Kells / Angel

personally, he found it stupid to willingly do something that harms your body in such a way. obviously he's used to the smell of it — Enjin always has a smoke in his mouth, that is — but he made sure he never inhaled much of the smoke left behind him.

he had never really had any overbearing urge to try smoking . . . until you appeared in his life.

wether he liked it or not he's fallen for you, despite the differences between you two. you weren't nearly as proper as zanka was but despite that he felt strangely drawn to you. he didn't mind the smoke surrounding you at all times, didn't mind how he smelled of it himself after another night spent talking in your room, just existing with you.

he had promised himself to never actually smoke though . . . he couldn't risk getting addicted and ruining his lungs, it would fuck with his stamina after all. you only laughed at him whenever he'd say stuff like that — it's not like he'd get addicted after one cigarette — but you respected his decision without further explanation.

it's just a cigarette, after all. thats what zanka told himself . . . even when he started to crave the smell of it when you weren't with him. or when he eyes it between your fingers when you sat by your window, making sure only a minimal amount of smoke got into your room.

it was only a matter of time before he really, really wanted to try one himself. it was like you said — no way he'd get addicted from just one cigarette!

it wouldn't hurt to try . . . except it really fucking hurt, his throat especially.

zanka coughed roughly at the burn, trying his hardest to keep the smoke in his mouth to not embarrass himself, just to fail horribly.

this was awful! how could you enjoy this? he looked up at you as he stopped coughing his lungs out, eyes slightly teary from it all.

'how do you even like this!' his voice was anything but amused, and you couldn't help to giggle at his question.

'i take you didn't' you answer, almost smugly as you put a hand on his cheek. to be fair, this was nice and it tasted kinda good — zanka could admit that.

but he'd much rather sit on the edge of your bed and just watch you do this . . . not be stupid enough to try smoking himself.

'you shouldn't smoke if you don't want too' you shrug, leaning in closer to put your forehead against zankas. the slight burn in his chest and being this close to his girlfriend made zankas mind cloudy, focused on not embarrassing himself further.

yet despite his attempts to seem completely cool, he frowned slightly at your words. 'it's not . . . i was just a bit surprised, that's all'

it didn't seem like you took him seriously, not by the way you smiled bigger after he tried making up an excuse for coughing.

'that's all?' you looked at him so sweetly, he could barely think like this. it wasn't fair how easily you could throw his nonchalant persona out the window just by smiling!

zanka huffed, rolling his eyes, and only got another giggle in reply. before he got another word in you took the cigarette from his fingers, leaning back the slightest bit to take a drag.

he sighs, opening his mouth to defend his pride yet again. 'it didn't affect me that bad, i can try–'

he didn't get another word out before your mouth was on his, an open mouthed kiss between you two. his first kiss ever, stolen by his girlfriend. (or, well, he didn't exactly mind that it was you, nor that you did it unprompted)

it even took him a couple of seconds to realise you were pushing smoke into his mouth, until he couldn't hold back another cough.

he pulled away, coughing into his elbow — only this time he had the taste of you on his lips, blending together with the cigarette smoke.

he didn't even feel embarrassed this time . . . just flustered.

and like he needed a bit more help to properly inhale the smoke, hopefully with more kissing involved.

“Leave me alone, Yuta!” you shout through the wood.

“I can’t, just—please open the door, we can talk about this.”

You roll your eyes. “Why? So you can say you were just protecting me?”

“I—I know you said you don’t like when I–”

“So how do you not get it?”

“I just—I can’t—”

You stick your finger at the door like you’re telling him off to his face. “I’m fucking trying to prove myself in this tournament and every time I was alone with someone you swooped in and beat the shit out of them. I ended the day with zero points, Yuta.” You hit the door with an open palm.

Yuta grapples for the right thing to say. “I understand that that’s frustrating and I—”

“No, you don’t understand,” you tell him. You turn away from the door and take a deep breath. “You’re already a special grade. You don’t have to prove yourself anymore.” You lean your head back on the door.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get in the way. It’s my fault. I just—I can’t handle it when you get hurt.” His voice cracks.

You don’t know what to say. You understand where he’s coming from; you would hate to see him get hurt too. At the same time, you’re a jujutsu sorcerer, and you need to risk your body if you’re going to have any case for being promoted to a grade two. You press your lips together and shift your weight.

“I’m really sorry,” he says. There’s a muffled, choked noise from behind the door. You turn towards the sound. Is he…crying?

You push your ear to the door. Yuta continues, “I’ll do anything to make it up to you. I don’t want you”—the words are cut off with what you’re now certain is a sob—“to be mad at me anymore.”

You rest your hand on the knob. Then you turn it and pull the door open.

Yuta brings his gaze up from the ground. His puppy-dog eyes are glossy and the corners of his mouth are pulled down into a quivering frown.

“Yuta…”

He falls to his knees before you. “Please forgive me,” he says, hanging his head.

Your eyes widen. “Yuta, get up,” you urge, “Yuta!”

“I can’t. I need you to know how sorry I am,” he says. He leans forward, now fully prostrating himself at your feet.

You can’t believe this is happening. A special grade sorcerer, one powerful enough to rival Satoru Gojo, is down on his knees with tears in his eyes, begging for your forgiveness.

The way he’s yielding himself completely and utterly to your will stirs a confusing churn of emotion in your stomach—anger, regret, and, strangely, desire. This pathetic display from such a strong man must’ve lit a fire deep within you; its warmth is streaming up your sides.

“Look up at me,” you say, breathless.

He does, a fresh new tear rolling down his cheek.

You reach your hand out to cup his chin, marveling at the flush the emotion has brought to his face. He looks so pretty right now.

His hand encircles your wrist. “I’m really, really sorry,” he says, moving your hand up so he can place a gentle kiss on it.

“So you’ve said,” you respond, “Do you mean it?”

“Yes.” His hand tightens around yours. “Please, I’ll do anything to prove it to you.”

You release yourself from his grip and walk into your room. “Stand up and come inside.”

After a slight hesitation, he follows you in. You keep your back to him as you toss your uniform top onto your desk chair, leaving you in your sports bra.

You watch Yuta’s eyes run over your exposed back. He can’t pull his gaze away when he asks, “What…what are you doing?”

“Nothing we haven’t done before.” You smile. “Close the door, Yuta.”

“O-okay.” He takes a step back, creaking the door shut. He reaches his hand to the knob before stopping himself, looking to you for permission.

“And lock it,” you confirm.

When he does, you turn to him, allowing him to see the front of you without a top. His shocked, tear-stained face is so cute.

“Take off my pants, Yuta,” you say. He looks into your eyes, trying to figure out what he’s missing in this scenario. It doesn’t make sense, you were just so angry. It doesn’t make sense to you either, but all you know is that when he gets down on one knee to unzip your uniform pants, desire thuds through your bloodstream.

You step out of the pants and, now in your underwear, sit on the edge of the bed. Yuta’s still kneeling on the floor, waiting for your next direction.

You push yourself back so you’re leaning against the wall alongside your bed. “Come sit with me,” you say, patting the space next to you.

He stands, hovering over the edge of the bed. “Is this…this is what you want?”

“I want you to listen to me,” you say, tilting your head.

He nods quickly and clumsily loads himself onto the bed next to you. You smile, indulging in his bewilderment as you straddle yourself over his lap.

He’s stiff in the new position, so you run your fingers over his triceps and, at the bend of his elbow, begin lifting his forearms up, settling his hands on your waist. Then your hands go to his face, soothing him with soft strokes along his skin, wiping away tear streaks.

“So much better,” you hum.

“I–I hope so,” he says with a nervous smile, “You’re so–you’re so warm.”

“Uh huh,” you say, pushing a strand of black hair from his face. You feel it too, all the blood rushing through your core, and now it’s starting to throb.

“Y’know,”—you move closer and the flush on his face deepens—“I think it’s been way too long since you last went down on me, Yuta.”

“It’s only been—”

You put a finger over his lips and he stops. “Good,” you say, replacing your finger with your thumb, stroking his soft bottom lip. “You want to make it up to me?”

His hands tighten around your waist. “Yes, please, anything.”

“Then see this as a chance to make it up to me, ‘kay?”

Thankfully, he gets the message, moving his face forward and pressing his lips to yours. You hum, satisfied, and tilt your head further to the side, returning his kiss.

Your hands crawl up from his face and rake through his dark hair, earning you a sound that’s muffled by your lips. You take the opportunity to deepen this kiss, putting one hand to his jaw and licking your tongue into his mouth. Yuta melts into it, circling his arms around your back and pulling your chest into his.

“Fuck, Yuta,” you say into his mouth before he pushes his tongue into yours. You let him in, indulging in the hot, open-mouthed kisses he is tipping your head back for. He’s never kissed so intensely, always acting with restraint, like he was going to hurt you. You reward his efforts by grinding down into his lap, feeling the erection pushing through his pants more fully.

You gasp as he lifts you up and flips you so your back is pressed into the mattress.

“Yuta!” you laugh before he kisses you again.

“Wanna do a good job for you,” he says in between licks and kisses, “Wanna earn your forgiveness.”

He moves to your neck, fully aware of your weak spots. You tip your head back and he tucks himself in, his warm breath brushing against your skin as he kisses it.

Your hips angle up and into him. “Fuck, that feels good,” you mumble, eyes fluttering shut. He whines into your neck and doubles his efforts, licking and sucking along the side of it, savoring every reaction he gets out of you.

You squirm underneath him, the electric sensation of his lips on your throat making you burn up with desire. Yuta shifts his weight further onto you, pinning you in place with his heavy body.

His free hand runs along the inside of your thigh, awakening the nerves along the skin. You drop your legs further open, allowing his hand closer to your heat. He presses two fingers to your wet panties and whines into your mouth.

“You’re already so…” He runs his fingers over the dampened fabric, brushing over the outline of your vulva in the underwear.

“Take them off,” you say, pushing your hips upwards so Yuta can pull the panties down off of your legs. His eyes widen at the unobstructed view of you.

“Wow,” he breathes before reaching forward and running his index and pointer finger along your warm folds. You sigh at the gentle touch.

“You’re so…” he gasps, “so perfect.” He looks down at the slick gathered on his two fingers. “I want to show you I deserve it.” His eyes flick up to you. “I’m going to do my best, okay?”

You chuckle; it’s something he’d say before sparring, but your amusement is extinguished the moment he settles between your legs. His hot breath fans over your glistening mess. Your hips shift, even just a subtle sensation has your nerves alight. Then he licks into you, warm and wet.

Your eyebrows knit together. The pleasure is gentle, soothing, like it usually is. You hum, relaxing back onto the mattress and into your body, focusing on the buzz and tingle from each one of his licks.

Yuta runs his palms up and down the inside of your open thighs, squeezing and pressing his fingers into the flesh. “You taste so good, feel so good,” he says.

You moan back as he moves his attention to your clit, licking and sucking on it. Your knees bend at the direct stimulation and your hole begins to pulse, desperate for attention.

“I–,” he mumbles into you, before a long drag of his tongue up your vulva, “Can I…”

“Speak up, Yuta,” you say, with heavy breath.

His right hand moves from your thigh closer to his mouth. “Can I add a finger too? I know you like it when I do.”

“That would be perfect,” you respond. So he does listen sometimes.

Yuta pulls the cuff of his sleeve up to elbow, unveiling the lean muscle of his forearm. Then he brings his hand in between your legs, circling the entrance of your vagina with his pointer finger. Your hole clenches, impatient, but he doesn’t make you wait long, pushing the tip of his finger past the ring of muscle.

“Mm–yeah–” you say.

He gently begins to work himself deeper into you, your muscles accommodating his strong finger until he’s fully seated inside. The added pressure makes you sigh in delight. Then, he starts moving, slowly pumping his finger all the way in, and then all the way out of you. After a few thrusts, he adds a slight curl to the movement, grazing your g-spot. It’s nice, but, like all the other times, the snail-pace in which he’s moving constructs a ceiling to your pleasure.

“Is this okay?” he asks, kissing your inner thigh.

“It’s okay, Yuta,” you say, closing your eyes, “I need you to go a little harder for me though, remember?”

He slows his movements even more. “I just–it won’t hurt, right? I know I don’t look strong but–”

“Yuta, it’s okay. I’ll tell you if it does.”

He’s still for a moment, but then his left hand goes to your hip, holding onto you before he resumes thrusting, pushing in faster and deeper now. You part your lips, adjusting. His fingertips are hitting at a new depth, stimulating your g-spot and at a pace where each pound of pleasure builds on top of the one previous.

“There you go,” you say, hands grabbing into your sheets, searching for stability.

You can feel his gaze on you, scanning for any discomfort. “This is good?” he asks, meek.

You nod your head into the mattress. “Uh huh,” you say, “So good, Yuta. You’re such a good listener.”

Yuta shudders. Hearing you speak nicely to him is doing a lot more after you being so upset with him.

“Can you curl your finger too?” you ask, voice shaky, “Like before?”

“Okay, how’s this?”

Now his finger isn’t brushing against your g-spot, it’s directly pressing into it with every thrust of his hand. The change has your jaw going slack, labored breaths being pushed from your lungs with each rock of your body.

“Does it feel good?” Yuta asks, his gaze fixated on you. His lips are parted and a deep red flush is warming his cheeks and nose.

“Yes, Yuta,” you gasp, twisting the sheets in your grip. He’s doing so well at following directions that it gives you the confidence to ask: “Can you add one more?”

There’s much less pushback about how he could accidentally hurt you and how you're so delicate and this and that. This time, he’s entirely quiet aside from his breathing, which has gotten heavier. He slips his index finger in and watches you react to the stretch. Your eyebrows push together and your back comes up off the mattress.

Giving you little time to adjust, Yuta begins to pump both fingers. “You look so–”

Your moan cuts him off as you throw your head back. He’s never used two fingers, let alone at this pace. And entirely uncharacteristicly, he chooses to add to the overwhelm by dipping his head back down and licking your clit. You whine his name and try to close your legs, to force out the double stimulation, but, for the first time, he resists you, holding you in place.

“Ahh—”

Yuta whimpers into your mound. “It feels so good to see you like this,” he says. Then his mouth returns to your folds, licking and sucking on the wet mess.

You rake your hand down your chest until you find his hair, knitting your fingers through it. He groans at the sensation of your fingernails on his scalp.

“Just like that,” you say, eyes pressed shut. You’re holding onto his hair and the sheets for dear life, each pump of his fingers is pushing pleasure all throughout your core.

A fierce orgasm is building up within you. It grows stronger with every command Yuta’s touch issues on your muscles and flesh.

“Ahh–oh my god–it’s so much–too much.” You tighten your hold on his hair.

“Please don’t make me stop,” he says, maintaining the same, now devastating pace. “You promised you could take this.”

“I can, I can,” you respond, crinkling your eyes shut, “I’m just gonna–”

“I need you to know how special you are to me,” Yuta says between licks, “I want to make you feel so good you can’t think of anything else.”

“Ohmygod Yuta,” you cry out. Your whole body is tense, being flooded by pleasure as he slams in and out of you. “Just a little more and I’ll–”

“Please,” he moans, “I want it so bad, please come for me.”

He circles his tongue around your clit, licking and pressing on it harder than he ever has before. The pressure is frighteningly pleasureable, it’s only a matter of time until–

“Fuck,” you get out, your orgasm rolling into you like a ten foot wave. Your canal contracts violently around Yuta’s fingers, each clench sending pleasure shooting through your body.

Your breaths are loud, catching every time another one of Yuta’s thrusts pushes through your body. You call out his name, over and over, and he melts underneath you, licking and sucking your clit until your orgasm resolves.

“Ahh, oh my–I–” You can’t get the words out, chest heaving and hormones crashing through you. Your body goes weak, flattening you out on the mattress.

Yuta sits up and slowly pulls his fingers out of you. Copious amounts of slick pour out after his fingers. He sucks them clean before moving to the side of you, encircling his arms around you and leaning your head into his chest.

You try to catch your breath and come back to reality as he cradles you. There’s so much running through your head that you can’t yet make sense of.

“Yuta, that—” you try, but it’s too much energy to finish the sentence. You’ve been running around all day in the sister tournament, and now you’re on the other side of the most intense orgasm Yuta’s ever given you.

Your eyelids lower and there’s little you can do to stop them. But before you fall asleep, you make sure to get out: “I forgive you, Yuta.”

Yuta smooths the hair on top of your head. “Thank you.”