical threat, the tone was convincing enough to have the customer backtrack, hiss and leave the store empty handed.

“I'm sorry for that.” You told him as he looked at you.

“Don't be, this wasn't your fault.”

“I'm Satoru by the way, remember me?”

Of course you did, he was the most loyal customer.

—

It happened on a Friday afternoon.

Your shift started at 1 PM and ended at 9 PM sharp. Satoru had a meticulous routine: 1-3 was for observing. He wouldn't call it stalking, no, that word was degenerate and he wasn't like that. He was just observing you, your hands, as they moved, expressions as you skimmed milk and some of it spilled on the counter, your interactions with customers. He couldn't risk another incident like before. 3-6 was when he usually made an appearance. Black coffee. No sugar, iced and the table just across the bar; close but not too close. He was disappointed today, you hadn't looked at him once—well, in your defense the café was crowded, yet you still looked gorgeous, even with your sleep deprived eyes and disheveled hair, so soft and pure. He loved that. What would it take for him to get your attention? He found himself balancing between proclaiming his feelings and showing you them but decided on the latter. He would—today.

6-9 he had to wait in his car this time, it was raining but he couldn't leave you out of his sight, what if something happened to you? Your stupid manager had you close the store at 9 PM all alone in the dark, what a cheapskate cunt, not hiring a second person on the shift. Should he kill him? No, that’d be too soon. He would make an appearance before nine anyway.

8:40 was when he got out of the car, sloppily wearing a balaclava he’d gotten from Suguru (his seventh grade ninja Halloween costume) and his usual black work uniform. A knife was in his hands as he noticed you from across the road washing some cups. Perfect, you weren't looking but also careless of you, exactly as expected. He barged in the store and tried his hardest to make his voice drop an octave deeper, shit, would you recognize him?

“Give me your money or I'll stab you.” He was laughing internally but had to put on a fake growl, your expression was priceless.

“P—please don't kill me!” was the first thing you said (brokenly mewled) as your poor hands started shaking.

“I said now.” He said as he stabbed the blade in the air. Damn, that was too easy, you were too gullible.

“P–please I will, I–I am all alone.. one moment–'' Poor you, you had already started crying, tears were falling down your face but you didn't seem to notice. Should he stop this now? Probably.

“How incompetent are you? Are you this slow with customers too?” He decided to tease you a little longer, thriving off of your reactions.

Your eyes shot up for a brief second, was it the customer with Satoru a few days ago? He had said something along these lines, but this couldn't be. He was way shorter and had stopped coming ever since Satoru put him in his place. You were thankful for that.

Your hands opened the register as the paper bills you held threatened to soak, you still had one glove on... you looked a bit silly.

“Hey, hey..” Satoru’s voice quickly returned as the mask was removed “It's just me, see?” He whispered, trying to soothe the tone as your eyes widened.

“S–Satoru, what!?” Your voice trembled as the money fell from your hands and you took a step back.

“I wanted to pull a prank on you, I'm sorry if I scared you.” He smiled apologetically but you still couldn't utter a word.

“W-why would you do that? That's sick!” You cried out as he came behind the bar and tried to pull you in an embrace, knife now tucked in his jacket. To get close to you, to teach you a lesson, to make you need me would be his answer. You punched him on the chest, muffled cries fell from your lips. Well... you couldn't land a blow, that was for sure, but you looked cute with your clenched fists taking out your anger on him.

“F–fuck you!” His firm hands stopped your weak, aimless punches and you sobbed on his chest. You smelled divine, even at the end of your shift.

Was this love?

“Hey.. come on now, I said I'm sorry, okay?” He said as he pulled away.

“Came to say I'll stay with you till 9, it's not safe out there.” He promised as you wordlessly returned to the sink. He'd make you love him.

Around 9:10 you closed the store. His prank had slowed you down, exactly as expected, he figured it wasn't often you lost control and he was proud it affected you. It made you susceptible to control. You silently sat with Satoru outside while he insisted on driving you home.

“I don't need a ride. I'm fine.” It wasn't funny to tamper with your feelings like that, he didn't seem like the type and he'd taken you by surprise; actions like these didn't align with the image he painted for himself. He was always so kind, so protective, so—

“Give me the fucking store keys!” was heard before you turned your attention to the voice ahead of you. A man shouted, not too loud to alert anyone but enough to make a point. The street was empty and he was holding what seemed like a paper bag as you turned to Satoru.

This surely had to be another one of his pranks? You were about to laugh when you looked at him. He seemed taken aback, frozen in his spot and his eyes squinted as your heartbeat accelerated.

“What is it with this neighborhood and robberies?” Satoru talks after a while, his tone is confident as he looks at you and the guy growls. Why is he so calm?What is going on?—

“Shut the fuck up and give me the keys or I'll fucking blow your heads off!” The man says moving his hand to your direction, was this guy bluffing? Did he even have anything under the bag? Was your life about to end? It wasn't like people didn't talk about the criminals in the neighborhood—you’d never work there if it wasn't for necessity.

“And if we don't?” Satoru stops you from reaching for the keys as he fights hard to wipe off the grin on his face. Well, that was unexpected, but he isn't scared, he never is, as you interrupt.

“Satoru! P–please! Let me give him the keys!” You cry out, the day straight out of a nightmare the longer it drags on and you honestly can't put up another fight. You'd rather have whoever this was steal an insignificant amount of money from the register than end your life. Sure, there wasn't much to live for, but it was always different when under real threat.

“You’d give him the keys, really?” He scoffs annoyed. He couldn’t believe what a victim you were, couldn't you see he was right there for you? Despite his abilities you still failed to see him. Silly you.

“What c-can we do? He..he– and we–” Was this really the time? Why is he even negotiating this?

“Bitch, stop talking.” The guy spits, tired of your back and forth, as Satoru finally addresses him.

“That’s not very nice.” He is calm.

So calm that you almost don't see his fist obliterating the guy. One punch and he's knocked down, Satoru climbs on top.He pulls his fists down interchangeably but it's fast and you can't count, must be about seven that leave the guy with no time to react, hands to his sides as he yelps. Satoru reaches for his pocket and is about to grab the knife, when he feels two warm hands touch him and he turns around.

“P–please! Let's just go home!” You sob, eyes wide and the pain in your voice breaks his heart. Home, you said? He gets up and kicks the man’s limbs like a soccer ball—blood oozes down his mouth onto the curb and he chokes on some of it. Satoru's knuckles are stained but he gives you his hand as the pulp ahead withers.

Home.

-

He gave you clothes, a sleep set he had in his closet, you’d never know it was specifically tailored and cut out to your size, how would you know? It’s not like he’d tell you he stole (he called it borrow) articles you discarded at work. Your jacket when too hot, a change of pants as he brought them to the store's bathroom and returned them just as discreetly at 5:30 PM. They smelled like you, but he couldn’t categorize the odor, it was too hard. As for the color.. that he didn't care about. Anything would work really. His mind couldn't stop racing when he heard the shower head start, you'd never agree to his hospitality but that was his home, his rules. You also had a very rough day and it didn't take a lot to convince you.

He offered you his bed, he’d sleep on the couch and despite you objecting, he got you to comply. He could only imagine how much today drained you— physically and mentally. He let you sleep, he wasn't some monster, plus he had work to do. You’d wake up around 9, he calculated, so he had time.

When he finally sat down the couch, he couldn't sleep. Knowing you were there, so close and so vulnerable broke him. He didn't wait for his hair to dry — spot cleaning blood on the sink stole away his energy as he slipped on the bed, you were facing the wall and he placed his arms around you. You made no noise but you didn't seem to be sleeping heavily either, you’d slightly toss and turn. Poor you, was it a nightmare? He smelled your shampoo, it wasn't yours really but a variation of the ones you had at home as his fingers went through strands of your hair. He came closer, wanting to feel your body's heat and moved to your chest. His fingers sought your heart as he felt your pulse. A cock pressed against you—he’d been hard for some time and it wouldn’t go away as his palms searched for your nipples. One pinch and they were already hard, shit, he thought as he moved his dick on you. What if he went lower? Would you be a good girl for him? He moved to your belly as he put one leg softly over you, angling his cock directly at your cunt's entrance from behind while he rubbed against the folds, palms finding you from the front. He loved this embrace, all his to play with. He traced the slit and rubbed some more. You felt so soft and tempting. He’d bet no one could protect you like him and that gave him motivation. Yeah, that was right, he deserved a little thank you for his hard work. He fondles your cunt while his stiff cock annoys him, he’ll deal with it later. He buries a finger inside you, your cunt is wet, he thinks and you're not even conscious. Satoru pumps it slowly, it lubricates you in the process as it coats him halfway—he groans far from your ear and pushes another. You inhale sharply.

He pops them in and out until he fears he's becoming too fast so he removes his palm and uses your slick for his pleasure now. Boxers and sweatpants are removed as he wraps around the shaft, his precum gets smeared on his cockhead and he brings it down his base, it creates a wet mess and he gets off on it. He doesn't need much visually, your back softly breathing is enough to pump faster but— you felt so warm, he reasons, should he? You’d be his soon enough so might as well. He quickly turns to your side and lowers the set you're wearing (you'd think he intentionally sized up so it'd be easier to pull them down) as he pushes your panties to the side. You were a naughty girl, wearing a thong to work. Too dangerous, the world had many perverts. He puts his stiff cock on your entrance as he tries to shove just the head first; he hisses at the contact and you move, it's too late to back down now and he grows desperate. Within a second he tilts his hips into your needy cunt—he doesn't flatter himself, he's big so it's no surprise you groan and he assumes open your eyes. You feel tight and warm and he doesn’t care about your shock—he’s close.

“What.. agh—what are you doing?!” You're cut off in between moans as he ruts into you, you choke on a cry and he picks up his pace. His cock is stuffing you to the brim, it hurts but he can't be considerate. You feel like you can't breathe, dizzy from a nap and a repeated thump down your core. Yet, a primal instinct of pleasure washes away a conscious you telling yourself it's wrong and fuck— you moan out his name. Why do you moan?

“Shit, couldn't help myself, sorry baby.” He breathes out as he bucks his hips up and you feel too full.

“Satoru! S–stop...” But your pleas fall on deaf ears as he continues, hands caressing your chest and his breath on your neck while your hips are brought to clash onto his and nasty sounds come from the contact.

“Fuck, so pretty, baby, hm?” He moans and he’s already close, cock throbs as you prettily squeeze him in. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt like this before, it’s like you’re made perfectly to accommodate him and look at you!—clenching your cunt like some slut.

“N–ugh– Satoru please—” You cry out, scared but with a heat coiling low that makes you unable to protest louder. You think of his kind eyes, heartwarming grin (“Got these bad boys for you”, as he gave you your favorite cookies) but soon they're gone away—

—replaced by his cock rutting in your damp walls. You're unwillingly sucking him in, you can't think straight, he's... good? No. He's disgusting for this. Water blurs your eyesight—it's too much.

A hand is on your clit as he bites your soft neck at the same time. God, how he longed for this. Having you in his arms. He adored you.

“Want to come on my cock, like the helpless slut you are, baby?” He whispers but it's soft—like he's teasing you for missing the bus and you cry.

“I- agh-n-no..please—” You muffle and beg and his hand circling your clit slaps on the nub repeatedly as you jerk; “I can't—I–” He doesn't pay attention, his cock is ripping you apart and you have to let go—riding out an unwarranted orgasm. He loves your mess, no, he loves you and since you're conscious (not that it'd matter), he lifts your leg up as he angles himself so deep, you yell; overstimulated and still scared.

“Satoru, e–enough!” He's bottoming out in between sticky walls and you ache, hoping for an end.

“Don't be selfish baby—fuck!” He groans as large palms squeeze around your neck and then he's cumming — fast and as much as possible, you think. It feels warm and disgusting, his breathy moans are on your ear as you force your eyes shut. What doesn't make it inside, seeps back out but it’s not a lot, since you’re fully stuffed and he takes his sweet time to pull out. You just feel that good. He plants a kiss on your back as he returns with towels and puts you back to sleep. You cry—he estimates 15 minutes before you give up and let sleep take care of you.

One step at a time.

-

It's your 3 month anniversary. He doesn't tell you that of course, its embarrassing because it's 3 months since he found you, 2 days since he introduced himself. You still work at the café but you don't have to worry, soon you’ll never have to work again, he has big plans. He is proud of himself for finding you, it wasn't often someone intrigued him so much. He liked how genuine you were, naive and a bit dumb of course but that was exactly what made you so pure. He’d bet even at your lowest, you'd never cuss anyone out. Like for example that cunt of a customer the other day but it was fine, he’d do it for you, actually—

A message from Suguru pops up.

“Comin tonight?”

“No, have plans.” He gets bored easily and this time isn't an exception.

“Again? New record?” He can always read Suguru's irony. Funny of him to think he'd stop there.

“I told you I’d take care of it.” Satoru hastily types.

That guy really shouldn't have called you a bitch, it wasn't even in the script. Look where that got him. In Satoru's trunk ready to meet Mr. Worthless. He shuts his phone, he thinks about throwing it away, there's no need for it anyways. Especially when you're here.

He thinks about some quote his dad used to tell him, how did it go? Some are born to sweet delight—

14 minutes till your shift ends. What was it?

—some are born to endless night? It all makes sense now, it rhymes, that's why he still remembers it.

The last time you saw him was in 2007. He seemed sedated for some time, looking like he woke up and slept—if he ever slept—out of necessity, his lips on yours felt foreign and a burden would always accompany him. You hadn’t ever asked, what would you even say “Hey, is everything alright?’’ and what was he supposed to answer? ‘’Yes, everything’s fine’’. Not like it’d be the truth anyways. The last night you saw him was in 2007.

It was around 3 AM when he entered the bedroom, smoke filled the room as you looked at him. He never smoked, apart from some earlier mischief with his best friend as he sat next to you.

‘’Have you been smoking?’’ You quietly asked him as he sighed.

‘’Yes, had to give Shoko my lighter today and figured I might as well have one myself’’

He spoke so calmly, like everything was alright, like everything was like before.

The next day you woke up in an empty bed with a lighter to your nightstand. There was no letter or note as he exited your life and never came back.

-

It wasn’t like you didn’t know. He never intended to hide his actions, never once tried to stay undercover, intentions loud and clear and if you weren’t to find out from newspapers and various media outlets covering the crimes, a visit from his best friend would suffice. You hadn’t reacted much really, usually pain hit when you least expected it—not when Gojo would list you the heinous crimes but when you were in the snack aisle holding your groceries and saw his favorite crackers, silly things really. Ache was a funny thing.

10 years went by and your routine had not once diverted, home–work–home. Most of your friends stopped contacting you for a night out, seeing how you’d decline each and every time and you didn’t really blame them. They most likely wouldn’t understand. The door was unlocked when you entered the apartment floor and your heart sank. A domestic burglary was the last thing you wanted, shit, you didn’t even care about any belongings, his lighter was always with you and there were no prized possessions in the once shared apartment. But you were exhausted.

A figure stood facing the window next to the bed, wearing what seemed like a kimono over a robe that people 2500 years ago wore and sandals—enjoying a cigarette as you froze.

‘’W–what are you doing here?’’ You asked, stupid, yeah, who asks that? But fear stricken as you were and ready to dial the emergency number—your heart suddenly skipped a beat.

The figure had his hair, what was going on?

‘’Did you miss me?’’ A soft honeyed voice that made your skin crawl said as Suguru turned to look at you. Your eyes widened and you backtracked, colliding with the wall behind you as you dropped the bag you were holding and screamed. Loud.

‘’Who the fuck are you?’’ You yelled as you saw a line of stitches sloppily circle around what used to be your lover’s forehead. He had his hooded eyes and smile but you knew better. Whoever this freak was could never imitate the laced with care and love words that escaped Suguru’s mouth. Before he left. Before—

‘’What the hell did you do to him?’’ The more you talked, the more a sardonic smile crept up his mouth, deforming what used to be the prettiest smile in the world.

‘’I wouldn’t call if I were you’.’ He inhaled the last puff and tossed the cigarette mindlessly out the window, as he approached you.

Your hands were frozen, you wouldn’t have been able to dial anyone either way, when he spoke again.

‘’Funny thing, the memories, aren’t they? I had this feeling today you know..’’

‘’Where is he?’’ You cried, as he sighed.

‘’Please don’t interrupt me, he’s dead, what do you mean 'where is he'? As I was saying..’’

His words made your knees sting, as you fell to the floor, choking on a cry—it wasn’t like you hadn't made a decent effort to register his death, but the spitting image ahead of you felt like you were atoning for sins you never committed. It was too much, too painful, too sadistic.

‘’I had this, let's call it...instinct to smoke today and visit you. Matter of fact, my feet dragged me all the way here so I was curious to see what the..fuss was all about.’’ He spoke eyeing you up at 'fuss'. You didn’t understand a thing but wished for whatever this was to end as you closed your eyes. Please! You silently heard yourself say. Or maybe you didn't speak a word.

‘’Yeah, I kind of get it now...you look nice after all. Do you smoke?’’ He asked, bringing himself even closer, the apartment was small and he had you touching the wall, the shadow of his Kasaya casting a dark light in front of you.

‘’I- I don’t smoke,’’ ‘’P–please leave..’’ His eyes, these eyes that used to make love to you, hug you and gently wash your hair, bring you tea in the morning, wrap around your waist..

‘’Oh, that’s too bad.’’ He spoke as if he contemplated, smirking to himself once he noticed your bowed head.

‘’Mind looking up?’’ He came even closer, so close you could feel him on you—he didn’t really wait to bring his finger, a cold sensation against your chin and lift it to look at him.

‘’Be honest. Isn’t this my best work?’’ He moved the face left and right, showing you horrible—pretty angles of your old boyfriend. Your eyes quivered, tears fell down your cheeks, down your chin, down the floor. A bile formed at the back of your throat.

‘’Would you kiss me?’’ He asked rhetorically, it wasn’t like he cared about your opinion, it was more as if he was asking himself, experimenting with a predetermined outcome as you sniffed and felt a strong hand travel down your neck, pinning you to the wall. No! Stop asking questions! Leave!

‘’Well...it doesn’t matter really, cause you will now.’’ He said as his mouth touched yours. Soft lips. Same feeling. Memories. Your lips parted to cry and he squeezed the sides of your neck, blocking the air and sliding his tongue in your mouth.

This wasn’t Suguru and you weren’t supposed to be kissing him. This wasn’t his hair, his mouth, his eyes albeit your heart racing and a known sensation flooding your chest. His breath was hot as he growled and you squirmed, tears soaking him.

‘’S-stop..’’ You whined, thinking back to all the times you thought Suguru leaving you, abandoning you was the worst thing that could’ve happened to you. This couldn’t even be compared.

‘’P–please! I-I will not tell anyone, I—will do whatever you want—just—’’

‘’Then be silent cause you will be doing what I want regardless.’’ He smiled, the same sinister smile and you started breathing heavily, shit, this wasn’t good, this always signaled a panic attack. You had these more frequently than before. Ever since he left. You started sweating, feeling chills, particularly in your arms and like you'd die from asphyxiation, the more you failed to inhale properly. Don't think—breathe—don't think you can't breathe—don't—

Two strong arms cupped your face and turned it upwards.

‘’Shh..hey..hey..darling, I’m right here.’’ The idol of the man you used to love gently whispered as you looked in the dead eyes in front of you. The voice honeyed and soft as the words he purred soothed you and you closed your eyes.

‘’Come here.’’ He said and brought your body close to his, embracing your trembling limbs as you exhaled—you could at least breathe through your nose again, an unfamiliar cologne in your face.

‘’Good.’’ He said as he took a deep breath.

His arms felt good.

‘’Now let’s continue.’’

-

A finger was brought up against your entrance as the intruder’s body hovered above you. You were moved (thrown) to the bed, begging in silent whispers for him to leave, but to no avail. He was kissing you with his tongue—leaving a saliva string each time you opened your mouth to protest, beg, promise to do anything except this but he’d had enough, he loved a good Shakespearean act, but pretending to be him to calm you down just so he could fuck you had wasted a lot of his time. The play needed a climax.

He caressed your core through your panties, your dress was lifted up as he slid them to the side, trailing two fingers against the folds. You had been fighting for your body not to betray you, fighting for your eyes to not involuntarily close each time his disgusting mouth kissed you. Whenever you closed them, you thought of him, the mouth felt all too familiar and you couldn't help it. Fluids smudged the fabric and fell down his fingers as he smirked.

‘’Such a good girl, no need for me to help a lot here I see.’’ His wicked grin caused you to let out a scream, maybe if you cried for help someone would listen, someone could save—

A slap took the breath out of your lungs, vicious and hard as your cheek burned from the pain.

‘’Be quiet, pretty, I don’t have all day.’’ He said toying your cunt and pushing his fingers inside you as you tried your best not to moan.

‘’Please! ugh—Stop!’’ You wailed but there was no remorse (or halt) in his movements—squelching sounds from the contact almost covered up the noise you made.

‘’So..so filthy and wet, fuck, what would your boyfriend say seeing you soaking someone else’s hand, huh? Disgusting..’’ He spoke with disdain as you cried and tried to not feel the guilty pleasure that took over your core.

‘’I think we’re good now, don’t you?’’ He said as he got off you, your eyes trying to look around for exits while trying to have him within your peripherals.

You could escape, you could leave, right?

The moment your body dared to stand up while he was taking off his kimono, you were thrown back to bed, head crashing against the steel of the bed frame—the pain was accute and you winced, your eyesight left for a second.

Yet, he continued.

‘’Don’t be that dumb, please.’’ He sighed as his cock was brought out, stiff and long, sitting upright on his abdomen. A revolting sight but his body reminiscent of Suguru’s made your heart flutter.

The paranoia of the predicament messed you up, it felt like a torture, a dichotomy between love and hate, you wanted to spit on him, kick him and escape, hell, you wanted to slash his throat but each time your gaze was brought to his sinister stitches, the reminiscent features made you ache, sob and long for the all too familiar face.

‘’Get off m–me, please.’’ You begged and begged as he parted your legs and brushed his slit against your cunt, tapping it on the tiny nub when a moan escaped your lips—embarrassed, you brought your hands to your mouth.

‘’Stop!’’ You pleaded, the feeling there not aligning with the disgust in your mind but he continued.

‘’I love it when you beg, you look prettier.’’ He softly whispered as his cockhead thrusted swiftly in your cunt, hard enough to make your body hurt in more parts. You hadn't been fucked in a while, it wasn't worth it after him.

The sensation was overwhelming—his weight fell on you, cock stayed within your walls for a couple of seconds before he grabbed your hands to get them off your mouth. Your head was banging against the frame, as whichever sobs fell from your lips were pitifully covered by your hands.

‘’Now, you don’t wanna be silent, do ya? This is the best part!’’ His eyes gleamed as his cock slid in and out of you fast and he groaned.

‘’Fuck, I can see why he loved you so much, taking me as if we're meant to be...’’ He hummed as you closed your eyes, trying to ignore the stinging pain, not in your core anymore but your chest.

‘’I want to hear you, come on girl, moan for me..agh—I know you want it.’’ His ruts became harder and sloppier, as you let out a loud moan—teardrops spilled from your eyelids onto the sheets as he tilted his hips into you, it was too much.

‘’P-please! Please!’’ You begged, still hoping for an end and he continued, a finger found your swollen clit and rubbed around it in circular motions, you jerked but his pace never faltered, fuck, it wasn't right, your cunt squeezed him in, clenching tightly around him.

‘’Shit, little slut’s enjoying herself?’’ He hissed and you cried.

‘’S—Suguru.. s—stop, please agh- I - love you.’’ You called out your favorite name and he laughed. There was no other way to save yourself.

‘’Stop calling for your dead man stupid, he’s not coming back..’’ He sounded like he lectured you, thrusting upwards and groping your chest as you withered under him, what felt like an orgasm slowly threatening to exit your tormented body. Your head hurt and your throat felt sore as you now only used broken syllables for help.

‘’S-st— I–I-ugh–..’’ Your cunt spasmed.

‘’Come on this cock– shit, be a good slut for your boyfriend, sweetheart, can you do it for Suguru?’’ He groaned, feeling himself close—the sight of your hands trying to throw him off aroused him even more, such a cute little thing you were, he didn’t wonder now why he liked you so much.

‘’S-suguru!’’ was all you said as you came undone, squeezing your eyes shut and biting your lip till you tasted metal. He continued; his predatory eyes made him look disfigured, melted even, reminding you of ice cream dripping down a cone.

‘’So filthy doll, he'd– agh.. be so proud..’’ He grunted and you felt a palm grab your neck and choke you with a firm grip, so not to moan or cry anymore. He came—looking in your eyes filled with terror shooting his cum deep within your walls as he praised you further. The foreign sensation stirred your insides.

You felt nothing; except maybe his cock soften and palm removed from your throat, allowing air back in your lungs. He got up.

He grabbed a cigarette pack from a tailored pocket in his kimono and moved to the window while you were left in a puddle of bodily fluids, trembling and tasting what must've been blood down your face.

‘’W—why...why did you come?’’ You brokenly managed, as he turned around.

It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair, it wasn't—

‘’I felt like having a smoke.’’ Cool and collected. Like Suguru. His face despite the wickedness looked serene, eyes crinkled similarly to his. He offered a smile.

shiggy is not your typical panty sniffing perv. he gets off on things with sentimental value, things that remind him of you. a hair tie that fell off, how it'd look if for once he could normally use his bare hands to hook it around your hair while you choke on his cock, teardrops hanging off your eyelashes. the spoon you left behind with your saliva on it, how it would look to have you spit on his hands for once only for him to stuff your cunt fully with them, hell, he'd use as many fingers as possible if it meant he could properly touch you and make you cum for him. [he'd store the utensil in his room and never wash it]

since he's also had a very abusive and stigmatizing childhood, his trauma would reflect on his fucking. he'd call you a whore and spit on your face while you'd ride his dick but would expect you to thank him while you're at it.

"say you're thankful for this" he'd hiss while guiding you to bounce on him; "t–thank you Tenko" you'd cry out, he has never been complimented or thanked before, he needs you to see him, needs you to feel his pain and appreciate his efforts while he takes out all his pent-up anger on you. this dynamic allows him to lash out and be on the receiving end simultaneously and you don't really mind.. it's not like you lie when you thank him, you don't get fucked like this daily.

fingers. okay, it's not rocket science that he knows how to delicately (and not) use them. but because exactly he's touch starved due to these restrictions, he makes sure to not only pump them in ways that drive you crazy but also to remember the exact angle and position.

it's quiet when he enters the apartment. you barely hear him as he murmurs a soft ‘’i'm home’’—you're watching tv absentmindedly. the next words will define how the evening will go. a ‘’stand up’’ means it’s bad, a ‘’missed you’’ means it's worse. 

‘’i missed you’’ he says, ‘’come here’’ but you don't move. he advances towards you, sitting down as he looks in your eyes. ‘’did you miss me?’’ he says, voice almost whiney, there’s some dried blood under the staples. ‘’i did’’ you lie, not bothering to put up a fight. his lips are on your neck, painted fingers groping and tightening around your arteries, he’s needy and seems desperate. 

‘’you’ve been so good today’’ he hums as if you’ve accomplished anything, all you did was sit sedated on his couch, not bothering to get up at all. 

‘’i think i’ll reward you baby’’ he breathes on your wet neck, bringing what feels like dry skin—his lips on yours and sliding his tongue in your mouth. but you don’t back away, you intertwine tongues, as you notice him nudging closer, both hands around your neck, i can breathe, you think.

the next thing happening is you’re lying down on the couch—under no circumstance would he bother carrying you to bed, his day has been exhausting as is, you’re naked and trembling, it’s cold in the apartment but a heat always follows him. you’re also soaked, what were you supposed to do with his fingers rubbing persistently and splitting you apart? stupid body—reacting in stupid ways. his head is already in between your legs, folds parted, metal gliding from your thighs to your inner lips, your cunt twitches in anticipation, as he plays with the heat and you mewl. 

‘’p-please..Dabi’’ you tell him, how desperate you actually seem but he doesn’t mind. not today. 

‘’i know, baby’’ he murmurs, tongue lapping at your slit, swirling around your swollen clit, he will go easy on you today. a harsh slap echoes in the room, his hand comes in contact with your bare thigh as you scream. 

‘’be quiet, not too much noise.’’ he grumbles, the position annoying him, he can’t get full access to the hidden treasure, his day’s reward.

you’re being lifted from the couch in seconds, only to find yourself on top of him, he’s lying down this time as your naked body quivers atop, pussy positioned on his mouth, black painted hands gripping your waist.

‘’stop fidgeting pretty’’ he says but you can’t be patient, you need his tongue in you, your walls a hot and sticky mess—he can tell and he hasn't even done much. he's in your cunt again, spitting on it as saliva dribbles down his chin and onto his chest, a look below would show you his half lidded eyes staring at you, a large handprint decorating your left thigh and he’d only spanked you once. your fingers tug on his white hair with caution, would he smack the same spot again? but you don’t really care at the moment, as you timidly start grinding on his open mouth and nose, trying to get your relief—his grip on your waist tightens. he's licking up your sopping slit, inching closer to the nub and it tingles, he tickles you and you jerk, overstimulated clit pulsating and causing you pain as you whisper: ‘’p-please, s-suck it.’’

he is in a good mood today, that’s why he spanks your thigh, same spot, heated palm and the pain shoots up your core as you dampen his mouth. 

‘’don’t tell me what to do.’’ mouth full of your pussy, and you blabber. fuck-Dabi-agh!-there there! since he’s given you unspoken permission—by not gagging you, you continue; you tug harshly at the white strands that get tangled in between your knuckles and you feel your core tighten. your clit twitches, signaling a tormented orgasm, hips buck up his nose, as he shuffles. his dick isn’t the priority here but he can’t ignore the constant reminder.

‘’D-dabi, i–im gonna—’’ you pant as he slaps your thigh again; same spot, same viciousness and spits a big glob on your cunt—it’s too many sensations at once, a lapping tongue with your arousal and his saliva expecting to get more out of you, the abuse on your nub, the pain from his hits, the longing eyes and sloppy mouth full of your slick as you cum crying. eyes brim with tears, hips jerk on his face, while he tastes your cunt’s sweetness, half-smile forming on his stained features.