After another minute of grumbling, you take your phone out to text your best friend Gina, who should be off her shift by now. 

You: I need a fucking drink.

Gina: highballs at Kanpai?

You: YES

Gina: I’ll pick you up in 15

The Kanpai Cocktail Bar is your favorite downtown. That’s where you first met Gina, who was a bartender there at the time. After she left to work for another establishment, the two of you still frequent Kanpai, the perfect spot for tasty drinks and entertainment, mainly in the form of people-watching. 

However, this past semester, your trips there have lessened significantly, too preoccupied with this goddamn thesis. You need a well-deserved break, something to fuel you for the next two days before you click submit. 

You quickly get ready, throwing on a blouse and a pair of jeans. Once you receive Gina’s text, stating her arrival, you swing a tiny purse over your shoulder and head outside, greeting her with a hug. 

“Did you finish your thesis?” she asks, linking arms with you, starting the walk to the train station. 

“For the most part.”

“Good. We can get drunk tonight,” she says, a devious grin on her face.

“Not too drunk, I still have some work to do. I just need to take the edge off.”

“Fine. We’ll get buzzed, maybe find some cute guys to dance with, and call it a night. Deal?”

“Deal,” you agree, unsure about the cute guys part. It’s been a while since you last danced with, or even encountered, a man. With your priority being this paper, you haven’t had time to date or hook up with anyone. You predict that tonight will be no different. 

Five stops and you’re downtown, strolling towards Kanpai, which is already packed. Luckily, you find a table and flag a waiter down to place your order. Minutes later, they deliver the first round of cocktails and a plate of fried chicken karaage. You and Gina cheers, feeling relaxed for the first time in months. Halfway through your drink, you notice Gina eyeing something, or someone, in the distance. 

“What are you staring at?”

“There’s this really hot guy at the bar. Like, really hot. I’ve never seen anyone like him before.”

You turn to the direction she’s looking at, immediately knowing who she’s referring to. He’s tall, well-built, with strikingly white hair, almost blinding in the dim lighting of the room. The most intriguing thing about him is the black blindfold around his eyes, and a naughty smirk on his face. Leave it to Gina to spot an attractive man instantly; she’s always had excellent radar for that.

“I’m going to invite him to our table,” she announces, sliding out of her chair to stand up.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. He’s hot. And we have space.”

She’s right; there’s two empty chairs, one beside the both of you. There’s no reason why she shouldn’t invite him, so you don’t question it any further, watching from your peripheral as she heads towards the bar, leaving you momentarily alone to sip on your highball. 

You’re almost completely finished with your cocktail when you hear the distinct click of Gina’s heel’s approaching. Craning your neck to face them, you’re surprised to find not two people, but three, standing next to the table. Another man, a tad shorter, similarly well-built, blonde hair, and dressed in a tan business suit. His eyes are also covered with spectacles that resemble steampunk glasses. The spotted tie he wears is interesting, adding a splash of pizazz to the otherwise normal outfit. 

You greet them, introducing yourself. Gojo, the one with white hair, happily shakes your hand while his friend, Nanami, maintains a stern expression. They take their seats in the chairs next to you and Gina, Gojo on her side, Nanami on yours. 

“Should we order another round of drinks?” Gina suggests, glancing around to catch the waiter. 

“Sure! But I’ll have a Shirley Temple. I don’t drink alcohol.”

“You’re at a bar, but you don’t drink?”

“I don’t; he does,” he answers, pointing his thumb across at Nanami. He simply grunts in response.

“What’s your drink of choice?” you ask, tilting your head to face him.

“Sake,” he states, focused on the center of the table avoiding anyone’s gaze. He’s cold, standoffish, and stoic. The type of person you’d typically avoid. 

“Should we order sake then?” Gina suggests. “And a mocktail for you, Gojo,” she adds, nudging him flirtatiously. 

“I’ll have a little bit,” you say. “I have to finish my thesis, remember?”

“Are you a student?” Gojo inquires, leaning forward, elbows propped up, chin in his palms.

“Grad student. I’m almost done, thankfully.”

“Good for you! This round will be on us then, right Nanamin?” 

He shrugs silently, gaze unmoving. What an odd fellow. He’s showing absolutely no interest in socializing, which you don’t entirely blame him for. Maybe he was dragged here beyond his own will. He’s opposite of Gojo, who oozes charisma from every crevice. You can’t expect him to match that type of chaotic energy. 

Gojo fetches the waiter, ordering sake and his virgin drink. Him and Gina chat amongst themselves, no doubt flirting excessively. You sit next to Nanami in silence, slurping on whatever liquid remains in your glass, basically water from the melting ice. You want to pull your phone out to have something to distract you, but your neighbor continues to stare at the table, frozen in place, not speaking. Hands tucked neatly in front of him. 

You attempt small talk once more, gradually losing hope that this will lead anywhere. “What do you do for work, Nanami?”

“I’m a salaryman.”

“Is Gojo a salaryman, too?”

“No.”

“How do you two know each other?”

“From high school.”

“Neat.” You glance around the room, wishing the alcohol would arrive sooner. His answers are curt, as if you’re pestering him. Even behind the steampunk glasses, you can tell he’s uncomfortable. He clearly doesn’t want to be here. 

You tune out whatever Gina and Gojo are discussing, not wanting to eavesdrop on their privacy, remaining silent as you twiddle your thumbs beneath the table. The drinks arrive, which you’re ecstatic about. Gojo smiles as he sips on his mocktail. Gina does the honors and pours the cold sake into each small glass, passing it to you and Nanami. With a cheers, you each down your shots, refreshing and bitter down your throat. 

“So, do you ladies have any single friends you can set Nanamin up with?” Gojo asks. 

Beside you, Nanami tenses up. “Gojo, I don’t want –”

“Don’t worry, buddy! We’ll find you a nice girl! Nanamin here is so shy, poor guy needs a lot of help when it comes to the ladies – ”

“Gojo,” he warns, sterner this time, Gina unable to contain her giggling. 

“He’s an attractive guy, right? If it weren’t for the stick up his ass, he’d for sure be a catch.” Gojo smirks, finishing the rest of his drink. 

Gina elbows him, grinning. “Don’t be so mean to your friend. Not everyone has to be in a relationship. She’s never been in one and she’s totally fine.” She points at you, much to your dismay. 

You’re reminded how loose Gina’s lips get whenever she indulges in alcohol. While it’s nothing to be ashamed about, you still feel heat rush into your cheeks from embarrassment, having a personal fact about yourself revealed so casually in front of two strangers. “I’ve never had time for a relationship,” you explain. “Been too busy with school.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with being single! I’m just trying to help this poor guy out, he’s always complaining to me how lonely he is, but he never puts himself out there!”

The table rattles suddenly and Gojo yelps. “Ouch! Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” Nanami has his arms crossed tight over his chest, foot flat on the floor after kicking his friend in the shin. 

Rubbing his leg, Gojo changes the subject, talking about his latest travels somewhere, to which Gina is absolutely enthralled by. You listen passively, swirling your fingers around the ring of the glass. It’s getting late and you should head back to your apartment soon, knowing your thesis is stuck in your laptop, waiting to be submitted. You don’t want to leave until Gina is done working her magic on her new friend, so you wait, not bothering to converse with the guy next to you. He seems equally as unenthused as you do, now tapping one of his feet impatiently. 

Gojo eventually calls the waiter to pay the bill. After giving him your thanks, the four of you walk out of the bar together, ready to say your farewells. Or so you think. Once outside, Gojo and Gina look at you with guilt on their faces. You’ve known your friend long enough to predict where this is going. 

“So, Gojo and I are actually going to hang out a bit longer.”

He wraps his arm around her shoulders, smirking. “Yeah, Nanami and I have a room at the hotel across the street. I want to give Gina an exclusive tour. We should be done in about an hour or so.”

Nanami makes a strangled noise in his throat, clearly distraught. He can’t formulate a sentence, so you do it instead. “What are you really trying to tell us?”

“Well,” Gina starts. “We thought that since the two of us are hanging out, then the two of you can hang out somewhere else. Just until we’re done. With the tour.”

You roll your eyes, annoyed by the euphemisms, more irritated by the fact that you’re being temporarily stranded out here with someone who wants nothing to do with you.

“Please keep my dear friend company. I promise, we won’t take too long. But definitely not too short either,” he adds under his breath, him and Gina giggling like naughty schoolchildren. 

Nanami is still stunned, probably shocked that his friend would dump him like this. Before he can formulate a response, Gojo and Gina turn their backs, walking in the direction of the hotel. “Have fun! I know we will! We’ll call you when we’re done!” Gojo yells out, waving. Gina blows you a kiss before holding hands with him, leaving you two dumbfounded.

You stand beside Nanami in silence, unsure where to go from here. You’re familiar with this location, and you know there is plenty to do at this hour. But you have no clue what this guy likes. Does he like anything?

Clearing your throat, you say, “Well, I guess we have to kill time somewhere.”

He does the same, coughing into his forearm. “I suppose we have no choice.” 

“There’s a nearby bakery that’s always open late. Do you want to check that out?”

Focused on his shoes, he shrugs. That’s a good enough answer for you. 

You start heading down the familiar street, the shop being only two blocks away from the bar. The two of you walk in silence, Nanami trailing behind you, arms swinging slightly at his sides while you have your hands placed in your pockets. When you arrive to the bakery, you notice one of the workers you’re acquainted with, Susie, waving from the counter. You return her greeting with a warm smile.

Nanami seems intrigued, browsing through the assortment of baked goods. He reads each label carefully, head moving up, down, side to side, inspecting each pastry intently. “Their bread is amazing here,” you comment. “Perfect for sandwiches.”

He hums in response, leaning closer to the loaves of sourdough on display. This is the first you’ve seen him with a more relaxed expression on his face. Without the scowl, he actually seems friendly and approachable.

“The croissants are also really good. My favorites are chocolate and almond,” you suggest, pointing through the glass. 

To your surprise, Nanami ends up buying the chocolate one, per your recommendation. Susie, always a cheery smile plastered on her face, rings him up. She eyes you playfully, brow raised, but doesn’t say anything. When it’s your turn, you order two hot coffees, a spur of the moment decision. You have no idea how long you’re going to be stranded out here, so a nice pick-me-up wouldn’t hurt. You explain, “Coffee and croissants go perfectly together, don’t you think?” He looks at you, confused, then shrugs, walking away to find an empty table. 

Susie passes you the coffees, as well as creamer and a few packs of sugar. “Hot date tonight?” she asks quietly, a sly smirk on her face.

“No. We’re just stuck together for the next hour or so.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind being stuck with a fine man like that,” she winks. “Have fun the rest of the night. Also, here.” She opens a small brown bag and sneaks an almond croissant inside. “On the house. You both should enjoy a tasty treat together.” She gathers all of your goods on a tray and slides it towards you, grinning. 

Nanami is seated in a corner of the shop, hands placed neatly on the surface, one on top of the other. When you arrive, you set the tray down, sitting in the chair across from him. “Here’s some cream and sugar for your coffee, in case you want any.”

He nods in acknowledgment, removing the lid to pour in two creams, two sugars. You do the same. He remains silent, brows in a tight knit, concentrating on stirring his coffee. It’s almost endearing the way he’s so focused on the most mundane tasks. Grabbing a napkin, you take your croissant out, ready to bite into it. Before you do, you offer, “Would you like to try some of this?”

Behind his specs, you can see surprise in his expression. He clears his throat, muttering, “Sure.” He takes his chocolate croissant out and begins to tear it in half. “We can split both of them and share.”

You grin. “Good idea.” His lips twitch, as if he wants to smile. 

You trade halves, first taking a bite into the chocolate before sipping on your coffee. You let out a satisfied, “Yum!”

This time, there’s no mistaking it; he does smile. “That’s a good sign,” he comments.

“I’ve had this plenty of times, but it’s always so good.”

He removes his glasses and folds them neatly into his breast pocket. You have a clear view of his eyes now, which are much kinder than you expect. He takes a bite, then smirks, wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin. 

“Well?”

“You’re right. This is definitely deserving of a yum.” The corner of his eyes crinkle. It feels like you’re finally getting through to him.

“See? I told you it’s good!” you say, moving to the almond croissant.

“If I knew you wanted one, I would have bought both of them for us.”

“Susie actually gave this to me on the house, so it all worked out.”

With a brow raised, he asks, “Do people usually give you delicious pastries for free?”

You laugh. “Ha, I wish. Just here. We’re friends.”

“That must be nice.” He nibbles on the rest of it, sips of coffee in between. 

“Why are you talking to me all of a sudden?” Maybe it’s the sudden rush of caffeine surging through your body that makes you decide to be bold and ask him straight up.

He’s caught off guard by your bluntness, clearing his throat nervously. “I wasn’t really in the mood to be social earlier this evening.”

“But you are now?” You rest your elbow on the table, hand tucked under your chin, studying him. 

He chuckles softly, wiping the other corner of his mouth with a new napkin. “I guess so. The croissants and coffee help.”

“So the way to your heart is through your stomach? Good to know,” you tease him, smirking.

“Is that something you’re interested in? Winning my heart?” He gives you a small grin as he meets your gaze. 

There’s a flutter in your belly, a skip in your heartbeat. It’s obvious he’s an attractive man; you were focused so much on his off-putting demeanor, you didn’t really think about it until now. Cheeks warm, you respond, “I’m trying to get to know you. We’re stuck with each other for tonight, might as well be friends.”

He nods, agreeing. It’s one night. All you’re doing is killing time together while you wait for your friends to finish their little rendezvous. The chances of ever seeing each other again after this are unlikely. Might as well make the most out of it.

The two of your finish your pastries in a comfortable silence. Only half an hour passes, and still no word from either of your friends. Suddenly, you remember that on Friday nights, street food vendors set up shop down the block from your current location. “Nanami, do you like street food?”

He meets your eyes again, smiling. “Absolutely.”

~~~

Nanami was desperate for a drink tonight. 

Him and Gojo are out of town, having completed a strenuous week of exorcising curses from several areas of this city. All he wanted was to consume alcohol, enough to get a good buzz going, then eat a late-night snack before heading to bed. He didn’t expect to find himself at a street food festival with a total stranger, having been rudely abandoned by Gojo. Though, he doesn’t mind his current situation. Anything involving food is something he always delights in. And the company isn’t so bad either. She’s actually quite nice. 

Nanami doesn’t like opening up to people. Ever since he went back into Jujutsu Sorcery, he made a promise to himself to never date, not wanting to subject any potential spouses to the horrors of the world he lives in. He keeps himself closed off on purpose, especially to strangers. It’s easier this way. Sure, it comes off rude and cold. And maybe he does get a bit lonely at times. It’s for the best; that’s how he justifies it. 

Yet, somehow, this woman is slipping through the cracks. He finds himself enjoying his time with her as they stroll through the street of food vendors, selling all types of delicacies: meat skewers, noodles, varieties of desserts. They even share a serving of Takoyaki because what kind of street food outing is it without a taste of that? 

They casually exchange bits and pieces about each other: hobbies, interests, favorite foods, the standard. Nanami has to remain especially cryptic about his real profession, a complicated topic to explain to normal civilians. Besides that, their conversations feel natural. Effortless. There’s no need to be closed off, considering they’re doing this for the time-being, until their two friends finish whatever fling they’re partaking in at the hotel. Their time together will end soon, going back to being strangers, never seeing each other again. Maybe that’s why he’s loosened up; all of this will be over as soon as it began. 

After having walked through the vendors once more, they rest at a table off to the side. Nanami finishes off the last piece before tossing the little tray into the trash can. He hasn’t checked his watch since they arrived, occupied with food, and chatting. It’s been about an hour and a half now, still no peep from either Gojo or Gina, though he isn’t anxiously waiting to hear from them. He tries thinking of something else they can do, besides sit here, and watch the clock. 

Before he can start suggesting ideas, she beats him to it. “Nanami, do you like karaoke?”

Again, he smiles at her, similar to earlier at the bakery. Chest swelling with an odd, but pleasant sensation. “Absolutely.”

Minutes later, they’re in a small private room at a karaoke bar, ordering a round of cold sake before the singing starts. She volunteers to go first, choosing a well-known pop hit, not at all embarrassed to belt out any high notes. Her voice isn’t bad, enough to carry a tune and to make Nanami, who is as tone-deaf as they come, not feel ashamed about singing in front of her. Halfway through the song, the sake arrives, and he pours it into the two cups, waiting for her performance to be over before passing her the glass. They cheers, then throw it back. She hands him the mic, teasing, “I expect a breathtaking performance.”

“Prepare yourself for disappointment, then,” he smirks, entering the number on the remote. He picks another popular song, one that he always like to start off with whenever he’s doing karaoke with Gojo and Shoko. In fact, he can’t remember doing karaoke with anyone besides his close friends. This is definitely the first in a while; he doesn’t feel as shy as he thought he would. The strobe lights in the dim space create an atmosphere where Nanami isn’t embarrassed to put on a show. He removes his coat and loosens his tie, to which she whistles playfully at him, causing him to laugh. “Don’t encourage me.”

“Oh I absolutely will encourage you,” she responds, leaning forward for a better view. “I’m so ready for this.”

Maybe it’s the alcohol taking its effect, though it wasn’t much. Or maybe he’s genuinely having a good time. Whatever it is, as soon as the melody kicks, he swings his hips to the beat, barely bothering to read the lyrics on the screen because he already has them memorized. From behind, he hears her clapping to the rhythm, giggling and singing along quietly, hollering when he nails a particularly hard note. 

The marathon continues, sake flowing into their mouths between songs until the bottle is empty and they’re both on their feet, dancing to the music. Mics in hand, they serenade each other, swaying to the upbeat tempo, smiles open wide with glee. Nanami tosses his tie to the couch, unbuttoning his shirt a quarter of the way down, sweat beading on his forehead, body hot from his buzz and merriment. Their playlist ranges from ballads, alternative rock, R&B, even a few classic Disney hits Nanami secretly likes to indulge in. At some point, Nanami offers his hand to twirl her, not letting go as he swings his arms with hers, grooving to the beat. Their fingers interlock, fitted to each other naturally. There’s no second guessing or doubts in his head that he wants to do this with her. It just feels right.

A worker comes in with a cold pitcher of water, informing them they have five more minutes left of their hour. Nanami is surprised how fast that hour flew. He swears they still had more time left. He can’t help feeling disappointed that it’s over; he still had more songs he wanted to sing before the night ended. 

He notices her checking her phone, probably waiting for that text from Gina, hoping that whatever this is ends soon. There’s a tightness in Nanami’s throat, and not from all the singing. He hasn’t bothered to check his phone the entire time they were here, hoping not to see any type of message from Gojo. He realizes in this moment that he doesn’t want this night to end. 

To his surprise, she sets her phone back down on the table, attention at the worker. “Can we book another hour?”

For the third time tonight, Nanami can’t contain his smile.

~~~

To say you’re surprised by this recent development is an understatement. You’re actually shocked that this is the same man you attempted small talk with just a hours earlier, only to be treated with the cold shoulder. Now, he’s spinning you around this small room, disco lights twinkling in each other’s eyes, laughing, carefree and happy. It’s contagious, and you have no choice but to join in on the fun. 

It’s not until there’s five minutes left of your reservation that you remember the reason you’re here in the first place. Checking your phone for any updates from Gina, you almost audibly breathe a sigh of relief, seeing no new messages. On a whim, you request another hour, not wanting this to end yet. You wonder if he feels the same way.

Halfway through your second hour, the two of you finally take a break, letting the preloaded list of songs you selected play in the background. You sit beside each other, closer than you’ve been all night, thighs touching, body heat radiating. From your peripheral, you observe him, watching his throat bob with each gulp of ice-cold water he takes, emptying the remnants into his mouth. Before he catches you, you look away, sipping on your own drink, suddenly nervous to be so near him, despite dancing with him the past hour and a half. 

He chuckles softly. “This was really fun.”

You turn to face him. “It was. You’re quite the performer.”

“I could say the same about you.” He stretches his arm behind you, setting it on the couch. The rolled-up sleeves of his polo graze your neck, making you more flustered. You remind yourself that this is totally normal, not a flirtatious response or anything. Just a guy casually resting his arm behind you, no big deal. 

“I feel like I’m going to lose my voice. But it was worth it,” he mentions. 

You face him again, beaming brightly. There’s an expression on his face you haven’t seen all night, as if he’s getting a proper look at you, studying you like he hasn’t seen you clearly until now. 

“Totally worth it,” you reply. Before you know it, you blurt out, “I don’t want this to end yet.”

At this, he blinks a few times, startled by your statement. “Really?”

You giggle, leaning closer to nudge his arm. “Yeah. Really.”

In an instant, your lips meet, mouths still cool from the ice water. He kisses you gently, both hesitant and sure of himself. He breaks away to ask, “Is this okay?”

You nod, sliding your hands to his nape to close the distance again. His arm slips behind your waist, hand gripped loosely on your hip, pulling you in, kisses getting sloppier. Tongues pushing past lips to swirl around each other. 

You can blame this hasty decision on the alcohol, but that wouldn’t be accurate. You’re tipsy at best, and you would bet money that he’s in the same state as you. This isn’t fueled by sake or by the sappy love song playing in the background. This is pure, unadulterated passion, building up the moment you shared those croissants together in that bakery. 

You giggle into his mouth as you swing your leg over his lap to straddle him. He has both hands on your waist now, peering at you with a naughty expression. “What can you possibly be giggling about right now?”

“I was just thinking about how I was right earlier. The way to your heart is through your stomach. Admit it; you fell for me as soon as I split my croissant with you.”

He pulls you in closer, nuzzling his nose against yours. “Okay, I admit it. You won my heart.”

His grip is tight on you, guiding your hips back and forth on his lap, his lips scattering delicate kisses along your neck, your hands messing up his hair as you run your fingers through it. There’s not enough time to process that this is actually happening. All you want is to feel him on every inch of your skin. His palms glide underneath your blouse, reaching for your bra, squeezing at your breasts. With his mouth now hot on your ear, he whispers, “I want you.”

You’re not thinking properly when you grab the hem of your shirt to hoist it off your body. Before you strip, there’s loud knocking on the door, startling the both of you. 

“We know what you’re doing in there!” a voice yells from the other side. “Cut it out before we call the police!”

Immediately, you remove yourself from him, unsuccessfully ignoring the obvious bulge in his pants. He’s reluctant to take his hands of you, giving your tits another loving fondle before relenting, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. Quickly gathering your belongings, you head towards the door, ready to do the walk of shame. Before you turn the handle, Nanami spins you around, kissing you once more. You melt into his mouth, fists bunching his dress shirt, his heart pounding through his chest. If it weren’t for the threat of the cops being called, you’re certain the two of you would go at it right here in this karaoke room. 

Another angry rap on the door snaps you both back to reality. You slowly exit the room, staring at the tile floor, avoiding eye contact with the disgruntled worker, crossing their arms at you. You pay for the room, then walk outside into the brisk night air. Nanami holds your hand, fingers entwined seamlessly, a perfect fit. 

Despite having spent the last few hours with him, it feels like the beginning of the night. You lean in to kiss him once more, craving his mouth on yours. He places his coat over your shoulders, surrounding you in a snug embrace, resting his chin on the top of your head. You stay like this for what seems like forever until it’s not enough, your phone vibrating in your purse, his ringing in his pocket. Gina’s name is displayed on your screen, and Gojo’s on his. That’s your cue; the final scene of the night. 

The two of you take your time walking back towards where your little adventure first started, holding hands like a couple familiar with each other. At the end of the day, you’re still strangers, one night not enough to establish a relationship. You’re certain neither of you wants this to end, not with the way he touches you, the way he gazes at you. There’s no doubt something’s there. The both of you are cowards, too afraid to admit these intense feelings to someone you hardly know. It’s easier to enjoy it in the moment, letting it fizzle out as midnight approaches, leaving it behind as a fond memory. 

That’s the problem, though. In the short amount of time you’ve spent with him, you’re already sure that you want to make more memories with him. 

In the distance, you spot Gina and Gojo, standing outside the bar, chatting as they await your return. You’re about to call out to them, but Nanami tugs you into the nearest alley, your cheeks between his palms, kissing you deeply. His thumb grazes your skin tenderly, sending a shiver down your spine. He pulls off, breathing staggered, forehead pressed against yours. 

You don’t want to say goodbye; this is what it is, right? Back to the real world. You have a thesis due in less than forty-eight hours, one that you forgot about until now, and Nanami is from out of town, soon to be back to his own life, which doesn’t include you. That’s just the way it is. 

Without a word, you shrug his coat off your shoulders, handing it to him with a gentle smile. He stares at you, wary, accepting it anyways in his hands, hanging it on his forearm neatly. He reaches for your hand, leading you back to the pathway under the streetlights, letting go as soon as you approach your friends.

Seeing you, Gojo yells out, “Hey!”

Gina waves, hair slightly disheveled, a satisfied grin on her face. Gojo asks, “So, did you two have fun tonight? I know we did.” Gina snorts, kicking him lightly at his ankle. 

Nanami clears his throat. “Yes. We had fun.”

Surprised, Gojo replies, “Really? Nanamin actually had fun? I’m in awe!”

Gina looks at you. “Did you have fun?”

“Yes. I had a lot of fun,” you answer. You turn to face Nanami, giving him one last smile. He returns it, nodding slightly. This really is the end of it. 

Your friend links arms with you, announcing, “Well, we should head home now! This girl still has a thesis to finish.” With that, Gina steers you in the direction of train station, waving farewell to the two men. 

~~~

Nanami begrudgingly follows Gojo back to the hotel room. He gives his friend an abridged version of tonight’s festivities, to which Gojo seems thrilled about on his behalf. “You had almost as exciting of a night as I did! Almost. That Gina is a real firecracker.”

He sits at the end of his bed, only now realizing they didn’t even exchange contact info. In the heat of the moment, it didn’t cross his mind, too focused on her soft lips and gentle touch. He leans forward, burying his face in his palms, groaning. “I forgot to ask for her number.”

Gojo chuckles, patting his shoulder. “How can you forget that?”

“Everything happened so fast. We ran out of time.” 

The realization of it hits him hard. This can’t be it; there’s no way it can be. He won’t accept that this is the end of them, not after what happened. He’ll do whatever it takes to see her again. Fuck the vow he made to not date; whatever this is, it’s worth it.

“I don’t know what to do,” Nanami muffles through his hands, defeated.

Gojo sits beside him, massaging his shoulders, something Nanami usually hates, too distressed to shove him away. “Well, my dear friend, lucky for you, I have Gina’s number.” 

At this, Nanami turns to his friend, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. 

With a cocky smirk, Gojo says, “Let’s go get your girl.”

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Tagging @liliorsstuff-blog, another fic of our husband, hope you like it!

When you found yourself away from your boyfriend for work, it wasn't uncommon for you to lull the soft beast to sleep with a stimulating phone call - just to soothe his hard time sleeping without you there; without your soft body next to him. "I'll bet you're tired from work." You whisper into your cellphone for him to hum on the other end. Choso runs a hand along his bare abs. He hangs onto every syllable of every word that passes between your pretty lips - imagines those lips in compromising positions.

How could you ask him something like that though? He freelances from home. His workday is easy enough but yours? He knows you're in and out of meetings all day, has to text you periodically to make sure that you're finding time to eat - to nourish that beautiful body of yours. Take care of yourself baby, he texts you nearly every hour of these business trips. You carry your company on your back, unintentionally deprive yourself basic self care, and still have the audacity to ask him if his day was stressful? You still have enough care at the end of the day to worry about him? He silently wishes that you knew how perfect you were, wishes that you could see yourself the way he sees you.

Choso was worried that a long distance relationship wouldn't work well for him but you make every minute the two of you spend on the phone during your business trips throw all of that worry away. "You're perfect," His gruff voice comes clear through the phone. "You know that?"

His heart warms up at your giggle, hearing the mattress settle beneath you as you fall back on it. You're usually so good at not letting anyone hear you tired and beaten but a soft sigh escapes your mouth when you feel the hotel blankets hit your back, so relieved to have made it through this day. "Let me take care of you tonight." He sits up. "I know you packed it." Your bright pink vibrator that you usually use on yourself after you dirty talk your boyfriend into an orgasm to send him to sleep.

"Come on," He muses, knowing that you're going to do whatever he asks anyway. "Take it out of your little purse and play with it a little." Choso plays with the tight band of his boxers, teasing himself. You obey him, reaching your shaking hand into your bag and pulling the toy out. Your boyfriend seems dead set on being the one to take care of you this time, being the one to give.

You obey him, wanting it just as badly. Choso's lone finger never leaves his boxers. He staves off the desire to dive right in, to rush this. "Slowly." He starts off mostly warning himself to be gentle but finds his voice fast. "Unbutton your blouse slowly." You place the toy next to you in bed and obey your boyfriend, trusting that he knows what to do - now that he's in control.

Your fingers dance their way down the front of your work shirt, polished, professional, on the floor of your hotel room quickly. You shut your eyes and put your phone on speaker, leaving it flat on the duvet as well. "Unhook it." He says, as if he's sitting in the room with you and can see your palms smoothing over the lace of your bra. Your fingers, minds of their own, unsnap the black hooks so quickly that you may have broken one. Choso's sexy voice is heavy on your ears and you can't focus on anything else. It's almost like he's directly in your head.

Your hands stay still, awaiting a new order from your master; being so good and only doing as he says. "Nipples." You groan out as you click them with your index finger, taking the time to lick the finger tips and return to the hardening buds. Choso hears your moans coming from the other end, still committed to not fisting his cock too soon, he settles for palming the heavy erection through the fabric of his boxers. His palm slips gently on the wet patch he's creating, wishes he could be with you and touching your own wet spots. He knows you, you're always so quick to make a little puddle. Sometimes with just a glance of his eyes. He's barely even touched you and you're soaked. Always so easy to rile up.

"Squeeze them." The both of you squeeze yourselves at the same time. Your hands fondle your chest, nails digging into the flesh in sweet pain. Choso's big hands engulf his dick print and pull a moan out of his mouth. The two of you whimper in unison as you play with your hypersensitive bodies, pretending that you're touching each other and not yourselves.

Your boyfriend gets lost to the sensation of his own hands, thinking of yours, and realizes that he could come just like this while listening to you moan into the mic. He doesn't need to wrap his hands around his throbbing cock at all. This is almost enough. You hear him let out a harsh breath and he pulls his hands away from his body. Your entire body is heating up though, your arousal growing with each pinch of your own nipple. "More." You cry out, begging your boyfriend to let you give yourself more. You usually break under his gaze so soon so you let your imagination wander. You let yourself pretend that you're at home with him in your shared bed, letting him feel you up. Soon hands wander down to your wobbling thighs - stopping to pinch at the fat of your tummy. Every touch is the exact way he would do it. It's not long before you realize that you're not even disobeying him. Choso's voice is like honey waves in your ears, directing you in every movement and you're just that lost to the sensations.

"C-can I," You gulp mid sentence and squeeze your thighs in frustration. He hears you swallow around each breath and finally yanks his boxers down to kick them to the foot of the bed. "Cho, can I turn it on yet? N-need… need it." He deems your voice needy and pathetic enough to allow you to turn your vibe on. He hears it roar to life from his end of the phone call.

It automatically starts on the highest speed but before you can touch it to your dripping pussy, he interjects. "Turn it all the way down, darling." Choso can hear you groan and kick your feet a bit like the spoiled princess you are. He can't give you orgasm after orgasm like he usually does when you're naked and beneath him in bed. This is the best he's got, a slow build up and a long tease. Remote or not, he's going to make you come just as hard as you deserve.

Choso sucks in a harsh breath when he tells you to press it to your clit and rub slow circles into the sensitive flesh, picturing the exact scene in the theater of his mind.

He can hear the exact moment the vibrating device makes contact with you. He loves the shocked sound you make, that little squeak. Maybe it's more like a yelp, doesn't matter. It's followed by a pretty long drawn out whine that he stores in his memory banks for wanks in the future. "Be gentle with yourself, baby." Your pussy is pulsing, demanding quick circles and fast strokes. You huff, one hand gripping the pillow beneath you and the other working gingerly between your trembling thighs. Your thoughts hit many places but eventually they land on him. You're only able to think of him, aubergine hair and dark glinting eyes between your soaking legs instead. "Cho, stop teasing me," You cry out, begging without begging him.

"It's not that I'm teasing you. You need to have the orgasm that you deserve, baby. Build up to it. It's not just about getting off. Want you to feel every bit of it. As if I was there to hand deliver it to you." Choso's velvet voice controls your every movement, demands easy to obey. You only whine at his explanation, not willing to hear him out while your thoughts are so carnal. "Turn it up one more time, run it along your whole slit." Your polished nail presses into the button that controls the vibration speed, successfully turning the toy up a notch and making your whines come much more frequently. Choso soaks your pretty sounds in, his fist working himself a little quicker. "You know what I would do to you if I was there, don't you?"

Your thoughts race far beyond your own pleasure. You don't even consider his question, asking your own instead. As a natural giver, you'd be on your knees before all else. You moan out loud when the image of Choso's face scrunched up in pleasure enters your mind. The wet sound against the motorized toy is pounding in your ears. He curls his toes and pulls his fingers over his mouth to hide the embarrassing mewls but, when you would press your tongue flat against the base and let the tip hit the back of your throat over and over, sneaky fingers coming up go fondle at his constricting balls, Choso would whimper shamelessly. It'd be inevitable. He can't control himself and keep up that tough exterior when you've got him squirming and feeling so good beneath you.

"Hah..ha." He moans on the other end of the phone, voice cracking and spit-slick cock red and ready to erupt in his face. You press the tip of your vibrator further into your clit and cry out his name as the shockwaves cause you to twitch, body no longer in control of its movements. Your thighs go slick and you keen, wishing he were there to press his palm to your cheek and ground you.

He obliges the needy whispers, not wanting to edge you from glory. "Up another notch." You sigh and he hears the change in vibration speed. Choso grips his cock and almost forgets what he's supposed to be doing as he strokes himself to the sounds you're making. "Focus on my voice for a minute." He breathes raggedly, picking up pace on himself. He manages to keep his voice calm but you can hear the smacking of his palm on the skin of his dick, can hear him spit thickly on his palm to lube himself up and then return to jerking himself smoothly. Somehow your boyfriend keeps his voice steady. "Picture me there, Y/N. My lips on your neck…" He trails off for a minute, almost lost in his own fantasy. "Muh-my tongue running over your skin and in your ear. Can you do that, pretty girl?"

"Yes!" You cry out in earnest, working so hard for your man, making such a big mess on this hotel bedspread. His voice comes back as fast as yours does and his words are all you need to hear before you're cumming hard on the device for him. He praises you so sweetly, letting you know exactly how well you always do for him, how perfect you are, how perfect your body is - made just for him. He fucks his own fist, hips bucking straight through the opening and as hard as he would be drilling into you if he had you the way he wanted you. For a blank minute of euphoria, his palm feels just like the tight heat of your cunt and is enough to milk him until he runs dry - spurting onto his own chest.

—

Izuku calls Tenya while he’s on his way to work. Tenya answers with the Bluetooth in his steering wheel, which he doesn’t particularly like to do because it takes a bit of his focus off the road. However, he knows that his friend is in a bit of a rough patch, and an ignored call might do more harm than good for both of them.

“Did you see?” Izuku asks with a sniffle and absolutely no context.

“See what?”

“They went Facebook official. That means it’s for real, for real.” Izuku groans, and Tenya hears something that sounds distinctly like his friend’s head hitting a table. That’s all the context Tenya needs.

Izuku has been Tenya’s best friend since middle school, and for almost as many years, he’s been in love with Uraraka. While he had tried a few different times to show her how he felt, he refused to come right out and confess, for fear of rejection. Now he’s paying the price—according to mutual friends, she’s been seeing Bakugou for nearly two months. Izuku has been an absolute wreck since he found out, and now, apparently, they’ve changed their status to ‘in a relationship.’

“I’m sorry, Midoriya. I know how much you care about her.” Tenya can’t think of anything more comforting to say as he turns into the parking deck of the office building.

“I feel like someone ripped my heart out of my body and stomped on it,” Izuku sighs. “And why did it have to be him?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing personal.” Tenya can imagine how much it stings, losing the person of your dreams to your sworn rival turned frenemy—as convoluted as it sounds. He wants to be sympathetic, really. But in all honesty, Izuku never made a move when he had the chance, so he should have seen something like this coming. She wasn’t bound to stay single forever.

Tenya pulls into his parking spot, right on time to be five minutes early. After reassuring his friend that he is not, in fact, ‘actually dying’ and promising to meet up after work, he’s able to get Izuku to end the call. With his briefcase in hand, he heads for the walkway that leads inside the building.

In the six years since Tenya started working at Plus Ultra, the company has grown and changed considerably, but one thing he can always count on. When he steps in the front door, Kaminari greets him brightly from the reception desk. “Hey there, handsome. Happy Monday!”

“Good morning.” Tenya knows not to take Kaminari’s flirtatiousness seriously—he talks to everyone like that, and it’s one of the reasons he makes such a good receptionist. In fact, his organization skills are so dismal at times, Tenya has to think his friendly, easygoing energy is the only thing keeping him employed.

Back when they were hired, Tenya and Kaminari were two of about twenty employees. Now the company employs nearly fifty people, plus freelancers. What was once a small startup selling cutting-edge exercise and physical therapy equipment to gyms and health centers around the country is now a leader in fitness product design and customized equipment distribution. While Tenya likes to think that it was his business degree and work portfolio that earned him his job, he’s fairly certain it didn’t hurt that he’s a bit of a health and fitness nut himself.

When Tenya looks up from wiping his feet on the rug, he notices he’s not the only one at reception. You’re bent over the front of Kaminari’s desk, your purse still slung across your body and your feet hovering off the floor and out of your shoes. You’re craning your neck to see Kaminari’s computer screen—why you didn’t just walk around the desk, Tenya couldn’t guess. All he knows is he has to force his eyes away from the slit in the back of your pencil skirt, for the sake of his dignity and yours.

He clears his throat before speaking your name, offering you a polite, “Good morning,” as well. While he’s not quite sure if he would call you a close friend, you’re certainly in his circle of ‘work friends.’ You haven’t been at the company as long as he has, but the two of you have worked together for years—you in marketing, him in the quality department.

“Hey, Iida.” You drop back to the floor, bare feet sliding back into your little pointed loafers. “Wanna come with us to lunch today? We’re gonna go to the deli, I think.” You motion to Kaminari with your hand as you extend the invitation.

Tenya adjusts his tie as he rounds the corner toward his department. “Sure, just send me a message on IM when you want to leave.” For better or worse, the office uses messaging software that’s equally as useful for sending quick notes that aren’t worth a full email as it is for sending memes from across the room.

It’s still early, so Tenya doesn’t run into anyone else on his way to his cubicle. He decides he’ll wait to grab a coffee before the weekly department meeting, opting to crack open his email first instead. After starting out as an account manager, working directly to meet client needs, Tenya was quickly transferred to quality assurance, where the work is more internal and process-driven. It’s his job to make sure that design, manufacturing, and sales are running as efficiently as possible. In practice, it’s mostly spreadsheets and data, but Tenya takes great pride in every improvement he’s been able to help coordinate. 

Coworkers trickle in, settling in their cubicles as Tenya works his way through several of the emails that he got over the weekend. He’s so focused on getting the simple inquiries taken care of that he doesn’t notice the time until Shouto appears in his doorway. “You coming?”

“Yep.” Leaving his email where it is, Tenya tucks a yellow legal pad under his arm and a pen in the pocket of his vest. He’d wear a blazer if it didn’t get so hot in the building during the summer. For the next few months, to keep from sweating through his shirts every day, he’ll stick with a vest and tie, rolling up his shirtsleeves when he wants to cool down.

At the doorway, Shouto hands him one of the two paper coffee cups he’s holding, and they head to the conference room. “Thanks, I was just about to get my own.” Tenya takes a long, blissful sip of his coffee—one cream, Shouto knows.

Shouto yawns, and Tenya notices the dark circle rimming his unscarred eye. “No problem. If you didn’t want it, I would have just drank both.”

“Long night?” Tenya asks, though he thinks he knows the answer.

“Long weekend,” Shouto sighs. “When I wasn’t fighting with my dad about the guest list, I was begging Hanta to help me choose the flowers, the napkins—anything. It’s like pulling teeth with him and I don’t know why.”

The two of them pass the rows of cubicles separated by low partitions until they reach the glass door of the conference room. Shouto slumps into a seat just inside the door, so Tenya sits beside him. “Maybe he’s just feeling overwhelmed with the wedding stuff. It seems like you both are.”

After eight years together, Shouto finally asked Hanta to marry him, and from Tenya’s point of view, his friend has been stressed out of his mind ever since. Hanta has always been so laid back, practically the opposite of Shouto. While Hanta’s generally aloof disposition probably doesn’t help matters, Tenya suspects more of the trouble has to do with Shouto’s family. The Todorokis are well-known in the area—Shouto’s father is a high-ranking government official, and his sister was recently elected to city council. One of his brothers is a professional athlete; the other was publicly disgraced in a hastily hushed scandal a few years back. Even with an estranged mother that has only recently come back into the picture, somehow Shouto has always been the black sheep of the family. And it sounds like his father sees this wedding as more of a publicity stunt than anything else. 

“Overwhelmed doesn’t even begin to cover it,” says Shouto. “Sometimes I wish we could just elope and be done with it.”

“Why don’t you?” Tenya asks, flipping over to a fresh sheet of paper on his legal pad. Their coworkers filter into the room one by one, slowly filling the seats around them at the long conference table.

“My father would disown me faster than he did Touya.” Shouto polishes off his coffee with one long sip. “Plus, Hanta deserves a perfect day if he’s going to be stuck with me for the rest of his life.”

“Don’t say that,” Tenya scolds as gently as he can. “You’ve always been a good partner to him. Maybe you should just be honest about needing his help.”

Shouto shrugs as their boss, Sasaki, takes a seat at the head of the table. “Guess so.”

The quality department holds an all-hands meeting first thing on Monday mornings—a necessary evil that helps address the priorities for the week. As VP of the company and head of the quality department, Sasaki leads the meeting in his usual droll tone. He cracks a few jokes about last week’s audits that mostly fall flat to the tired, Monday energy in the room, but at least he tries. Just before the meeting wraps up, Toshinori, the company’s founder and CEO, pops his head in to say good morning and to wish the team a good week. “I’ll be leaving for a rock climbing trip with some potential investors on Thursday,” he says brightly, “so try not to have too much fun while I’m gone!”

Sasaki rubs his temples with the pads of his fingers. “I’ll be covering his duties in his absence, so if you need me Thursday or Friday, no you don’t. Ok, dismissed.”

Papers and laptops shuffle as people file out of the room, some eager and some reluctant to get on with the rest of their mornings. Shouto nudges Tenya’s elbow. “I’m gonna get another coffee. Want one?”

“I’ll come with you,” Tenya offers, but before he can follow Shouto out the door, Sasaki’s voice rings from across the room.

“Iida, could you stay back a minute?”

“Of course.” Tenya waves to Shouto as he makes his exit, then approaches Sasaki at the front of the room. While he’s worked fairly closely with Sasaki the past few years, their relationship is formal, professional perhaps to a fault. When his boss wants to chat, it usually means extra work for Tenya. He tries not to sound too apathetic. “Is there something wrong?”

Sasaki straightens his stack of papers and tucks multiple pens between his fingers before he answers. “Actually, no. Not this time, anyway.” Tenya cracks a smile at his dry humor. Sasaki merely clears his throat. “I won’t keep you in suspense. The company is growing, and as Toshinori takes on more of the public relations work I loathe, my workload is getting out of control.”

“How can I help?”

“I’ll be stepping away from leading the quality department, and we’re creating a Quality Manager role to take over those responsibilities. Would you like to be considered for the position?”

Tenya speaks before he thinks. “Yes, absolutely.” 

Sasaki nods. “Excellent. I’ll get back to you with more details soon, after we talk it over with a few other people.”

Tenya’s own words sit heavily in his own gut for the rest of the morning. The chance to move up in the company—that’s what everyone wants, right? He would be insane to turn down the opportunity for a promotion that probably comes with more perks and a bigger paycheck. He knows that. But even when he’s sitting in the deli down the street at lunch, picking at his salad, he can’t bring himself to be excited about the prospect of it.

“You ok, Iida? You’re white as a sheet.” Shaken—there he was, zoning out again—Tenya looks up from his hands to find your eyes on him, teasing but with a hint of genuine concern behind them.

Kaminari, his mouth full of sweet potato fries, points at Tenya with his fork. “You heard about the promotion, didn’t you?”

“What promotion?” Shouto tagged along for lunch, but he’s mostly been texting since you sat down. Tenya wasn’t sure he was even listening to the conversation.

“How do you know about that?” Tenya asks Kaminari, who leans dramatically over the table to answer while stealing one of Tenya’s fries.

“Honey, I am the eyes and ears of this place. If there’s something going on, I know about it.”

You shove Kaminari by the shoulder. “Shut up. You didn’t even know that Hatsume girl from IT asked Iida out until I told you, and everybody knew about that.”

“Please don’t remind me.” Even though it happened years ago, Tenya still cringes thinking about how loudly Hatsume had propositioned him, right after he had walked out of the bathroom, no less. To make things worse, he’d been so surprised he could only stammer out an uneven yes? that sounded like its own question. The date had gone horribly; he’s avoided calling IT for anything ever since.

“I didn’t mean personal stuff,” says Kaminari. “When it comes to business stuff, I hear what people are talking about. And Iida might be the new Quality Manager.”

Hearing the title again makes Tenya’s stomach flip, but he can’t stop from smiling when you grab his arm and squeal, “Really? That’s so exciting!” It’s stupid, but he thinks it’s really cute how energetic you are.

“Nice.” Shouto puts down his phone and taps his fist against Tenya’s shoulder in congratulations.

“Thank you both, but I don’t have the job yet.” Tenya fidgets with his silverware, aligning the fork and knife with his napkin and then his plate. There’s something he’s been wondering all afternoon. “Sasaki made it sound like they were considering others too. Kaminari, you wouldn’t happen to know…”

“Oh, I know. Or at least, I know of one. I was dropping off some mail and heard Sasaki talking to Monoma in his office. Frankly I don’t even think he’s trying to keep any of this a secret because the door was wide open.”

Tenya rolls his eyes. Of course he’s up against Monoma—that brown-noser.

“He hasn’t said anything to me. Guess that means I’m not in the running,” Shouto hums.

The color rushes out of Kaminari’s face. “Oh, shit. Sorry, Todoroki. I didn’t mean to—”

Shouto stops him and shrugs. “It’s fine. Honestly, I wouldn’t want all that responsibility anyway. I have enough to worry about.” Tenya could honestly say the same thing, but before he can comment, you touch his arm again and his mouth dries up.

“Don’t worry. Even though I honestly have no idea what you actually do all day, I know you work harder than just about everyone. No offense, Todoroki.”

Shouto’s absorbed in his phone again. “None taken. I work smarter, not harder.”

“Yeah Iida, lighten up!” Tenya can tell by his big, goofy grin that Kaminari doesn’t mean anything by it. He has no way of knowing how Tenya’s been trapped in his head recently, even before this promotion was thrown into the mix. Even if he’s always been a little high-strung, Tenya knows himself, and if he could relax, even a little bit, he would have done it a long time ago.

—

After waking up to more than a dozen missed texts from various times over the night, Tenya invites Midoriya to come to the gym with him before work. “We’ll get coffee after, my treat,” he tempts over the phone, and reluctantly, Midoriya agrees.

Tenya swings by Midoriya’s tailor shop to pick him up—apparently, he hadn’t gone home last night. His friend is mostly quiet on the way to the gym, heaving restless sighs out the window every few minutes. Frankly, he looks like a wreck, and he clearly hasn’t slept all night. If nothing else, Tenya hopes that a workout will tire Midoriya out enough that he can at least get a little rest.

They part ways after Tenya checks them in at the front desk. Midoriya heads for the lifting machines while Tenya goes up to the second floor to run on the indoor track. Earbuds in, he starts with some stretching, then sets off on a warm-up lap before picking up his speed. He’s groggy this morning, and three miles later, Tenya still doesn’t feel any more awake. He switches to the rowing machine for the last twenty minutes before he needs to get in the shower, but even when he’s pouring sweat, he never gets that rush of endorphins he’s looking for. He just feels tired.

After a brisk shower, Tenya towel dries his hair as best he can and gets changed into his work clothes. Midoriya is waiting on a bench near the entrance, and they walk to the cafe a few doors down where Tenya buys coffee, as promised, and croissants, as a bonus. But when it comes to comforting his friend, Tenya has no idea what to say.

It’s not at all that he doesn’t care. While Midoriya slowly opens up, lamenting his feelings for Uraraka and his regrets about not confessing to her sooner, Tenya listens and empathizes as best he can. It’s clear from his tearfulness that Midoriya needs to get his feelings off his chest, but Tenya can’t come up with any legitimate condolences beyond, “I see,” and, “I’m sorry.”

“I really love her, I’m sure of it,” says Midoriya. “But maybe deep down, the reason I waited so long was because I could tell she didn’t feel the same. I’ve just been putting off the inevitable.” With a sigh, he slowly seems to come to grips with his situation—that it’s been a long time coming. Tenya is glad he could help, but at the same time, seeing his best friend like this confirms that he’s doing the right thing by staying single right now.

Dating someone—even pining after someone—is too stressful for the state of mind he’s been stuck in. There’s too much to worry about when someone else is thrown in the mix. He can barely deal with himself right now. He doesn’t envy Shouto either—he’s in a long-term, committed relationship, and he’s still stressed out by it. So that settles it. Tenya will get out of this slump he’s in by going on the same way he has for the past two years: on his own.

–

The work day is a long one. Because of Toshinori’s absence at the end of the week, Tenya steps up to take some work off of Sasaki’s plate, including fixing some reports littered with egregious mistakes that are painstaking to find and correct. It’s a great chance to show off his work ethic in light of the promotion, but that doesn’t make it any less taxing on his already frazzled mind. By 4:30, he’s running on fumes, but then you arrive at his desk.

“Hey, Iida. Do you have plans tonight?” There’s a glint in your eye—this is more than small talk.

Tenya hesitates, but answers, “Not really. Why?” Maybe you just need a ride home, he thinks. Or maybe you want him to take a look at some marketing materials you’re working on. It’s happened before. He hopes it’s the former, but he’s wrong on both counts.

You rock back and forth on your feet, hands clasped casually behind your back. “Oh good. Then you can come to happy hour with us.”

Tenya adjusts his glasses, as if that would help ensure he heard you correctly. “On a Tuesday?” He draws the words out slowly before realizing that he sounds incredibly judgmental. “I don’t usually drink during the week,” he clarifies.

That makes you smile. “Somehow, I thought you might say that.” 

You stroll into his cubicle and lean on his desk. It’s the same way you were bent over the reception desk the day before, hips pushed back and elbows tucked into your sides. He’s sitting beside you, but he can imagine the way your skirt is riding up your legs. He wonders if you do this on purpose, if you want people to look, or if it’s completely subconscious. He clears his throat, ashamed of himself for thinking of you that way. It’s not only rude, but completely inappropriate for a coworker.

“We can tell you’re stressed about the promotion. Just come with us to the bar and put it out of your mind for a bit.” Tenya can hear the fibers of your pantyhose humming as you rub one leg against the other. It’s a sound he’s never registered before—well, not when it wasn’t his own rough hands dragging against someone else’s lace-covered thigh.

Tenya takes a sip from his water bottle to clear his husky throat before he replies. “Who is ‘we’?”

Fortunately, you stand up straight again, and he can get his head back on straight. “Me, Denki, Jirou, Shinsou. Todoroki says he’s gonna pick Sero up on the way. A few others might stop by for a while.”

Tenya rubs his temples. Though it’s not usually in his nature, he can’t deny that a drink sounds good after the day he’s had. And what could one or two Long Island iced teas hurt?

“All right. I’ll join you for a little while. I probably won’t stay too late though.” He means it when he says it. But after seeing you smile back at him, after splitting a cab and squeezing into a corner booth at the bar, after seeing Denki flirt with both Jirou and Shinsou, after watching Shouto kiss his fiance over and over again, after another cocktail, and another, and another—suddenly it’s eleven PM and Tenya doesn’t want to go home if he’s going to be all alone.

So because he can’t stand to watch the couples anymore, he turns his attention to you. You’ve taken off the little cap-sleeve jacket you were wearing at the office, baring your shoulders along with a neckline that’s just a little too low to be work-appropriate in the first place. When you lean forward over the table to take a sip from your straw or laugh at some ridiculous joke Denki made, your breasts are pushed up and together—a sight that makes Tenya’s mouth water. Your face warms with every half-price drink you order, your hair falling out of place, your smile a little looser as the night wears on.

He’s thought about you before. Of course he has. Not only are you beautiful, but you’re quick, witty, and unbelievably kind to others. Tenya rarely hears you talk about yourself. You always seem more interested in everybody else’s ideas, their successes, even their struggles. He’s fairly certain it was all your idea to get a group together to go out tonight—probably entirely for his own benefit. But surely you’d do the same for anybody. 

So what’s he thinking? While everyone else is talking and laughing and having a good time, why is he bothering to stare at you like he’s going to do anything about it? He’s known for months, maybe even years, that he doesn’t want to get involved with anybody. But fuck, what he really wants right now is a dark corner and a warm body. And if it should be anybody, his buzzed brain reasons, why not you—someone he actually likes?

No, he corrects himself. Dating is messy. Casual sex is messier. He doesn’t want that, and he needs to remember it. If he’s so damn horny, he can take care of himself after he gets a ride home, and that’s the end of it.

Minutes pass in a haze as he finishes another drink. Shouto bumps his shoulder every time he moves to put his arm around Hanta before he’s peeled away again, so Tenya stands up. He rolls his shoulders, the vinyl booth doing nothing to support his back that’s still a little sore from the rowing machine. He cracks his neck to one side and then the other, and when he looks up again, he finds you with your eyes locked on him.

Blinking hard, Tenya watches as you literally climb up onto your seat and then over the goddamn table to get to him while the others scream and laugh. He reaches a hand out as your ankle wobbles in your high heel, catching you when you stumble into his chest on your way back down to the floor. You laugh, and it makes him laugh.

“You wanna go help me get a round of shots?” you ask, words not exactly slurring but definitely starting to meld. He agrees, and through no will of his own, his palm creeps to your lower back as he follows you toward the bar.

You turn a corner, putting a wall between the two of you and your friends at the table. Tenya actually runs into you, but it’s because you stop walking to spin into him, bracing yourself on his chest and shoulders again. “I saw you looking at me,” you admit point-blank.

“I’m sorry.” The thought doesn’t occur to him to deny it. The way you’re leaning your weight into him presses your chest against him, and if he’s not careful, he’s going to get hard pretty quickly.

You shake your head. “Don’t be. Means I’ve been looking at you too.” Your hands climb his tie up to his throat. “Do you wanna kiss me?”

Heat rushes over him, and he takes you by the waist, pulling you closer. “I want to do far more than just kiss you right now.” He’s hardly gotten the words out before you wrap your arms around his neck and capture his lips with your own. 

He should stop you, the rational part of Tenya thinks, as he kisses you back. But he doesn’t want to stop. Kissing you lights up parts of his brain that have gone dark for months, maybe longer. Sweet dopamine bursts through the walls he’s built up inside, rushing to his head the same way a runner’s high used to. Now that he’s had a taste, he can’t help but want more.

His hands search for the perfect spot to hold you, sliding over your hips to cup your ass and press you tight against him. You push forward until he staggers, his back hitting the wall. You kiss until you’re breathless, stealing the air from his lungs, and then you insist, “Take me in the bathroom.”

He may not have dated in a while, but Tenya’s not a fool. He knows what moving to a secondary location means. Any of your coworkers could walk around the corner and catch you in the act right now. If you want to go further, you should find some privacy. With all the adrenaline driving him right now, he’s not going to deny you.

Tenya breaks from your lips to wrap his arm around your back. Ignoring a dirty look from the bartender, who must realize what’s about to happen, he leads you quickly down the hallway where the bathrooms are. He doesn’t even pay attention to which one he follows you into. As soon as the door is locked behind you, he pins you against it.

One hand holds your shoulder while the other cups your jaw, tilting your head up so he can kiss you again. Your lips are warm as you let his tongue slide past them, so soft but so firm. Tenya hasn’t kissed anyone in years, but he didn’t realize how much he missed it.

“Mmm, Tenya.” You hum into his mouth as your hand slides down his thigh, straying to his bulging crotch with a shiver. Your hands are so much smaller than his, but they feel so much better than his own ever could as you rub against his erection. You sigh as he kisses you harder, deeper. Do you even realize how wild you’re making him? How hard?

Tenya releases his grip to fumble with his belt. “Do you want to—”

“Yeah, I want you.” You don’t even let him finish, don’t even give him a second to get his zipper down before you do it yourself. Your fingers are shaking, but you moan in pleasure when your fingers dip under his waistband and pull out his cock. His breath hitches on a groan—everything is moving so quickly, but he doesn’t want it to end. You don’t waste any time—you just spit in your hand and spread it down his shaft with tight, even strokes. 

Something inside Tenya snaps. He forgot he could feel this good, completely forgot how satisfying sex can be when he really, really wants it—when he has someone to lose himself in. Fuck his conscience, and fuck his fears about getting in over his head. He lets his hips buck into your hold as his carnality takes over.

“Fuck,” he moans low, letting his forehead fall against the wall behind you. 

You laugh coyly. “Feel good?”

“Yes, God, yes.” This time, Tenya takes your face in both hands, stealing ravenous kisses as you wring the head of his cock in your fist. When he can’t wait any longer, he turns your head to the side and sucks a mark into the crook of your neck.

“You want me?” he asks again.

“Please.”

“I love the way you beg,” he growls. “Take your panties off.”

You do as you’re told, body shivering with delight as you peel a pair of light purple underwear down your legs before shoving them in his left pants pocket.

“You’re dirty,” he taunts.

“So are you,” you mewl, eyes traveling down to where he wraps his own hand around his cock, spreading precum over the head with his thumb.

“I think you like it.”

With his clean hand, Tenya hikes your tight little skirt up. With the wet one, he reaches between your legs as you spread them. You lean back against the wall to push your hips out, gasping when he grazes your clit before scissoring through your folds. He spends a few blissful minutes fingering you, swirling around your hole and then dipping inside with two fingers to make sure you’re slick enough to take him. He waits until you’re moaning brazenly, fingers scraping against the tile wall behind you, before he pulls them back out.

You collapse into him as he bends to grab under your thighs, lifts you, and wedges you between himself and the wall. His back and triceps are sore, but it’s nothing he can’t handle, especially not when you’re panting into his neck and begging, “Please, fuck me, fuck me, Tenya.”

He frees one hand to help line himself up, and it’s not the most graceful thing he’s ever done, but when you clench and whine as he pops the head of his cock inside you, he couldn’t imagine anything more perfect. How could he forget how good this feels? How could he have denied himself for so long when your dripping pussy squeezing around him makes him forget everything but you?

Even with how slick you are, it takes him a few thrusts to bottom out while you claw at his back, whimpering. Clinging to him, you grind your hips down and clench.

Tenya swears, thrusting his hips for more friction. He fucks you like an animal, head empty except for how tight and hot you are inside and how badly he wants to cum. He’s sweating like mad, hair sticking to his forehead and his glasses fogging up, but he continues to chase after his peak, using you like he would a toy while you moan in his ear.

“Tenya, please.” You start to unwrap one arm from his neck, but when your weight shifts against the wall, you put it back.

“I got you,” he promises.

He holds you tight against the wall as you reach down to play with your clit. You clench harder around him until you cry out, and he grinds against the pulsing of your orgasm until it pulls him over the edge with you.

As he comes down, the tension in his screaming muscles releases. He leans into you, pinning your weight to the cool, tile wall. Spend leaks down your ass and thighs, wetting the front of his pants, but he doesn’t care. Tenya hasn’t felt this good in a long time.

In a haze, Tenya helps you down to your feet. He tries to help you clean up at the sink, but he’s not sure he really does anything helpful. All he knows is that every few minutes, he hears you sigh and giggle. When you’re both tucked back into your clothes, you each order your own cab, and you sneak out the back door to meet them. He makes sure you’re in your car safely before he gets into his.

When he falls into bed, Tenya has the most peaceful night of sleep he’s had in months.

–

When Tenya wakes up, his mouth is dry, his head is throbbing, and he can’t remember when or how he got home. He’s still fully dressed, down to his glasses and even his shoes, which is disgusting. He’ll have to wash the sheets as soon as he gets home tonight.

As his consciousness fades in alongside his pounding headache, Tenya tosses his glasses on the nightstand and rubs his palms over his face. He drank way too much last night, obviously. There’s no way his aching body can go for a run this morning—it’ll be challenging enough just to get himself to work. He sits up in bed, cracks his back, then feels something bunched in his pocket.

When he pulls out your lavender panties, he flops back down onto his pillow like he’s been shot dead.

Everything that happened rushes back to him at once—you climbing over the table, him pinning you against the wall. Between short waves of nausea, Tenya berates himself. That was a stupid, stupid thing to do, and he knows he’s going to pay for it.

Tenya has been in relationships, however short they might have been. He knows, generally, how to navigate those. He’s also had one night stands before. He can handle those too, always with grace and respect. What makes this time different is the fact that he hadn’t planned to sleep with you, had never partaken in sex so casually. Every time before, whether he was in a relationship or not, he had known sex was on the table, so to speak.

This is entirely new territory, and it rattles him.

To make matters worse, every time he pictures the way you looked or remembers a sound that you made, heat rises in his chest. You’d felt amazing, made him feel amazing, and now he’s not sure he’ll be able to forget it.

Tenya drags himself out of bed, groaning unintentionally at the tightness in his quads and lower back, and chugs two glasses of water while frying himself some eggs and potatoes. He knows if he doesn’t get some food in him, he’ll never make it through the day at work, and he doesn’t want to look bad in front of Sasaki, especially not now.

He surely hasn’t been himself lately, he thinks, dousing his eggs in hot sauce, but Tenya never thought he could do something so foolish. You’d both been consenting but under the influence, so where does that leave you? Fuck, he hadn’t even used a condom.

You hadn’t asked him to, and with how long it’s been since he slept with anyone else, he’s not at risk of giving you any diseases, but that doesn’t make it ok. As much as he dreads having to ask if you’re clean, he should probably also find out if you’re on some kind of birth control. He can feel the acid in his stomach burning just thinking about it, but he needs to face the consequences of his actions. Whatever you want to do about it, he’s fine with that.

When he finds his phone buried in his bedsheets, there’s a text from you.

If you want to talk about last night, you know where to find me. But I'm ok, and if you want to pretend it never happened, I understand.

He sighs and shoves his phone into his pocket. It’s selfless of you to offer to do that, but although it would probably be the easier way out, Tenya wouldn’t do that to you. Having sex with you hadn’t meant nothing—you didn’t mean nothing to him. He needs to face you and come clean. You deserve that.

Since his car is still at the office, Tenya has to call another cab to take him to work. After the commute that reignites his headache, Tenya gulps down a bottle of water from the vending machine and pulls himself together. All he wants is to sit down, but there’s only one way to his cubicle, and it’s past the front desk.

Kaminari’s chin is perched in his hands, a crooked smirk on his face. “Hey buddy, where’d you go last night?”

That’s right. The two of you left without saying goodbye or settling your tabs. He’ll have to go back to the bar to get his credit card. Somehow, after all the water he’s had this morning, Tenya’s mouth is still dry when he opens it to speak. He croaks, “I’m sorry, I was not in my right mind last night. I called a taxi without even thinking.” Not a lie, but not the whole truth either. 

You and Kaminari are close, but Tenya has no clue if this is something you would tell him. Apparently not, though, because he replies, “Did you go home with that bartender? I swear she had her eyes on you all night.” Unless Kaminari has a remarkable poker face, he doesn’t know anything.

Tenya starts to shake his head, but that hurts his eyes, so he just lifts a hand. “Nothing like that. Just wanted to get home and rest.”

Kaminari cackles. Maybe he’s one of those people that doesn’t get hangovers. Lucky. “All right, whatever you say, big guy. Hey, Todoroki has your watch. You took it off at the table for some reason.”

So he’ll have to make sure to catch up with Shouto at some point today and get it back. Thankfully, Shouto isn’t the type to ask questions, and he was preoccupied all night anyway. 

For most of the day, Tenya stays holed up at his desk. After a few cups of coffee and a lunch he ordered in (Kaminari is kind enough to bring it to his cubicle for him), Tenya’s hangover starts to fade, but he can’t shake the anxious feeling sitting in his gut all day. Shouto drops by with his watch but doesn’t stick around to chat, which is perfectly fine. Tenya doesn’t feel like talking to anyone, and he doesn’t want to chance running into you before he’s prepared himself, so he keeps to his spreadsheets and tries to make up for his slow morning.

Any time he gives himself a minute to think, Tenya’s mind wanders back to that dimly-lit restroom. He can’t help but wonder how something that felt so good in the moment can feel so horrible in hindsight. Not only is he ashamed, but he’s also embarrassed. He can only hope he hasn’t ruined his rapport—his friendship—with you.

Around 4:30, Tenya realizes he has about 50 unread IMs. He leaves his notification sounds off because he’s been told that they annoy people, so he hadn’t noticed all the messages coming in while he worked. Worried that something has gone terribly wrong, he opens his inbox in a panic.

What he finds is a barrage of images uploaded to a group chat by Kaminari, who declares that it is officially “meme-o’clock.” It wouldn’t be the first time he’s been bored enough to enact such an activity, and Tenya’s sure it won’t be the last.

While Kaminari has posted most of the memes, Shouto and Jirou have also contributed several deep-fried jpegs of their own. Shinsou chimes in with a single cat picture, but you’re noticeably absent until Tenya hovers over the emoji reactions. You’ve left several cry-laughing faces under the images, but they ring hollow. Normally, you’d be sending pictures to the chat too. Tenya starts to wonder if you’re really ok, like you’d said in your text.

Worry replacing awkwardness, Tenya picks up his phone and finally texts you back.

Do you want to meet me in the parking garage after work? I need to go back to the bar and get my card.

A few minutes later, you respond.

Sure, I need to do that too. Thanks, Iida.

After gathering up his stuff, Tenya finds you waiting by his car—leaning against it, legs crossed demurely at the ankles. You’re wearing a knee-length dress with a frilly collar that he would find adorable if he wasn’t so damn nervous. When you hear him coming toward you, you smile, and for some reason, that breaks his heart.

“Hey.”

Tenya takes a deep breath. “Hey. Do you still want to ride with me?”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes a bit. “‘Course. That’s why I’m here.” 

Tenya unlocks the car and ushers you into the passenger’s seat, waiting to close the door for you before walking around to climb in. He rolls his neck a little, feeling tension building between his shoulders, as he pulls out of the parking garage and heads toward the bar.

He doesn’t bother to connect his phone to Bluetooth or turn on the radio. It’s already too loud and chaotic inside his head, even though he can’t get himself to say anything. But then he hears you humming a little tune to yourself, and his stomach turns. He can’t put you through this any longer.

Tenya clears his throat. “Can we—” he hesitates, “talk about last night?”

You stop humming, folding your hands in your lap. “Yeah, of course. And, listen, I’m sorry if—”

“Please, I’m the one who should be apologizing.” Tenya is careful to keep his eyes on the road, even as you’re nearing the city parking lot near the bar. Politely, even after he cut you off, you give him the space to speak.

“It’s no excuse, but I think you can tell I haven’t been myself lately. I’ve been stressed, and I was drunk, and I took advantage of you. I’m incredibly sorry.”

You practically dive over the center console to touch his arm, an action that shouldn’t make the back of Tenya’s neck prickle, but it does. “No, no. I promise you didn’t take advantage of me. If I had wanted to leave, I would have left.”

Tenya clears his throat, your sincerity and the warmth of your touch surprising him before, strangely, he feels some of his anxiety begin to melt away. “Ok. If you say so.” He doesn’t think about it, but while he waits to make a left turn into the parking lot, his hand floats up to brush over yours until he finds a parking spot to pull into.

He shuts off the car, but Tenya knows this isn’t over with yet. “I still need to apologize for not using protection. Do you need—”

“Oh, no. I’m on birth control, so I’m not really worried about that.”

Relieved, Tenya exhales harder than he means to. 

Your nervous laugh puts him a little more at ease. “Thanks for asking, though. I also got myself tested after my last partner, so I’m clean and everything…”

Tenya can feel his face burning, but he reminds himself that it’s healthy and mature to talk to his partners about such things. Still, he rubs his eyes under his glasses, exhausted by all his worries. “Thank you. I am as well, though it’s been a long time since my last partner.”

“...Really?”

“I—yes?” He didn’t expect you to ask questions. Then you ask another.

“How long?”

Tenya hasn’t really thought about the actual number recently. He counts backwards, and it surprises him. “Two years, maybe two and a half?” He can’t remember exactly what month it was, but he’s pretty sure it was wintertime.

You fall back in your seat with a little snort. Tenya raises an eyebrow. “What?”

There’s that laugh of yours again. “Well, no wonder you’re so stressed.”

“It’s not…I’m just—” Tenya huffs, unable to complete a coherent thought. He hadn’t looked at it this way, but now that you bring it up, his fist has been a sorry comparison to another person for some time now. He’s just been willing to accept that.

Coyly, you bite your lip. “Can I ask…did you enjoy it, at least?”

“God, yes.” Tenya chuckles along with you at his own bluntness, running his hand through his hair as he looks out the windshield.

“Ok, good. Because I did too. You were so hot, Iida.”

Memories of the sights, the sounds, the sensations of your hookup come back to him in flashes, so vivid he can’t look at you. “I have to be honest with you. I don’t typically have one-night stands, but I’m not looking for a relationship right now.”

Tenya’s heart halts, bracing for an impact that never comes, like when he thinks there’s one more step on the staircase. He expects you to be upset—sad, or angry, even—but your voice is soft instead. 

“Well, listen. It’s ok if it’s not your thing. But since we both liked it, we could do it again sometime. Casually, I mean. No strings attached.”

Oh.

“So, you mean like friends with benefits?” This was an option Tenya had never even considered. Historically, casual sex is not his thing, but maybe you’re onto something.

“Yeah. Just sex. Because—and I swear—last night was one of the best hookups I’ve ever had. Like, probably top three fucks ever.”

That makes Tenya laugh out loud. It’s not that he thought he was bad at sex, quite the opposite actually. But he wouldn’t have said it that way, and coming from you…

“I’m serious, Iida,” you say after a giggle. “It was great. And I trust you. So if you want to keep having sex, especially if it helps you manage all that stress you’re under, I’m down.”

“I—”

He’s tempted to say no, to go back to just being friends and coworkers, but when he opens his mouth again, he finds he doesn’t want to. It’s one of the crazier things he’s ever done, but…

“I trust you too. But maybe we can start on some kind of trial basis. This is very new to me.”

You smile and knock him on the shoulder like this is the most normal conversation in the world. Maybe it is.

“How about this: the next time you want to let off some steam, just let me know.”

Tenya nods, then realizes he’s been wearing his seatbelt this entire time. He clicks the release button as he pulls his keys from the ignition. He can do this—he can handle casual. Maybe he’ll even be better off for it.

“Deal.”

–

Despite your new arrangement, almost a week passes without incident. Tenya continues helping Sasaki with his audits. Together, they discover a particular issue with the resistance bands that their plant has been manufacturing. Tenya spends a full day poring over the data until he comes up with better testing standards to help ensure that faulty merchandise isn’t shipped out to customers. It’s what he would have done regardless, even if the promotion weren’t on the table. 

When Toshinori returns from his trip, looking more bronzed and sporting a splint on a broken index finger, Sasaki calls a meeting to go over Tenya’s proposal. A small group meets in the conference room—along with a few others from quality, there are reps from customer service who have been handling most of the complaints, and Monoma, the sales rep.

For a few months of the year, Monoma is largely out of the office, traveling to trade shows and visiting customers and distributors nationwide to tout the wonders of Plus Ultra equipment. And it’s not that he’s not good at his job—he brings in a lot of clients with a lot of money to spend. But for the rest of the year, Monoma spends his time, as far as Tenya can tell, making a couple phone calls per day before slacking off while everyone else is hard at work. 

Maybe he’s biased, but Tenya has never liked sales reps.

Seated around the conference table, Sasaki starts them off by explaining the manufacturing issues they ran into. The customer service lead, Kendo, explains how the complaints came in and what her team did to placate the upset customers.

Toshinori gives Kendo a big thumbs up. “Thanks for all the hard work. It really matters that we keep our customers happy, even when things like this happen.” He’s not really a detail-oriented guy—he just likes to know what’s going on.

“Of course,” Monoma pipes up, “after customer service brought this issue to our attention, we took all of the customer information and used it to pinpoint the lot number of the defective batch of bands.”

Tenya sighs from behind his laptop. Everything Monoma is saying is correct, factually. But the way he’s using ‘we’ makes it sound like he played a bigger role in that process when all he did was email Tenya a list of customer info. It was Tenya and Sasaki who dug through the data, found the lot number, and got the rest of the defective product pulled from the warehouse before it got shipped out.

With a hand placed thoughtfully on his strong chin, Toshinori listens as Monoma talks, and talks, and talks—name dropping the bigger clients that he called personally to explain the situation. With as much patience as he can muster, Tenya waits for his turn to speak with his proposal slideshow open.

“Of course, while I was hunting all these guys down—you know how they are, they’re hardly ever in the office, a little like you, Mr. Yagi—”

“Please, I insist you call me Toshinori.”

“Right, Toshinori,” Monoma shmoozes. “Well, meanwhile, we can assure you we have a plan to keep this from happening again.” He glances over at Sasaki, who is tapping away on his keyboard, no doubt still paying attention to every word like the expert multitasker he is.

Tenya opens his mouth to speak, but Monoma’s lips don’t stop moving. “We think something like this can be caught by testing the next time it happens if we tighten up tolerances a bit. For example…”

He goes on to explain, in a roundabout way, everything in Tenya’s proposal without so much as a pause for Tenya to get a word in edgewise.

Tenya knows this meeting isn’t about him, that they’re just here to catch Toshinori up to speed and get his final stamp of approval. But especially when he’s getting some of the details only partially correct, it’s frustrating to sit there and listen to Monoma speak just because he loves the sound of his own voice.

And while Tenya is sure that Monoma is just trying to show off in front of Toshinori because of the promotion, he also doesn’t want to butt in for the same reason. At this point, it’ll just make Tenya look like he’s trying to spotlight himself. He’ll just have to keep his mouth shut, knowing that Sasaki is aware that the proposal was really all Tenya’s idea.

Sasaki, Tenya thinks almost bitterly, who is just sitting there, letting Monoma talk over him.

It’s fine, Tenya tells himself. It’s fine, and it doesn’t really matter. And he could have maybe left the meeting believing that if Monoma didn’t look him directly in the face when he asks, “Any questions?”

That bastard. That bitch. He wouldn’t normally be so vulgar, even inside his own head, but fuck, this time he’s really pissed. For as long as he’s worked here, Monoma has always been like this—stepping on toes just because he can, and unbelievably smug about it. And Tenya is officially getting sick of it.

Tenya glares back. “No,” he replies in a calculated tone. “No, I don’t think I have anything to add right now.”

If Sasaki notices his ire, he doesn’t do anything about it. Toshinori, on the other hand, appears blissfully unaware, just happy that the problem was solved even in his absence.

When the meeting ends, Tenya is the first one out of the room, his laptop folded closed under his arm. Vaguely, he hears Monoma calling for him, asking if he wants to join everyone for lunch, but he doesn’t stop until he gets to his cubicle. Nobody follows him.

For a while, Tenya just sits there, seething. He gets his lunch out of his mini-fridge, but he’s too annoyed to eat much of it. Instead, he stares daggers down into his salad, stabbing each bite he takes a little too forcefully. He tries to let it go, to forget what just happened because regardless, this should fix the manufacturing problem. That’s what matters. But Monoma’s words keep replaying on an infuriating loop in his head.

So screw that. He wants to go home. No, actually—he wants his blood pumping and his muscles straining and sweat pouring down his back until his mind finally shuts off and the frustration melts away. But he wasn’t planning on going to the gym tonight, so he doesn’t have clothes to change into for a run right now.

Tenya huffs and drops his fork on his desk. He remembers what you said in the car—to let you know the next time he’s stressed out. So he shuts his laptop and shoves his half-eaten salad back in the fridge.

Heads turn when Tenya strides into the marketing department. He doesn’t spend much time in this part of the office. Your work doesn’t overlap with his often. But he doesn’t want to leave any kind of paper trail, so instead of sending you a message, he walks straight up to your desk. 

You’re flipping through files in a folder before you look up to greet him. “Hey, Iida.”

After glancing over his shoulder, he drops a heavy hand on your desk and leans down to speak into your ear, his jaw set tight. “My car. Now.”

You spin in your swivel chair to face him, eyes narrowing when you meet his gaze. Tenya raises an eyebrow, asking if you understand. Slowly, you uncross your legs, and it takes all the restraint he has not to bite a hole through his lower lip.

“Go first. I’ll meet you.”

He nods, then makes a beeline for the parking garage.

His mind races. Is this how he was supposed to go about it? For about half a minute, while he’s sitting in the driver’s seat, waiting for you to appear, he almost loses his nerve and calls the whole thing off. But goddamnit, he’s pissed, and he wants to forget, just for a few minutes until he can relax. And you look so good today, so soft to the touch in your flowy little blouse.

Now’s not the time to overthink it. He said he wanted a trial run, and here’s his chance.

You arrive with your purse thrown over your shoulder, heels clacking on the concrete floor until you slide into the seat next to him. Once your bag is placed by your feet, you ask, “Do you wanna talk about what happened?”

Tenya loosens his tie. “Not really.”

“That’s ok. We can just have fun, then.”

You kick your shoes off and push the center armrest back. Tenya plants his feet on the floor, and you crawl into his lap, letting your skirt ride high up on your legs. Impatiently, craving the piece of heaven he found the last time he was with you, Tenya wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him for a kiss.

As your mouths move together, Tenya is keenly aware that you’re still, for all intents and purposes, in public. His parking spot is along the outside wall of the parking garage, one level up from the walkway that leads inside the business complex, which should minimize the amount of foot traffic that might pass. Still, the possibility that someone could walk by isn’t exactly remote. But like at the bar, Tenya is surprised to find that he’s not completely opposed to the idea—to the thrilling fantasy that you could be caught.

At least you’re not still inside the office, he rationalizes. How much real trouble could you actually get into? Office relationships aren’t forbidden. And there are worse ways to spend your lunch break—hacking accounts, stealing tape from the supply closet. Fooling around in the car isn’t hurting anyone. In fact, it actually decreases the likelihood of him personally strangling Monoma. From a certain point of view, this is actually the safer choice.

Tenya forgets all his justifications the moment you bury your hand in his hair, fingernails scratching against his scalp before you pull at the longer part of his undercut. It forces him to tilt his chin up as you push deeper into the kiss. And when your mouth breaks from his and drags down to his jaw, teasing against his ear, he forgets everything except for you.

Your kisses are light against the side of his throat, careful as though not to leave a mark. They’re slow and wet, your tongue peeking out to taste him with each kiss. When you take his earlobe between your teeth, he can’t help but moan, fingers curling into your waist.

“Fuck, you sound so hot when you do that.” Your lower back arches, your knee knocking against the door as you spread yourself lower, wider over his lap. It drives him crazy, the way you move so easily with him, your body slotting into all the places he needs you most.

Tenya wants to rip your blouse open, but he restrains himself, knowing you’ll still need to wear it back inside. He fumbles with the first few buttons, trying to get it off you, before you realize he needs help. Together, you undo them all, revealing the lacy white bra you’re wearing underneath.

With all his caution thrown to the wind, Tenya palms one of your breasts, pressing it up against his mouth as he kisses your cleavage. You hum for him, reaching behind you to brace yourself against his knee with your other arm slung over his shoulder.

Your breasts feel amazing. He didn’t really get to play with them last time—he was too busy holding you up against the wall. Now, he can knead them with both hands, lifting them up and pressing his thumbs between them until they pop out of the cups of your bra.

Your gasp is delectable when he takes one nipple into his mouth, groaning as he sucks around it. He opens his mouth wider, desperate to take more, tongue lapping at the bud. He can’t get enough.

Meanwhile, he tenderly squeezes your other breast, obsessed with the way it squishes like he’s pressing into soft dough. He looks up at you over his glasses, watching your brows knit together as he drinks you in. Then he does the same to your other breast, giving them equal attention.

Tenya can feel your pulse quickening through your sternum, syllables of his name falling from your lips along with panting breaths. You sound so good, he loves hearing you. “Tell me what you want,” he mumbles, unbuttoning his vest and then starting on his dress shirt.

Your hand drifts down to touch his exposed chest.

“You, I want you.” Your hips grind down against his straining erection as you whine for him. 

Tenya sucks air through his teeth, grabbing for his wallet in the cupholder and pulling out the condom he’s had tucked inside for a few days. He holds the corner of the packet between his teeth while he pulls his cock out of the dark blue slacks he pushes down to his knees. You moan when you see it, giving him a flash of pride before you take the condom and roll it on for him.

“You’re so big.” He’s known that for a long time—that his size is impressive to most—but he loves hearing it, the way it tumbles from your lips like you can’t believe it’s all for you.

He sucks two of his fingers into his mouth, coating them in saliva before pushing your panties to the side and rubbing them over your cunt. Your head falls back, breasts bouncing while he plays with your hole, spreading spit and slick around it.

With both hands on his shoulders, you position yourself above him. “Fuck, fuck me.”

If you keep begging like that, he’s going to lose his damn mind.

Tenya holds his cock steady at the base while you sink down onto him with a gorgeous whine. He watches himself enter you, watches as you take his thick cock like you’re made for it. The ridge of the condom catches the slick that leaks out of you, leaving a creamy ring behind when you start to bounce up and down on your knees.

Tenya guides you, lifting his hips when he can to thrust with you. It feels too good—suddenly, he can’t keep his mouth shut.

“God, so tight. Oh my god.” You clench when he calls your name, his voice strangled like your hand’s around his throat. Huffing and moaning, he holds you up while you ride him with impressive stamina.

Sweat beads on your forehead and your chest, collecting in the notch of your throat. You’re persistent, your movements actually speeding up while your walls cling to his cock with every thrust. You’re like an animal, blindly chasing your own pleasure while still giving him so much.

He can tell when you finish by the way you gasp and squeal, writhing like you’re trying to stay sunk down on top of him while you pulse. Watching your body tremor pulls Tenya over the edge with you, his hips lifting as he climaxes before falling back onto the headrest. You fold over against his chest, just trying to catch your breath as you come down.

The driver’s side window is foggy, your naked upper body slippery against him. He’s still inside you, your face buried in his neck. You rest the weight of your tired body against him fully, even as he sits up to start up the air conditioning so you can both cool down. Once the sheen of sweat between you is mostly dry, Tenya reclines his seat all the way back and helps you climb out of his lap.

Last time, all you needed to do was get yourselves together enough to sneak out of the bar and get home. Now, Tenya realizes, he has to walk back into the office as if he didn’t just fuck you in his car. Granted, the condom was a good idea—it takes care of a large percentage of the mess you made, but he’s still sweaty and disheveled after disposing of it wrapped in a wad of napkins from the glove compartment.

You give each other a good once-over outside the car, making sure all buttons are done up right and everything’s tucked back where it’s supposed to be. He lets you fix his hair for him, shaking out his bangs with your fingers before fixing them back in place across his forehead. He intends to walk you back inside, but you stop him just outside the glass walkway with a glance over your shoulder.

“Give me a little head start,” you tease. Your giggle is equal parts adorable and sensual as you strut away.

Tenya stares after you, your legs, your tight skirt, until you disappear through the double doors at the end of the corridor.

He can give you a head start. He’d give you just about anything you want at this point.

–

From that day on, hooking up with you becomes more and more frequent. Tenya tries not to wear out his welcome too quickly, but the more he has sex with you, the more he craves it. Once per week quickly becomes three or four times, sometimes in the car, sometimes in whatever empty room or closet you can find when the opportunity arises. You let him do so many different things to you, content to let him take the lead and call the shots.

It’s almost Pavlovian, the way he finds himself set on the path from his desk to yours after a stressful meeting or phone call—even just too many hours looking at spreadsheets can make him itch for you. 

As much as he loves your legs wrapped around his waist while he plunges inside you, Tenya learns he has much more of an oral fixation than he ever realized. When he’s frustrated, he needs his mouth on you. He’ll eat you out or suck at your breasts while you bounce in his lap, and before he knows it, he’s forgotten whatever it was that was causing so much tension in the first place, soothed by the weight of you on his tongue.

There aren’t many rules in your arrangement, but after the third or fourth time you turn down Tenya’s offers to cook you dinner, you set an important one.

“I really appreciate the thought, but in the interest of keeping this casual, let’s not hook up at your house or mine.”

“It’s just dinner,” Tenya reasons. “I would never expect you to sleep with me in return. We wouldn’t have to.”

“I know you wouldn’t. But I know myself, and it would be hard for me to be in your house with you, alone at night, and not want to have sex with you.”

“I…” Tenya rubs at the back of his undercut. He should probably get it trimmed soon. “I’m not pressuring you, but why—”

“Because if I start waking up in your bed, it’s only a matter of time before one of us catches feelings. And you said you didn’t want that, right?”

Tenya hesitates for half a beat, but, “Yes, you’re right.”

“So no sleepovers. But thank you again for offering, Tenya.”

“Of course.”

The other rules remain largely unspoken. You always wait for him to initiate, and at first, this concerned him. If you weren’t interested in doing this—if you’d changed your mind—he needed to know, and he told you as much. He’d been surprised at the heat that pooled in his stomach when you laughed and replied, sincerely, that you liked it that way. That you liked when he took you, ravished you. That it turned you on to be used that way. It was as much for you as it was for him.

Tenya would never forget the salacious grin on your painted lips when you told him so. It made you that much more attractive, this insane sex drive you seemed to have. A few weeks ago, he never would have thought that you were so insatiable. How wrong he’d been.

As time goes on, however, you start finding ways to tease him, daring him to make the first move.

It’s been nearly two months when Tenya notices you dressing differently. Your skirts get tighter, and you never swap them out for dress pants, even when September begins to cool off the sweltering summer heat. You almost always opt for blouses with buttons or in fabrics that stretch—the easier to take off and put on, the better.

You also start to have a little more fun with your accessories, including your underwear. Every once in a while, Tenya will mumble a little comment about them—”these new?” or “haven’t seen this one before”—and he can tell by your smile that you love it.

One afternoon, Sasaki calls a meeting about a new product launch, and Tenya finds himself seated next to you at the conference table. With close to a dozen people in the room, it’s easy to watch you, unnoticed, even when he should be focusing on the presentation. Instead, Tenya’s eyes drift up and down your legs, counting the beats as you bounce one knee over the other.

You push your chair back from the table, hands crossed in your lap as you appear to listen about the wonders of kettlebell gloves. Maybe you are listening—you’re a decent multitasker—but Tenya is positive you know what you’re doing to him when you slide one foot out of your little black pumps. By curling your toes, you tap your shoe against your heel, and it should not be sexy, should not be turning Tenya on, but it does. Your bare ankle looks so delicate as your shoe dangles from your toe, reminding him of how quickly you could be undressed.

The meeting can’t end soon enough.

As soon as he can get you alone, Tenya is crowding you against the copier. He runs his hands over your hips, riding over your curves. “Have you always dressed like this for attention? Or is it just for me?”

You push your ass back against him. “What’s gotten into you?” you giggle, acting as if you don’t know.

“Supply closet?” he asks in response. If it were anyone else, he’d be self conscious about being too direct. But it’s you, and he’s learning not to think twice.

It’s nearly 4pm—some people have even gone home by this point. There’s no one around to see you dragging him by the tie into the closet and shutting the door behind you.

Tenya drops to his knees, kissing your thighs as you turn on the overhead light. His nose teases at the hem of your skirt, pushing it up as his hands slide up the backs of your legs. “Someone might see the light under the door,” he mumbles, almost whispering.

You hum appreciatively. “I think you’re going to wanna see these.”

“See what?”

Leaning back against the built in shelf, you push your hips forward. “Keep going.”

Clammy palms push your skirt up over your hips. Tenya continues his ascent up your inner thigh, pushing your legs further apart to make room. He finds his surprise at the apex.

Your red lace panties have no crotch. Instead, draped over the middle, is a string of faux pearls. They’re beautiful, nestled against your folds, and they’re already wet.

As he stares in awe, Tenya stupidly comments, “Those can’t be comfortable to sit around in.”

You stifle a laugh. “They’re not as bad as you’d think.” You lift one foot out of your shoe and place it on his shoulder, lewdly spreading yourself for him. “Wanna taste ‘em?”

Tenya turns his head, kissing the ball of your ankle before pulling your leg down over his shoulder. “Dying to.”

His mouth slots between your thighs—trembling, if he’s not mistaken—with a warm sigh of relief. After leaving wet kisses over your clothed clit, Tenya tilts his head back and lets his tongue jut out, licking a stripe over the pearls. The little beads taste like plastic and you, like treasures for him to find and retrieve, soaked in your essence. He works at them with his tongue, playing with them until he loses his grip and then starts all over again, slurping you up as he goes.

Your hips buck when he hits a sensitive spot, when he pushes the pearls deeper into your folds with his tongue. He feels you twitch when he nudges one almost inside your hole before sucking as much of you into his mouth at once as he can. You hum on a moan, trying to keep quiet, fingers twisted tight in his hair.

Tenya comes up panting, his face covered in you. “Do you want to come like this?”

With your back pressed up against a shelf of printer paper, you bite your lip hard and nod yes.

Tenya pulls you down firmly on his shoulder, getting you right where he wants you, before pushing two fingers up inside your panties to tweak at your clit. He rolls the little bud between his thumb and forefinger, licking against your slit where the pearls are held taut until he hears you squeak and feels the little gush against his face.

While you shiver in the aftershocks, Tenya licks his lips then wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand. Carefully, he pulls you off his shoulder and stands up, undoing his belt on the way. His heartbeat pounds in his throat while he struggles with the condom. Once it’s on, he slips inside you, one of your thighs held to his hip, the string of pearls brushing his cock with every thrust until he comes undone.

Then, like every time, you clean yourselves up and walk away like nothing ever happened, and Tenya’s heart breaks a little more.

-

After months of wallowing, Midoriya finally starts to act like himself again. He joins Tenya at the gym more often and even comes jogging in the morning a few times. Some evenings, Tenya cooks dinner for both of them, knowing his friend is hopeless in the kitchen and has more or less been surviving off of Cup Noodles since mid-summer. Tenya doesn’t mind it—he likes to cook, and it’s nice to have the company a few nights per week.

Tonight, after they finish the salmon he made, he’s standing on a stool in his bedroom while Midoriya measures the inseam of his tux pants for Todoroki’s wedding. Tenya had to order his a size up to make room for his thick thighs, and he needs them tailored.

“Are you going to ask her to be your date?” Midoriya asks just as he presses his tape measure to Tenya’s crotch. He doesn’t have to clarify who he means.

“No.” Tenya focuses intently on not getting hard at the thought of you. It’s pathetic that a simple thought or mention of you is sometimes all it takes, but he cannot embarrass himself with Midoriya between his legs right now.

“I told you, it’s only casual. We’re not together, and besides, they already invited her anyway.”

Midoriya shrugs. “But you like her, don’t you?”

“I… It’s purely physical.” He hasn’t shared every dirty detail with Midoriya, but since he’s never met you, Tenya felt safe telling him about your arrangement.

“So how are you going to feel if she shows up with somebody else?”

“She’s not—”

Midoriya grabs a few pins from the cushion around his wrist, holding them in his mouth while he crouches to pin Tenya’s hem. “But are you sure?”

Now that Tenya thinks about it, he’s not. Just because he hasn’t been seeing anyone else, it doesn’t mean you couldn’t be.

“All I’m saying,” Midoriya mumbles around his pins, “is that you shouldn’t wait around too long if you want something more.”

Tenya has to admit that he might have a point. Maybe he’s not cut out for casual after all, despite how good it’s been so far. He spends more time thinking about you than he cares to admit—and it’s not always sexual. He wishes he could spend more time with you outside of work too. 

Sometimes, during his morning runs, he imagines what it would be like if you were beside him. But he doesn’t even know if you like jogging.

He doesn’t want to talk about it right now.

“Wow, Midoriya. That really means a lot, coming from you. And you’re aware that Bakugou will more than likely be there with Uraraka?”

Midoriya snorts. “God, I hope Todoroki doesn’t seat me with them. But regardless, I’m still going stag to the wedding. I don’t even know anyone to ask. Now hold still so I can get the other leg even,” he says, reaching for his measuring tape again.

While Midoriya finishes pinning, Tenya considers all his options. He was planning on attending the wedding without a date—he figured he’d just see you, Midoriya, and everyone else from work there. He supposes he could ask you to be his date as a friend, but what would be the point?

To make sure you’re not going with someone else, he guesses.

With the wedding only a few weeks away, he’s going to need to figure out what to do about it—if anything—and soon. Maybe he can bring it up casually in conversation, but he’s not sure he has the nerve. Between finding out you’re going with someone else or asking you out himself, Tenya’s not sure which one he’s more afraid of.

-

This doesn’t count, Tenya tells himself. When Sero shows up at the end of the workday, off early from the tattoo shop, and invites everyone to join him and Todoroki for dinner, it doesn’t count as having dinner with you. There’s nothing in the rules about going out in a group together.

Careful to keep himself in check, Tenya only has two beers with his burger. It may have worked out in his favor last time, but he doesn’t plan on getting wasted this time. You seat yourself easily by his side, your arm brushing his as you finish off a cocktail with your dinner.

For the first time, Tenya really wonders if anyone else around the table can tell that there’s something else going on between the two of you. He’s usually as careful as he can be, trying not to show you any special attention. But even just sitting next to you, listening to you talk and laugh with your friends, is distracting.

Then, while you’re laughing at something Denki says, your hand falls to Tenya’s knee. It seems like you don’t even notice that you’re doing it, the gesture warm and familiar, like you’d done it a thousand times. Tenya’s neck gets hot, and he can’t think about anything but the weight of your hand on his leg.

“Iida.”

Tenya jumps when Sero calls his name, and you pull your hand away, jolted back to reality. “Hm?” He hasn’t been listening at all.

“I asked if they’ve given you that promotion yet. I wanna know when you’re gonna be Shouto’s boss so I can tease him about it.” Sero’s arm is wrapped around Todoroki’s shoulders, his signature grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. Todoroki hardly reacts except to blow a strand of hair out of his face.

Tenya clears his throat. “They haven’t mentioned it in a while. Toshinori is hardly in the office, so I suspect that’s slowing down the process.”

“Oh! That reminds me.” Denki leans forward so he can catch Tenya’s eye over the table. “I was sorting the mail and I heard Sasaki talking to David Shield from R&D. They were going over some financial mumbo jumbo and I heard him say they need to make some hiring decisions this month before they can approve his research budget for next year.”

This time, when you squeeze Tenya’s arm, you don’t try to hide it. You have a good reason not to. “So you’ll know this month whether you’re moving up or not. That’s exciting!”

Although he’s been fucking you for months, Tenya still blushes at your touch, especially while his friends are looking. This is what you do to him. He mutters, “Thank you. I’ll just be glad when this whole thing is over and I don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

Your hand falls away from him as you reply. “Yeah, that makes sense.” Something in your voice changes—you sound almost disappointed, giving Tenya a pang in the heart. 

“There’s no way they’ll choose Monoma,” says Todoroki. “He’s a dickhead.”

Sero gulps down the rest of his drink, his forehead creasing with a frown. “Is this that guy who stole your yogurt out of the fridge?”

“I can’t prove it, but I think so.”

“If I ever get my hands on him…”

“You guys wanna hear something crazy?” Denki chimes in. “I put red pepper flakes in my leftover takeout to see who’s been stealing it from the fridge, and at lunch, I caught Shinsou coughing and buying a milk from the vending machine. I trusted him!”

While Denki retells the loss of his chance with Shinsou that may have opened another door with Jirou, Tenya’s attention falls back to you. You’ve gone quiet, which is strange, considering how excited you were. Did his reaction upset you? Was it not what you were looking for? He can’t quite discern what he’s done wrong, but he felt the twinge of sadness when you pulled away from him.

He lets himself look at you—really look at you—while you pointedly look away. He’s dying to get you away from this table, to somewhere you can talk, but he can’t think of an excuse. So instead, while nobody is paying attention, he reaches for the strap of your dress, which has fallen down your shoulder. He lets his knuckles trail against your arm as he pushes it back into place.

“Please,” he whispers, so only you can hear. “Come home with me.”

He doesn’t expect you to agree. He prepares himself for you to reject his invitation, like you always do. But your eyes shine when you look up at him. “Ok.”

When the bills are paid and the table is cleared, you climb into Tenya’s car. It’s dark outside, and it’s just started to rain. Music plays softly from the speakers because he knows you dread silence. Tenya nestles his hand in your lap while he drives, letting you play with his fingers to distract yourself.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

“No…. I don’t know.”

He’s never seen you like this, the light that usually bursts from inside of you practically extinguished. He knows he can’t take what you say at face value right now.

He doesn’t want to be pushy, but he tries a different question. “Did I do something that upset you?”

Over the pattering of the rain on the windows, he hears you sniffle, and that’s when Tenya realizes that you’re crying.

“I just need a minute to think.”

“Ok.” Tenya turns up the music a few notches, hoping it gives you the illusion of space and privacy behind the sound. That, and unless it gets any worse, he really doesn’t want to hear you cry because it breaks his heart.

You wipe your eyes, pulling yourself together as he parks in his driveway. Craning your neck, you look out the rain-streaked window. “Nice place.”

“Thank you.” Tenya turns the radio down again, but leaves it softly playing an old rock ballad he’s probably heard a thousand times before. “Do you still want to come in? I’ll make you a cup of tea. Or if you’ve changed your mind, I can drive you home or call you a ride. Whatever you want.”

When you turn back to him, you’re wearing a ghost of your usual smile. “You’re too good to me, Iida. Always putting me first.”

Tenya fiddles with his tie, pulling the knot a little looser around his throat. “Of course.” It’s all he can think to say. Is it not obvious?

You unbuckle your seatbelt, his heart clenching at the sound. “A cup of tea would be lovely.”

The rain has started to pick up, so you follow him up to his stoop with your coat held over your head. As Tenya unlocks the door, he decides that if you’re not ready to talk about what’s bothering you, he’s not going to push it anymore. If you just want to be comforted and taken care of, then that’s what he’ll do. In a way, it’s exactly what you’ve been doing for him over the past few months, in more ways than you even know about.

He lets you inside, taking your coat and flipping on a light while you kick off your ankle boots, revealing a pair of brightly-colored socks with what looks like turtles on them. Normally, he’d make a comment, tell you how cute he thinks they are. Maybe later he’ll get the chance.

The next thing Tenya does is fill and turn on the electric kettle. Then he sets you down at the kitchen island while he fixes you a plate of mini scones and goes over the tea choices. “Decaf?” He can’t imagine you’d want caffeine at this hour, but maybe you want a pick-me-up.

“Yes, please. Do you have something herbal?”

Tenya hums as the kettle starts to bubble. “Orange, lavender, or white jasmine?”

“Oh, the orange.”

Tenya grabs two teabags.

“And honey?”

He grabs the honey.

His back is to you as he fixes two matching mugs—thick, blue ceramic that he picked out when he got his first place of his own. The kettle is almost ready, so while he waits, he undoes his tie completely, letting it drape over his shoulders. He unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt, then rolls up his sleeves. Though Tenya genuinely just likes to be dressed comfortably at home, he wouldn’t be upset if you happen to be watching him.

When the kettle is ready, he prepares a tea for each of you, then turns to add the honey in front of you so you can say when. You wrap both your hands around the mug like it’s made of solid gold. Immediately, you take a sip.

“Ow.” You click your tongue against your teeth.

“You never let it cool,” Tenya mentions, slowly stirring his honey into his steaming cup.

“So you’ve noticed?” This makes you smile, so Tenya keeps going.

“I’ve noticed a lot of things about you.”

“Like how many different bras I own?” you chuckle.

Tenya snorts, then runs a hand through his hair. “Well, yeah. But also stuff like how you like your tea and what music you listen to. Where you have scars and marks on your body. That kind of thing.”

A long, not-uncomfortable silence falls over the kitchen as you both enjoy your tea, Tenya leaning against the island opposite you.

You wring out your teabag against the side of your mug with your spoon, then place both on the saucer Tenya set out between you. Then you clear your throat. “At the bar…”

Tenya sets his own mug down and listens.

You sigh. “It’s kind of stupid, in hindsight. But I’m worried that when you get the promotion, you’ll be all set in life. And you won’t need me anymore.” Your voice wavers on the last syllable, and you cough into your shoulder to cover it up. Your eyes are glassy again.

Tenya doesn’t hesitate, barely thinks before pressing his hand to your cheek, softly bringing your gaze to meet his. “I guarantee that if I get the promotion, I’ll be as stressed as ever. Maybe even more—just look at Sasaki. I’ll be in his shoes.” Tenya chuckles in spite of himself.

“Regardless, I wouldn’t want to stop seeing you, if that were the case. I’d actually like to see you more, if you want that.” Tenya rubs his thumb over your cheek. “Unless you’re ready to be done with me, and whatever this thing is.”

“No.” You reply in a thick, watery whisper. Tears collect in the corners of your eyes. “But I think I fucked up. I think I have real feelings for you.”

Tenya brings his other hand to your face. “Oh, thank god,” he mumbles into a kiss.

Your mugs of tea are quickly forgotten. You kiss him back across the kitchen island, covering his hands with your own. Tenya can’t stop because he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to kiss you like this, with the full weight of how he feels about you.

When you finally pull back, you’re biting your lip. “Is it too much if I ask you to take me to your bedroom?”

Tenya does you one better and carries you there in his arms.

You giggle when he lays you down on his pristinely made bed, your blouse riding up over your stomach. Tenya is blindsided by how beautiful you look like this, rumpled and laughing. He’s never fucked you lying down before, and suddenly, it all feels that much more intimate.

He doesn’t have much time to think about it before you pull him down on top of you by his shirt. Tenya settles himself between your legs, bent over the foot of the bed. You undress each other between passionate kisses, baring yourselves to each other from this entirely new angle.

Tenya trails kisses down your body until he’s crouched on the floor, tongue pressed against your pussy with a heat he’s never felt before. He devours you, groaning while you writhe against him, reaching down to pull his hair when you want him to hit a different spot. He lets you direct him wherever you like, alternating between licking over your hole and sucking your clit until you cream on the two fingers he has buried inside you.

Half-drunk on you, Tenya climbs back on top. With your legs around his waist, you beg him to fuck you, to fill you up with everything he has. He doesn’t have a condom nearby, but you plead with him anyway, telling him that tonight, he doesn’t need one. For the first time since the first time, he slicks himself up with you and slides in raw, moaning your name as the plush of your walls sucks him in deep.

When his glasses slide down his nose from the sweat beading on his face, Tenya tosses them vaguely toward the night stand. As he moves inside you, he drops his forehead to rest against yours. Even with his eyes closed in ecstasy, he listens for every desperate sound you make and feels every clench of your muscles around him.

He feels like there’s so much he wants to tell you, so much he wants to ask you, but it feels so good inside you that he can only babble. Your breaths are hot and fast against his mouth as he lets the words spill out. “So good, so fucking perfect. Good girl, you fuck me so well.”

He lets you push against his chest and roll him over. He holds your middle while you ride him to your climax, the extra wetness and the vice-like squeeze pulling him over the edge with you. Your body locks up over his as he fills you with everything he has, coating your insides until it starts to leak out into his lap.

Tenya’s chest pounds, breath quickening until he comes down and you collapse at his side, a hand splayed over his sweaty chest. He holds you, memorizing the shape and weight of you beside him until you get up to shower off together, and then he holds you for the rest of the night too.

–

Tenya never thought he would see you like this: in his bed, under his sheets, asleep with your head on his pillow. He hates to wake you up and disturb you, but if you want to go home for a change of clothes before work, he probably needs to drive you there soon. Lightly, he nudges your shoulder until your lashes flutter.

“Morning,” he says softly.

You roll over onto your back, groaning a little bit as you stretch. “Good morning,” you mumble.

“Sleep ok?” Tenya slides out of bed, reaching to his bedside table before he realizes his glasses aren’t there. He’s about to get down and look under the bed for them when your hand finds his back. He lays back down.

“Pretty well, yeah.” You take your time looking him over, touching his arm, studying his face fondly.

After a while, he asks, “Do you want me to take you home before work?”

You snuggle deeper into your pillow. “Nah, I’ll just borrow one of your shirts.”

“You’re already wearing one of my shirts,” he smirks, wrapping a hand around you to pull you close. He’d let you dig through his pajama drawer before bed, and you’d chosen the biggest t-shirt you could find.

“Then I’ll borrow another one.” You giggle a bit, before your smile fades. “If that’s ok.”

“Of course it’s ok.”

You sit halfway up, swallowing a deep breath, and a knot forms in Tenya’s stomach.

“I just want to make sure we’re absolutely clear,” you explain, twisting the bedsheets in your fists. “I have feelings for you. Is that something you want to pursue now? Because I don’t think I can stay casual with you anymore, unless it’s just as friends.”

Tenya exhales. He sits up too, taking you hand in his own so you let the sheets fall away. Even without his glasses on, he sees you in perfect focus, his memory making up for what his vision lacks. “I should have known from the beginning that I couldn’t ‘keep it casual.’ Especially not with you.”

You blush, and it’s one of the cutest things he’s ever seen. You try to look away, but he doesn’t want you to hide from him. Lightly, he lifts your chin with a curled finger and pecks you on the lips.

“Would you like to date me?”

You burst into a fit of happy giggles. “Yes. Please.”

Tenya smiles so big it almost hurts. “Ok. It’s a deal.”

You kiss him again before swatting at his chest. “You fell for me?” you tease.”

“Completely,” Tenya admits with one more kiss.

Eventually, he’s able to get you out of bed, and he finds his glasses, haphazardly tossed aside the night before, all the way across the room, behind his hamper. He’s not even sure how he managed that. He leaves you to get ready while he goes downstairs to start his coffee pot and stick a few eggs in the hard boiler. You don’t have a ton of time to get to work, but he can order you some breakfast once you get there if you want.

With two travel mugs filled and ready to go, he heads back upstairs to finish getting dressed. He finds you in the ensuite, leaning forward over the counter to pin up your hair. You’re wearing one of his dress shirts tucked into your skirt and an oversized sweater vest over top. Somehow, you’ve managed to make it all look so purposeful.

He has a passing thought about taking you over the counter, pushing your skirt up and fucking you from behind, but you’re verging on being late to work already. Besides, he remembers. The two of you have all the time in the world now.

Instead, he gives you a kiss on the cheek, tells you that you look beautiful, and within minutes, you’re out the door.

When he pulls his car into the parking garage, something occurs to him. “What are we going to tell people?”

“About us?”

“Yes,” Tenya chuckles. Apparently, it hadn’t occurred to you yet either, but with this relationship, he was starting to expect to figure things out as you go. “Do you want to tell people about us?”

“Yes,” you answer confidently. “But maybe we can just say that we’ve been getting closer as friends… if anyone asks.”

“Good idea.”

That’s how the two of you end up walking into the building, hand in hand instead of one after the other. It’s also why Kaminari stands up at his desk screaming, “I knew it!” before the front door has even closed behind you.

Tenya probably should have expected the news would shake up the office a bit. Everything is about to change, but to his own surprise, he isn’t afraid in the slightest. He just holds your hand a little tighter, and he feels ok.

While you’re busy talking Kaminari down when Sasaki appears from around the corner. “Iida, do you have a minute?”

Tenya’s stomach drops. Everything positive he was feeling is instantly replaced with nausea. He’s sure his face turns pale as he wonders what this is about. The promotion? Probably. But what if he’s in trouble? What if someone caught the two of you hooking up and he’s about to be reprimanded or worse?

Trying his best not to jump to any more dire conclusions, Tenya swallows the lump in his throat and replies, “Sure.” He gives your hand one more squeeze before following Sasaki to his office. 

Despite his nerves about the conversation ahead, Tenya finds Sasaki’s office as calming as usual. It’s plainly furnished with a desk, chairs, and a few filing cabinets, and a bookcase stuffed with comics, all of which are kept immaculately neat. The only items on the desk are Sasaki’s computer and a set of wax seals. 

On a shelf by the windows sits a tabletop fountain next to an oil diffuser, the calming scent of eucalyptus wafting across the room—Tenya has always assumed Sasaki keeps these around to help with stress. One wall is decorated with posters from national parks, and across from it hangs the company’s yearly branded calendar next to a framed motivational print of a kitten clinging to a tree branch. 

None of this is unsettling except for the old cardboard cutout of Toshinori, made years ago for an advertising campaign, standing in the corner staring out eerily from behind the man himself, who is seated next to Sasaki’s desk.

Toshinori stands and shakes Tenya’s hand. “Great to see you, Iida. I’ve been so busy, I feel like it’s been months!”

In truth, it has been a couple weeks, not that Tenya would mention it. “How’s your finger healing up?” Tenya asks, taking a seat. The last time he saw Toshinori, he was still wearing a splint.

“Fine, it’s all fine. I do have a sprained arch from wakeboarding, but it’s nothing that some good shoes and a few days of rest won’t fix.” Toshinori is always injuring himself, it seems. Nonetheless, he remains endlessly positive, making it impossible for Tenya to tell if he’s in trouble or not.

Sasaki takes a seat as well and pulls some papers out of his desk drawer. “Well, now that Toshinori has a bum foot and I have him captive in the office for the week, we were finally able to discuss some things.”

Sasaki taps the edges of the paperwork on his desk, but before Tenya can even say a prayer that they’re not severance papers, Toshinori blurts out, “We’re promoting you to Quality Manager! What do you think?”

Sasaki sighs. “As in, do you accept the position?”

“And all the perks, of course,” Toshinori says, nudging his elbow into Tenya’s side.

Truthfully, Tenya is so relieved he could almost cry, so it takes him a few minutes to find the words to respond. After flapping his lips a few times, Tenya enthusiastically accepts. “Yes, yes I would love to. I’d be honored.” Reflexively, he reaches out to shake Toshinori’s hand again, which makes his boss laugh as he accepts.

“You’ve been nothing but an asset to the company for years, Young Iida. You deserve it more than anyone.”

Sasaki tries to hand Tenya the stack of forms and contracts to sign, but Tenya slides in a handshake before Sasaki can dodge it. Sasaki chuckles under his breath. “I hope you haven’t been driving yourself crazy worrying about this. You were easily our first choice.”

Tenya clears his throat, accepting the contracts and a pen to sign them with. The salary increase listed at the top of the page is nothing to balk at, and he’s even more thankful than he was a minute ago. 

“To tell you the truth, I thought maybe you’d go with someone else.”

“Who?” Sasaki asks.

“Monoma, maybe,” Tenya mumbles.

Toshinori bursts out laughing, the volume practically rattling the walls. “Monoma is a fine salesman, but truthfully, it was only because the investor board wanted us to present a few candidates before making the offer. He was more of a back-up.”

“Monoma is a prick,” Sasaki adds bluntly. “I would have only promoted Todoroki if you declined, Iida. You’ll be at liberty to choose your own assistant manager once all this is finalized, but I highly recommend you choose him. He’s got a level head on his shoulders.”

“You’re right about that.” Tenya would love nothing more than to bring Todoroki up the corporate ladder with him, so to speak, but he’ll have to see if he’s even interested first. Maybe he can enlist you and Hanta to help him encourage Todoroki to step up. If nothing else, he’s positive Todoroki would love his own office instead of a cubicle.

After he reads over the rest of the documents and signs his name on the dotted line, Sasaki takes Tenya to his new office, an actual corner office that was vacated a few months ago when Aizawa started working from home while taking care of his adopted daughter. It’s all so corporate, and feels almost too much for a middle manager, but Tenya has to admit, the view is much nicer than the temporary walls of his cubicle.

And so is the privacy, he realizes, when you slide in shortly after Sasaki leaves, locking the door behind you.

“Congrats, Mr. Manager.” You throw your arms around his neck, craning your neck back for a kiss. With his hands pressed to the small of your back, Tenya pulls you in for one.

“Thank you. So you heard already?”

You slip teasingly out of his grasp, wandering over to peer out the floor to ceiling windows framing the corner of the room. “Of course. You’re the talk of the office today, you know.”

“Is that so?” Tenya slides up behind you, unable to keep his hands away from your hips, pulling you back against him. He rests his chin on your shoulder, marveling again at the view of the city outside. “And is that your fault?”

“No, Denki was listening at Sasaki’s door the whole time. He’s the one who told everybody.”

Tenya kisses the side of your neck. You don’t smell like your normal perfume. You smell like his shirt, his toothpaste, his home. “Of course.”

You giggle. “And you know what else they’re saying?”

“What’s that?”

“That you’re dating the girl from marketing.”

Tenya kisses your neck again, farther down, pushing your collar aside to get closer to your shoulder. “I’m flattered that people think I could deserve her.”

You turn in his arms, already unbuttoning your top. You take a step back, leaning your ass against his new desk. “Imagine if they knew what’s been happening right under their noses.”

Tenya loosens his tie. He’s on top of the world right now, with nothing to stop him from taking advantage of his new private office. Breaking the facade, he presses himself against you again and asks earnestly, “Does this make me your boyfriend?”

He lifts you up just enough to help you sit on his desk. You grin, somehow warm and salacious all at once. Taking his face in your hands, you pull him closer still. “Yes, sir,” you reply before sealing your lips over his.

-

Todoroki and Sero could not have chosen a more perfect day for their wedding. It’s unseasonably warm for mid-autumn, the sun peeking through the branches of the half-barren trees. For a day when he needs to stand outdoors in a tux and not sweat through his jacket, Tenya could not be more thankful.

Although it’s almost time to head to the venue, Tenya stops in front of the bathroom mirror to ensure that not a hair on his head is out of place. He knows how much it means to Todoroki that today goes smoothly, and even though Tenya isn’t the best man, he’s taken it upon himself to coordinate some of the finer details of the day, as far as the wedding party goes. He’s texted Natsuo multiple times to make sure he has the rings, made sure that Midoriya is on standby for any last minute outfit repairs, and reminded Inasa at the rehearsal dinner that he is not permitted to start drinking until after the ceremony.

Just as Tenya is starting to feel a stress knot forming between his shoulder blades, your heels come clopping against the tile floor of the bathroom. You reach in and grab your lipstick off the bathroom counter, tucking it away in your comically small clutch purse. In the same motion, you teasingly pat his ass with your hand.

“You look so handsome. I love your hair slicked back like that.” Even after everything, it still makes Tenya feel fluttery inside when you flirt with him so shamelessly.

He trails the back of his hand down your arm, admiring the way the sleeve of your dress flutters over your skin. “Thank you. You look beautiful.”

“Good thing there’s no bride to upstage.”

Chuckling, Tenya subconsciously leans in to kiss you. You slap your purse against his chest to stop him. “Baby, my lipstick,” you giggle.

“Good catch.” There’s no time for whatever cleanup that might entail.

From the moment the two of you hop into Tenya’s car, the next few hours pass in a blur. The ceremony is being held outside at Enji’s country club. Cocktail hour will be inside the rustic lodge, and dinner and dancing afterwards in an elaborate tent on the edge of the golf course. Though it looks lovely on you, your lipstick again prevents Tenya from kissing you before you part ways. Instead, he presses a kiss to your hand before you go to meet Kaminari in the lodge for a drink.

Garment bag in hand, Tenya is then whisked away by the wedding coordinator to a dressing room on the lower floor of the lodge. Midoriya is already there, crouched on the floor, pressing the creases in Todoroki’s white tux pants with his portable steamer. The groom himself is sitting on a barstool in a silk robe and his boxers, talking to his brothers. Touya isn’t even technically in the wedding party, but Tenya thinks it’s nice that Shouto invited him to hang out before the ceremony anyway. Inasa and Tokoyami, Todoroki’s college friends, should be joining shortly.

Normally, Tenya would ask Todoroki how he’s feeling, but he’s wary of stirring up any potential trouble. Instead, he says, “That’s a nice robe.”

“Gift from Hanta,” Todoroki says, smiling. “It came in a set. I think mostly he just wanted to wear the matching one.” Natsuo snorts out a laugh before covering his mouth with his hand, but Shouto doesn’t even seem to notice. In fact, he’s smiling more than usual, with an easy confidence that Tenya was definitely not expecting.

“You seem… relaxed.” Tenya can’t help but state the obvious. It’s been months since he’s seen Todoroki so calm and laid-back.

“Yeah, Todoroki,” Midoriya comments. “Aren’t you nervous?”

Tenya would smack Midoriya in the back of the head if he were standing close enough, but Todoroki keeps smiling, unflappable. He simply glances down at his hands, rubbing his left ring finger.

“I would be. But just between us, Hanta and I are actually already married.”

Tenya’s jaw drops to the floor. Midoriya screeches sharply in surprise. 

Natsuo blinks. “You’re what?”

“Don’t tell dad. Or mom or Fuyumi, either,” Todoroki says. “But yeah, we were talking about how stressed we were, how I was so wrapped up in planning and Han was avoiding it. So we decided to book an appointment at city hall, just for us.”

“Well, shit.” Touya clicks his tongue, grinning.

“Well, congratulations!” Tenya sputters, equal parts proud and flabbergasted.

Once everyone is present and dressed, the next few hours are spent taking photos while trying to avoid Sero, who is getting ready with his own bridal party on-location. “Hanta’s old-fashioned,” Todoroki explains at one point. “He didn’t want to see me before the ceremony.”

It’s a sweet notion, and it’s completely worth it, Tenya decides, as he watches the pure joy on his friends’ faces when they finally see each other. With the bridal party already lined up, Todoroki and Sero exit from opposite sides of the lodge and meet at the end of the aisle. Todoroki grins so hard it looks like his cheeks might burst while Sero smiles brightly with all his teeth, an eyebrow raised as if to ask, “Are you ready for this?”

From there, the two join hands and walk to the altar together. Tenya finds himself crying, overwhelmed with happiness and pride for his friends who are so in love. He spends the first few minutes of the ceremony behind his handkerchief until he’s able to pull himself together.

Vows and rings are exchanged, and when the officiant pronounces the couple “officially” wed, Sero fully dips his husband and steals a steamy kiss—one dramatic enough to potentially piss off his new father-in-law, but also romantic enough that no one will be able to say a damn word about it.

Then the party begins.

While the rest of the guests are shuffled off to cocktail hour, Tenya endures more posed photos than he’s ever been subjected to in his life. Cheeks sore from smiling, he finally makes it to the reception tent where you’re waiting for him with a drink in your hand. He tips back the expensive amber liquid without bothering to ask what it is, but the burn on the way down is refreshing.

“Thank you, I needed that,” he jokes, sliding his arm around your waist.

“I thought you might. Being in a wedding is hard work, you know.” You rub little circles into his back, holding yourself close to him.

Tenya presses a kiss to your temple. “Hardest part is being so far from you.” He knows his time is short—the rest of the wedding party members are already filling their seats at the head table, and he needs to join them. 

Your seat at the ‘friends and partners’ table is calling you too. With a parting kiss, you promise to find him after dinner.

The food is incredible, the speeches are limited to a few short toasts, and Todoroki shares a dance with his mother that makes Tenya tear up for a second time that day. It’s all very traditional, befitting the elegant decor and soft, intimate lighting in the room.

Tenya doesn’t consider himself much of a dancer—for all his athletic ability, he’s much too stiff on the dance floor and sticks out like a sore thumb—but he’s relieved when the DJ invites everyone out of their seats with an upbeat pop song. Suddenly, everything feels more casual, and people begin to move around freely to mingle.

Once he procures another drink to loosen him up, Tenya joins you on the dance floor along with Kaminari and Jirou. While Tenya sways side to side behind you, one hand on your hip and the other around the neck of his beer bottle, he gets the chance to people-watch. Todoroki has his arms thrown around Sero’s neck, the newlyweds sharing a smitten look and slow dancing even though it’s a faster song.

By the bar stands Toshinori, a head above the crowd and with his hand wrapped loosely around a few of David Shield’s fingers. Midoriya speaks animatedly to them while tracing his finger nervously around the rim of his cocktail glass. Toshinori flaps open his jacket to show Midoriya the bright red and blue silk lining, so Tenya assumes they must be talking menswear. They seemingly exchange phone numbers, after which Toshinori lays a heavy hand on Midoriya’s shoulder before David pulls him away to another conversation.

As Midoriya lingers alone near the bar, Tenya is able to catch his eye. He tries to wave his friend over to join the group, but Midoriya just shakes his head, lips pressed in a tight smile. It’s then Tenya notices that you’re chatting with Uraraka as you dance, your hands clasped with hers between you as Bakugou hovers nearby, hands in his pockets. She was seated at your dinner table since her boyfriend was standing up for Sero, so of course you made friends.

When the song ends, Tenya can’t help but pat your ass before slipping away. You wink at him over your shoulder and pop your hip, confirming that you liked it.

Tenya drifts over to the bar. Posting up next to Midoriya, he asks casually, “How’s it going?”

Midoriya shrugs. “Fine. I don’t really want to go over there, though.”

Tenya takes a pensive sip of his drink. “Understandable.”

“‘Sup, Iida.”

Turning away from the bar with one of the signature cocktails in hand is Shinsou. Though he was replaced as Kaminari’s date after the leftovers squabble, Tenya doesn’t hold it against him.

In fact, as he’s saying hello to his coworker, Tenya gets an idea that could be complete brilliance or an absolute disaster, but he decides it’s worth a shot.

“Have you met Midoriya? He’s a school friend of mine and Todoroki’s.”

“I have not,” Shinsou muses. He reaches out to Midoriya for a handshake. “Nice to meet you.”

In less than a second, Midoriya has pulled Shinsou’s entire arm toward him to inspect his wool jacket. “Is this Ralph Lauren?”

Shinsou chuckles. “Yeah, vintage. I like to do my rounds at a few thrift shops every weekend. You wouldn’t believe the gems you’ll find if you’re willing to sift through the junk.”

Midoriya flips Shinsou’s cuff inside out, closely inspecting the stitching. “It’s in great shape, and this is probably from the late 90s. Have you found any other cool stuff lately? I swear I never have any luck at the shops in town.” He’s babbling, a long-standing nervous habit.

Shinsou gives a catlike grin. “I’d be willing to give you some pointers. Wanna go find somewhere a little quieter?”

As the two scamper away, falling into conversation about the best places to thrift, Tenya makes his way back to you. He falls back into place behind you, holding your hips and swaying along with you. It seems like a lifetime ago that he only dared to touch you when no one else was around. In reality, it’s only been a few months since that night at the bar, when everything started—when everything in his life changed.

Tenya’s life isn’t perfect by any means, and it looks much different than he thought it would before you. But he has a job he enjoys for a company that treats him well. He’s in a room with nearly all his friends—more than he can count on two hands—and he’s proud of the lives they’re leading too.

And he’s in love. With you.

The DJ plays a slow song next, urging all the couples to join the grooms on the dance floor. The string lights draped in tulle across the ceiling of the tent fade to a moody indigo hue, and couples young and old take the floor. You spin around, wobbling a little before falling into Tenya’s chest. He makes a mental note to get you a water before you have another drink, but he can’t help but smile when he sees how eager you look.

“Dance with me?”

“Of course.”

You move onto the dance floor proper, choosing a spot near the outer edge. Tenya holds you close, his hands loose against your waist while your arms loop around his neck. It’s effortless, how well the two of you fit together.

Tenya had told himself for years that a relationship would only make life more complicated. He was wrong. Because being with you is easy. It’s comfortable. It makes his life better. The earth-shattering sex is just a bonus, and even that is something he doesn’t have to worry about anymore. He doesn’t need to rush off with you in public because he knows you’ll be home with him at the end of the day. Not that he never wants to hook up in public again, but it’s nice knowing he doesn’t have to.

“So, tonight. Are we going back to your place or mine?”

Tenya hums thoughtfully. “It doesn’t matter. Which do you prefer?”

You playfully tilt your head side to side, like you’re weighing heavy options. “Yours, if that’s ok. I feel like I’ve practically been living there, but I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“Never. Even if you want to move in permanently, I wouldn’t say no.”

It’s not until you gasp that Tenya fully processes what he said, but it’s the truth. He’s been thinking about it for weeks. He’d been going back and forth, a little worried that it might be to soon for you—

“Can I really?”

Tenya pushes a stray tendril of hair behind your ear. “Yes.”

You quietly squeal with delight, just loud enough for the two of you to hear. “You want to live with me? You want to cook and pay bills together? And share a dresser drawer for our socks?”

“I think you can have your own dresser. But yes,” Tenya chuckles.

“Can we get new curtains for the bedroom windows?” Clearly, you’ve been thinking about this for a while.

“What’s wrong with my curtains?”

Your fingers drum against his shoulder. “Nothing, nothing! I just think the room could use a little more color.”

“Fair enough, if we can pick out the new ones together.”

“Deal. But I want something a little darker so I can sleep in while you go running crazy early in the morning.”

“All right.” He smiles.

Tenya has only successfully convinced you to join him once on his morning run. It was nice having you by his side, but he finds it equally nice to come home and see you still serenely asleep in his bed—your shared bed. Those early mornings are his favorite thing in the world, especially when they lead to cuddling you, showering with you, making coffee and pancakes with you. Now that you’re moving in, he realizes, maybe every morning can be like that.

★ — WARM UP ROUND VS MULTI JJK MEN.

JJK MEN + BRAT TAMING! with . . . getō, toji, sukuna, gojo, choso, nanami.

back of the box: how do they *deal* with their gfs being certified brats?

★ — ROUND ONE VS GOJO SATORU.

THROAT GOAT! with . . . (dentist!gojo x f!reader)

back of the box: gojo can tell you’ve been giving a few blowjobs recently as he’s inspecting down your throat. dirty girl. he hates his job but loves seeing you gag on his dick utensils.

★ — ROUND TWO VS CHOSO KAMO.

ROCKSTAR ROCK HARD! with . . . (rockstar!choso x f! reader)

back of the box: so many annoying groupies, but you want your favorite musician to know that you’re his #1 biggest fan.

★ — ROUND THREE VS TOJI FUSHIGURO.

TINDER LEG BENDER! with . . . (ex!bf toji x f! reader)

back of the box: toji catfishes his pretty little ex-girlfriend on tinder because he’s bored. the sheer thought of you being with another man makes him giggle.

★ — ROUND FOUR VS NANAMI KENTO.

SOPRANO SCREAMER! with . . . (bodyguard!nanami x popstar! f! reader)

back of the box: you can’t shake off the stage fright before a big show, but your hot body guard thinks he knows a solution.

★ — ROUND FIVE VS SUGURU GETŌ.

SLIPPERY WHEN WET! with . . . (best friend! getō x f! reader)

back of the box: you vent to your best friend how none of the guys you’ve been with can make you feel good. although, getō wouldn’t mind changing that for his pretty sweet best friend.

★ — ROUND SIX VS SUKUNA RYŌMEN.

WRONG HOLE! with . . . (body!piercer sukuna x f! reader)

back of the box: you came to get a pretty piercing for your birthday but instead get pierced with something else.

nintenhoe soundtrack:

vegas by joseline hernandez, mindgames by sickick, rules by doja cat, the walls by chase atlantic, use me by plaza, && taste by tyga.

© kazushawty 2023 — do not translate, copy, or modify anything created by me. that’s certified wack. thank u :P