Alice

“So,” Your friend turns to you, asking you in piqued interest, “Who’d the department put you with? You know who you’ll be an assistant for yet?”

“Yeah, I was told I’ve been placed with ‘Professor Touya Todoroki’,” you answer. The name is completely unfamiliar to you, though, you’re hoping she has at least heard of him before.

It’s your turn to ask her a question, and you choose to say, “Have you ever had him?”

Much to your dismay, she shakes her head no.

“Nope, never had him,” she replies. You frown slightly at her answer. Turning to  your friend’s roommate, you hope  to find that she has had some sort of interaction with him. 

“What about you? Have you had him before?” You question her. Just like your friend, she shakes her head, much to your disappointment. 

“I haven’t,” shesays. “I don’t even think anyone else has talked about him before either. I’ve never heard his name in my life.”

Damn. 

You were wanting to hear your peers' experience with your soon to be ‘boss’ of sorts, so that you could prepare yourself, but it seems you’re shit out of luck. You’ll just have to go in blind.  

“You know, they hired a new professor this semester. It might just be him,” your friend points out. She smiles at you mischievously before adding, “And rumor has it, he’s hot as fuck.” 

“Ooooh, how lucky. I’m jealous,” your friend’s roommate giggles. You scoff at the reaction. 

“No reason to be. He’s my professor, ‘s not like I can, you know, do anything with him,” you counter. 

You check your phone, seeing that the time to meet the new professor has come. “I gotta head over to his office before his lecture starts. I’ll catch you around.”

“See you later then. Have fun~” your friend farewells in a singsong voice. 

You chuckle at her antics and make your way over to the department building and to his office. When you get there, you stop to peer through the window on his office door, trying to see if he’s inside. Luckily, he’s there, looking down at a paper in his hand, unaware of your presence. 

You notice right away he doesn’t look like the rest of the university staff. He looks quite a bit younger than the rest of the aging faculty. Though, he was still a couple years your senior, in his early thirties at least. What makes him really stand out to you, apart from his piercing cyan eyes and dark, shaggy hair, is the way he dressed. He’s wearing tight black jeans, a form-fitting white button up, an expensive wristwatch, and black Converse. You can’t help but admire his intense, blue eyes as he studies the sheet of paper in his hand, too focused to notice your staring. Your eyes travel the expanse of his face, taking in his features. 

You remember your friend’s words, her little comment echoing in your brain. ‘Rumor has it, he’s hot as fuck,’ you’re reminded. For once, it seems her gossip is true. Even you can’t deny it; Professor Todoroki is very attractive. 

But you won’t act on your feelings, you can’t. You’re supposed to be his assistant after all! And so, with that thought in your mind, you snap yourself out of your daze. You take a deep breath, steeling your nerves and suppressing your desires, before knocking on the door.

He looks up from his papers and glances at you through the window in the door, before beckoning you inside his office. You swing open the door and take a few tentative steps into the room. He quickly looks you up and down, just for a split second, only for his eyes to settle back on your face and look at you expectantly. You hate how his overt glance at your body flusters you and makes you feel hot all over. 

“Excuse me, are you Professor Todoroki?” You ask with a soft voice. 

“Yep, that’d be me. Although, you can just call me Professor Touya. I don’t use my father’s last name,” he explains. His deep, smoky voice worsens your nervousness. The way his voice drawls has butterflies swarming in your stomach. He tosses the papers he was reading off to the side and approaches you, smirking down at you. “But what can I do for you, sweetheart?”

The pet name is something you’re surprised to hear coming from your professor. It borders dangerously on unprofessional, and yet, you find yourself letting it slide. Hearing him say something like that to you sends a wave of heat between your legs. 

Keeping your cool around him is not going to be easy, especially if he keeps calling you that. 

You start by introducing yourself and telling him your name before continuing. “I’m sure the department informed you already, but I’ll be your TA for this next semester,” you start. “I look forward to working with you.”

He hums in response. 

“So you’re my little assistant? Gonna help me with all the long hours grading, hm?” He asks. 

“Yes sir,” you answer. There’s a darker expression that flashes on his face, but it passes just as quickly as it appeared. He narrows his eyes slightly and lazily leans against his desk, supporting his weight using his forearms. Underneath the fabric of his button-up, you can see the muscles of his arms flexing. 

Oh god. 

He’s fucking ripped too. 

“You know, the other faculty told me about you,” he mentions. You can’t help but quirk up at the comment, feeling curious. What did the other teachers say about you? 

“Nothing bad, I hope,” you joke. 

“They all said you were a good student. Never a rule breaker, always professional. Top of your class too, I heard,” he starts. It fills you with a sense of pride and accomplishment, to hear your hard work has gotten you some recognition. You’re practically preening at the praise. And yet, it feels like there’s something else he wants to add. He straightens up and leans off of his desk. The space between you closes as he stands dangerously close to you. 

“But there’s one thing I think they got wrong,” he counters.

You tense up as your mind reels. His voice lowers and he adds, “I’m willing to bet you’re not as good as they say you are.” 

Your brow twitches in annoyance at his bold claim. Just who does he think he is? 

You clench your jaw, biting down the urge to snap back. He’s your superior. You can’t just yell at him and let him have it, not this early in the semester at least. Thus, you settle for tense questioning. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” he insinuates and takes a step back. The distance between the two of you gives you space to breathe, space to fume. “We’ll meet an hour before class to go over the lesson plan. I give a lot of tests over the semester, so come by every afternoon to help with grading.” 

Oh great. 

You’ll be spending most of your week nights with this hot asshole. 

“Understood?” He asks. His cobalt eyes bore into yours as he looks at you expectantly, waiting for your response. 

“Yes sir,” you answer flatly. Despite your lack of enthusiasm, he seems to grin at your agreement. 

“Hm, sir. That’s not something I’m used to hearing from my students,” he teases. There’s a darker look in his eyes that disappears as quickly as you notice it. “Your underclassmen tend to be more… casual around me.”

“And does that bother you?” You ask, suddenly feeling a bit awkward at your apparent odd choice of words. 

“No,” he says, quickly denying it. His voice seems to drop an octave, and he adds, “I prefer it, actually.”

There seems to be something off about the situation, something greater lying behind the surface of his words, but you can’t seem to figure out what greater meaning lies underneath something as simple as an honorific to him. 

The tension is broken after he clears his throat and leans off of the desk upon looking at the clock. “But enough of that,” he starts. “Our first lecture is scheduled to start soon. Let’s start talking about the lesson plan.” 

If there’s one thing you've learned about Professor Touya over the course of the next few weeks, it’s that he’s both fun to talk to yet incredibly strict. He has a penchant for teasing you and the two of you often banter with one another, but despite the growing bond forming between the two of you, he still insists on you calling him sir. 

You suppose he still wants to maintain at least a bit of an aura of professionalism between the two of you. And so, despite how awkward it feels, you continue to address him as such, unaware of the little quirk in his smirk that always follows. 

In speaking with him and sitting in during his lectures, you find yourself being intrinsically drawn to him like a moth to a flame. You reason it’s because you admire his remarkable intelligence, amongst other enigmatic qualities.

He’s driven. Witty. Mysterious. Captivating, even.

With how much he has going for him, it’s no mystery why the university hired him; he’s easily one of the brightest minds in his field, and an engaging professor as well. You could learn from him. 

Yeah. 

That’s all it is. 

You just want to learn from him, is all. 

That’s why you’re gravitating to him.

You don't want to think about him outside of class.

You don’t want to think about the way his attractive smirk gives you butterflies.

You don’t want to think about kissing those soft lips of his as you stare at him speaking.

And you definitely don’t want to think about his fingers descending down your body and touching your aching core. 

You try to avoid thinking about those less than pure daydreams you have about him, both out of self respect for yourself, considering the insulting implication he threw at you during your first meeting, and out of aversion to entertaining lewd ideas about your professor. However, despite this conscious decision, your subconscious has other plans. You find yourself often stealing glances his way, admiring his attractive features, much to your own dismay.

Today is another instance of your subconscious betraying you, and your eyes are now fixated on him, taking in the frustrated scrunch in his brow and tensed shoulders. He abruptly stops setting up the presentation on the computer and walks over towards the windows in the classroom. In an attempt to get respite from the rising heat in the room, he cracks open all the windows. 

“You’d think with the high tuition they’d have enough money to fix this damn AC already,” Professor Touya scoffs. The building’s lack of cool air is a well-known problem, which is why you wore such a thin, short dress today in the first place. It was too damn hot to show up to class wearing much else.

He sighs in annoyance as he unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt and rolls up the sleeves, revealing something that has your breath hitch in your throat.  They start from his wrists and travel up his arms. Shades of purple and blue accent his black ink work, the hues of blue matching his mysterious, cerulean-colored eyes.  From what you’re able to discern, his tattoos go even farther than just his forearms. You wonder just how many he has, and where. The curiosity makes your mind entertain some less than pure ideas, picturing his bare skin and imagining just what kind of ink work he hides underneath his clothes. You try to reign in these fantasies of yours, but you’re too busy drooling over him.

Too busy to even notice that he’s caught you staring. 

He smirks to himself upon seeing you ogling him. His hunch was right, there was something more between the two of you; an unspoken, mutual sexual tension. Though, you seem to be fighting your apparent attraction to him, he could see it in the way you quickly caught yourself and looked away, avoiding looking at him much more at all. He’s hoping he can change that. Maybe he can make you see there’s no shame in it. He’d be more than happy to indulge your naughty fantasies. 

He lazily glances at the clock, seeing how the scheduled lecture will start shortly. It’s then that he remembers something. He leans closer to you and taps the desk, startling you and flustering you with his sudden closeness, and requests, “Hey, I had some handouts for today’s class printed out upstairs. Will you go pick them up for me?”

“Yes sir, I can do that,” you agree. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says. And with that, you leave the class and head to the printing room. Shortly after you leave, a couple students trickle into the room, all belonging to the same close-knit clique of fraternity members. They each take their usual seats and continue to talk amongst themselves freely. Their conversation is painfully loud. He can hear them all the way from the front of the classroom, even though they sit far in the back. 

“Aw man, that hot TA isn’t here today,” one of the frat boys bemoans. “She’s usually around before class.”

“Fucking bummer,” another complains. “Was hoping to get her number.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t mind getting a piece of that,” the other agrees. “She’s a total fucking nerd but I bet she’d be a decent fuck.” They all loudly laugh at that comment and continue making their comments about you. 

He knows their type, and just how it would end for you should you associate with them. Besides the fact that they’re all idiots and that alone would be enough to disappoint you, you would be wasted on them. Those frat boys wouldn’t know what to do with a girl like you. They wouldn’t know how to make you cum. They wouldn’t make you completely dumb with pleasure. There’s just something special about getting a normally smart girl to completely fall apart for him, to give a girl so much pleasure that everything else melts away. And truthfully, he wants to take you there. He wants to see just what it would take to fuck you stupid. He has to know, just how much pleasure does it take to turn your brain to mush.

His desire for you is why these frat boys irk him so much. They casually talk about seducing you into their bed like you’re an easy lay. But the fun that comes with you is the cat and mouse game, the deliberation in your brain between suppressing your attraction towards him and wanting to cave into your own desires. Your little errand couldn’t have come at a better time. He’s glad you’re not here to give them an opportunity to make a move on you, but he can’t keep sending you away before class starts to spare you the misfortune of these idiots making a pass at you. 

No.

He needs to send a little message to the competition. 

And lucky for him, he’s got just the idea. 

More students start filing in as he makes his plans. He has everything thought out, and all that is left is the final piece: you. But shortly before Professor Touya starts the lecture, you make it inside the classroom, papers in hand. You attempt to start passing out the handouts, when he stops you in your tracks. He takes the stack of sheets from your hands and haphazardly tosses them aside.

“I thought they needed that for today?” You ask, thrown off by the apparent change in plans. 

“Nah, we’ll just have them copy the diagram themselves for today. I saw some research that suggested it helps more with memorization. You’ve seen their test grades, the students need all the help they can get,” he lies. You can’t help but genuinely chuckle at his light jab at his own students. As much as you think it’s a waste to discard the handouts– if Professor Touya believes it’ll help the students, you won’t argue with him. 

“Alright, whatever you say, sir,” you laugh. The lecture starts as it normally does and follows the previously discussed lesson plan, until it comes time to show the students the diagram. He turns to you mid-lecture, about to ask you for some sort of assistance. 

“You’ve got better art skills than me. Draw this diagram. Top of page ninety,” Professor Todoroki instructs. He slides over his copy of the textbook, pages turned to a rather complicated figure. It’s far too much information to draw from memory. 

“Sure thing,” you answer. You pick up a marker and uncap it, before holding the textbook in the crook of your arm. You’re about to start copying the figure near the bottom of the board when he interrupts you. 

“Ah, I’m going to write more notes there in a minute. Why don’t you put it over here instead?” He points far up the whiteboard to some blank space tucked in the upper corner. Your stomach sinks at seeing where he wants you to place the diagram. You’re regretting wearing such a short dress today. But still, short dress or not, you have to do this. Maybe… Maybe you can manage it, without flashing the entire class? 

Without much of a choice, you study the diagram, balancing the heavy textbook in one hand while you reach up the whiteboard with a dry-erase marker in hand. You start to stand up on the tips of your toes and you try to aim for a slightly closer area of blank space, all the while your mind is preoccupied with the hem of your skirt. You’re dangerously close to accidentally erasing all of his previous notes, something you’re not too keen on doing given his strictness. 

“Having trouble?” Professor Touya teases, with an amused grin on his face. 

“No, ‘m fine,” you lie. Not that you would admit it to him, but it’s more than just a bit awkward to both hold onto the book and stand up high to draw the figure. 

“Here, let me,” he insists. He comes up behind you, his crotch just barely brushing against your ass. Your breath gets caught in your throat at your body involuntarily stiffens. You internally cringe at how something so simple as a passing touch makes your body feel hot. 

He plucks the textbook from your hands, allowing you a bit more freedom of motion to stand up higher and draw with precision. He sidles up next to you and holds the book open for you. Still, even with his help, it’s still hard to draw exactly where he wants you to. Your dress already feels rather high on your legs as is, you’re sure disaster would happen should you stand up higher. 

“Come on, you’re almost there, just stand up a little more,” he encourages and goads. You almost jolt when you feel a warm hand touch your waist, egging you on to push the envelope just a little further. Not wanting to disobey him, you do as he says, though the regret is instant. The skirt of your dress hikes over your hips and reveals the curve of your ass. A sharp, hushed silence sweeps over the room. Your ears feel like they’re burning and tears are welling up in your eyes at the sheer humiliation you feel in this moment. You draw the figure anyways, albeit carelessly and sloppily. 

You just want this to be over. 

But since your back is turned to the class, you’re completely unaware of the silent exchange happening between Professor Touya and the frat boys in the back row. While you are doing as he asked, ever his obedient assistant, he’s busy glowering at his competition. 

The message is clear. 

You are off limits. 

When the diagram is finally drawn, you straighten back out and place your feet flat on the ground. You should be a bit relieved when your dress finally covers your body once more, but you’re unable to feel that respite. The damage is done, and you’re now left to simmer in your own embarrassment. 

“Is that all you needed from me, sir?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper and thick with emotion. There’s a lump in your throat forming as you fight back the urge to cry. 

“Yeah, that’s all, sweetheart,” he answers, in a manner that’s almost a subtle attempt at soothing you. You let out a shaky, uneven breath. 

“Okay,” you say through a tense sigh. Your voice cracks when you speak once more, “I-I’ll be in your office to… get started on grading.”

You dismiss yourself and nearly rush out of the classroom, all too eager to distance yourself from the source of your shame. Once you’re in the safety of the hallways, you freely let the tears flow down your face. You’re at least thankful the halls are somewhat sparse, meaning that few are able to see you fall apart like this. The last thing you can handle emotionally is someone asking you what happened or if you were okay. Talking about it would just make the humiliation much more real.  

When you finally reach Professor Touya’s office, you close the blinds on his door behind you and prop yourself up against the desk with your hands. You try to recollect yourself, to no avail. Your shame just eats away at you. But at least with his office so far out of the way of all other classes and the blinds drawn down, no one can see you fall apart like this. You can stew in your emotions somewhat privately, at least until Professor Touya gets back. 

Professor Touya.

You want to sneer at the thought of him. The more you think about what happened during the lecture, the more you can’t help but assume he wanted to embarrass you on purpose, like the asshole he is. He enjoys toying with you too much, but this time, he really went too far. You think you’ve been much too cordial with him. When he gets back, you swear you’ll give him a piece of your mind. Fuck professionalism, that was thrown out the window when he forced your hand and caught a peek up your dress. 

Speak of the devil, or rather, think of the devil, and he appears. More time than you thought must have passed while you were smoldering in your feelings, as Professor Touya leisurely strolls into his office, now apparently finished with the lecture. You wipe your tears on the back of your hand, trying to make yourself look a little less weak in front of him and steeling your nerves to tell him off. 

“So what the hell was that about, huh? Why do you get off on being an absolute dick to me? I know you did that shit on purpose,” you accuse. He makes his way over to you and stands in front of you, partially caging you against the desk. The close proximity to him makes you feel hot with what you assume is indignation.

Yeah, that’s what this feeling is.

You despise him.

He doesn’t say anything, instead choosing to let you vent out your frustrations, taking the spite you hurl at him. You’re very much angry at him, filled with so much frustration that your voice is unsteady as you yell, “You’re such a fucking ass. And for what! I did nothing to you, I’ve been nothing but helpful and polite. What could possibly make you want to humiliate me like that? What have I done to make you hate me like this?”

“Oh sweetheart, I don’t hate you,” he soothes. His voice sounds much more husky when he adds, “Quite the opposite, actually.”

“Well I still think you’re an asshole for that little stunt you pulled, even if it wasn’t because you hated me,” you counter, speaking in between breaks in your voice. There’s still tears breaking past your lash line as a consequence of feeling so heated. Your emotions are only further worsened by the confusion you feel. If it wasn’t a malicious attempt to knock you down, why would he do such a thing to you? 

“I know, I know,” he agrees. “How about I make it up to you then?”

“How could you possibly make it up to me?” You question as your voice cracks under the weight of your emotions. You move to wipe your face when he beats you to the punch, brushing away the tears falling down your cheek with his thumb. His hand stays on your face and he tilts your chin to him, angling your face closer to his.  

“Well, I could start by making you feel good, give you something else to think about,” he insinuates. Your breath gets caught in your throat at his implication. “I know you feel it too, this tension between us. I’d love to indulge your fantasies about me, if you’d let me.”

You part your lips, searching for the right words and the strength to reject him, but with his face hovering tantalizingly close to yours, lips mere inches away, you realize you don’t have it in you. 

Fuck. 

You want him so bad. 

“P-please,” you whisper. He has a shit eating grin on his face at your meek and embarrassed begging. 

“What was that? You’ll need to speak up, sweetheart, I can’t hear you,” he teases. You swallow the lump in your throat, and lock eyes with him. 

“Please, make me feel good,” you say again, this time with a little more conviction. 

“Atta girl,” he praises. And with your agreeance, he closes the distance between the two of you and slots his mouth against yours. A gasp escapes you at the feeling of his lips working against your own. Your yearning and daydreaming didn’t prepare you for the intensity of this, for the pure wanting behind every movement of his lips. 

The kiss becomes more and more heated as he presses his body further against yours, leaving little space between the two of you. His tongue dips out from his mouth and runs along the seam of your lips and you part slightly, allowing him the space to slip the wet muscle inside. You find yourself shuddering at the contact and gripping onto the fabric of his button up as a way to tether yourself in this moment. It’s almost a bit embarrassing just how much you’re melting into his touch from something as simple as kissing. Your body is eating it up regardless, sending waves of warmth throughout your entire being and pooling between your legs. 

“Can I touch you?” He asks, after parting from the kiss, his breath fanning over your lips. Although you’ve been dreaming about this moment, and you desperately want to feel his touch all over you, your mind can’t help but chime in; you shouldn’t. 

You really shouldn’t. 

But with his hardening cock pressing up against your stomach and professionalism now abandoned, you throw caution to the wind and give in. You give him a nod and allow his hands to roam over your body. It’s almost dizzying to feel his touch, especially when his hands palm your chest and grope your ass, squeezing the plush flesh in his hands. He dives back in to press his lips up against yours in an intense, crushing kiss once more. You whimper against him, flustered at the feeling of his hot touch over your clothes. You’re becoming drunk on lust just from touches alone. 

Your arousal is heightened as the hands at your ass trail to the front, reaching your hips, before snaking up your dress. His fingers press against your clothed mound. He smirks into the kiss upon feeling the wetness already clinging against the fabric. 

You whine at the loss of friction when his fingers pull back, but the absence of his touch is short-lived. He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties and tugs the clothing down your thighs. You part your legs to allow him to completely rid you of them, leaving your cunt now bare before him. You’re glad the blinds on his door are drawn, preventing anyone else from seeing the debauched sight of your panties on the floor in front of your professor. 

The pads of his fingers teasingly trace up your inner thighs, slowly inching bit by bit up your legs and making his way to your aching core. You let out an involuntary gasp when he finally grazes your pussy, his touch now no longer separated by a layer of clothing. 

His fingers run up and down your folds, spreading your juices over yourself and teasingly avoiding sinking into your eager hole. You squirm and jolt every time the tips of his fingers brush against your clit. His warm touch on your engorged bundle of nerves sends jolts of pleasure up your spine. The embarrassment and shame melts away into pure, unadulterated desire with every drag of his fingers over your slit, leaving you wetter and wetter. Your slick coats his fingers as he grazes over your hole. He looks down to see his skin glistening with your wetness, causing him to suck in a breath at the sight. 

Realizing he’s teasing himself by waiting any longer, he decides to give you what you’ve been wanting. Two fingers finally dip inside of your heat, slowly at first. You let out a breathy moan as his digits sink into you. When they bottom out inside of you, you want to squirm at how full you feel with just his fingers alone. They’re the perfect combination of long and thick, stretching out your cunt with ease. 

A sharp inhale escapes you when he slowly pulls out, almost entirely, before pumping back inside of you. He sets an agonizingly slow pace at first as he watches your every reaction, studying what movements and angles have you panting for him. Ever observant, he effortlessly finds your most sensitive spots and hones in on them before quickening his pace. 

Your legs tremble and shake with every harsh thrust of his fingers, bringing you closer and closer to cumming with little effort on his part. He knows just how to curl them up, just how to press the ball of his hand against your clit, just how to get you panting for him. The relentless pumping of his fingers in and out of your hole sends floods of wetness to your core, coating his fingers with your slick. Moans loudly tumble out of your mouth when he slips another into your heat. Though as much as he’s enjoying hearing your slutty moans, he seems distracted. 

He puts his palm over your mouth and leans into your ear. “Shhh, someone’s coming,” he hushes. “Might wanna quiet down unless you want your classmates to barge in and see your pussy full with my fingers.”

You don’t have to see him to know he’s smirking at the comment, feeding off of your apparent embarrassment. The sounds of footsteps and talking nears closer and closer to the door. Knowing your classmates are nearing the door while your legs are obscenely spread for your professor and stuffed full of his thick fingers makes you feel hot with humiliation and overwhelmed with panic, but the pleasure Touya gives you is too much to give up. And so, you bite back your moans in an attempt to stay completely silent. Your body tenses with the risk of getting caught, causing you to clench down even tighter around his fingers. But even though you’re desperately fighting back the urge to whine and wail for him, with very obvious strain, the bastard keeps pumping in and out of you. You just hope the sound of wet squelching isn’t audible through the door.

“I can’t see in, the blinds are closed. Is he not here today?” A student asks, her question partially muffled through Touya’s office door. 

“No, he’s here. My roommate just left his class a while ago,” another student replies. The door knob jiggles as she tries to open the door. You hold your breath, expecting it to swing open and to be caught in the act. 

Only, it never happens. 

The knob refuses to yield to the student’s attempts. She mutters out of frustration, “Damn, must be in a meeting right now. His office is locked.” 

“Huh, I guess we’ll come back tomorrow,” the other classmate shrugs.

You sigh in relief, letting some of the tension dissipate. So long as you’re quiet, you can make it through this without anyone knowing what went on in his office. Still, even that is proving to be a challenge with the way his fingers continue to slam in and out of your pussy. Your knuckles turn white as you grip onto the desk like it’s your lifeline, pouring all your urge to moan into tensing your hands. His half-lidded, cobalt eyes stay trained on your face, seemingly searching for something, while a lazy and smug expression plasters his own face. 

A change in the angle of his fingers sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body and a stifled squeal wrangles past your lips. He snickers at your failed attempts at staying quiet. You instantly feel yourself sweating, either from the anxiety or from quickly racing towards your peak, you’re unable to discern. Hopefully the students didn’t pick up on it.

Much to your horror, one of the students speaks, “Wait, did you hear that?”

“No? What’d you hear?” The other asks in confusion. You cringe, worrying that their curiosity will lead to your social downfall. If they know someone is in there, they’ll demand you answer them. Should that happen, you’re sure Professor Touya will make you answer the door. Not only that, but with the way he’s eating up your embarrassment, you worry he’d make you answer their questions, all the while he still fingers you out of view.

“It was like… a squeak or something,” she explains. 

“Might have been a mouse, this building is super old ya’ know,” the other offers. 

The suspicious student laughs and says in disgust, “Ew, let’s just get the hell out of here. Lab starts in 5 minutes anyways.”

You can’t seem to hear the sound of their footsteps leaving over the sound of your heartbeat in your ears and the wet noises of your cunt gushing around his fingers. Evidently, Touya hears. “They’re gone, sweetheart,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. The feeling of his breath against your ear has you shuddering in response. His hand retracts from your face, no longer muffling your sounds. “Since we’re alone again, why don’t you let me hear those loud, slutty sounds of yours, yeah?” 

He starts to mouth your neck, intermixing his kisses with rougher bites against the delicate skin of your throat, leaving behind blooms of teeth marks and hickeys in his wake. It’s almost as if he wants everyone on campus to talk, like he wants your classmates to know you slept with him; the marks all over your neck damning evidence of your hookup. The sensation of his lips all over you  and the curving of his fingers against that bundle of nerves inside you has you keening for him, whines now freely escaping your mouth. 

“A-ah, feels so good,” you moan with a drawn out voice. He thrusts his fingers in and out of you in earnest, spurred on by your sweet sounds echoing in his office. You let out a choked noise upon feeling him speed up, and your walls clench down on his fingers, sucking them further into your heat. He can tell you’re quickly nearing your peak with the way your pussy flutters around him, contracting wildly.  

He pulls away from your neck and mutters against your skin, his breath fanning over the sensitive flesh, “Yeah, my fingers fucking your cunt feel that good? Gonna come on fingers then?”

The sound of his deep voice spewing such filthy words pushes you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes into you like a harsh wave, stealing your breath away at the impact. You loudly moan as your cunt contracts around his fingers, all the while he continues to pump in and out of you, working you through your release. True to his orders, you gush around him, and your slick freely leaks from your sensitive hole. He finally relents and pulls out of you when you squirm from the overstimulation, attempting to wriggle away from the excessive pleasure. A pleased smirk paints his face upon seeing his fingers glisten with your wetness in the light. The sight gives him an idea, one that goes straight to his cock just at the thought.

“Open up,” he commands. The fingers wet with your juices hover over your lips, waiting for you to follow his demands. You shyly part your lips, allowing his fingers to slip into you. The tang of your own slick touches your tongue and you hold eye contact with him as your mouth closes around his fingers. 

The feeling of your tongue swirling around his digits and the sight of your lips closing around him has his mind racing. He can’t help but think of how your mouth would feel on his cock and how filthy you would look on your knees for him, pretty face nestled against his pelvis and teary doe eyes looking up at him. But he’ll save that for another time.

He needs more than just your mouth right now. 

Once his fingers are sufficiently cleaned off by your tongue, he pulls them out. He surges forward and kisses you, sliding his tongue past your lips. The taste of you still lingers in your mouth. He lewdly moans into the kiss, feeling that much hornier upon sampling your taste. 

“Shit,” he curses against your lips after pulling back. “You taste so good.” He dives back in, passionately kissing you once more and tangling his tongue with yours. “Fuck, sweetheart. I’d bend you over this desk and devour this cunt, but I’m just dying to be inside you.”

“I need it, I want it too. Please, take me,” you beg. Never once did you anticipate you’d be begging for your professor to fuck you in earnest. Never once did you think you’d see the smirk on his face at your lewd pleading. And you certainly didn’t believe you’d ever feel his hands slide under your dress and lift it over you, unclasping your bra along with it, leaving you bare before him. 

He pulls back from you and starts to unbuckle his belt. The sound of the metal clinking in the room makes your ears burn at the lewdness and your pussy clench in anticipation. He frees himself from the confines of his dark jeans, leaving you salivating at the sight of him. 

You want to drool upon seeing how he’s quite thick and long, with prominent veins running along his shaft. You’re then pushed down flush against the top of his desk, splayed over a mess of papers, and he hooks one of your legs over his shoulders. Your breath hitches when he positions his cock in between your folds with his other hand and runs the head up and down your slit, collecting the slick dripping from you and lubing his cock. 

He locks eyes with you as he finally pushes the tip in, relishing in your expression as he slowly slips in, inch by inch. Meanwhile, your full attention is focused on the way his thickness stretches you out and how the veins on his shaft drag against your walls as he sinks into you. You feel a bit breathless when he finally bottoms out and his tip kisses your cervix. 

He starts to pull his hips back until his cock nearly slips out, before pushing back into you and filling you up once more. You feel completely stuffed. True to his words, you can’t think about anything else, the embarrassment you felt frowning more and more distant in your mind and being replaced by sheer, mind numbing pleasure. 

But when he really starts rutting in and out of you? 

Your brain is filled with cotton. He can tell by the way your eyes glaze over and soft moans sound from your parted, panting lips that he’s slowly fucking you stupid. It fills him with a bit of pride to see you being reduced to a brainless, horny mess for him, and the realization goes straight to his cock. 

“T-touya,” you stammer and moan upon feeling his thrusts increase in tempo. You never called him by his first name before, but now that he’s inside of you, it was reasonable for you to believe the two of you are well past formalities. 

“It’s still sir to you,” he growls, correcting your slip up. He punctuates his statement with a hard and deep thrust, making you sharply gasp. His stern voice draws a shudder out of you and you find yourself clenching down on him. 

“‘M sorry, s-sir,” you apologize. You can feel his cock throb in your walls at the honorific. Even through your lust clouded mind, you put the pieces together. 

Oh.

That’s why he liked you calling him sir. 

“Yeah, that’s better,” he breathes. “Like the sound of that out of your mouth more than my name. Keep it up, sweetheart.”

Spurred on by your words, he hooks your other leg over his shoulder, slightly raising you off of the desk and angling his thrusts to hit even deeper inside of you. You grip onto the edges of the table as he fucks into you harder. 

He’s canting into you so deeply and sharply that the desk shakes with every harsh clap of his hips against your thighs. Papers scatter onto the floor, picture frames fall flat on the table top, pens spill out of their holders and clatter onto the ground, all the while he chases one goal: to make you a stupid, incoherent mess from his cock. 

His pace quickens and you bite down on your knuckle in an attempt to muffle your whines and moans, not wanting to fill the entire wing of the building with the sounds of sex. You feel the pleasure rapidly building as he hammers into you, pressing up against that sponges bundle of nerves along your walls. It’s easy to tell he is feeling the same, as more and more deep moans and curses tumble from his lips while he ruts into you. The sound of his voice moaning out for you combined with the angle of his cock pushes you to the verge of orgasming. 

“Hah, fuck. ‘M close. Wanna cum, sir. Please make me cum,” you desperately beg. He throbs at your dumbified state and from the word sir coming out of your mouth. 

Shit, he’s getting close too. 

“Yeah? You gonna make a mess all over these papers then?” He asks, amid pants. He becomes drunk at just the thought of you cumming and dripping all over his cock. It sends a shock wave of pleasure straight between his legs and he rambles on, “Think you can squirt f’me too?” His hips brutally snap into yours, giving you the friction you need to finally be pushed over the edge. 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, fuck!” You chant, slurring each of your words in drunken pleasure. You finally fall apart with a silent scream, and just as he was hoping, you gush around him.

“That’s it, cream all over my fucking cock, sweetheart,” he encourages. Strings of your slick cling to his cock and snap with every clap of his pelvis against your skin. He continues to thrust in and out of you, recklessly chasing his own release as you lay below him, now teetering on the edge of overstimulation. 

Your pussy clamping down on him and your walls fluttering finally pushes him over. His hips stutter and he cums with a deep groan, painting your insides white. 

He stills, momentarily keeping his cock nestled in your walls, as he lowers your legs back down against the desk. Slowly, he pulls out of you, glancing down between your legs to see your combined releases leaking out of your hole. He watches, eyes transfixed, as his seed slowly starts seeping out of you and pooling on the sheets below. 

The two of you really did a number on his desk, and his entire office, for that matter. You lay there on the table, dazed and panting, attempting to catch your breath and come back down from your high. He can’t help but smugly chuckle at your dumbified state, before he tucks himself back into his pants. 

“What a mess you’ve made,” he teases. He walks off and heads to the door, about to leave, when he turns over his shoulder and adds, “Make sure to clean up after yourself.” 

You steal a glimpse at the wrecked state of the desk, partially horrified at the wetness pooling between your legs and onto the assignments and handouts. You stare at the wet spots on the sheets of paper. 

Fuck. 

Maybe it’ll dry off. 

You hope so, at least. 

Your face burns when you walk into his classroom the next day. You make eye contact with him as you go to stand near the computer, bringing up the PowerPoint for the lecture. The situation is more than just awkward. 

How do you proceed from here? 

You’re not even sure what to say to him, if you’re supposed to greet him as usual. Your mouth feels dry from nervousness, and you take a drink from your water bottle. A student then walks up to Professor Touya, thankfully taking the heat off of you to speak to him. 

“Professor Touya?” The student starts, preparing to ask him some sort of question. 

“Yes, what is it?” He answers. 

“Did you spill something on my papers?” The student confronts. You choke on your drink as he presents his graded assignment that looks to be partially sullied by water damage, only you and Professor Touya both know- that is definitely not water. 

“Hm, good question. I’m not sure, my TA graded most of these,” he deflects, feigning ignorance. He thinks for a moment, before snapping his fingers and saying, “You know what? Why don’t you ask her? She might know what happened.” 

To your horror, the student takes his suggestion, turning to you and interrogating, “What is this? Is this milk?” 

“Haha, yeah. Milk. It’s just milk,” you force out. You wish you could crawl into a hole and disappear at this moment from the sheer amount of embarrassment you feel. You awkwardly apologize, “Um, sorry about that.” 

“I mean, it’s okay I guess. Accidents happen,” the student shrugs.  

“Alright, if that’s all, we have to set up for today’s lecture. If you’ll excuse us,” Professor Touya intervenes. The student then walks off to take his seat as other students start trickling in. With the student now out of earshot, you confront him. 

“I hate you so much right now,” you say. “That was so embarrassing!” He chuckles at your situation, evidently very entertained by your dismay.

But as much as this circumstance embarrasses you, you can’t help but want more of last night, ruined papers be damned. Feeling bold, you ask, “Make it up to me?”

He gives you a cocky smirk, thrilled to know you want to be fucked dumb yet again. “Sure thing, sweetheart,” he agrees. “I’ll be waiting in my office whenever you want me.”

You and Rindou have been together for a few months, although neither of you have ever tried to discuss what “together” actually means. Your relationship seemed to be an endless string of implications. When you met, it was implied you liked each other. When you made out at a party a few weeks later, it was implied it was as friends. When you started sleeping together, it was implied it was casual. In your mind, you were something more than “friends with benefits” but still something less than a full-on relationship.

He puts a record on and has just crossed into the kitchen to help himself to a bottled water from your fridge when he notices a vase of flowers on the counter that he definitely didn’t send you.

“Fancy flowers,” he comments. “Who sent them?” He asks, despite immediately checking the card and seeing the message alongside what seems to be a masculine name:

“Thanks for last weekend, let’s do it again sometime ;)”

You’re rooting around in your closet, trying to find the top you had planned on wearing while your mind is focused on your mental checklist of everything you still have left to do before you leave; it takes a good 15 seconds for it to register that Rindou has even said anything and another 10 before you distractedly call out “a friend” in response.

Rindou sits on your couch and while his hands are turning the pages of some random magazine he found on your coffee table, his eyes are fixed on the bouquet he can still see sitting on the kitchen counter. You’ve never discussed exclusivity, he would have no right to be jealous. But he can’t deny the panic that ran through his body when he saw that card and he can’t keep his mind from racing now.

He thinks he’d almost feel better if he’d found evidence you were fucking someone else; he hates the thought of someone else touching you but he’s also confident that they couldn’t possibly make you feel the way he does in bed. He’s not worried about the sex. But flowers? That implies romance, implies thoughtfulness and intimacy, which are things he wouldn’t blame you for seeking elsewhere. He knows he hasn’t been offering that to you in the ways he could, in the ways you probably deserve.

He tortures himself with these thoughts a bit longer and then props himself in the doorway of your bedroom to check on your progress.

“Oh you’re still here? You were so quiet out there I figured you made good on your threat and you were already at the restaurant ordering without me,” you tease, pulling on your boots.

Rindou gives a half-hearted chuckle in response. “You look nice,” he compliments you quietly.

You flash him a pleasant but puzzled smile; something’s off with him, you don’t think he’s ever said you look “nice” as long as you’ve known him and he never passes up a chance to banter with you.

He makes small talk but you notice the way his fingers are fiddling with the label of his water bottle and how his eyes hesitate to look for yours. By the time you’re ready, he’s nonchalantly mentioned the flowers three times and asked you to a party next weekend, when he usually never plans that far in advance.

You pause gathering your things as you realize what’s happening. He’s fucking jealous, you amusedly think to yourself. Part of you wants to tease him about it but there’s an underlying sense of nervousness to it that’s almost sweet. How could something as innocuous as a vase of flowers shake this man’s seemingly endless confidence?

“I wasn’t trying to be vague before,” you tell him. “I helped someone move last weekend; only a couple people showed up to help, it was pretty intense. That’s what the flowers are for.”

“Let’s do it again sometime, winky face?” He raises his eyebrows, casually drinking from his water bottle to show how unbothered he is.

You make a face. “I should’ve figured you’d read the card,” you tease. “I joked that the move was so brutal I’d sooner buy him the apartment than help again when the lease is up.” To punctuate your story, you walk over, peck him on the lips and affectionately straighten his shirt collar. “I don’t know what you’re thinking but I can tell you you’re probably overthinking it.”

Rindou tightens his jaw and runs his tongue over his lips as he listens to you. “Didn’t even know you liked flowers,” he shrugs as you smile softly at him.

When he doesn’t immediately follow you out of the bedroom, you know his wheels must still be turning. You get your keys out of the dish and text your friends that you’re leaving now. He finally appears and just as you’re about to tell him you really need to get going, he grabs you and gives you the most over the top, absurdly intense kiss of your life. One hand twisted in your hair, one hand pressing you against him, tongue claiming your mouth as his. He’s clearly trying to prove a point - what and to who, you’re not quite sure - but he certainly proves it.

He pulls away, fire in his eyes and casually says, “You lock up, I’ll get the car started?” as if nothing happened.

You stand there, stunned for a moment, quickly attempt to repair your smudged lipstick and lock the door to meet him outside.

The car ride is mostly silent, save for the radio. Rindou plants his hand on your thigh the second you get in the car and it doesn’t budge the entire time. When you grab drinks with your friends at the bar, his hand never leaves your back. During dinner, his arm snakes around your waist the second you slide in the booth next to him. To the outsider this would seem possessive and you’re guessing it partly is but you think you’re pretty good at reading Rindou at this point and to you, it feels more complex than that.

He’s still his engaging and charming self, chatting endlessly with everyone about everything but you can tell he’s in his head and you’re not entirely sure why. You recall how unnerved he seemed back at your apartment. You think about the number of times he’s leaned in to whisper a joke or comment in your ear tonight. You feel the gentle way his fingers brush over your hip while you wait for the check and you start connecting the dots.

It may have started with jealousy but this goes deeper than some basic macho territorial bullshit. You’re fascinated as you consider this development. He never seemed to feel angry or betrayed at the thought of someone else holding your attention; he just seemed troubled. Sad. And now it feels like he’s constantly reassuring himself of your presence, like as long as he keeps touching you, keeps engaging you, you’re undeniably there with him.

Your head swims as you consider the implications of this. You never doubted you both cared for each other but is it more serious than that to him? To you? You focus on him talking with your friends and you don’t realize you’re staring until you feel his eyes on you. He looks at you with amused expectancy; you just shake your head and smile fondly.

Your friends say their goodbyes and you start down the street back to the car park. Rindou reaches for your hand and it kind of breaks your heart so when you stop to wait for the crosswalk, you place his arm around you and snuggle into him. He looks at you quizzically, as if he’s surprised by your affection. He truly has no idea how transparent he is sometimes, you think to yourself as you mumble something about being chilly.

As you make your way down the block, he starts chattering away about the night’s events and with each comment you burrow further into his embrace, appreciating the cool night air and the sound of his voice.

By time you’ve reached the parking structure, you’ve got your arms wrapped around him, inside his jacket. He sways with you as you wait for the elevator, “Am I dropping you back home?”

Your answer comes out muffled as you’ve decided to take this opportunity to bury your face in his chest. “Your place.”

He kisses the top of your head and clarifies, “Thought you had work tomorrow?”

As the elevator doors open, you say, “But your place is closer now” with a glimmer in your eye and you pull him, first into the elevator and then into you. You give him a kiss reminiscent of his over the top, absurdly intense one from earlier but yours has no underlying point to prove. You’ve decided you need him, only him and you want to be sure he knows that.

The car ride is once again silent but this time there is a different tension in the air. His hand finds its way onto your thigh again, though this time it’s definitely a few inches higher. You can’t help but study him, as breathtaking as ever, lit only by the glow of evening Tokyo traffic. You’re now almost as lost in your thoughts as you know he was earlier. He was so perturbed by those goddamn flowers, why? If you had found a gift from someone you didn’t know at his place, would you be feeling the same way? You’re pretty sure you would.

He catches your gaze at a stop light or two but he doesn’t say anything, just gives your thigh a reassuring squeeze and turns back to the road. As soon as he shuts the engine off, you’re practically lunging across the car to get your lips back on his again. He indulges you for a minute and then breezily laughs, “let’s get you inside then” as he pries you off of him.

Once inside, it’s a dizzying clash of teeth, tongues, lips and limbs as you stumble up the stairs into the bedroom. You’re not sure exactly when it happened but suddenly he’s in his underwear and has you naked and spread in front of him.

He runs his fingers through your folds as he looks at you with a predatory glint in his eyes, asking, “Wet already, huh? This all for me?”

That’s apparently the extent of his teasing mood as he dives right in and starts eating you out before you even think to answer. You gasp and immediately tangle your fingers in his hair as he ruthlessly attacks your clit, first swirling it with the tip of his tongue and then sucking it in between his lips. The way he alternates broad strokes of his wide tongue with deliberate rapid fire flicks has you whimpering faster than you thought possible.

“Been wanting to taste you all evening, beautiful, thought we’d never get away,” he murmurs as he teasingly presses light kisses into your thighs.

“Rin…” you start, still attempting to catch your breath. “What is going on with you tonight…”

He chuckles and replies, “Says the woman who practically jumped me in the parking lot after dinner?” He pushes himself up your body to kiss you deeply, both of you groaning as you taste yourself on his tongue.

He pulls away just enough to continue, “Says the woman who could barely wait for me to put the car in park before she pounced again?”  He kisses you even harder, distracting you enough that you don’t notice his hands have begun to wander until you feel two fingers slowly dragging against your pussy.

You break the kiss with a moan and Rindou seamlessly moves his mouth to your neck, giving several teasing bites and nips before he raises his head to look directly at you and say, “Says the woman who I suspect has been dripping for me since the kiss I gave her before we left for dinner?”

He pushes his fingers into you with ease and expertly starts working them. “Maybe even before? Has my girl been wanting me this badly all night?”

You feel your skin flush as you hear the words “my girl” come out of his mouth; this is new. That’s as far as your thought process gets because then he’s curling his fingers and all you can focus on is the way your walls are beginning to twitch and tighten around them, “Rin… please…” is the best response you can manage.

His hand that’s not buried inside you traces down your throat and over your breasts. “Please what, baby? Think you know you’re gonna have to do better than that,” he teases.

“… Want to cum… please…” you breathlessly pant out, rocking your hips against his fingers which have slowed to an agonizingly slow pace, keeping you just on the edge of orgasm.

“Oh don’t worry, pretty girl, you’ll cum alright,” he teases with his bottom lip fixed in a mock pout. “Gotta make it up to you, I obviously should’ve filled you the second I walked through your door tonight,” he speeds his fingers back up and adds his thumb into the mix, rubbing it against your clit, causing your legs to shake.

You grip his arm that’s working you over, digging your nails into his bicep as your entire body tenses and you pulse around his fingers. “That’s my girl, that was a good one, wasn’t it?” he coos as he pumps his fingers into you a few more times for good measure.

You can only breathe heavily in response; your mind and body are both reeling. There it is again: my girl. That kiss by your door, his hands on you all evening, now my girl. You’re not sure if it’s intentional or if his subconscious is giving him away, but he’s claiming you. You’re much more comfortable with that idea than you thought you’d be.

The second it seems like you’ve started to catch your breath, Rindou withdraws his fingers from your body and sucks them clean, exaggeratedly groaning his approval. You reach out for him, hoping for a kiss but before you even realize what’s happening, he’s back between your legs lapping away at your center again. “Rin, what the fuck,” you cry out, legs involuntarily closing around him.

Unfazed, he easily spreads your legs back how he wants them and looks up at you, face obscenely wet and glistening from his task. “You tasted so good on my fingers, I wanted more straight from the source,” he shrugs and immediately returns to his mission.

You involuntarily let out a tiny moan at his remark before tugging on his hair to get his attention. “Too much” is all you manage to get out before he licks at your clit in just the right way to make you jolt and let out a guttural groan.

He pulls back and snickers against your thigh. “That’s what I thought, do I know my girl or do I know my girl? Know when you’re ready for another one before you even do, know how to leave you speechless with just a couple flicks of my tongue,” he sneers, rapidly fluttering over your clit in demonstration. “Know this pussy even better than you do, bet you’ve never had anyone else who can say that, have you?”  

You grab onto his shoulder and moan as soon as you hear that magic phrase, my girl, again. Rindou’s dirty talk has always been a huge turn on for you but tonight the language is as telling as it is arousing: you are his. You decide that you like it, you want that and you like that he wants that.

You sigh deeply, disappointed but not surprised, when he pulls away just as you feel your climax begin to build. He kisses up your stomach until he reaches your tits, spreading sloppy kisses over one while he squeezes the other, rolling over the nipple with his thumb. You’re not quite sure why tenderness is your instinctual response but you go with it, softly running one hand through his hair and stroking his face with the other.

He looks up at you and his eyes are as breathtaking as always, glowing with both a familiar fire and also a softness you’ve only seen on occasion. You can’t help but smile as you tell him, “You’re unbelievable.”

“Is that a complaint or a compliment, my dear?” He asks with a smirk as he turns his attention to your other breast, repeating his actions.

“Not sure… both maybe…” you reply, in a dreamy haze of fondness, amusement and desire.

“I’ll take it,” he mutters against your skin. Satisfied with his work on your chest, you see him start to move back down between your legs.

“Rin… no, need more,” you object, attempting to pull him back up to you.

“That’s what I’m tryna to give you here, baby,” he chuckles, allowing you to pull him up to your lips.

You frantically kiss him and grabble between your bodies until your hand finds his erection still confined in his boxers and you give it a squeeze. “God, Rindou, honestly I just want your cock more than anything right now,” you hate how pitiful you sound but you also hope it’s enough that he’ll give you what you want.

Instead he looks you directly in the eye, grins and taunts, “But when don’t you want my cock more than anything?”

He impishly pecks your nose and confidently states, “First you cum on my tongue. Then you can cum on my cock.” And with that, he’s suddenly peppering quick kisses all the way back down your body, musing almost to himself, “No one else can make you feel this way, can they, darlin’? Know how to get you off like this? Gets you this needy?”

Rindou dives back in with a renewed sense of purpose and has you cumming within moments; you swear at a certain point you can feel him grin against your sensitive core, clearly reveling in the nonsensical murmurs you don’t even realize you’re letting out until you hear them yourself.

“Good girl, sound so pretty when you cum for me, taste even better,” he praises, pressing a final kiss to the inside of each of your thighs before he’s on his feet, finally stripping off his underwear and retrieving a condom from the bedside table.

You’re tired from his teasing but the anticipation of finally having him inside you fuels your decision to snatch the package from him and begin tugging at his cock as soon as he’s within arms reach. You roll the condom on him as he tucks your matted hair behind your ear and says, “Been so good tonight, baby, you decide how you want it.”

You purse your lips in amusement because while his offer appears generous, based on the tone of the evening and the charged mood you’re both in, there’s no way he doesn’t already know you’re about to choose his preferred position.

You reach up and kiss him lustfully one more time before you dramatically turn over and raise yourself up on all fours, looking over your shoulder at him with an expectant look. He raises an eyebrow at you and you playfully roll your eyes at him, “Are you going to pretend like you’re surprised or are you gonna fuck me?”

He grips your ass cheeks, kneading them in each hand, fondly clicking his tongue, “Cum twice already and still so impatient.”

You expect him to tease you; he always does and after the evening you’ve had, you assume you’re in for another tortuous display of dominance so it takes you by surprise when he’s suddenly sliding in to you. You hear his breathing become noticeably more pronounced as he buries himself and his fingers lightly trace down your spine, his actions pausing for just a beat longer than you’d like.

Without even giving it a second thought, you start eagerly moving against him. "Need me that badly you can’t even wait one second for me to catch my breath?” He taunts in a voice that’s both amused and aroused. He wraps his hand in your hair and yanks hard. “So desperate for me to wreck you, gotta fuck yourself on my cock?” He punctuates his question with a swift smack to your ass.

You attempt to scoff at his teasing but a simple, strained “fuck” leaves your lips instead as you steadily rock yourself back against him. He doesn’t seem to mind your initiative, responding to your movements with approving groans and keeping his large hands occupied by covering your ass, first with sharp slaps followed by firm yet tender rubbing to soothe your reddening skin.

You hear yourself chanting “More. Please. More.” in a staccato rhythm matching the way you’re throwing your body back on him. He complies with your request, hand coming down on your backside multiple times in rapid succession and you cry out in satisfaction. You love the sting but you think you love the fact that you’ll be wearing his marks for days even more.

A particularly strong blow has your arms giving out, dropping your upper body down to the bed with a moan. He takes this as you handing over the reins and quickly moves his hands from your ass to your hips, grip digging into your skin as he takes over and starts pounding into you.  

“Goddamn you wrap around me so good, it’s like you were made to take my cock weren’t you, beautiful?” His praise has both your mind and body humming; it’s been a long evening and although you’ve already had two orgasms, you find yourself overwhelmed by the undeniable need to cum with him inside you.

He pushes down on the small of your back to pop your ass and fuck you at a better angle but the way his fingers firmly but gently fall on your skin reminds you of how he touched you earlier in the evening. In the restaurant. On the street. In the car. Always wanting to feel you, always confirming your presence, always reassuring the both of you that your rightful place was with him.

An unexpected wave of affection washes over you and suddenly you’re needing him in a much different way. You manage to feebly say, “Rindou? Babe?” as you muster the strength to raise yourself back on one arm while you fling the other behind you, blindly searching for him.

You almost never call him pet names so it immediately jumps out at him; he notices the shifted tone in your voice and halts his actions. You turn your head to meet his gaze as he pants, “You alright? What’s happening?”

Your hand finally finds his resting on your hip and you give it a squeeze, “Changed my mind. Need more of you on me.”

The confusion and concern that were clouding his features softens into something familiar yet somehow undefinable as he gingerly pulls out and leans forward to give you the softest kiss you’ve received all evening. “Well, let’s do that then.”

You spin around to face him and sit back on your knees, pulling him into another soft, slow kiss, brushing his hair off his forehead. He basks in your tender attention for a moment before he’s guiding you back down onto the bed, situating himself to fully lay on top of you, between your legs, careful not to break your kiss until you’re ready.

He slips back inside you and before he even gets the chance to ask, a breathy “Yessss” is all the confirmation he needs to know that this is what you were craving. You wrap your legs around him and run your hands across his broad back, “Just wanted to feel more,” you explain.

Your eyes are closed, relishing the feel of his weight on you and the stretch of him inside you, so you don’t notice the way he silently studies you for a moment before he lifts himself up and starts thrusting into you again.

For all the filth that’s come out of your mouths this evening, this round finds you both unusually quiet, letting your joined symphony of moans, groans, “yeah”s and “fuck”s say everything that needs to be expressed.

You feel him reach for your hand and move it to rest above you on the pillow, interlacing his fingers with yours; you respond with a squeeze and then one up him by turning your head to nip at the tattoo closest to you, simply because you can. He’s left his signature up and down your body tonight, it’s only fair you get to leave a small token of your appreciation on his.  

He hisses at the feel of your teeth lightly grazing his skin. “Come on, darlin’, play nice.”

“Since when do we do that?” You breathlessly reply and then bask in the glow of the grin you receive in response.

Still smiling, Rindou shakes his head. “If you’re able to make smartass remarks like that, clearly I’m not doing my job here.”

He takes one of your legs from around his waist and lifts your thigh back towards your chest; your mouth opens to moan but nothing happens as he pulls almost entirely out and then fucks into you so much slower and deeper than before. He chuckles, “That’s more like it.”

You consider rolling your eyes at his teasing or panting out another sassy quip at him but the way he’s moving in you feels so otherworldly you honestly don’t care about anything else. You grab on to his forearm and dig your nails in.

“Feeling good, beautiful?” He reaches between you and mercilessly rubs your clit. “Who’s making you feel this good?”

The sound emanating from your throat might be his name but mainly sounds like a series of whimpers.

He rubs harder and thrusts deeper. “Didn’t hear you, speak up. Whose cock makes you feel like this?” You continue crying out nonsensically as you feel yourself on the verge of your third orgasm.

You need him close so you pull him down to you for a kiss. He sloppily licks into your mouth, panting against your lips. He’s almost as gone as you are. You bite at his bottom lip and say, with a bit more desperation than you anticipated, “Gonna cum for you, Rindou.” He nods understandingly and pecks your lips once more.

His lips move to your neck as his thrusts speed up again; he’s determined now and you’re moaning in earnest. You feel that familiar burning in your core and your eyes instinctively flutter shut, savoring the fall into bliss.

“Uh-uh, eyes open, baby. Want you to look at me. Need to be sure you know whose cock it is you’re cumming on,” Rindou commands.

You force yourself to focus on him as you start to unravel, your entire body on fire, tensing deliciously; your mind is screaming his name but only indecipherable whines fall from your lips. Rindou is relentless as he fucks you through it, his thrusts never slow; no matter how impossibly tight your pussy squeezes around his cock, he never stops driving into you even rougher and deeper than before.

His eyes remain locked on yours, making the entire experience feel unbelievably more intimate. You swear you can feel every pent up emotion from the evening - the jealousy, the worry, the possessiveness, the passion, the… love? - in his gaze and you’ve never had a more intense orgasm, physically or emotionally.

As you come down from your high, you hear him praising you, “Yes, baby… love making you cum… you always give so much… always such a good girl for me.” His words alone would’ve earned a reaction from you but he sounds as wrecked as you feel, causing you to emit a deep and breathy moan at this realization. He’s panting so heavily you know his release won’t be far behind.

You feel like you’re mad with desire at this point; you’re beyond satisfied and you know you couldn’t possibly cum again but you still feel like you’re wanting something, you still need more of him. Feeling emboldened by watching Rindou lose control and the euphoria still pulsing through your body, you find yourself digging your nails into his arms and muttering, “Want your cum, Rindou.”

He lets out a grunt as his hips slam into yours. “Oh, you’re definitely about to get it,” he smirks.

You sigh partly out of exasperation and partly out of arousal for what you’re about to request. “No, Rindou, I want it,” you pant. “Want you to cum on me, make me yours.”

His hips slow as he processes your words. “Fuck” is all he can manage to growl under his breath in response. He pulls out and you whimper at both the absence of him and the anticipation of what’s going to happen.

Rindou peels off the condom and you can’t take your eyes off him as he wraps his long fingers around his cock and begins to stroke himself. It only takes a few tugs before he’s gasping and murmuring your name and you have to moan along with him when you feel his warm cum spurting onto your stomach and chest. He maintains a firm grip as the rhythm of his hand varies, making sure he squeezes out every last drop for you.

He hangs his head in exhaustion for a beat and then takes in the sight of you: fucked out, chest heaving, painted in his release. You catch him staring and offer him a tired yet mischievous smile; he seems to pick up on your wavelength and smirks as he runs a finger through the substance on your breasts and brings it up to your lips for you to suck off.

“Jesus, baby,” he groans, shaking his head almost as if he can’t believe his eyes. “Don’t move.” He affectionately rubs your thigh a few times before he moves off the bed and ducks into the bathroom, returning seconds later with a wet washcloth.

He climbs back next to you on the bed and presses a passionate kiss to your lips before he starts gently cleaning you up; it’s quiet for a few moments and the intimacy is not lost on either of you. You reach up and brush his hair from his eyes. “Hey,” you start, fondly.

He smiles much softer than he has all night. “Hey yourself,” he giggles.

You pause and feel a bit of leftover boldness coursing through you, so you comment, “You seem like you’ve got something on your mind.”

Rindou bites his lip and exhales deeply, clearly considering how to answer. He looks down, avoiding your eyes, and fusses over a mark on your hip that’s sure to form into a gnarly bruise by morning. “Sorry if I got a little crazy tonight, I know I‘m usually better at checking in with you,” he muses.

You sit up and squeeze his shoulder. You feel the urge to reassure him but you can tell he’s on the verge of opening up and you don’t want to derail him. You’re trying to find the courage to prompt him further when he surprises you by admitting, “It just really fuckin’ got to me when I thought… “ he trails off, looking away again. “I got weirded out about those flowers and I shouldn’t have. And I’m sorry.” He tosses the washcloth onto the nightstand in exasperation.

You give him a faint smile. “Rin, I told you —”

“I know and I believe you but I just started thinking… and then I couldn’t stop,” he confesses quietly. He stands up and pulls on a pair of shorts before busying himself by starting to tidy the bed.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom. You figure he could use some time to process whatever it is he’s still trying to work out so you wash your face, brush your teeth and slip on a t-shirt of his you find discarded on the counter.

You venture back into the bedroom and find him tossing the pillows back onto the bed after having changed the sheets. He still looks lost inside his thoughts and you yearn to ease his mind. You walk over and hug him from behind, burying your face into his back; he gives your arms an affectionate squeeze.

“I know we don’t really talk about this kind of thing but I feel like you should know I haven’t seen anybody else since we started talking,” you offer, your confession muffled with your face still pressed against his skin. “It hasn’t even been a conscious thing, I just… haven’t been interested, I guess.”

Rindou pulls you to his side and kisses the top of your head. “Thank you for telling me that,” he murmurs, rubbing your back.

You quickly come around and kneel on the bed in front of him so that you’re at his eye level and you wrap your arms around his neck. “And I liked everything that happened tonight; you know I would have told you otherwise,” you assert. He nods in acknowledgement so you continue, “I like hearing you tell me I’m your girl, I like when you make me feel like I’m yours… ”

You feel tempted to look away, to fidget with the necklace he’s wearing but you resist. You look straight into his purple eyes, full of warmth and attentiveness, and state, “You know, I could be yours, if that’s something you decide you want.”

Rindou only lets your words hang in the air for a split second before he wraps his arms around you tightly and kisses you slowly; it’s intense and passionate but not in the same over the top, cocky way that he kissed you back at your apartment. This kiss is also trying to prove something but it’s a message meant only for you and he’s taking his time to make his point clear.

When your mouths finally separate, you take a deep breath and steady yourself on his arms. You open your eyes at him and grin. “Was that your way of asking?”

“Hey welcome back!” a voice called over to you and you slid your gaze to one of the other omegas who lived in the complex with you. Her name was Uraraka if you remembered correctly. She was a recent hire to the café and a more recent move into the complex. But she seemed sweet enough from the few interactions you had had with her. “Ah… Thank you” you mumbled before making your way to the elevator and heading up to your floor. You really couldn’t deal with anymore today and you just wanted to be in your apartment with your giant All Might stuffy and tucked into bed watching a good movie or reading. Anything to take your mind off of…. Oh god dammit. You stopped dead only feet from your apartment at the sight of the very familiar head of blonde standing outside your apartment. He had those bulking arms of his crossed over his chest and the scowl on his face made the beauty of those red eyes really something else.

He must have heard you because in the next second his head was whipping around to face you and he was pushing off from the wall he’d been leaning on. “Oi. You’re a real pain in the ass to find ya know that?” he snarled as he stomped noisily over to you. You only huffed and crossed your arms defensively over your chest and held your head higher to glance coolly over at him. He might be an alpha, but you had YEARS of experience of dealing with asshole alphas who felt they could boss anyone they wanted around. Just like this one did with you. “What do you want?” you asked simply even as he stopped only inches from you. You had to tilt your head back to look up at him; the height difference was almost comical to you. His ruby red eyes glared down at you, and you stared defiantly back up at him. The muscles in his arms twitched as he gripped his arms tighter across his chest.

“What’re you doing in this shitty place?” he asked gruffly instead of answering your own question. You let out a huff and pushed past him, you would DENY DENY DENY, how you inhaled softly as you brushed his side. He turned to follow you as you made your way to your apartment and started to unlock the door. “Oi. I asked you-“ you cut him off and whipped around to glare balefully up at him. “I know you did. But I don’t see how that’s ANY of your business” you snarled with as much venom at him as you could. You chose to ignore the way his muscled body flinched at your tone; it wasn’t your fault he couldn’t take a hint and leave you the hell alone. “It fucking is my business when-“ he snapped only for you to wave him off. “Just because YOU think we are something we are NOT doesn’t mean I owe you anything you jackass. Now get lost before I call the cops” you managed to reign in your tone but the disdain was still clear as day as you opened the door to your apartment and slipped inside. The door slamming shut in his face and you not once looking back. If you had, you would have seen the way the hulking man deflated; his shoulders sinking slightly and his eyes closing in a pained expression before his usual scowl took over his face and he turned to stomp off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day at work was hectic as was usual for these days. You had slept like shit due to the surprising and unwelcome visit of one Pro Hero by the name of Dynamight. He was like a worm that wound up in your brain that now wouldn’t leave you the hell alone. You spent your shift helping customers, making drinks, fixing messes… Anything you could do to pass the time and keep yourself busy. But when it was time to clock out and you were heading out with a smile and wave… The smile wiped straight from your face. There he was again. You stopped dead in your tracks as you spotted Dynamight leaning against the rail with his arms across his massive chest again. Only this time he was in regular civie clothes; a tight black shirt and jeans with sneakers. His hair being blown in several different directions and his eyes focused solely on you despite the many people clamoring for his attention.

You let out a harsh and irritated breath at the GALL of this man and your eyes narrowed dangerously on him. Thank god for scent blockers or your smell would have been sending people running away or scrambling to try and help calm you down. You turned away and started to walk away with your purse jerked tight against your shoulder. You still had some shopping you had to do, and you figured you could get that out of the way now since you were off the next few days and planned to spend it inside. You were heading into the crosswalk when a hand snagged around your arm and jerked you back. You yelped in surprise as you were tugged back into a firm body and you let out a small hiss… That was quickly strangled off in shock as a truck came barreling past the red light and several people scattered screaming.

You could only gape stupidly as you were pulled from the crowd and down into an alley. “You got a fuckin death wish dumbass??” a voice snarled above you and you blinked stupidly up at Dynamight as he shot you the nastiest glare that had you flinching back away from him. You didn’t look up at him again but you heard a sharp exhale and then felt a gentle hand on your head. “Don’t be so careless next time dumbass” he scolded; his voice slightly softer and when you managed to pull your gaze up to his you were taken aback at the look on his face. He was… Concerned. For you. You swallowed hard and let out a breath before looking away again. “T-t-thank you” you mumbled to him as you felt yourself flush. You had been so lost in your own head you hadn’t even heard the truck honking at people to move.

“Tch. Whatever…. Where ya goin anyway? Your place is the opposite direction right?” he asked in his usual gruff voice and you blinked again as you registered what he asked. Your gaze slid back to his, again, and you frowned a bit. “How’d you know that?” you asked with a tilt of your head. And you watched, rapt with curiosity and definitely amusement, as the tips of his ears turned red and a small blush began to spread across his cheeks and nose. “I have my ways” he snapped but it was more due to being called out than him actually being angry. Your lips twitched and you absolutely could have killed yourself when you fucking GIGGLED for this asshole. His own mouth twitched and you watched him fight down his smile; it really seemed to be a struggle for the guy. Then you shook yourself and adjusted your purse again.

“Well not like it’s any of your business but I have some shopping I have to do so… Thanks again” you said sincerely before you turned to head back out of the alley. “Oi. I’ll walk you” he called to you, and it wasn’t long before he was strolling side by side with you with his hands in his pockets. “That really isn’t necessary” you mumbled as people whispered and jostled around you as the two of you walked. “Doesn’t matter to me” was all he said and you let out a sigh and let your shoulders sag. He obviously wasn’t going to leave you alone and so you simply had to bear it. Maybe you could ditch him when you got to the store? Worth a shot anyway.

A few minutes later, the two of you walked into the store and you waved and shot a smile at the cashier behind the counter. She beamed back at you before her expression changed to something you would rather not acknowledge as you made your way past her. No doubt she was busy ogling the hulking man behind you as you grabbed a cart and you shouldn’t have but…. You found yourself very very annoyed again all of a sudden. Your hands were tight around the cart as you slowly sped up in an attempt to lose your tail. “Something bitin your tongue princess?” an amused voice asked and you found yourself tumbling against the cart as the nickname rolled over you. A hand shot out to land next to yours on the cart and you found yourself encased in a set of strong arms that damn near had you drooling… Mates were bad again WHY? You shook yourself viciously as you felt your omega rearing it’s fucking head and you gave yourself a mental smack.

“N-no” you mumbled and you could have died AGAIN when your voice came out low and a little breathless. You felt the air on top of your head stir and you didn’t have to look to know that the jerk was probably grinning smugly. Stupid asshat. “A-anyway… Do you really have time to be messing around here with me Dynamight?” you asked scathingly as you managed to wiggle the cart out of his grip, and you tilted your head to look up at him as he moved to stand beside you with his hands in his pockets again. You noticed his eyes never stayed in one place; he would look behind him every once in a while, but in a subtle way. “Bakugou” he said as he moved his carmine eyes to you. “Call me Bakugou” he said before he focused forward again without answering your question.

You really didn’t need to know that he had to trade several shifts with people in order to have today off so that he could… Well so that he could see you. You made a small noise and simply decided to let it go. So you found yourself shopping without another thought and… It wasn’t a bad experience if you had to say so. Bakugou was quite vocal in what you needed to get and when you picked out veggies and fruits it was more him doing it than you and you found yourself amused. And when he just about burst a blood vessel in his eye when you grabbed a pack of cupcakes you couldn’t help but laugh. He was mid-rant and red in the face when he caught sight of your small hesitant smile and bright eyes. He deflated faster than any fucking balloon in the world.

“I don’t normally eat this kind of stuff… I just.. I get cravings for them every once in a while ya know?” you don’t know why you explained your choice to him but you shrugged and moved along. He made a noise but made no further comment as you finished up your shopping. You had grabbed more than you thought and so Bakugou helped you carry it out. “Exactly how were you planning on carrying all this shit Shrimp?” he asked in a mocking, but teasing, voice and you scrunched your nose at him while you handled only two of the bags and he took the rest.

“I would have managed thank you” you said indignantly even as you had to acknowledge that he was right and you would have been so fucking screwed without him. And that fucker knew it too; the way his nose scrunched up as his mouth twisted into a smug grin and his eyes flashed down at you was a dead giveaway that he knew. You huffed at him and continued on your way to your apartment and when you got to the building you were surprised when he seemed to hesitate. You glanced up and blinked when you saw him hyper focused on something coming out of the building… You look over and you tilt your head quizzically as you watch Uraraka go jump into a car laughing. “Know her?” you asked softly after several moments of just staring at the door and standing there with your thumbs up your butts.

He blinked and shook himself out of it before glancing briefly down at you. “Long time ago” he muttered and you knew by the tone that this wasn’t something you should poke at him for. So you shrugged and made your way into the building with him following slowly behind you. You hummed softly and fished your keys out of your pockets to unlock your door before you stepped aside to let Bakugou go first. But he wasn’t having it; he jerked his chin forward and then narrowed his eyes when you didn’t move. “I will kick your ass right into that doorway. Don’t make me. Get in the apartment ya brat” he said and you scowled at him before turning away. But you were, once again, very very grateful for the scent patches you wore because… Holy fuck why did him talking to you like that make slick slip out of you like fucking water? You cleared your throat and flipped lights on as you made your way into your apartment. It was a small, open floor plan with one bedroom and one bathroom, a basic kitchen and same for the living room. You passed through the living room to get to the kitchen, which was a little annoying and more than a little stupid in your opinion, with Bakugou following close behind. You paid him little mind as you set your bags on the counter and started to put things away and you made sure to glance at the time as you did and you huffed out a breath.

“Do you have-“

“Would you like to-“

You both started talking at the same time and you blinked at him and watched him huff softly in amusement. “What’cha tryin to say brat?” he asked as he leaned against the counter next to you and peered down into your face. Which you really wished he would stop doing because it was doing things to your insides that had your thighs squirming. If he realized what was happening at all he was very careful about not letting it show. “Would you like to stay for dinner? As a thank you for helping me with my groceries” you were quick to add that last part on as a reminder to both of you. He might be hot as hell and actually kind of a gentleman, but you still really couldn’t stand him. His gaze was intense but his face was blank as he looked at you; then he looked at the ingredients around you. “Fine. But I cook” he said with a vicious grin and this time you actually DID snort.

“Not likely sir. I invited you to dinner and you are my guest so I will cook” you reasoned with a nod of your head, and you missed the way he lifted a hand to hide a smile behind it as he watched you. Acting like you could boss HIM around… It was adorable. He inhaled and he watched as your eyes went to his chest; the way it lifted and pushed out as he breathed and he had to fight his hardest to force down the grin that wanted to split his face.

“Go take a shower. Change clothes. You reek like bullshit and coffee” he said and with his big hand he pushed you between the shoulders out of the kitchen. “W-what the.. Hey!” he even went so far as to push you all the way to your bedroom the cheeky bastard. Then he turned and you watched his shoulders move, STOP LOOKING DAMMIT, as he walked casually back into the kitchen. You huffed and turned into your bedroom to grab a pair of pajamas and a clean towel before heading into your bathroom. You made sure to make the shower quick as you really didn’t want to make him wait too long for you…. And also it made you feel weird with him being in the kitchen while you were naked in your bathroom….

You walked out about ten minutes later wearing a dorky pair of All Might pajamas that had him snorting as he was plating the food. The apartment smelled AMAZING and you had to discreetly wipe away drool as you joined him in the kitchen. “Smells good” you said softly and once again you found yourself nudged out of the kitchen to your living room table. “Just sit there” he grumbled at you as he set a drink down and then headed back into the kitchen. Soon, he had your food and his own as well as his drink on the table and he was sitting next to you looking more than ridiculous at your little table. “Thank you for dinner Bakugou” you said softly and with a smile before you began to eat.

And really he had himself to blame for the way a moan slipped out of your mouth. Almost distantly, you could hear the sound of someone choking but you had your eyes closed and you were… Doing a little happy dance in your seat? Holy FUCK could this guy cook… “Bakugou it’s sooooo good” you didn’t even realize your voice had taken on a lower tone and you had moaned slightly. Bakugou did though; his hand tightened around the fork in his hand and he had to swallow hard to fight down the raging desire now burning through his veins.

A loud popping noise startled you both and you flinched and looked over to Bakugou who was cursing and quickly rushing to wipe his hands off on a towel. You blinked and tilted your head as you watched his ears get red again. “Did you have a malfunction with your quirk?” you asked innocently and you watched the way he twitched and the scowl on his face deepened. “No” he said flatly. “But thanks” he added the thanks as an afterthought really because all he could see now, thanks to your damn moaning, was you sprawled underneath him with his fingers tight around your thighs and his cock buried deep in your sopping cunt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

well, hopes that you were stupid enough to feed into because this was itoshi rin you’re talking about; possibly the most standoffish, calculated, and devastatingly gorgeous man you’ve ever met in your life. yet, despite his detestable personality, you still found yourself falling hook, line, and sinker for the man, despite his insults, cold comments, and dismissive attitude.

maybe it’s masochism. 

now that you look back on it, rin’s rejection seemed almost inevitable. even if you lead yourself to hope with all the times you caught him staring at you, the prompt replies to your messages, and willingness to somewhat tolerate you during group projects, it was rather obvious that this would be the outcome to your heartfelt confession. 

‘i don’t see you like that’.

it’s cringeworthy simply thinking about it. now you’re going to have another memory that’ll haunt you for the rest of your life.

recalling the expression he made after your confession; eyebrows scrunched and lips tugged into a slight frown, was traumatising enough for you to wish for the ground to swallow you whole. his face will plague you for an uncertain amount of time because today truly, was so very humbling.

the sight of your bus approaching your stop rouses you from the crevices of your thoughts and after you jump on and settle yourself into a seat in the relatively empty carriage, you bring your phone out to text reo again. he’d sent four messages since.

&lt;reo3: this doesn’t make any sense we all thought rin was into you &lt;reo3: like DOWN BAD into you<reo3: everyone on the team has literally made bets on you two <reo3: i’m sorry :c r u okay?  you: yeah. just gotta take the L and move on you: hey at least i’m free for valentines <reo3: LET’S GOOO we’re definitely doing something <reo3: i’ll be a better valentines than r*n you: you’re sexier too babes xoxo <reo3: duh!

maybe you’ll let reo see another day. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

your university schedule was never the same after the ‘itoshi rin’ fiasco.

it was never an amazing schedule to begin with since a few classes were quite inconvenient, and there’s only so much to enjoy out of your seminars. the fun part about them was being able to sit beside rin and talk to him whenever you could without getting waved off, but since his heartless decline of your feelings, acting ‘buddy-buddy’ wouldn’t be acceptable. so you resorted to sit by yourself in a section of the space you’ve never really occupied before, busying yourself on your phone as students walked in to class.

despite the temptation to look at the door to see when rin would come in, you do not budge one bit, eyes glued to your phone screen (which had nothing entertaining on it). this meant that you couldn’t see the confusion on his face when he didn’t see you in your normal spot and how it merged further into a look of offence when he instead spots you across the room.

reluctantly taking his usual seat, rin’s gaze lingers on you, hoping to meet your eyes at least once. but upon your insistence to pretend your phone was more important than him, he sits down, practically flopping onto his chair with his backpack cushioning his fall. 

sitting here feels a little empty. rin can’t help but think how it used to be much better when you insisted on being next to him.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── 

&lt;;reo3: you can come now rin isn’t here yet

you: kk b there soon

the trek across campus towards the university’s soccer field, although long, is harmless enough, especially since you were doing a favour for your best friend by bringing the soccer guards and water bottle that he left at your dorm. the harmful part was the looming threat of itoshi rin’s presence and your fear that you would encounter him on your way. 

all you needed to do was drop in quickly and leave. 

when you get to the field, nagi’s the one who sees you first from where he was lounging on the bleaches, changed in his soccer gear. 

“oh, y/n,” he mumbles, sitting up. “hello.”

“hey nagi. are you trying to nap before practice or something?” you ask.

“yeah.” 

“won’t that drain you though before practice starts? you’ve got like… five minutes.”

“still classified as a power nap. wanna collect a power up before startin’.”

amusing as ever, he is. “sure. hey, you know where reo is?”

“he’s changed, probably warming up with isagi and bachira and whoever else.”

“shouldn’t you be doing that too?”

“not until reo forces me to.”

as if on cue, a friendly and very familiar voice calls out nagi’s name and you’re delighted to see the purple-haired in question. you can finally give him his stupid stuff back; the ones you’ve been holding in your hands this entire time like an idiot.

“come on nagi!” reo exclaims, jogging over. a smile appears on his face when he sees you. “yo! y/n! thanks for bringing my things.”

“‘s not a problem. next time i’ll burn them so don’t leave them again,” you counter as the purple-haired takes his things from you with an eye roll. “i filled up your water bottle for you.” 

he places his things down before sitting beside nagi to put his guards on. “so considerate even whilst terrorising me.”

“of course.”

“seriously though, thank you for bringing my things.”

“not a problem. i’m gonna head back to my dorm to study so i’ll see you later. bye reo, bye nagi,” you wave at the two, fixing your backpack strap before turning around to leave the field, only to bump face-first into someone.

the apology that surfaces on your tongue quickly withers away when you lock eyes with a pair of steely, teal ones, partially hidden by strands of dark hair. he looks at you like he has something to say.

but you’re not ready to hear it. 

“uh, hi rin! gotta go!” you squeak before stepping to the side and running away, leaving rin to stare in bewilderment after you.

part of him has the urge to run after you. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

<reo3: isagi’s invited a bunch of us to the on campus screening of spirited away

<reo3: wanna come?

you: ykw why not

you: not like i have essays to write

<reo3: FUCK THEM ESSAYS! 

you: YOU’RE RIGHT SPIRITED AWAY IS BETTER !

if you knew that this would lead you to be seated (uncomfortably) between reo and isagi, who acted as the only barrier between you and an-unnamed-man (rin), then perhaps you would’ve dedicated yourself to your essay rather than a fun opportunity to hang out with your friends. 

1500 words sounds better than having to pretend like there wasn’t an icy cold stare penetrating the back of your head every time you turned to talk to reo, or isagi trying to keep his interactions up with rin so the latter wouldn’t try to talk to you.

you owe isagi a vending machine drink after this because a ‘thank you’ will never suffice. 

it’s easy enough to forget about rin when the movie plays and isagi begins whispering little pieces of commentary to you from time to time, eliciting giggles from you that you try to suppress to not annoy those around you. however, each sound that slipped past your lips was enough to make the dark-haired boy scrunch his face in disgust, an ugly, green monster climbing up his throat when he catches a glimpse of how happy you seemed with someone that wasn’t him. it kills him to see how easily it is for you to just ignore him like your friendship never existed.

since the campus movie was scheduled during a cool but bearable, autumn dusk, you severely underestimated how cold the night would get. heating wasn’t the best in the gymnasium so the committee had instructed everyone to bring their own blankets and warm covers, yet in your haste, you couldn’t bring adequate layers.

so after a while of trying to warm yourself up and convincing yourself that you were warm enough with a measly sweatshirt, rin notices from the corner of his eye how you kept rubbing your arms. 

he doesn’t hesitate to take off the fleece jacket that he was wearing over his university jumper. sure, it will be significantly colder without his outer layer, but rin’s willing to suffer as long as you were okay (when has he ever been this considerate?), except he stops when he sees nagi handing you his very oversized jumper. you accept it with a gracious smile and the white-haired boy merely shrugs before going back to watching the film. rin, on the other hand, feels a cauldron of rage brewing within him.

the sight makes his chest twist, wringing him dry as he stares dejectedly at how snug you seem in someone else’s clothes. the green monster inside of rin bubbles in contempt, a being that makes him want to rip the hoodie off you and replace it with his own for you to wrap yourself up in. he wants you to be content with him- happy because of him, not because of another.

you confessed to him only two weeks ago- barely even two weeks ago, so how could you so easily forget about him and move on? pretend like his rejection didn’t shatter you and him when he saw a devastation like no other on your pretty face?

rin doesn’t know how much longer he can live like this. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the following tuesday, you’re already seated in your new spot for your seminar, busy setting up your laptop in preparation when rin walks in. you see him from the corner of your eye, backpack slung around his shoulder, hands tucked unassumingly in his pockets as all 185cm of him saunters towards the seats. however, when you notice that he bypasses his normal spot and walks even further out of your peripheral vision, alarms blare deafeningly in your head.

you freeze when you hear someone take the seat behind you.

there’s a hard gaze on the back of your head, one that roots you to your spot and wills you not to turn around.

sneaking out your phone from your bag, you hide it so that rin can’t see it from his angle. 

you: RIN IS SITTING BEHIND ME OH NO

you: terrible start to valentines day smh

<reo3: WHAT!??!!???!???! fr.

you: THIS IS AN EMERGENCY I’M GOING TO DISINTEGRATE RIGHT NOW

<reo3: maybe *don’t* do that???? 

<reo3: WHY’S HE SITTING BEHIND YOU?????

you: FUCK IF I KNOW IT FEELS LIKE HE’S THROWING DAGGERS AT MY HEAD

<reo3: WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO?

you: CRY???????????? IDFK???????????

you: oh fuck class is about to start

you: i’ll let you know if anything happens

<reo3: STAY SAFE 

you tuck your phone away with fear and dread looming over you, personified through the form of itoshi rin, who sits so indifferently behind you, head propped on his hand. you hear his pen click behind you and you don’t even need to see him to know that he’s taking out that stupid notebook of his since he preferred to take notes by hand. you want to turn around and rip said book into shreds.

as the professor starts the class, you try your best to shake rin out of your thoughts, wanting to leave him behind in the depths of your mind so you can concentrate on this damn elective. none of the notes you were typing onto your document made sense and it felt like everything the professor was saying went in one ear then out the other. curse rin for having this effect on you. 

at least you get to gossip with reo after this.

though your seminar was only 60 minutes, it might as well have been 60 years because of how significantly older you feel at the end of it. the weight of rin’s stare was heavy on your shoulders when you hurriedly grab your things and make a dash for the exit.

well. you try to make a dash for the exit because somehow, rin gained the ability to teleport and beat you there, grabbing your wrist unceremoniously before pulling you into the hallways. you fumble with your phone, hurriedly texting reo.

you: UHH MAYDAY I MGHT NEEE TO SKIP OUR PLANS

<reo3: WHAT’S HAPPENING?????

you: RIN IS DRSGGING ME SIMEWHERE IDK WHERE

you: MY LOCARION IS ON LIFE360

you: I LUV YOU STUPID WHORE

<reo3: WHDJFWIJAIDJFAWHAT THE FUCK????

“hey!” you exclaim, helplessly being pulled by rin’s long strides, shutting your phone off as you try to match his eagerness. he could at least be a little more considerate and lighten up that grip of his on your wrist. “rin- what? where are we going?”

“you’ll see,” he responds gruffly.

your mind blanks despite the hurricane of questions that circulate your mind. how did you get here? is the delirium finally hitting you after countless sleepless nights? you stayed up until 2am last night to make valentine’s chocolates for your friends so maybe it’s the sugar and the sleep deprivation. 

as rin pulls you through the hallways, you think about how weird it is to allow him this close to you again- well, you didn’t exactly allow him, he kind of just… invaded your personal space. but after a whole week of not talking to him, responding dryly to his texts, avoiding your regular hangout spots, and overall pretending like he doesn’t exist, being exposed to his intimidating presence once more is… exhilarating? unreal? 

“wait, can we stop for a second?” you demand, breaking out of your funk when you step outside as if the harshness of the sun’s rays woke you up. “i’m so confused right now. where are we going?”

“we’re going to have lunch together at that café you’ve been wanting to try out,” he tells you with a serious expression, not breaking his usual aloof and stern personality. 

rin doesn’t give mixed messages: no, he gives messages that have completely been lost, fallen astray somewhere along the path of communication.

shifting your weight between your feet awkwardly, you tell him: “well, i kinda had valentine’s plans.”

his mask of coolness and uninterest cracks, exposing all the emotions he’s been withholding from surfacing for the past weeks; jealousy, envy, greed, they all manifest through the helpless scrunch of his face. “with who?” asks rin, tone a lot harsher than he had intended, matching the crease of his eyebrows and the frown he was wearing.

it’s the green monster in him talking.

if you were going out with someone else, someone new, rin’s not too sure what he’d do. determination and pettiness can only take a man so far before his resolve cracks and you have the power to crush his heart with a single stomp, extinguishing his flames in one, swift sweep. 

“with reo,” you confess. the dark-haired relaxes again, his face returning to a neutral expression.

“okay. ditch him then.” his audacity is baffling.

“i can’t just do that!” 

“why not?”

“cause that’s a shitty thing to do!” you say, before murmuring under your breath, “not that you’d know the first thing about being polite.” 

“i don’t care, it’s reo, you two hang out everyday. tell him to give me a turn.”

“you’re a horrible person, rin,” you murmur, ignoring the butterflies that erupt in your stomach.

he doesn’t say anything in retaliation, merely eyeing you expectantly, waiting for your next step. huffing, you reluctantly take out your phone as a sign of surrender under his suffocating pressure, muttering complaints under your breath as you find reo’s contact - literally your most recent one, to send him a quick message. almost instantly, your best friend responds with a thumbs up paired with a smirk and you almost want to block him then and there. 

“done.”

“perfect,” rin goes to grab your hand again but you retract from him just in time. when you look up to meet his gaze once more, you see his unimpressed expression whilst he keeps his palm extended towards you expectantly.

“i don’t need your help walking places,” you grumble, not liking how fast your heart was racing.

he gestures to his open palm once more. “i know.”

after a moment of silence, you give in, hesitantly placing your hand in his. with a small grin, rin intertwines your fingers before pulling you to his side. without another word, he begins walking, leaving you to merely follow the brutally fast pace he’s set.

you must’ve looked ridiculous to other people. being dragged around by an 185 cm man, how humbling.

the place rin led you to was not too far from campus; a totally manageable distance for the two of you to remain in silence during the walk. you try to bypass the awkwardness of it all by focusing on other things, like how warm rin’s hand is and how you hope he doesn’t mind your sweaty hands. he seems to be content from what you’ve observed, happily walking beside you whilst sparing a few occasional glances over; ones that you pretend you don’t see whilst admiring the cityscape around you.

there are various valentine’s decorations hung up around the insides of the cafe that made you cringe slightly. although they were very cute, you feel humiliation climbing up your throat, serving as a reminder that you were currently spending a day of love and romance, or whatever, standing beside the very man who rejected you. 

this is the cruellest version of a sick joke.

“welcome!” a cheery voice greets, breaking you out of your thoughts. “table for two?” rin nods. “perfect! are you here for valentine’s day because couples get access to a special menu on top of our regular one.” 

when you open your mouth to reject her offer, rin beats you to it. “we’ll take the valentine’s menu.”

“okay, right this way,” the waitress guides you to an empty table for two that was right by the corner. the atmosphere of the place was cozy with various candles and statement pieces to really bring it together, but you have no time or brain space to appreciate the aesthetic of the café. 

it’s not until the waitress leaves that you speak up, utterly confused. “why’d you get the valentine’s menu, we-”

realisation hits you like a truck. 

“-are we on a date right now?”

rin’s unmoving, save for the purse of his lips as he stares at you. you feel a little foolish right now.

“yeah, we are,” he answers, curtly and concisely.

alarms are blaring in your head, the earth is tremoring below you, there are distant screams somewhere in the back of your mind and all you can manage out is a simple ‘oh’. 

“get what you want, i’ll-” rin begins before you abruptly cut him off.

“-no, hold on, i’m so confused right now,” you rub your temples, staring at the stupid valentine’s day menu decorated with pink and hearts and chocolates. “why?”

“why what?”

“why are we on a date?”

“because it’s valentine’s day?”

“well- i know that part,” you murmur under your breath. “it’s just, y’know, people celebrate this day when they like each other.” and not when one party is miserable because the other rejected them. 

“we do like each other though.”

there are no words to describe the shock you feel. really. not even an anvil dropping on your head could wake you up from whatever dream you are conjuring right now. 

“no, we don’t! i like you, you don’t like me.”

he looks away, the tips of his ears turning red. “that’s not true,” he murmurs, no louder than a whisper, yet your jaw drops all the same at his confession. “i do like you.”

“a week ago you didn’t!” 

“a week ago i wasn’t ready to get into a… relationship… or whatever.”

“oh,” you fix the strap of your bag, feeling slightly awkward. “and you’re ready now all of a sudden?”

“yeah.”

“i don’t believe you.”

“the fuck? why?” 

“you don’t really seem like the type of guy to turn around on yourself like this. what changed?”

rin won’t ever tell you about how much he missed you during these two weeks and how it was his jealousy and greediness that spurred him to act on his feelings. instead, he simply slides the menu to you, pointing to a milkshake-‘lover’s brew’, and since the menu was decorated with pictures on the side, you could see what the concoction consisted of. whipped cream, heart sprinkles, topped with a caramel heart and fairy floss. 

“the milkshake?” you ask, trailing off towards the end. “you hate sweet things and this especially looks like it could give you diabetes.”

the dark-haired shrugs. “so? i thought you’d like it.” 

“sure, but it is kinda pricey for a milkshake.”

he shrugs again, putting his elbows on the table which causes his sleeves of his turtleneck to roll down a little, exposing the shiny silver of his, no doubt expensive, watch. “i’ll pay for us, it’s fine.”

“hold on-”

“i’m paying. end of argument.” 

it’s an offer you can’t really reject. being a university student and all, funds are limited, so wherever you can, you want to avoid withdrawing money out of your account. that said, it doesn’t mean that you don’t feel the slightest bit guilty about draining rin’s, but with how long you’ve been friends, you know that once he’s set his mind to something, it’s hard to change it.

“if you insist,” you grumble, straightening up your spine as you awkwardly fiddle with your shirt. you feel so scrutinised under his gaze, even as you reach for the jug of water and pour two cups of water. “what else should we get?”

the waitress then comes around to take your orders and when she’s gone, conversation flows easily, reverting back to how things were between the two of you (to rin’s relief). he listens as you talk animatedly about the unfortunate series of events you had with your professor the other day, how cute your encounter with the campus dogs were, and the really unfortunate run-in you had with a guy from your shared tutorial classes.

(the dark-haired boy makes a face when you mention another man’s name before his usual face of indifference melts back in.)

“here’s your milkshake,” the waitress says, placing the drink in the middle of the table before walking away, “you guys are really cute by the way.”

“thanks,” rin says calmly, a stark contrast to your flustered reaction.

two straws stick out from the milkshake and when you put one in your mouth, you almost choke when rin takes the other one, causing your noses to bump in the middle. the look he gives you is nothing short of mischievous before pulling away, a knowing smirk playing along his lips. 

“ew. that is really sweet,” he mutters before leaning back, crossing his arms. 

“yeah,” you cough. “it is really sweet.”

recovering from your embarrassment, the rest of lunch goes by quite seamlessly. he goes to pay for everything with a confident tap of his card, causing you to stand awkwardly behind him, keeping all complaints to yourself as it goes through. thanking the waitress, you leave the café hand-in-hand once more. 

“thanks again for paying,” you repeat and rin gives a hum of acknowledgement whilst you two walk aimlessly on the path. “what do you want to do now?”

“i don’t know. do you have anything you want to do?”

“i might have an idea.”

leading him in the direction of a nearby store that just opened recently, you come to a stop in front of a shop that had neon-lights illuminating its inside and claw machines filled with adorable plushies lining along the walls. 

glancing at him, there’s a glimmer of amusement in rin’s eyes as his lips turn upwards into a small smirk. “really?” he asks, looking over at you.

“really. this’ll be fun!” you promise before walking in, the dark-haired following suit as you stop in front of a token-purchasing machine. 

from the corner of your eye, you can see him taking out his wallet already and you immediately put your hand on your wrist, ceasing his movement.

with just one glance, a whole conversation passes between you two. “if you pay for me i will sock you.”

“i’d like to see you try,” he deadpans, quirking a brow before pressing the ‘20 tokens = $19’ button on the machine, “but i’m paying.”

then the sound of his card meeting the reader and the transaction being approved rings through the air, followed by the deafening noise of coins clashing against metal. the look he gives you is nothing short of proud. 

“come on babe, bet you won’t be able to get any prizes,” challenges rin as he brushes past you, the pet name causing your stomach to churn as insults rest on your tongue, offended by his declaration.

he’s gracious enough to give you half of the coins, allowing you to play four games each. you only manage to win on one of them and even then, you were astonished at your own achievements, excitedly grabbing the plushie and hugging the stuffed toy to your chest protectively. rin, on the other hand, comes back to you with two in both hands and the gawk you let out was completely against your will.

“how did you do that?” you ask, a little stupified at the sight (it was kinda hot though). although at this point, you shouldn’t really question how itoshi rin works since he takes the meaning of ‘march to the beat of your own drum’ to a whole other level. 

instead of answering, he hands them over to you and you have no choice but to take them, your arms now overloaded with three stuffed toys. 

before you can even open your mouth to ask if he broke into the machines, your phone buzzes with a notification and the second you open it, you’re met with a familiar ‘⚠️bereal’ banner, one that makes you excited over the impeccable timing. rin raises an eyebrow at your sudden surprise.

“bereal! quick, pose!” you demand and rin obeys, raising a peace sign with a slight smile before the camera turns around to you and the many stuffed toys you’re cuddling. 

how adorable you are might just kill him. 

the dark-haired shakes the thought away before taking out his phone, instructing you to smile. you pose for the photo, hugging all the plushies closely to your chest whilst rin gives his usual deadpan stare into the camera. he then gives you his phone to check if it was okay to post and when you approve, you press the ‘post >’ button for him.

shutting off his phone for him, it’s at the same time that the bereal notification pops up again, this time detailing how one of his friends had posted but that’s not what caught your attention.

it’s a certain photo that made your heart thump loudly in its ribcage.

“am i your lockscreen?” you ask, pride and flattery swelling in your stomach, manifesting through the warmth of your cheeks. 

the slight widening of his eyes give you all the answers you need. “you weren’t supposed to see that.” 

nothing could stop the slow grin from erupting on your expression. it’s ridiculous to say so, but it almost feels like a weight is being lifted from your chest, the pains of the last few weeks erasing themselves completely with this one detail. 

that’s how you know rin was meant for you.

“out of all pictures of me, you chose this one?” you question, gesturing to the selfie that you once sent him during your study sessions. your hair was messy, there was a semi-crazed look in your eyes, but at least the moisturising lip gloss you had reapplied then made you look somewhat put together. 

looking at his phone once more, you feel a little warm.

“i like it,” he mutters shyly, unable to look you in the eye. despite his embarrassment, his statement fills you with endless relief, providing gratification for your relationship with rin that you didn’t know you needed. 

though you’ve been friends with him for quite some time now, you feel as though you don’t really recognise the man in front of you. past perceptions you’ve had of him has now been shattered by his flustered gaze, the relentless blush coating his cheeks, and the uncharacteristic way he slumps, as if defending himself from any judgement you might throw at him. 

luckily for him, that’s not what you’re interested in doing.

unlocking your phone, you hand it to him. “take a matching selfie so i can make it my lock screen too.”

at least you have all the time in the world to get to know him all over again.

(rin will never tell you that he only has been active on bereal so he could see what you were up to. except it backfired every time because instead of satisfying how desperately he was longing for you during your two weeks of no contact, it only made him want you more. he wanted to be there with you through your intense study sessions, he wanted to be going on walks with you, he wanted to be there with you when you were watching one more episode of your favourite tv show before going to bed, he just wanted to be there with you.

now he has all the time to make sure he is.)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[@y/n’s BeReal]

@ karasu69: @fruityninjaotoya YOU OWE ME TWENTY BUCKS 　　→ @fruitninjaotoya: Shut your micropenis up

@ yocchan: Y/N WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS 　　→ @ nagixxxxxxxxxxxxx: ratio 　　→ @ yocchan: DON’T RATIO ME RN

@monsterbachira: omg are y’all 😍❤️😍 rn 　　→ @y/n: wut. 　　→ @itshrin: Yes 　　→ @monsterbachira: y/n rin is actually a good kisser 　　→ @y/n: thanks for letting me know meguru! 　　→ @itshrin: i’m going to end you. 

@bbgreo: i’m glad y’all had fun but no itoshi rin on our platonic date pls! 　　→ @y/n: would never dream of it luv <3 　　→ @itshrin: Sleep with one eye open, Reo 　　→ @y/n: that’s my best friend :( 　　→ @itshrin: You don’t need him 　　→ @y/n: reo and i are one you can’t separate us 　　→ @itshrin: Ok fine 😒 　　→ @bbgreo: yay! 　　→ @y/n: yay!

Everything about your...arrangement with Sae was unconventional for him. He couldn't understand why he welcomed you into his apartment, not when he'd made it an unspoken rule to never allow his flings the privilege of knowing where he lives. He couldn't understand why it was always him coming to you first. Most of all, he couldn’t understand why you always left him with such haste.

The lights are off, but the moon blesses him with just the right amount of light to see the outline of your figure. As you turn around to face him, his gaze lingers for just a moment; though not long enough for you to catch him. He knows what you're about to say. He's already prepared for it. But no matter how much he braces himself, that sinking feeling refuses to abate him.

"I'm gonna head out now. See you later."

Later. You'll see him later. He supposes that's a positive sign, it indicates that you'll be back again. The downside is he doesn't know when. He can never seem to grasp your evasiveness.

Getting up, Sae quickly pulls his sweats on, completely ditching his shirt. He knows he can't waste time, or else you'll be out the door in seconds.

"Let me walk you out."

It eats at him when you don't respond. That sickening, nauseating feeling is more pungent than ever. The logic in him says to let you go without another word. You don't owe each other any pleasantries, why would you? At the end of the day, you two were nothing more than fuck buddies. Sae was accustomed to seeing the same person once, maybe twice if he felt like it. What was meant to be a one-night stand conjured into something more than he had planned. Something he had no intention of ever doing. It was all too overwhelming.

He doesn't know why he keeps reaching out to you. He doesn't know why it annoys him so much when you say you already have plans for the night; and he doesn't know why he's holding out for your hand right now.

You're given no choice but to look at him now, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. Sae can feel his resolve crumbling—the facade of his carefully crafted image fading as he composes what to say next.

"Isn't it too late to drive?"

He examines your face, searching for any hint of what you're possibly thinking. More than anything, he hopes that didn't scare you away for good.

To his relief, your mouth slightly upturns, and you chuckle softly. "Sae, it's only one in the morning. I've drove home later than this before."

His solace fades as fast as it arrived. He hasn't let go of your hand, only realizing when he feels you begin to twist out of his grasp. Despite the urge to keep holding onto you, to make you stay in place for just a little longer, if nothing else, he lets your hand go.

"What are you suggesting, anyway?" you say, and he freezes. His shoulders tense, and the ache within him intensifies. The same ache he only gets when he's around you.

Sae's mind races, and uncharacteristically, he can't develop anything coherent to say. He must look like an idiot, he thinks. A tepid fool crumbling at the sound of your voice.

God, how he hates this feeling. Your beauty, your attitude, your presence, everything about you is mind-numbing to him. But the feeling he gets whenever you leave is far worse than this.

You drain him, but it's so addicting. Before he knew it, he started to yearn for you while you were gone. Usually he was the one who didn't give enough to others. They would cling to him, beg for him to give them more of himself. He was always in control, until it came to you.

Instead, he's the one that savors your every touch, every pretty sound you make, and every minute you spend by his side. He could suffocate in your embrace, drown in your affection, and it still wouldn't satisfy his ceaseless craving. He remains unaccustomed to this strange feeling, which he still can't put a name to. All he knows is that it's too much, and somehow not enough at the same time.

"Stay with me for the night," finally, he speaks, but it isn't what he wanted to say. He isn't sure if he gave too much away or not enough. Because now it might seem like he just wants you to stay for the night. As if that would even be enough.

Your countenance is unreadable, a rarity for Sae. His heart rate picks up, and though he masks his face with calmness, he hopes that you don't manage to pick up on how inexplicably anxious he is.

You don't say anything for a few seconds, and he panics. He can't stop himself from acting on this impulse, this insuppressible urge to make you want to stay. To make you want him as much as he wants you.

Before you can think, a heated, starving kiss meets your lips. A soft moan escapes from you, and it only spurs him on to elicit more. He's never kissed anyone like this before, he realizes. Possessiveness overtakes him as he grabs your waist with one hand and your neck with the other, caging you between him and the wall.

His kisses trail down your jaw, then to your neck as he sucks on your sensitive skin, right where you crave it most. If anything, Sae knows your body well—your likes and dislikes, and how to make you fall apart. He wishes that wasn't all there was to you and him, though.

One hand trails down between your legs, reaching beneath your waistband, a telltale sign that he wants more, and you oblige. You let out a whine as a result of his worship, sending a rush throughout Sae's body. You card your hands through his hair, gradually pushing him lower. He scales down your body, arriving to his knees, at your mercy and yours alone. He shifts your bottoms off, spitting on his fingers as soon as you remove your panties. The lubrication from his spit as he rubs against your pussy feels unreal, intensifying as he sinks his middle and ring fingers inside you. After a few pumps, Sae pairs his mouth with his hand, sucking gently on your clit, just enough to make you squirm above him. He relishes in the way you grip his hair, the way he knows he has complete control over your pleasure. In mere minutes, you feel yourself teetering over the edge, unconsciously crying out his name, begging him to make you come undone.

And right when you're about to get that euphoric feeling only he can grant you, he stops. Sae rises back up to your level, turquoise eyes boring into yours. You shudder as he wordlessly holds your jaw, thumb gently caressing your cheek.

"Open," he commands, and you comply without a thought. He sticks his fingers in your mouth, and you know what he wants you to do. Your eyes shut as you suck your arousal off his fingers—Sae thinks he's never witnessed a prettier sight in his life.

He knows you're vulnerable right now, you always are when you're desperate to come. "Good fucking girl," he praises, slowly sinking deeper into your mouth, just to feel your throat constrict around him and hear the way you gag, as your body naturally tries to reject his action.

Finally, he lets you breathe again, only for a second as his mouth is already back on yours, tongue dipping in and twisting with yours. He does his best not to react when he feels your hand rubbing against his bulge, cock hard and aching for any type of relief, but he can't give that away yet. Pulling away from your heated kiss, Sae's stoic gaze meets your hand palming at his dick.

"Gotta tell me what you want, baby."

You look up at him, eyes silently pleading. Of course he knows what you're asking for, but he can't let you have it that easily. "Tell me how you want to come."

A furious blush tints your cheeks, he knows exactly how to rile you up, slightly smirking at his successful attempt at making you flustered. You swallow the lump in your throat, getting ready to make your request.

"Please, I want to- I need to come on your cock," you whine, almost breathlessly.

His eyes narrow, a silent indication that you didn't ask for it properly. You know you messed up, he can see it on your face.

"Daddy, please-" you start, but he doesn't let you finish. He always did give into you way too swiftly. He picks you up, heading back to his bed, where the two of you belong. Where he strongly desires you to stay for tonight, and hopefully longer.

"Take everything off," he demands, as he removes his sweats and boxers, freeing his cock from its confines.

You lie on your back, body fully exposed to him. He settles lower, prodding your slick entrance with his length. At last, he slides in, both of you graced with pure and utter bliss. For him, there was nothing quite like the feeling of your pussy, perfectly encasing him every single time. It's almost like he's addicted to you, he thinks. And he wonders if he has a similar effect on you.

It's overwhelming, the ecstasy you give him. He stills inside you, opting to settle for a slower pace to keep himself from spilling his load too soon. Sae buries his face in the crook of your neck, your soft hair tickling him as he places sweet kisses on your skin. Slowly, he shifts the pace, thrusts faster and more punishing than at the start. He grips your face in his hand, squeezing your cheeks together, and he momentarily looks at you like you're the most precious thing in the world.

This time, you tilt your head up to kiss him, unable to control the pleasure contorting across your features. He feels you start to clench around him harder, a clear sign that you're getting close.

Breaking the kiss, he reaches down to rub at your clit, helping you get there even faster. "You gonna cum, sweet girl?" he asks, a weak attempt at hiding the tremble in his baritone, and he's nearly as close as you are to breaking.

"Mhm, just need a little more.." you mumble back, causing him to speed up the tight circles he's rubbing against you. You finally feel it snap, hot pleasure coursing through your entire body, and Sae could burst at the sight.

He lasts just long enough to fuck you through your orgasm, and just long enough to remain lost in your tight walls, mumbling incoherent pleas as he loses himself to you.

"Don't want you to go," he quietly confesses, no longer caring about the risks. If he can't have you in the way he wants to have you, he figures it's best to put it all out on the table now.

"Think 'm in love with you. Nobody else makes me say this shit," he's rambling now, unable to pay attention to your reaction.

"No, fuck, I do love you. It's not fair."

Your chest tightens at the tremble in his voice, in complete shock of everything that spills from his lips. With a few more sloppy thrusts, he pulls out, spilling his release onto your belly.

With that, the realization of what he's said hits him. And to his surprise, he's glad he said it. Glad he finally let it out. Still, the numbness of your silence tears away at his flesh, and suddenly he feels all too exposed.

He settles next to you on the bed, then stands back up when it clicks that you need to be cleaned off. Putting his boxers back on, he retreats to the bathroom to get a towel for you.

In his short absence, you try to process the events that just took place. All you did was say you were going home, how did it end up this way? You don't know if you believe he was truthful with everything he said. You suppose it could've been the heat of the moment..but at the same time, he'd never been this vulnerable before-

His footsteps draw you back to reality, as he approaches you with a slightly damp towel. Sae cleans you up gently, throwing the towel to the side and laying next to you when he's done.

Your eyes are locked on the ceiling, waiting for him to say something, anything, before you lose yourself to rehashing tonight's events again.

Sae turns toward you, breaking the silence you both stubbornly created.

"Will you stay with me?"

He links his hand with yours; with a shaky breath, you reply:

“Fuck, Hiromi, right there,” you moan sprawled out on the glass conference room table, tits bouncing beautifully in time with each of his thrusts.

Your hands are bound above your head; he used his belt to wrap around your wrists, buckling it to the leg of the table. Hiromi’s hands are on your waist, gripping hard, holding you close to him as his hips piston into your own.

The last few years, the two of you have gotten close, become office friends. You would go out and get lunch together when you had time, and when you didn’t, one of you would be in the other's office eating while working.

Since then, you’ve also become each other’s date to the office Christmas parties. It’s not for having a lack of a dating life, you both just seem to conveniently be single around the holidays every time, and why not go with someone you know you enjoy spending time with?

Sure, at first people in the office would tease you for coming together, especially Suguru and Satoru, but it was all in jest, never truly bothered either of you.

You also never saw each other as more than friends either, so it’s a fucking surprise you’re here, writhing underneath him in pleasure as he snaps his hips into yours.

Maybe your heart has grown more fond of him over the last few years without realizing it because when you saw him walk into your apartment, dressed in his suit for tonight's event, your heart began to flutter.

Hiromi looked absolutely dashing in his black tux with white shirt underneath, his raven hair styled just perfectly, a smile on his face that reached his tired eyes. He thought the same - you never looked more beautiful than you do tonight, in your floor length black dress that hugs your curves just right, a slit on the side that goes up just above your knee.

That dress is currently pooled around your waist, the top having been pulled down to expose your breasts, the bottom lifted so he could fuck you on the table of the empty conference room. His shirt has been unbuttoned and opened, exposing the black hair on his chest that you were running your hands through earlier in the evening.

There was just something about the way his eyes seemed less tired tonight, sparkled more than usual in the Christmas lights strung up around the office, his smile was wider too, as he had his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close while making your usual networking rounds around the office talking with the other associates.

You passed by a few empty rooms, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours, or yours were on his, you’re not entirely sure who made the first move.

Hiromi moves one hand to your throat, wrapping his large hand around, cutting off just enough air for your eyes to be rolling to the back of your head, back arching off the table when his thumb begins encircling your clit.

The room you're in is tucked away, off in a little corner of the office far away from the party, so neither of you are worried about getting walked in on. And not worrying about that means neither of you has to worry about how loud you’re being either.

He slows his pace, circling his hips as he looks at you fondly, letting go of your throat to caress your cheek, “you’ve no idea how many times I’ve thought of this. How long I’ve wanted this.” His voice is thick and gravely with lust.

Hiromi lifts your legs, bends them so your knees are next to your face - if he hadn’t lifted your dress so far up, it surely would have ripped while moving you into this mating press position. His hands are on the bottom of your black stilettos, using them for balance as he picks back up at a faster pace.

On any normal night, you might have been embarrassed by how wet you’ve gotten just from his touch, but it doesn’t feel that way with him, not when you see how much he loves watching your arousal coat his cock each time he pulls out before thrusting right back in.

He’s listening to the way you’re moaning his name, singing it for the heavens to hear. The way you move your hips to meet him despite your compromising position. Watching the way your cheeks flush every time he says you’re doing so well for him, the flush extending down to the top of your chest.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he mutters, he can’t help himself. He has to tell you.

So gorgeous in fact, he can’t believe he isn't using every opportunity presented to him right now to just kiss you. He moves your legs over his shoulders, bending down to fold you half, slotting his lips between yours.

He swallows several of your moans as your tongues glide against one another, biting your bottom lip as your walls tighten around him, and you’re free falling into waves of pleasure, chanting his name so seductively as your walls flutter and spasm that he’s unable to hold back any longer.

Hiromi sloppily thrusts, two, three more times, before he’s buried to the hilt, as deep as he can go, groaning onto each of your kisses as hot ropes of cum fill your insides.

He gives a goofy grin, eyes half lidded as he moves his hips in you a few times, moaning from the sensitivity before unbuckling your wrists.

“Sorry for being so rough,” he murmurs, kissing your jaw tenderly before moving down your neck, between the valley of your breasts.

“Mm. Don’t be.” You’re smiling, eyes closed. He hasn’t pulled out yet, but you don’t mind, using the time to catch your breath.

Your heart flutters again, when he looks up at you with tired eyes, soft smile on his face, chaste kiss to your lips, and you hope he’ll continue to be your Christmas office party date for years to come.

Pressing your chest against his, you feel goosebumps across all of your exposed skin. Your arms, your chest, your thighs and calves and he grins - feral, terrifying if it were anyone else but he knows he’s won. He has you exactly where he wants you.

You feel him hook a finger in the cowl neck of the dress and yank it down. The thin straps that hold the dress up slip easily down your upper arms and your upper breast is fully exposed. Holding the fabric against the bottom of your breasts to give yourself some illusion of modesty, you can’t help but feel pinned in place by the way Grimmjow is looking at you. He looks different than he ever has, a hunger that he can’t wait to sate dancing through his eyes. 

You don’t have time to change your mind as he presses his face against the exposed part of your tits, nibbling the flesh just enough to make you groan and tip your head back. Reaching one arm around your back, Grimm places his fingers on the back of your head and uses his hand to keep your head pulled back and your neck and chest exposed to him.

Like a little rabbit that is caught in the jaws of a lynx, you are unable to move and you are concerningly alright with it.

“They would definitely get you here,” Grimmjow growls as you squirm and he bites the top of your breast. You know that one will be impossible to hide but you’re so warm, so hot with fervor over this beast of a man, you can’t find the will to mind. This isn’t the first time he has been so predatory with you but you know it’s only natural. Besides, there are times you think you might like it more than he does.

Another rough bite into your chest makes you squirm and he hisses through his teeth as your scantily clad body rubs against the boxers that are barely holding back his hard cock. The strain is painful but he’s enjoying the chase far too much to attend to it now. Once he successfully manages to get you in bed so you won’t be going out dressed like that, he’ll handle it then.

Needless to say he’s going to be successful as you continue to squirm and groan, his finger moving across the cowl of the dress to pull it further down. The fabric pools against your forearms and he licks his chops as your pebbled nipples are exposed. He dips his head against your chest again, licking one of your nipples into his mouth as you pant above him. 

Wrapping your hands around his head, fingers yanking at the roots of his blue hair, he swears this is what he fought his whole life for and he’ll protect you no matter the cost, even if you’re doing a very bad job protecting yourself.

“It just amazes me how vulnerable you leave yourself,” he starts and you groan, wishing he’d close his lips and get back to relieving the ache between your legs. “Not everyone is as nice as I am,” he sucks a mark into the skin around your nipple and looks up into the mirror where he can see your eyes shut tightly in ecstasy. 

“Lucky that I found you instead.”

You hum your agreement as he switches from one nipple to the other, pinching the still damp bud between his fingers. A high pitched moan leaves your throat and he smirks against the bud that is between his lips. If his hands weren’t occupied he’d be shimmying this joke of a garment off of you, he’d gladly watch it pool around your feet.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” you groan, yanking the strands of his hair tightly. You lift one of your legs and settle it around his waist, the friction blissfully provided by the movement making your eyes roll back into your skull. This is his favorite sight and this time feels even sweeter because he won. He has you. You’re here with him.

All victors deserve a reward and you are his, he just has to slip you out of this damn fabric.

He pops your nipple out of his mouth and you whine, using the leverage of your hooked leg to needily grind against his bulge. Grimmjow looks up at you, using his grip on the back of your head to position your face until you’re looking down at him. 

“Death? Please,” he chuckles, loosening his grip on the back of your head to slide the hand down your body and free you of the dress completely. You step out of the fabric and try to ignore his grimace when he catches a glimpse of the very tiny underwear you wear beneath the dress. “If anything, silly woman, you should be thanking your savior.”

You want to roll your eyes but part of you wonders if he isn’t right to be concerned. It isn’t often you leave the house without Grimmjow in tow and you are positive that the scary cat-man privilege keeps you from being approached more often than not. Your friends would understand, wouldn’t they?

“How should I be thanking you, brave Grimmjow?”

Your tone is teasing but your words are honeyed and laced with innuendo and he catches on immediately, rising and standing to his full height. He lingers an entire head above you and the sight makes you squirm. He uses the strength in his hips to press against you, hands sliding down your body to slip one of them between your legs. Hooking a finger in the gusset of your panties, he slides them to the side and groans as he feels your slick soaking his fingertips. 

“That’s all the thanks I need.”

Can’t imagine a better reward, he thinks to himself as he gnaws his lower lip and furrows his brow. The needy babbling dripping from your lips as he dips his finger between your folds, spreading your wetness from your swollen and sensitive little clit to your fluttering hole just like you showed him serves as its own prize. You spread those pretty lips and willingly demonstrated what makes you feel good and he hasn’t let you down yet, quick study that he is.

“So wet, so ready,” he teases, lips brushing against yours as he slips one of his long fingers inside of you with a lewd squelch that fills the small bathroom. “Aren’t you glad I stopped you, bunny?”

You shiver at the nickname, something only he knows you like to be called. A private little name between the two of you, only existing because he told you that’s what you remind him of. 

“You’re like those damn rabbits we saw at the pet store,” he started as he tapped on your calves where they were draped across his lap. “A little too friendly, a little skittish,” he grimaced as he continued, turning his attention back toward the TV sitting in the center of the room. “Cute.”

You blushed and looked away.

Tonight, you can’t look away as his blazing eyes make contact with yours.

Before another word can be spoken, he wraps one of his hands around your thigh and you understand that he’s going to lift you and that you need to wrap the leg around him. As he perches you on the very edge of the counter, your legs wrapped around him, you gasp as he reaches down to free his cock. The light catches the glistening pre at the tip and you lick your lips. Grimmjow positions himself at your entrance, using one hand to swipe the spongy head of his cock from your clit to your hole and back.

“Don’t tease me, I’ve been good,” you whimper and he stops, wrapping his arms around your hips and grabbing handfuls of your ass. 

“You weren’t going to be though,” he warns, casting a glance down at you as he sheaths himself inside of you in one calculated movement. Your breath leaves your lungs as he bottoms out, your pussy so soaked there was zero resistance for him to get used to. Your walls welcome him home and the tacky sound of his cock pounding into you fills the room, interspersed with your needy moans and his arrogant reassurances.

“You like that so much, don’t ya….clenching around me,” he growls into your ear as he looks down and watches your tits bounce with his every thrust. His eyes widen when he catches sight of the marks he has left on your body, the sight making him thrust into you harder, his grip on your ass like steel.

“Grimm, fuck,” you pant, brows furrowed as your lids flutter closed. “So close.”

He can feel how close you are too, that perfect pussy gripping onto his cock like a lifeline. Everything about you is so tantalizing to him - the way you bounce and move, the way you moan, the high pitched tone you call his voice in as you flutter and tighten around him. He isn’t completely sure how he lived without this before meeting you but he’s glad he’ll never have to again.

“That’s right, cum for me,” he grunts as you squeal and feel yourself gripping down on him, your orgasm causing you to arch your back as you run your hands over his scarred chest, using your fingernails to leave fine scratches across his skin. You like marking him as much as he likes doing it to you but that’s a secret you keep to yourself.

Struggling to catch your breath, Grimmjow increases his pace and his grip on your ass as he chases his own orgasm and you can tell how close he is by how filthy his mouth becomes. As always.

“Fuck, just like that. Oh god, fuck fuck fuck. My fuckin’ bunny, my fuckin’ pussy, right?” 

You can only nod as your body rocks with the force of his every thrust he punctuates with guttural moans, bracing one of his hands on the mirror behind you. Too lost to pleasure to scold him, you know it can wait as you let him reach his peak. You watch as his defined abs tense and twitch, his cock making the same motions inside of you as he shoots rope after rope of hot cum buried deep in you. 

Gradually softening, he pulls himself from you and smiles as you lean against his chest and trace little shapes over the discolored skin of his scar. You’re careful not to brush too low and to touch the outside rim of his hollow hole, something he wishes every time he sees you would disappear, but he’s too lost in the post orgasm haze of you in his arms to think about that right now.

Nuzzling into your neck, hands still gripping your ass, he breaks the silence.

“Good thing you stayed in, yeah?” You snort and shove him playfully, giggling as you bury your nose against his chest. “Yeah, thank goodness you saved the day.”

Grimmjow tries to play off the way your praise makes his cock twitch back to life and you squeal as he picks you up, using the leverage of your legs wrapped around his hips to carry you back to the adjoined bedroom and toss you on the bed. 

“Hope you aren’t tired, bunny.”

Grimm climbs onto the bed like the predator that he is, boxers slung low on his hips and his flagging cock sticking out of them. He hovers over you and you flip onto your back.

In a way, the way Aizen wanted to speak to Ichigo, and just Aizen's rebelling/criticisms of Soul Society, remind me a lot of Socrates. There was even this whole thing with Socrates and "corrupting the youth" that he was charged with. Shunsui and Urahara didn't want Aizen to speak to Ichigo at the end, and I like to believe it's because they knew Aizen would tell Ichigo about the corruption Soul Society was built upon. Can't have the hero learn that he was working for a morally corrupt institution, can we? 🙃

Going back to the Trial of Socrates and Aizen's own trajectory, there are some similarities:

They both committed "blasphemy" (Socrates didn't believe in the Greek gods, Aizen disregards the Soul King).

They led their "followers"/"students" to question the basis of their society (corruption of the youth). It's good to note that Aizen wasn't totally successful with this, only Tosen and the Espada were followers, Gin was following Aizen for his own revenge.

Both of their trials were held with majority, if not all, male-led jurors (Aizen and Central 46) who decided their sentencing.

Both condemned to death (in Aizen's case, because he's immortal, 20,000 years but that might as well be death...)

Both could have escaped and dodge their punishments, but opted not to. Socrates was given an out, but took his death penalty. Aizen was temporarily exonerated for wartime service, and willingly went back to serve the remainder of his time.

In one of the novels (I think Spirits are Forever with You), Shinji and Momo talk about how Aizen probably wasn't lying to them as much as he wanted them to believe, and I would agree with them. Yeah, Aizen is a master manipulator, but he probably said a lot of "half truths" rather than full-blown lies. It's easier to manipulate someone when there's some semblance of proof to work from.

I'd like to think that at the end of Bleach, Aizen doesn't have the goal to become the Soul King anymore, but he does want change to happen in Soul Society. It's whole existence is based on a lie, and Aizen wants to see its reform. My own headcanon is that once that happens, I think Aizen would want to die - and since the hogyoku is tied to him, it would take away his immortality.

Again, a lot of people see Aizen as a narcissist, but I don't see it. Aizen wanted to be Soul King because he saw everyone else being unable to take a stand. He literally followed the quote "be the change you want to see in the world". He fully acknowledges that Yamamoto is stronger than him, Urahara is smarter than him, but those two refuse to do anything to fix the system. It's why he can acknowledge them, but can't respect them. Why have all that power and not try to change?

Last one lol: I'm of the opinion Aizen likes bullying Hitsugaya lmao. The way Aizen just reads him so easily and doesn't care to fuck around with him. A part of me thinks it stems from jealousy towards Hitsugaya for having people care for him. Another reason is that Aizen doesn't think Hitsugaya is the prodigy everyone else claims he is. Aizen just cuts him down in true "is this your MAN?!" fashion lol

the feeling worsens when he stalks over to you with unmatched confidence, unabashedly grabbing your hand to intertwine it with his as he all but pulls you towards the restaurant. not a word is able to leave your mouth. you don’t utter one syllable as rin confirms his booking and a waiter leads you to the reserved spot in the restaurant.

it’s a private room.

he booked a damn private room.

it’s awfully romantic too. there are lit candles, a beautiful flower arrangement on the table, and the intimacy of it all sharpened your nerves, filling your stomach with premonition. as rin guides you by the small of your back to sit down, you let out a small yelp of alarm, one that he dismisses whilst pulling out your chair for you. already one second in and you were embarrassing yourself.

the strangest part was how quiet rin was. he always preferred to keep to himself but when it came to ridiculing you, the striker just couldn’t resist spilling out a few insulting quips; just one or two thousand here and there. you almost believed that agitating you was his second favourite activity, after soccer of course. 

so the rin that sat in front of you felt like a complete stranger. despite having seen him daily for majority of the past year, fixing any injuries he got whilst out in the field, and suffering many back-and-forths whilst doing so, it was odd to see him so… complacent? not hostile? nervous?

no. itoshi rin never got nervous. 

“hi,” he begins awkwardly. the fire on the candle wavers a little. 

finally, after minutes of speechlessness, you find it in you to speak. 

“what the fuck?” the dark-haired’s expression scrunches a little, his eyes dodging yours. “what’s the meaning of this? why are you here? i’m so confused!”

“i uh-” he coughs, raising his hand to rub the back of his neck, the action folding his shirt ever so slightly to reveal more of the skin that laid under. you try not to ogle. “we’re on a date.”

“no we’re not?” you counter, absolutely astounded at his audacity. “i’m not supposed to be on a date with you! i’m supposed to be on a date with isagi’s friend!”

his eyes widen a little at your outburst. your intense confusion merges to become fury that seeps out of you so effortlessly, painting the room with suffocating tension and pressure. something tells you that this anger has been waiting to make itself known for a while now, pent up from months of frustration.

“i came here because i wanted a nice night out, not for more of your taunts and mockery! don’t you get enough of it during the day? are you trying to make fun of my love life or something? i was really looking forward to this night, y’know, especially with everything isagi was telling me about the guy i was supposed to go out with,” you cover your face with your hands, admitting defeat. itoshi rin got you, once again. 

rin suppresses the jealousy bubbling in his chest, his insides twisting into an ugly shape of bitterness at the image of you with another man, washing over him like fresh lava from a volcanic eruption. 

“can you say something?” you demand, inwardly cursing yourself for the way your voice wavers; an indication of how frazzled and distraught you were feeling.

“you look beautiful.”

“oh.”

that was not what you were expecting.

suddenly the rage you felt mere seconds ago dissipated into a small cloud of flattered bliss, causing you to sink in your chair and cower from his intense gaze. was it always this hot in here or was it just you?

in the midst of your mini-tantrum, you did not notice how rin’s eyes were glossed with fascination, marvelling at you as if you were the most wonderful thing in the world. it reminded you of a kid in a candy store. he was… adorable, to say the least.

“th-thanks,” you stutter, murmuring out the only phrase you could instinctively think of in the haze of your clouded mind. “look- how, or, why are you here?”

the dark-haired shuffles in his seat, readjusting himself to fit the ‘cool guy’ persona he’s worked so hard to maintain. “i’m here because i’m a better date than isagi’s lukewarm friend.” 

“rin, that doesn’t make any sense,” you huff. “you hate my guts-”

“-no i don’t,” he says hurriedly and in a tone that takes you off guard. there is a sense of urgency behind it, so unlike anything you’ve believed to be characteristic for rin’s stoic and unbreaking personality. he looks away to the side, clearing his throat. “i don’t hate you. it’s kind of the opposite.”

you feel like itoshi rin just slapped you across the face. was this some kind of sick prank? where were the cameras? maybe there was one behind the painting- fuck, there could’ve been one in your drink for all you know. then you realise, out of all things you could describe itoshi rin with, a prankster was not one of them, meaning, that this life-changing detail that he just provided you was authentic and real. 

what a cruel twist of fate this saturday has bestowed upon you. 

“what?” you sputter, “but- but you, what?” 

“is that so hard to believe?”

“yes! i thought you absolutely despised me! you look at me with so much disgust and indifference!”

“that’s just my face,” he deadpans. you sigh, unceremoniously placing your face in your hands. rin leans forward in his seat, hands reaching to rest in the middle of the table, just a few centimetres away from yours. the itch to grab your hands in his is overwhelming but he holds himself back. “i’m not indifferent towards you. i actually… really like your company and getting to know you.”

“is it rude to say that i find that hard to believe?” you cower slightly from the seriousness of his ‘really?’ look. “this entire time i thought the last thing you wanted to do was be around me!”

"i do want you- i've never not wanted you.”

a swarm of butterflies erupt in your core, fluttering all the way up to your heart, threatening to carry it out of your chest and elevate it to fall into the hands of itoshi rin. the effect this man has on you is sickening. 

“i see,” you pathetically mutter. 

rin looks akin to a kicked dog at your simple answer to his confession, his shoulders sagging a little as his hands retract from yours. his expression dampens, ever so slightly. 

“should we have a do over, then?” 

a smile that you’ve never seen rin wear before appears on his expression, brightening up his demeanour as he stammers out a quietly enthusiastic ‘yes’.