🖤 ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ 🖤

He always slept like this, pressed into the chair or couch sitting up, book lying open in his lap. Although lately he pours over tomes that do little for him in one way or another.

"Was I now?" He looks alert, not even his voice gives him away that he was in deep sleep. Dreaming of who knows what, something haunting you were sure but you do not pry.

You do not dare call it a nightmare.

Your fingers move moonlit hair from his forehead, immediately his hand runs through his hair to push it back roughly. He no longer needs to look into the mirror with that damned shaggy care free hair style, he could see that face in person any time he wished.

And he wished not to.

He will not divulge his past and you do not ask nor do you press. It was why he kept you around. Although occasionally you can see it, something he claims to have discarded long ago, a flash of it in his eyes drawing you back to him.

"'With ten thousand shields and spears.'" You sigh, rising and he grabs onto your wrist tightly.

Surprisingly his eyes are slit, a glare given when you make a comment that roots under his skin and rots his bones. It is as if you lanced him with your words and like in battle, he does not falter, "Do you always speak in Blake's poems? Or can you only regurgitate the last line."

"Shall I say the whole thing?" You take in a breath but he will not let you have this blow.

"'So he took his wings and fled. Then the morn blushed rosey red. I dried my tears, and armed my fears. With ten thousand shields and spears.'"

"You think that fitting?" He scoffs, grip on your wrist tightening as he retorts, "'How can a bird born of joy, sit in a cage and sing?'"

The air is heavy between the two of you despite the sun slicing through the curtains, so many emotions flash behind your pretty eyes and he can do nothing but stare. He has one goal, one purpose.

He only seeks one thing and that is power. He needs nothing else, can't think of, dream of, see anything else.

Yet still, his eyes linger on you.

"Tell me Vergil," You spit his name like a curse, like acid landing on his lap, fingers gesturing around the room, "who placed that bird in this cage?"

You scoff, you didn't expect an answer, and his silence is answer enough for you.

Cat like smile crossing your lips before you lower your head back down to the plush pillow, this time the giggle comes out. Dancing around his rigid body that tenses further when you turn over to give him your back. Adding one last comment before you curled against the pillow with the intention to sleep.

"I see, you're just lonely." It comes out soft, laced with pity. A mistake you'll be sure to learn soon enough.

Before you can react to the sudden presence standing beside the bed, a thick palm wraps around your throat. Squeezing just enough to slow the blood flow to your brain.

"Am I lonely?" His fingers dig deeper, edges of your vision closing in as you feel his weight dip the mattress behind your back, "So touch starved I would pay for company from a whore?"

Even with his strong grip, you jerk in his hold, yet still he keeps you pinned. Adjusting you as if you weighed nothing as he lifts you to his lap, pressing your back to his chest as he leans against the head board. His left hand smooths over your skin before it settles at your thighs, forcing them to spread open for him.

"Maybe it is you who is so lonely, so starved of touch and affection you're willing to trade coin for company." He looks down at you with a cruel gaze, "So starved that you're willing to be choked to be touched."

Your glare is unmatched, burning into his skin, hotter than any flame he's felt. Still he can see something beneath that nasty gaze, sees it is fueled by hurt.

You rear your head back for a headbutt although he simply turns his face away, the smallest of smiles graces his lips before it vanishes.

If there was one thing about you, you never took it lying down or without a fight. Your own stubborn will could be something to admire, although he will not admit that aloud.

"Who said I liked to be choked?" A hiss of your pretty tone, crushed beneath his light grip. He chuckles, leaning closer to press his lips to your ear as he shares the secret. Left hand hovering over your cunt.

"She did." Pressing his fingers between your folds hearing a pretty squelch as he gathers slick to press into your clit, "Hear how wet you are for me? All from a little breath play and you're already soaking my slacks."

Despite his hum he still sounds annoyed, brow pinched until your heels dig into the mattress beside his knees to give him better access. Your body betraying you as a rasped moan escapes your lips.

"Now which of us is licking knives for affection again?" A mirthless chuckle, the sound cruel by your ear, "Can I break you like this? Give you so much you shake and plead for me to stop?"

Your stomach tightens, his fingers skilled in more than just sword play. It is unfair how good this feels, how close you are from his fingers and words alone. From the way he makes you dizzy thanks to his hand at your throat, his thumb letting up enough to stroke across the column gently before he returns to his affections.

Your breath hitches, back arching as you press into his muscled torso before you're shaking. Pleasure washing over you in violent jerks of your body as you claw at the sheets.

"That's one." He smiles against the shell of your ear before hooking his chin over your shoulder. Looking down at his work as he continues the maddening pace, you cry out again, "That's two."

He teases you like this for what feels like hours, until his slacks stick to his skin from your bare cunt crying out for more. As he continues to dangle the power imbalance between the two of you as if it weren't already obvious in your day to day.

You've watched him cut down hordes of men with hardly a twitch of his fingers, faster than their bodies can even process, still speaking as their heads or torsos separate from their bodies. You've seen the way his eyes darken, sclera turned black making his eyes aglow the same as a predator's under a full moon.

He always looked beautiful bathed in moonlight, kissed by it until every strand of his hair was starlit. Otherworldly even without his darkening gaze, his shadow gave him away most nights. Stretching longer than any man's should, giving him a crown of two sharp points.

Your body is weak to him and it feels as if it is by divine design, slack in his hold, no matter how cold his touch may be. Unable to keep your knees up now as they fall open, body limp as your head falls back onto his strong shoulder.

His sclera has blackened, something that happens when his mood is heightened, usually nanoseconds before a kill, but this isn't that. This is something entirely different, cruel smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Frostbitten sapphire flick to your face, hold your gaze, his fingers slow to a stop. A gentle pressure with his left hand as his right does the same. Locked in your lidded gaze his eyes go beyond the veil and peer into the depths of your being.

Into your soul.

Without breaking contact he tilts your head every so slightly to press a chaste kiss to your jaw.

Your back arches, body shaking as you come undone from the simple affection.

"I told you that I was not the one who was starved." Baring his teeth in a manner that seems unlike him before he regains his composure as quickly as he lost it. His sclera slowly bleeds back into white, soon his gaze will be glazed over in boredom. An expression he doesn't have to force with most.

Weakly your hand comes up to run your fingers through his moon kissed hair, threading them into the strands.

"Vergil." Voice strained from his hold on your throat and the moans you forced past his grip over the past hour or so, still you surprise him, "You're a bad liar."

He moves his hand to bite until he tastes copper coating his tongue, sclera blackened again, you cannot help the satisfied cat smile on your lips.

No matter how small and defeated it may be at least for now.

"I told you not to call me by my name." He pulls back, lips and teeth stained scarlet, pink muscle slips past to swipe at the mess.

Todoroki and Bakugou stand in the kitchen, their heads conspiratorially close together.  

“I thought everyone was in town?” you interrupt. Blonde and red separate.  

“Got bored,” Bakugou shrugs. 

“Try this,” Todoroki hands you a cup with a white blended drink garnished with a golden pineapple wedge. 

“You know I was drinking whiskey straight from the bottle,” you point out. 

“Don’t be a shit, take the damn drink,” Bakugou scoffs, “Ya can’t live on whiskey alone.”

“Bullshit I can’t,” you mutter. You had dreams about that bottle and all the unhinged decisions you could make and blame on it.

“The bottle is empty,” Todoroki deadpans as he brings a cutting board and blender to the sink. 

“Oh,” You cheerfully take a sip, “Well then thanks for the drink.”

You eye the two men wondering why they really came back. Bakugou you could understand — he didn’t seem like he wanted to go out anyways. But Todoroki? He seemed to be having a good time at the record shop. You lift your drink to your mouth… and miss.

“Oh shit.” It spills out of the corner of your mouth and down your jaw. Bakugou finger wipes up the droplets on your chin and pushes them into your mouth. 

Your lips capture his finger. Vermillion eyes are glued to you as your tongue swirls around the fingertip. Maybe this is why they came back?

“You missed a spot,” Todoroki says. 

“What?” 

He leaves the blender in the sink and approaches you. 

“Here.” Todoroki leans in. His hot tongue laves up the column of your neck. You can’t help but arch into him. 

Definitely why they came back.

“Shouto,” you whimper under his warm touch. Nimble fingers slide up your thigh under your dress. Your panties are soaked. You know it. And you know he knows it when his lips curve into a smile against your skin. 

“Really?” Bakugou throws his hands up in exasperation.  “In front of me?”

Todoroki ignores him. “Hold on to the counter.” Obediently, you grip the granite countertop and brace yourself. There’s a shifting of fabric behind you. A zipper undone. Your dress piled above your ass. Panties sliding down your legs.

“Shouto,” your head falls forward as his cockhead nestles between your folds at your entrance.

“No,” Shouto teases and pulls back. Wrapping a hand around your throat, he pulls your head up. “Let him watch.”

A ruddy blush spreads over Bakugou’s face as Todoroki spreads your legs further apart. Your breath hitches as he finally thrusts into you at an agonizingly slow speed. Each inch elicits a moan, a lip bite, tears pricking the corner of your eyes, something from you. And Bakugou’s vermillion gaze tracks every movement. Lust pounds through his veins and his cock.  Your faces shift in a complicated dance where you lead and he follows – all conducted by Todoroki. 

Bakugou’s hand passes nonchalantly over his sweats. Even rearranging his hardening dick, you can still see the outline of it pressed up against the waistband. A shudder runs through you. Imagine having both of them at the same time.

Todoroki’s hips stutter behind you. “Take it out.”

Bakugou’s eyes fly from your face to his. “What?”

“Take your dick out and stroke yourself,” he says impatiently.

“Wh-”

“She fucking clenches when you do that and-”

Bakugou pulls his pants to mid-thigh. His cock stands at attention. You tremble again with thoughts of ‘what if’. What if he slid his cock into your mouth while Todoroki pounds you from behind? What if you took them both at once? What if Todoroki settled you on Bakugou’s dick and used you like a fleshlight to jerk the other man off?

A mewl escapes your lips as Todoroki’s hips snap against your ass. Fingers dig into your hips and pull you down hard.

Todoroki leans over you, his breath tickling your ear. “You like him watching?”

Bakugou’s forefinger and thumb circle his shaft, lightly stroking up and down. You wanted him to do more than just watch.

“You like him seeing your tits bounce as I take you?” he growls in your ear. One hand snakes down to the apex of your thighs. A simple graze of his finger against your clit has you whimpering. “You like seeing her come undone on my cock?”

Bakugou tosses his head back and fucks into his fist. 

Desire burns along your nerves and you collapse into Todoroki as your orgasm washes over you. He’s not far behind you, his hips losing their momentum as they stutter against you and a rushing heat fills you. You stay joined for a moment, Todoroki’s softening cock letting come leak out of you.

He pulls out and braces himself against the counter next to you. In a daze, you stumble over to Bakugou who watches you with lust filled eyes.

“Can I?” Your voice trails off as you sink to your knees.

“Not this time, Princess,” he pants. Your heart sinks, but he continues, “I wouldn’t last a second with your pretty lips wrapped around me.”

Todoroki, finished tucking himself back in, stands behind you. His hands run down your shoulders, taking the straps of your dress with them. “Give him something to aim for when he blows his load.”

The edge of your dress caresses your tits as Todoroki pulls your top down. It stops momentarily on the stiff peaks of your nipples before popping free.

Bakugou starts pumping faster, his hand fisting his weeping cock with such strength you’d think he was working out at the gym. “Fuck.”

Hot drops splatter across your collarbone and tits. One even makes it up to your bare shoulder. Bakugou pants, lost in his own orgasm. 

“Shouto,” you look up at him from your spot on the ground, “Can I have my panties back?”

He raises an eyebrow and taps a bulge in his pocket. “No.”

⪢ Next Chapter (coming when it’s finished)