archived.

sandy tinted eyes beam up at you with nothing but a blissful gaze of innocence as you unravel a bundle of rope that falls to the floor beside him. it's deep red— nearly the colour of blood to match the cords that bind his wrists together behind him, and kazutora watches the way you wrap the cord around your hands, holding the ends in your palm. there's music playing, but it's quiet. only hints of a distant hum are audible, and he's lost in your aura— enthralled with the beauty of your stature knelt before him, inspecting the ropes with care before putting them to use on his body. his legs are crossed, feet pressed together at centre and his heart races when you reach a hand to his thigh, tugging gently because in this moment words aren't needed. he obliges, shifting his posture to that of a kneel and you start on his legs.

the rope slips through your hands like silk— only the best for kazutora— and you start under his knee, tying firm but gentle knots and lacing the cord up his thigh crossing over itself until a single diamond shape decorates the outside of his leg that is delicately pressed against itself. as you tuck the leftover rope in itself, your hand cant help but indulge you in his body, running itself up his thigh as goosebumps break out under your touch. his skin is so soft— the richness of the deep red cords making the melanin his skin glow and he holds his breath the closer you get to his cock that's already hard and throbbing. the intimacy of this moment is overpowering. it floods his mind in swirls of vehemence that twist and turn in a whirlpool that sucks him in— captivates him and leaves him anticipating your every move.

kazutora is so vulnerable like this, even with only half his limbs bound, he is vulnerable. what little power he held has been surrendered, left for you to fuel your desire and harbour the intimacy you so desperately craved. your hand grazes his cock as you press your lips to his in a kiss that makes his head spin. it's deep— your breath exchanges with his as he finds comfort in the way your lips taste against his, until you pull away and press your forehead against his. his eyes are shut, lids fluttering as you take the moment to comb through locks of blonde streaked hair that falls in front of his face like a curtain. he looks so pretty— so soft and warm. loved, perhaps was the right word to describe it.

as you pull your head away, kazutora nearly lets out a whimper but he bites his lip instead and watches the way you gather another bundle of rope to wrap around your palm. you repeat the same steps on his other leg, tying the rope into the shape of a diamond on the outside of his leg. this time, every brush of your fingertips against the warmth of his skin feels electric— like waves of your energy transfer with each touch and he can feel the excitement in his chest start to pool at his core as his cock twitches and aches each time. he's so sweet— his emotions drip from his body like nectar made to satiate your hunger and he's under your spell. he nods aimlessly when you ask if he's ok— how could he possibly be anything but? if anything he wants more. he needs more. he needs to feel the love radiate from your fingers with the gentle touch you bring— to feel it wrapped around his cock, enveloping him in an endless loop of pleasure and fervor as you indulge him in his desires.

kazutora is desperate, bucking his hips the best he can against his restraints and god does he look pretty doing it. his mouth is parted just slightly, only enough for his breaths to leak from his lips in silenced whimpers as you tie off the last of the rope and let your hands wander his body, basking in the helplessness of his aura. he's desperate, yet so gentle while you tease your way around his torso, tracing his muscles that flex with every breath and quiver with every release. finally your fingers reach the tip of his cock, leaking and begging to be touched and you press his length flush against his abs. he whimpers— already its too much— but he wont complain. he's obedient, whining in your ear as you pull him into your body letting your fingers dance up and down his cock in a taunt that has him already so close to the edge.

kazutora's lips move to speak, but nothing comes out. he's locked against your body— body tense within the ropes and all he can do is rely on your hands for the pleasure he so painfully needs. he tries to speak again— to tell you that he's close, but he can only whimper once again as his voice gets lost in the fabric of your clothes. your hands barely have to move before his whimpers turn to moans and his body seizes against your stature, the warmth of his cum that drips from his cock coating your fingers in the emotion that seeped from his aura before in a melting pot of bliss and pleasure that pricks his eyes with tears. you bring a hand to the back of his head, holding him against your shoulder as he fights the tears in his eyes and his breath that can't keep still.

to you, kazutora is your treasure, and moments like these are the bits you hid from the outside world, desperate to keep them safe and sacred to you and only you. with this pattern of emotional exchange and vulnerability you had created within the comfort of your safety, kazutora felt as if he could finally allow himself to be loved once again, and was reflected in each tear that welled in his eyes and soaked the ropes that bound your love to his body, mind, and soul in an infinite loop between you.

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If you overlook his obnoxious behavior and the annoying laughter that seemed to get stuck in your brain like gum, he is an attractive guy. That much you're ready to admit.

That does not change, however, that both of you should be working on preparing your presentation. Oh, how you wish you'd been paired with Suguru or Shoko. Both of them liked to finish assignments as soon as they could.

You just wish your current team partner had the same sense of obligation as your friends.

"He probably got hounded by the girls in his afternoon course. It's Valentine's Day, after all, there's bound to be some people who want to give him some chocolate," you hear Suguru explain on the other line.

"Well, there'll always be people who will be misled by good looks. I'll start working on his part of the presentation then. Goodbye, you two!”

After bidding them goodbye, you hang up. Putting your phone down onto the table, next to the snacks you had prepared, you sigh. You even went through the trouble of buying some snacks during your break, even though you’re usually hostile towards the guy.

It wasn’t like you hated the man - quite the opposite, really. You just didn’t know how to deal with his over-the-top behavior sometimes. He’s fun to be around for sure, but his overly friendly behavior and the way he seems to like to tease you a touch too much always leaves you feeling on edge.

Unsure.

Before you get the chance to dwell on it too much, the door to the empty study room opens and your attention snaps towards it.

There he is. His hair is disheveled, his backpack is haphazardly thrown over his shoulder, barely hanging onto his frame and he seems out of breath. He must have hurried here, after remembering that you had planned to meet up. Typical.

“I’m here now! Sorry, for being late, it’s just that the girls managed to corner me and -” Satoru begins to ramble, as he carelessly drops his backpack onto the ground next to the table, plopping down onto a chair next to yours in a way that’s far from being elegant.

You zone out, not interested in the slightest to hear about his flirty ways of ensuring his fellow students’ sympathies. Of course, he’d be gifted lots of things on Valentine’s Day. You shouldn’t care and yet you find yourself worrying a bit too much about it for the whole ordeal to be nothing worth mentioning.

He’s a friend, nothing more. Someone to laugh with, but also someone who makes it easy to laugh at him. As much as he makes you break out in a fit of giggles, he also tends to aggravate you until you see red. That is just who Satoru is - someone who regularly overwhelms you, emotionally.

Are you jealous of the attention he’s getting? While he is your friend in a sense, you also see him as some sort of rival. Whenever his grades or his performance in class, in general, surpass yours, you find yourself feeling competitive.

Yes, this surely must be it. It irks you to see him succeed in a field you’re not capable of competing at all. He must have filled his bag to the brim with chocolate from his many admirers.

Meanwhile, yours is only filled with the regular stationery every student carries around, and one single package of Valentine’s chocolate. You made it yourself and there’s a name on it, written in a careful and meticulous manner, but that didn’t matter anymore.

Suddenly there’s a hand in front of your face and you snap out of your pessimistic cycle of thoughts, regarding the man beside you with a silent glare that barely holds any malice.

“You good?” he asks and it’s easy to see that he’s suppressing a grin.

“Yes, I am fine. Just tired, because I had to deal with this on my own for quite a while, while you were out there, frolicking with your lovers,” comes your unimpressed answer, before you grab your papers to bury yourself in your work again.

A hand on your knee stops you from this.

Looking up at him, you’re met with his mischievous expression, “Are you jealous? Is that what’s gotten your panties in a twist?”

Heat rushes into your cheeks at the accusation and you feel dizzy with him being so close. “Jealous? Why would I be? Keep on dreaming,” you deny, trying to turn away, but his hold on your leg is firm, heavy.

He leans onto the desk, effectively caging you in even further. His thumb starts to rub over the skin right above your knee and you shiver. That part of your body isn’t covered by the uniform and the feeling of his fingers against your bare skin shoots a tingling sensation up your spine.

“This is clearly not about the project, sweetheart. I know you. You get mad at me when I slack off, not quiet and thoughtful like this,” he thinks out loud, “Unless… Did some asshole give you a present for Valentine’s? You thinkin’ about some other man while I’m here?”

Now, this accusation is even more stupid and a huff of an empty laugh leaves your lips, “What is it to you?”

He regards you with a piercing look over the rim of those sunglasses he insists on wearing to class, before his arm darts out to grab a hold of your bag. Too quick for you to react.

Leaning back on his chair, he puts your bag on his lap and starts rummaging around inside of it. This isn’t so unusual for him to do, as he always steals your snacks, but with the contents it holds today, you’re quick to stand up and try to take it away from him.

Pushing you back with his legs, he looks dissatisfied when he finds the package of chocolates. Grabbing it, he pulls it out and analyzes it.

“This is pretty girly packaging. Tch - he should’ve gotten you something bigger,” Satoru scolds, an annoyed look on his face. You try to grab a hold of the package in vain, begging him to give it back.

When he hears the desperation in your voice, a hot-white feeling surges up inside the man and he grows even more irritated.

“Who gave this to you? I swear I’ll-” he stops his sentence in the middle of it, pulling down his glasses to check the writing on the package once more.

You’re screwed.

Swiping the chocolates from him while he’s distracted, you quickly grab your bag as well and hide both items behind your back. Your efforts at taking it from him have left you breathless and you’re not sure if the feeling of heat on your face is caused by exertion or embarrassment.

“I didn’t give those chocolates to you,” Satoru announces, a smile threatening to creep onto his face.

“I know you didn’t,” you answer, trying to seem calm and collected, despite the current picture you’re currently displaying. This is the worst, truly. As if the man needs another ego boost.

His arms wrap around your middle, pulling your standing figure against him, as he sits up properly on his chair. One hand grabs a hold of the chocolates and you find yourself dropping your bag, not caring about that anymore.

You brace yourself for a gentle letdown. He might be a cocky bastard, but Satoru is still your friend and he is kind, empathetic, frighteningly so. There’s nothing. Silence.

The man rubs his head against your tummy like an overgrown cat and for some reason you find your hands gravitating towards the disheveled hair on his head. Fixing it for him, your fingers stroke through the soft strands and the pleased hum that leaves his lips causes warmth to pool in your lower stomach.

“You should’ve told me that you had something sweet for me, angel,” he mumbles, grabbing one of your hands and pressing a soft kiss against each one of your fingertips. He’s slow about it, gentle. You shiver.

“So you accept them?”

Instead of answering you, he shoots a glance up at you, before his fingers pinch your sides lovingly.

Standing up, he pulls you close to his body, before pressing his lips against yours. His hand finds its way to the back of your neck, gently tilting your head up towards him, so you can meet him in the middle.

He tastes sweet, like the candy he always steals from you and his arms around you are strong, steady - familiar, even though you’re experiencing this kind of embrace of his for the first time.

When his lips part from yours you find yourself following him subconsciously and he laughs, sounding a bit breathless.

“I didn’t accept any gifts from anyone else. I was hoping you’d have something for me,” he admits and the confession causes a smile to creep up onto your face. At the sight of it, he perks up, before he presses a purposefully loud kiss on your cheek, “There she is! You look the prettiest when you smile for me.”

This causes you to chuckle and shake your head, wrapping your arms around his middle as he pulls you into a hug, resting his chin on top of your head and rocking the both of you from side to side as he hums a happy tune.

“How about we go to my place and I get to taste those chocolates and maybe something else that might be even sweeter?” Satoru proposes, the innuendo clear in his words.

A jab into his side is the first part of your answer and you delight in the way he recoils at the action. Straightening up, you explain, “We still need to finish your part of the project.”

“Actually… I already finished that yesterday. I just wanted an excuse to meet up with you on Valentine’s Day.”

There’s a moment of silence. You look up at him, an exasperated look flashing in your eyes at the cheeky grin he shoots you.

“I’ll eat the chocolate myself.”