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lucysarah-c · 5 months

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Transactional

Summary: When you go to ask Captain Levi for a promotion, it's important to remain humble. Author note: I've had this idea for so long... this had been collecting dust in my computer for SO LONG. Because I wanted it to be hot and dirty like the underground's air but at the same time I was scared that it was a "bit" too much. That's it. In case I forget any warning or tag, feel free to remind me. Pairing: Levi x fem! reader. Warnings: Top Levi Ackerman, Dubious Consent, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Smut, MP reader, Levi x MP reader, Captain Levi Ackerma, Dirty talk, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Cigarrettes, Smoking, Alcohol, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Power Play, Oral sex, DUBCON, Bondage, Breathplay. Word count: 12k words of pure porn. You had been warned lmao HONESTLY, JUST BECAUSE I MANAGED TO EDIT this long ass post in the tumblr editor I DESERVE A LIKE AND A REBLOG (jk... but if you want its not a joke)

The agonizing rubatosis, mixed with the upsetting silence, creates a disconcerting atmosphere. Frowned eyebrows, eyes closed, cold feet rubbing over each other, and itchy underwear contribute to the discomfort. A deep breath in, count to 4, hold it for 7, and exhale slowly, counting to 8. Fists tighten, jaw clenches, and breathing becomes agitated.

‘Should I?’

Shea butter and vanilla penetrate her senses, smoothing legs that perfectly align, having been meticulously shaved. Not a single rough patch of skin, not a single hair, not a single cell left unmoistened. The hair conditioner matched the body lotion, nails painted a deep shade of red. Lips glide smoothly over each other thanks to the reddish gloss, creating a subtle plumping effect. The darkness enveloped her; hair spread on the pillow, eyelashes curved and painted a deep shade of black, with mascara perfectly in place. Blushed cheeks, radiant skin, softly glittering eyes, enhanced with brown pencil. Self-performed surgeon work, like an architect drawing up plans.

Reflective, slightly darker lips create the illusion of being kissed. Rosy cheeks mimic arousal. Uncomfortable underwear, but a perfect frame for her body. Subtly enhanced eyes for a pleasing view from the top. Everything is calculated, makeup that doesn’t look like makeup, intentionally tousled hair. She couldn’t recall the last time she put this much effort into her appearance for someone else. Usually, she dressed up for herself or her friends. A guy? Never, as far as she could remember.

All the to-do list’s lines had been checked except for one. The last item on her mental list was ‘Do you dare?’

Did she, though? Did she dare to slide her bare, smooth legs across the sheets, touch the cold floor, sneak through the corridors, slip inside through the creaked door, wait in the gloom with only one candle at the kitchen during late hours, hoping the collected info was real, and perhaps, only perhaps, see him appear through the door?

The place was ridiculously silent; she could hear her own feet against each other, her nervous tapping nails. Scouts followed rules, always doing what they were told, unlike the MPs. Even in the deep of night, you could hear everything—people making deals, cadets sneaking out, higher-ups taking cadets for personal parties. It was as if, the moment curfew started, another world began. Mixing that with the streets of the capital that never slept, the constant babble in the background. However, that wasn’t the scouts’ reality, and maybe that’s why she hated sleeping there so much. Somehow, she had gotten used to the sleepwalker city, and its ceaseless mutter became her lullaby.

After the retake of Wall Maria, after the coronation of the new queen Historia, life inside the walls changed drastically, especially in the military. New uniforms, universally appreciated in black, and the roles within the military became more ambiguous. MPs were still MPs, but they also contributed to the advances of new constructions, the displacement of new citizens to the reclaimed lands, and everyone learned how to use the new anti-person 3DMG.

Life was improving, or so many decided to believe. The scouts, almost eradicated after they took Wall Maria, saw an increase in their ranks. Transfers happened more than ever, and their salaries went from being the worst to the personal favourite military brand of the queen. Promotions were granted based on performance, sacrifice, and meritocracy—a notion she found irritatingly noble. Out of pettiness, boredom, or perhaps jealousy.

Extra-curricular activities? Even before she graduated from the trainee lines, she was in the top ten of her class, with excellent behaviour and military antecedents. Reports from citizens praised her attention and willingness to help. Double-checking almost everything. Therefore, explain why she had been rejected for a promotion so many times in the last years. The simple answer: anything in the MPs was about contacts and money, even as life inside the walls changed.

There was always an excuse—someone else deserved it better, a son of someone else got a spot that was rightfully hers, a green cadet got it simply because he was a man, and she clearly wasn’t. She wouldn’t lie and say that her desire to join the scouts had always been there. As a single daughter of a single mother, her wishes had always been to provide for her, to help her around. The day she could make her old mother stop working with her MP’s salary had been her happiest day.

Discussing it with her friend as they delivered provisions to the lines working on the train’s rails, not seeking help, but rather complaining in confidentiality. Concentrated so deeply in her venting that she didn’t notice how her friend remained quiet for a split second and then interrupted her with a cheerful smirk.

“Captain Levi just checked your ass.”

It caught her off guard, involuntarily making her want to check. “DON’T TURN!” her friend almost screamed. The idea felt bizarre, not because she wasn’t confident in her looks—she was hot as hell, and nobody could tell her otherwise. But… Captain Levi? From the Special Operation Squad? THE Captain Levi who had led the Uprising? Humanity’s Strongest Soldier? … That Captain Levi? Then, she gave it a second thought, slightly shaking her head.

“You must have imagined it,” she said.

“I SWEAR, you bent, and he checked you,”

“But… Captain Levi is?”

“Short?”

“No, you idiot. I mean yes, but not what I’m trying to say,” she corrected herself. “He just… I’ve never even heard about him with any girl, anyone to be more precise.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” her friend said, grabbing a box and starting to walk away, “but I know what I saw.”

Superiors and higher ranks checking her out, catcalling, perhaps even touching without permission? UFF, the military was full of them, even when she was much younger. However, Captain Levi could be an antisocial, stoic little jerk, but it had never struck her as those types of men. Always so uptight, correct, stoic, disinterested. There was a rumour circulating that perhaps… and only perhaps, he wasn’t particularly fond of women. A few female soldiers had tried to show their interest during military hangouts, and none of them had been successful. Considering military men’s pent-up frustration, that was very odd behaviour.

If there’s a rumour that spreads faster than what happens in someone’s sheets, it’s the lack of activity in those sheets. Captain Levi seemed to be on the other spectrum of the rumours. He definitely wasn’t a womanizer, and if he was one, what a smooth criminal he was. Not a single victim had been known.

“You know what would give you that promotion?” The administrative higher-up enlightened her after another unsuccessful raise in her salary. Her resentful eyes admired the boy, easily seven years younger than her, getting a spot because his father was a military member too. Her tired stare moved slowly back to her front, silently waiting for the pointless information to be given to her. A better cover letter? CV? Extra hours? Non-paid internships in other divisions? What?

“A recommendation from someone important.”

The red lips of the administrative staff moved slowly. If Y/N squinted a bit, she would have been able to hear the indirect suggestion. Between women, softly getting closer so the secretary could whisper without being heard. Glasses pushed down the nose bridge, and Y/N drew closer to hear the secret.

“You know, the scouts are making a big impact around here lately. Think about it.”

The words accumulate on her throat; her lips trembled, but nothing aside from indecipherable sounds left her mouth, frowning slightly at the idea.

“Think about it,” the woman repeated. “You won’t be the first girl, dear, and I guarantee you won’t be the last one.”

The wisdom that came with age and serving the military's paperwork for so many years must have given the woman enough knowledge to suggest it so plainly. What she hated the most? She had been considering it badly; she needed the money; she wanted the promotion. What was the difference between some stupid daddy's boy licking the boots of his higher-up for the position than this?

The boldest side of her mind insisted that she had slept with ex-boyfriends who were less attractive, less influential, and definitely less clean than Captain Levi. Yes, Captain Levi, because if she was doing this, she was going big or going home. Not some random newly promoted squad leader or anything. Those were the other options at the scout after they got almost eradicated—purely freshly adults. Her mind tried to convince herself of an easier target, like Jean perhaps, but she gagged at the idea. ‘He’s a baby, barely 18.’

For a split second, she wished Commander Erwin was alive. Never met him; she hadn’t even talked to him, but the blond seemed like an easier target somehow. Was it because people had talked about a chick or two that he took to his hotel’s room after parties? Maybe.

‘What’s the worst thing that could happen?’ pondering around the idea, like a friend encouraging you to confess to the boy you have a crush on. “You already got the no, go for the yes!” they would say, but this wasn’t silly girlish crushes.

‘That he says no and thinks of you as some cheap-ass whore.’

No, this wasn’t a crush. It was plain transactional.

‘Well… not like Captain Levi had ever looked over to me as if he had me in any sort of high esteem to begin with.’

Back to the beginning. They had ordered her to help around the Scout’s facilities as they developed the new train station around Paradise, and as soon as those orders had reached her ears, the plan was rolling. ‘Now… or never.’

Battle dress on: short loose shorts, a loose shirt that barely covered her belly, and her fanciest lingerie underneath. Captain Levi always made himself a cup of tea late at night to carry on with paperwork. Her military’s trajectory to secure the objective was: leave her bed, go there, and hope that her glossy lips and glittery eyes would do the trick. This was far from what she was used to, and what had boosted her confidence earlier that day to get ready had easily dripped away. Leaving her tied up to her bed as an external force that incapacitated her from doing it.

‘He’s not your higher-up; he can’t fire you directly.’

‘But what if he does?’

‘He’s probably small and will last a couple of minutes with luck; it’s easy as cake.’

‘What if he tells someone?’

‘You got nothing to lose and a lot to win.’

‘Everybody does something to scale in the MPs; no amount of extra work and good behaviours would get you anywhere. Think about what you could buy with that promotion.’

Tiptoes on the ground, a deep sigh, hands on the edge of the mattress pushing her up, calculated steps on the wood planks that didn’t squeak, palm against the edge of the door to close it without making a sound, single candle in her grip waiting for her to reach the kitchen to turn it on, non-existing hairs raising on her legs due to the coldness of the halls, curious eyes checking over her shoulder as she reached the kitchen, candle on, kettle on the fire, speech ready.

‘Now… are you going to show up, Captain?’

The flame of the candle flickered in the night air. She had heated the water multiple times, taking the kettle off the stove before it boiled, resting it on the countertop, and once it cooled, returning it to the fire. The script had been prepared, written, and practiced in her mind. However, the main participant in this story, her co-star, had not made his triumphant appearance.

First, she waited in a poised position, then faced the door while resting her weight on the countertops. After an hour and a half, the cold had crept up on her, fighting and winning against the burning heat of the nerves, leaving her shivering. Bent over the countertops with her eyes fixed on the kettle, she seemed disinterested, disappointed, and tired.

Her hand covered her mouth in a loud yawn. Once the anxiety had subsided, tiredness set in—slow blinks, head buried between her arms on the table, eyes still fixed on the kettle. It was right there, on the fire, still with time to boil. "You're going to burn the whole place down," a voice interrupted her thoughts.

That snapped her back from her reverie. It was evident that her mind had conjured a realistic dream because the kettle she was supposed to be watching had been removed from the fire, with a cloth covering the handle, and placed on the countertop, far from her reach to prevent burns. Steam billowed loudly from it, whistling in the stillness of the night.

Standing up, she froze in place, her mouth slightly agape as she tried to process what she was witnessing. The first few buttons of his grey shirt were undone, and he wore black trousers of the uniform, but no boots. Although his slippers didn't match the scene, his exhaustion was unmistakable. There he stood, as stoic and unfriendly as ever: Captain Levi, with rolled-up sleeves, removing the kettle from the fire and clicking his tongue as he turned off the gas.

Facing away from her, he seemed as indifferent as if she were just another countertop in the kitchen. Her nails softly scraped her arms as she pondered whether to press further, take the hint, or if she was simply cold, hence why she ran her hands up and down her arms. The muscles of his back contracted and moved, the V-shaped shadow down his spine emphasized his broad shoulders and defined waist. His rolled-up sleeves made her admire his porcelain skin, catching the light in particular shapes as some of his forearm hair shimmered under the candlelight.

While the slippers detracted slightly from the uniform, diminishing the powerful feeling, she had to admit, upon deeper thought, that the tight black trousers of his new uniform were incredibly appealing. Despite his short stature, Captain Levi was a fine specimen of a man. The subtle notion that perhaps scouts, with their heavy training, gather a couple of points from the MPs in that department. After all, MPs hardly bothered to train beyond the obligatory, which was very little.

Slightly turning to his right, locking eyes with her with an unapproachable demeanour, hand on hip, he questioned, "Dare to explain what you're doing breaking curfew, cadet? Do you want to jeopardize us all with your incompetence"

The first part of her plan was to improvise. ‘I couldn’t sleep,’ she thought about saying, but how could she claim that after sleeping over the countertop? His grey eyes, almost cat-like, hunted her in the dark, and suddenly, she felt her legs tremble. There was something inexplicably magnetic about him now that she had him up close, alone, in the middle of the night.

Her lips, still glossy, parted in doubt as she mumbled uneasily, "I…" She wanted to come up with a new excuse, but quickly realized she wasn’t cut out for this, for the whole charade. "I have a headache," she finally managed.

His face remained unreadable, uninterested eyes glued to her, judging her, waiting for her to break under his scrutiny, like a mother who knows you’re lying, allowing a brief moment of silence for a confession before taking matters into her own hands. But Y/N stayed resolute, gathering ambition from unknown sources.

Hand on hips, weight shifting from one leg to another, eyes quickly moving from her face to the countertop. "That won’t help," the words crossed the kitchen as if it were an open field of a hunting sport, piercing her heart but leaving her to crawl an agonizing death until her dying breath.

"Sorry?"

Eyes focusing again on the countertop. "Black tea," he said monosyllabically, as if each word cost him money. "That doesn’t help with headaches; you should get chamomile or peppermint."

"Ah," she replied, confused. Why was he clarifying that? What was the point of this conversation? Crossing legs as the cold crept in, but it quickly vanished as blood rushed to her cheeks.

Turning back around, facing the counter and gripping her own teacup. The recommendation was blatantly ignored; it seemed like a random fact thrown at her rather than something to take seriously, at least for her. About to carry on, she considered just faking preparing the tea and getting away from there.

Frozen in place, each hair on her body raised involuntarily. Not even his steps against the wood planks had been heard. ‘Oh.. Uhm-’ the natural process of breathing was totally forgotten. A strong, patronizing hand sneaking, almost creeping with confidence on her lower back, guiding her toward another cupboard.

He moved closer, getting an involuntary reaction out of her. Straightening up, chest pushing forward, lips parting, breath accelerating. He was so close, looking into her. Eyes locked onto hers over her shoulder, transparent pearls penetrating her soul. Nails sank into her palms as her teeth clenched. If he was so short, why did it feel so towering? Suddenly, the thought of owing him an apology for simply sharing the same air crossed her mind. Her nipples were noticeable through her loose shirt; he must be able to see it. As he grew closer, her idea was that all the subtle little hints must have worked.

Eyes closed, holding her breath, the air moving around her gave her the idea of movement. Holding out for nothing. Waiting for him to steal a kiss from her, perhaps grip her hips, pushing aside her loose short, turning her around, and fuck her roughly and mindlessly over the countertop. Getting what he wanted as if it were rightfully his.

“Here,” she opened her eyes. He was handing her a tea box where it read the same ingredients he had suggested.

“Thank you, sir,” her subtle smile tried to make up for her disappointment. Expectations were different; somehow, her best hopes were on him ogling at her, making it more impersonal and disinterested. Therefore, she could say that she walked up there, perhaps pleased him, and got what she came looking for. It was easier; easier it is to repeat like a broken record some silly washed-up quotes and nicknames that guys allegedly liked. ‘Yes, daddy’, ‘I’ll be a good girl Captain, I just do bad things with you,’ ‘Please, sir. I’m a good girl,’ or something in the department of ‘Ah- its so big, daddy,’ Get used and lose a little bit of dignity in exchange for something else.

Different it is, the tension building in her as she felt him looming over her frame, reminding her of just how insignificant she truly was compared to him. His hand resting lightly on the small of her back, guiding her movements. The coolness of his touch contrasting with the heat radiating off her body. Or the opposite, how cold and exposed she felt with her scant clothes and his cold hand didn’t help. A treacherous finger began to travel upwards, making each vertebra move and curve.

“Sir?” she hated how scared her voice sounded. Suddenly, as if it had escaped her mind, she remembered he was humanity’s strongest soldier. The soldier who went on the expedition to retake Wall Maria and essentially fought the most difficult titan shifter known until now, who led the Uprising. How many MPs did he kill there? How much stronger was he than her? Could she truly still walk away from this, or was her fate sealed?

“You’re stiff as a board; that’s giving you the headaches,” he commented casually as his right hand reached her shoulder and kneaded.

The action was absurdly overwhelming; she didn’t know her traps hurt this much until now but also how to react. Self-preservation mechanisms were out of the window; her lips pronounced what they had been dying to say since she left her bed. “It’s because of the promotion; it’s stressing me out.”

“I can help with that,”

Her worst fears and wildest dreams, all together in a sentence. Confirming what she came looking for but also the end of the speculations. Translucent eyes looked at him over her shoulder, expecting him to make the bolder move. She hated to admit how her heart skipped a beat, how his controlling hand on her neck made her want to arch her spine and gasp softly.

“With the headaches, I mean,” adrenaline had reached a peak and now tumbled down, leaving her devoid of thought other than disappointment mixed with relief. However, his tone, covered in a thin layer of entertainment, passed unaware to her at first.

Both hands on each trap, fingers sank in and then moved. Tearing her muscles apart from her bones, that’s how it felt. Handling, strong, overwhelming. Her breath stuck in her chest, and no matter how much she tried, she wobbled in her place. No amount of strength could help her remain still. Each tug that forced her to press slightly back against his chest, feeling the straps of the uniforms, made her sense weak, nervous. How his strong, calloused fingers felt divine, slightly too rough with the perfect amount of pain to make her forget for a minute but not entirely. Despite their roughness, his nails were perfectly short, making it impossible to experience any scratches.

The thought that perhaps there was another motive behind all this, beyond just getting a promotion, crossed her mind. It was the opportunity to experience how it would feel to be man-handled by the strongest soldier out there until she was left foolish. Her walls pressed together as excitement crept in, reminding her of how lonely and empty she felt. Wouldn’t a little love and something significant big feel extraordinary? The realization of how thin her shorts were and how much her body reacted to his touch filled her with shame.

Allowing him to treat her like some bitch in heat, shooting a load or two for a mere letter that said, "she’s good at what she does," as some cruel inner joke. It left her feeling worthless yet needy, a bad combination.

“Breathe, you’re tensing even more,” he murmured, and she could almost swear the smirk could be felt in his tone. The intentions were to breathe, to remain unaffected, but his movements felt powerfully triggering, and he seemed so unbothered by it. Any force he applied to almost tear her muscles into the correct position didn’t signify any real strength for him.

Each tug began to win little chopped breaths out of her as it was painful but also relaxing. She couldn't help but obey his command, forcing herself to take deep breaths to try and relax. But his touch, his presence, it was all so intense. Each movement of his hands felt deliberate, calculated, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. And she couldn't deny the tingling sensation that spread through her body at his touch, despite her best efforts to remain composed.

She struggled to follow his instructions, her breaths coming out in short, shallow gasps as his hands worked their magic on her tense muscles. Each touch sent shivers down her spine, igniting a strange mix of pleasure and discomfort within her. It was as if he could sense her vulnerability, her longing for something more than just a simple massage. Tug, thumbs pressing against her traps as they moved upwards, dragging her skin with them, chopped out breath as the pressure was too much before it withdrew slowly.

Then all over again, harsh. “Mhh ah-” it left her lips involuntarily as he touched a particular place. She gnawed her lip, holding back. His fingers weren’t particularly soft, not only because of the pressure he delivered but also rough with days and days of working, slightly calloused, rubbing in all the right places. Not again, she swore she was trying to remain composed, how he hadn’t heard her. “AH-” wincing as he moved up and contracted her neck, she feared for a second he would choke her.

His grip tightened, nails digging deeper into her flesh, pulling her downward. Thighs shaking, knees buckled, she fought to keep standing as her world spun. He knew her weakness; he exploited it without remorse. Every touch was a reminder of his dominance, every pull a testament to his power. She was helpless beneath him, unable to escape his grasp. Levi’s hands, humanity’s strongest hands—strong, angled, harsh, broad.

He chuckled.

He chuckled between pulls, his thumb rubbing circles on her sore spots, while his palm pressed harder against her neck.

Y/N froze in place as she felt him chuckle entertained behind her, almost mischievously. “Somebody is excited,” he calmly commented, but the smirk on his face was subtly evident in his tone. His voice was steady, despite the few sassy remarks, and it annoyed her to death. Like a cat playing with a moth until it's dead, they know they've won the game, so why rush it? Let's enjoy the hunt while she’s stripped of her dignity. “Nobody's given it to you in a while?”

Lips parted, feeling a mix of embarrassment and offense, she looked over her shoulder at Levi’s bleary eyes. “Excuse me?” she frowned deeply as she turned. She hadn't realized until then how close he was to her, practically breathing the same air. His stare penetrated her iris and seemed to read her soul, making her swallow uneasily. Her demanding tone quickly withdrew not only from her voice but also from her features. His silence subtly implied, but his presence demanded, ‘Come on, girl. You don’t reply to me like that if you know what's good for you.’ That’s what she got.

“A massage,” he said quietly, “nobody's given you a massage in a while?”

At this rate, she knew he knew. He was playing, dancing around the edge of pretending ignorance and seeing how far she would go. Standing, either summoning the courage to bring up the offer herself or walk out empty-handed. Waiting, like a mafia boss to see how much she would beg before setting her free, or crawling back to him, hoping for an opportunity.

There was an inner battle: either snap at him, reply, or descend all levels of self-love.

“It’s because you’re going too rough,” she said, mainly because she refused to be so quickly humiliated by a guy that short. Both looked at each other; her gaze moved slightly over his eyes, expecting any shift, something, but it was obvious that in a stare fight, he was going to win.

"Rough?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise. “You’ve no idea what rough means.”

Her cockiness quickly withdrew. She wished she had some sassy comeback prepared or ready, but it wasn’t the case. Her teeth rolled along the edge of her bottom lip. It made her curious; either he liked to pretend he had more sexual history than was known, or she had bitten off more than she could chew. It stirred up a mix of curiosity, excitement, nervousness, and fear all at once. Imagining him fucking some unknown soldier rough, mindlessly, just for the sake of it. Scouts were so stressed, living quick, short lives.

Her eyes couldn’t help themselves, quickly dropping down to check. His thick, muscular legs, almost as if they had been forced to fit into the tight black trousers of the uniform. Losing its subtleness, the outline of his dick on one side of his left leg forced her to look back up. She finally turned around to face him again, but his stoic expression gave away little information, almost none.

“Perhaps you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, brat,” his voice began to sound like a distorted dream. She was waiting for some smooth approach or perhaps a fully humiliating one. The expectations were simpler: either he would like to pretend some love he endeared from her or behave like any disgusting dude at a bar, asking for a quickie in a bathroom cabinet. Neither of the two options was less humiliating. But this was different.

At this rate, the humiliation and initial thoughts were replaced by overwhelming curiosity. “How rough?” She felt her glossed lips stick together slightly as she murmured timidly, feeling her head heat up and her stomach tighten. Something intrinsically wrong must be with her, she believed.

With a second thought, she was sure that this would make her extremely ashamed.

“You’ll have to stick around to find out,” he warned, not a single centimetre of his features giving away any sort of intentions. Excitement or expectation, arousal or boredom, sweetness or creepiness. Grey gems looking back at her deadly, daring her to make deals with the devil or walk back home.

‘Go big or go home, didn’t I say that?’

“I want a recommendation,” she finally said it, thrilling anticipation coursing through her veins. This man, this beast, was about to unleash hell upon her body. Yet, she found herself oddly eager for it. Was it fear or excitement? Perhaps both. “and… in exchange, you can go as rough as you want.”

It felt absurdly dirty. Giving it a thought in the hole of self-hate, she concluded that perhaps she should have done this when she was younger, like her friends as cadets. When hormones and lack of experience made it hard to think it through, that receiving a good salary and free days to go out and party was worth letting any squad leader get a chance.

"Recommendation," he echoed, repeating her words as if testing them on his tongue. There was a moment of silence, as if weighing the pros and cons of such a proposition.

Finally, he nodded. "Very well."

Those two words held such weight, sending another wave of nerves through her. What had she gotten herself into? The room suddenly became hotter, thicker, suffocating. Her heart raced faster, pounding heavily in her ears.

Half-lidded, she moved closer, not entirely sure how this was done, if it was meant to start slow and soft for it to escalate. But she tried; she could take the lead in the kiss. But his hand stopped her face as he tilted backwards, completely breaking the moment.

“Who do you think I am?” Levi said, offended. And she feared for her life. Perhaps he just wanted to ascertain how much of an easy, cock-drunk slut she was to give him more reasons to find her worthless. But then, “Some green cadet who, for the sake of getting my cock wet, I would fuck you behind a horse at the stables? Or at the common kitchen?”

She didn’t know how to answer, but thankfully, Levi didn’t give her much time to talk. “My chambers.”

Feeling closer to a military order than a booty appointment, she slowly made her way to the door while he retreated to the counters, tidying up. Her feet dragged across the hall as she pushed open the door, her eyes constantly checking behind her. She couldn't shake the feeling that this might all be a joke.

Before she knew it, his hand urged her forward, pushing at the small of her back to guide her upstairs. "Come on, girly, we don’t have all night," he muttered.

It felt like a shameful march. They ascended the stairs in silence, each step echoing loudly in the otherwise quiet hallway. The stillness of the night only intensified her discomfort; she couldn't shake the feeling that someone might overhear them. Perhaps some night owl among the scouts would peek through a door, or worse, they might already know who slept where. The thought of having to make the same trip downstairs the next morning filled her with dread. As if she would walk out of that room with a paper stuck to her forehead that said, "I was Captain Levi’s slut for a night."

Led through the dim corridors of the base, they passed several closed doors marked 'Officer Quarters,' indicating where higher-ranking personnel resided. Finally, they reached what seemed to be his room. With a swift motion, he unlocked the door and gestured for her to enter first. ‘What a gentleman,’ she thought sarcastically.

As she stepped inside and took in her surroundings, she noticed the simplicity of his chamber. It lacked extravagance, with only functional furniture and tools of his trade. The room felt impersonal, as if he had never bothered to make it feel like home. His office area featured a desk cluttered with paperwork and a bookshelf filled with texts on military strategy and tactics.

To the left were two doors, presumably leading to his bedroom and an attached bathroom. Levi moved past her to search through the cabinets while she observed. Two glasses were already filled by the time he turned to her.

"A drink?" he offered.

She accepted, unable to suppress a subtle smile. Whatever she had anticipated for the night, this wasn't it. Chuckling, she teased, "Do you offer drinks to all the girls you bring over?"

Levi downed his drink and poured another. "No. But you seem nervous as fuck, and it’s making me uncomfortable."

She laughed softly, acknowledging the truth in his statement. "Thank you, then." The burn of alcohol sliding down her throat helped steady her nerves somewhat.

As they stood there, glasses in hand, tension hung thick between them. Hoping the alcohol would ease the tension, she shifted her attention elsewhere, but she could feel his eyes on her, assessing her. Swallowing, Addam's apple moving before he spoke, "Are you clean, right?"

His question caught her off guard, and she almost choked on her drink. "What?" she hummed, not fully comprehending.

Then, fear crept in quickly. "I am… I’m not doing it without protection," she clarified confidently.

His chuckle did little to ease her worry. "No shit, girly. I wasn’t stupid enough as a teen to not wrap it up. I'm not starting now," he replied. "The last thing I need in my life right now is getting a chick knocked up."

His words, despite their lack of warmth, reassured her. "I meant, is it safe for me to eat you out,"

Relief washed over her as she realized her misunderstanding. "Oh," she replied sheepishly. "Yes, you can." As his words sank in, she felt the blood rushing to her cheeks, lips pressing together before she took another sip and crossed her legs. 'Doesn’t he want a blowjob?' How many superiors offer you promotions in exchange for making you cum?

He nodded, finishing his drink in one gulp. His intense gaze never wavered from hers. "Good."

Slowly, he approached her, closing the distance until they were mere inches apart. She could smell the liquor on his breath, taste it on his lips. For a brief moment, she wondered if he expected her to initiate something, but before she could gather her thoughts, their lips met in a passionate kiss. His tongue explored her mouth, asserting dominance as his hands gripped her hips, pressing her against the door.

Pulling away slightly, he pinned her against the door, his hands roaming her body as he kissed her jawline. "Wait… let’s go to the room," she suggested, realizing he meant to fulfil his earlier request.

"No, you're too timid for riding my face. I want to be buried in your pussy right now," he insisted. The impact against the harsh wood surface and his lips reconnecting with her with necessity almost knocked her completely off her breath. Hands that had been kneading her shoulders only a few minutes ago were now digging into her hips, pushing them into his, possessive and demanding.

"Levi," she managed to croak out, her voice barely audible. The kiss was broken again, and her agitated breathing filled the gap between their faces. Surprised by his sudden aggression, she struggled to form coherent thoughts as he continued to devour her neck and shoulders. His hands roamed freely over her body, tracing along her curves and dipping beneath her top to cup her breasts roughly.

“It’s Captain Levi, for you,”

All her attempts to appear seductive were now the natural flush of her face, pumped lips of how they tried to suck each other’s air, the blood in her cheeks, the tossed hair. His hands grabbed the edge of her shorts and played with it. His words crossed the little space between their features with cockiness. “What are you wearing under this for me? Huh? What slutty little shit did you put on to wrap yourself up as if you’re my birthday present?”

A cheeky index finger ghostly touched her belly with its knuckle, making the fine hairs raise involuntarily before tugging on the fabric to sneak a peek. ‘Why doesn’t he just tell me to strip?’ But Captain Levi seemed to be like a cat; he liked to play with his prey until eating them completely, a cruel game. Eyes checked down and hummed in approval. “Black, classic. Not bad,” he said, but a part of his speech didn’t seem impressed. “But I prefer pink.”

Her mind insisted on giving it a second thought, that he didn’t strike her as those types of guys, but anything happening until then had proved to her that she had no idea who he was, what he liked, what type of man Captain Levi was.

Without further prompting, Levi dropped to his knees, positioning himself between her legs. His fingers trailed along the hem of her shorts, pausing briefly before dropping it. He took a moment to appreciate the sight before diving in, his nose brushing against the fabric.

Y/N sucked in a sharp breath as his warm breath tickled her sensitive flesh. Anticipation built within her, mixing with apprehension. It was unavoidable. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to focus solely on the sensations washing over her. A gasp left her lips as he grabbed her right leg and lifted it as if it was nothing and placed it over his shoulder. His calloused hand still lingering on it, gripping her thighs with strength and pleasure, enjoying gripping them as his nose pressed softly against her folds.

Levi's skilled fingers hooked beneath the elastic band of her panties, tugging them aside just enough. Once removed, he ran the pad of his thumb lightly over her swollen core. An involuntary moan escaped her lips. She trembled in a different kind of anxiousness; it was now plainly obvious. With a smirk, Levi leaned in closer, his nose barely grazing her sensitive flesh. "Do you like that, girly?" he whispered, his tone thick with lust. Her answer was evident in the way she trembled under his touch.

Gently, he blew cold air across her wetness, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. She couldn't help but arch her back, moaning softly as her grip tightened on the door behind her. Nails digging into the wood as terror set in. Slowly, he lowered his head, his tongue darting out to trace the outline of her folds.

Fear. No, he didn’t want a quickie at some public facility. No, he didn’t want some quick blowjob under his desk. No, he didn’t want any fast, easy solution. He wanted to savour each single centimetre of skin, torture all the cells, squeeze each second that he got to play with her as his little possession.

Each flick of his tongue sent shockwaves of sensation throughout her body, making her squirm. His expert hands found purchase on her thighs, holding her firmly in place. His tongue flicked out, teasing her entrance as his thumb kept doing slow little circles on top of her clit. Gripping his shoulders for balance and support. He slid his middle finger across her entrance, coating it with her arousal before dipping it inside. His thumb continued to tease her clit, stroking gently yet firmly.

Her moans grew louder, punctuated by soft whimpers as her head thumped against the door. Her breath agitated as his tongue slipped inside her. “Mh- Ah!” she felt her climax nearing, wondering with half-lidded eyes why he was being so pleasing. It was torture how he moved with perfect sync, but yet it was subtle. As if she let herself be dragged by the course, her body relaxing and twitching unintentionally as he held her in place.

Her back arched unintentionally, trying to follow him as he suddenly pulled back when she was about to reach her peak. “Captain-”

“That’s it, get all soft for me,” He murmured as he casually kissed the bottom of her belly. Before he went back, determined. It only took one, two, three flicks of his thumb directly over her bud to make her gasp loudly, press her raised leg against his head and feel how the other tensed and then struggle to keep her up. Her breath struggled to find a rhythm when all of a sudden, he took all of her in. Unapologetic tongue ran flat all over her fold before closing over the top so he started to suck and lick directly her clit as two unceremonious fingers were playing with her entrance before sinking in all the way.

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out as her nails scratched the door and she began to twist in position as if it was too much after her release.

“MH- Ah, no wait- AH!” a loud moan cut her complaints as his fingertips found a particular place and decided to assault it with no mercy, as his mouth kept playing directly over her clit. It was too much; she felt her leg shaking as much as she felt his fingers getting impossibly wet and slippery inside with no remorse anymore. They pushed against her walls, making her feel the tug of her own body before returning to press against that spot.

“No. No-hah!” She began convulsing against the wall, her head moving hectically to the side as she felt herself getting impossibly wet and electric waves coursing through her. “Please- No! Wait ah! No."

Palms pressed against the door, trying to push herself upwards, but he grabbed her shaking leg that was struggling to keep her up and positioned it over his shoulder with the other. The movement was so smoothly done; to him, it felt natural, but for her, it felt like a completely different situation. The strength with which he moved left her absurdly powerless; the tug felt so powerful as if she didn’t even notice the resistance she was exerting compared to his.

Then, he completely sat on his face. She felt everything—the contour of his face as her body rocked involuntarily, his fingers slipping in and out as his nose rubbed against her folds while his tongue licked clean her abused hole. “HM!” she gasped loudly, jerking upwards before falling completely over his head when the hand that was kneaded the meat of her thigh slapped her loudly.

She wanted to move, to slip away as she felt as if her bones were being drained, uncontrollable pleasure overtaking her. Her thighs pressed against his head as one of her hands moved downwards to tug his soft dark locks, obsessed, shivering as her mind kept shutting down.

Tears pricked at her eyes as she struggled against him, fighting against his strong grasp. "Please, Captain, I can't take it anymore!" she pleaded, her voice hoarse and desperate. “I’m fucking going to piss myself.”

With a smirk hidden from view, Levi held her in place, refusing to let her go. He knew exactly where she stood, only groaning pleasingly as he intensified his actions. His fingers thrust into her relentlessly, matching his rhythm with the flicks of his tongue. Levi could feel her hips buck violently, trying to escape his relentless assault, how she squirmed helplessly in his grasp. He was feasting on her with no remorse.

She cried out his name, unable to bear the intensity any longer. Her orgasm hit like a freight train, her body convulsing as she tried to pull away. But he wouldn't allow it, keeping her anchored to his mouth, shaking as he kept driving his tongue all over her. The feeling of being dripping was overshadowed by him drinking her in as if he was the thirstiest man alive, moaning against her folds as she could almost bet she felt his pleased smirk.

At some point, she couldn’t even hold her form against the door, twitching involuntarily. Levi reluctantly released her, wiping his mouth clean with the back of his hand. He stood up and picked her up, no buckling knees, no groan or scoff as he did; it was as if he was picking up a paper sheet from the desk. Weightless, powerless against his pull. Unceremoniously, he dropped her on the bed.

Jacket off shoulders, left at the back of a chair inside his room. Arness's upper part was pushed down so his hands could grip the edge of his grey shirt and push it over his head. Then, before she could process it, enjoying the soft cotton of the fabric against her body, marking a huge difference from the rough door, one of his knees sank on the mattress before he crawled to be between her legs.

Elbows on the bed, heels pushing upwards, her broken voice pleaded, “no, please. It’s enough,” as he kissed and nibbled the sweet part of her inner thighs before moving to her core again. “Ah!” she jerked again as he snapped the side of her leg again.

The tingling heat after the hit lingered on her as Levi rearranged her on the bed to his pleasure. “I think you’re not understanding your position,” he groaned, “I’ll say when it's enough; you just have to spread your legs for me to do what I please. That’s your fucking job now if you want your stupid letter, lay there and be a good pliant hole for me to fuck.”

Uncomfortable groans echoed in the room, interrupted by his own voice once again, “Did I make myself clear?”

“Yes…” she murmured but his haunting glance between his legs made her thought he heard her backwards softly. Passing down saliva, “Yes, sir.”

“This is your last warning,” he informed her, while his hands ran up and down her body, palm flat against the valley of her breasts, the touch was so soft but it felt subtly rough from the callouses of his hands, a permanent reminder this wasn’t supposed to feel as lovely as it momentarily did. “Did you hear me, girly? Or have I already fucked you dumb?”

“Yes, sir.”

Contorting uneasily as little whimpers left her lips between a mix of discomfort, pleasure, exhaustion, and pain. Pain because she could already feel his fingers sneaking in, three of them patiently spreading her for him and his restless mouth once again on work. It was too much, involuntarily her legs pushed against the mattress when he hit a particular place. Twisting as if she was possessed, fingers tugging from the sheets and her back arching as a natural reflex.

It was embarrassing how much she felt the wetness of her own mixed with his saliva sneaking through her ass cheeks down to the bed. Her legs felt weak but got a sudden burst of strength as he kept playing with a place that made her eyes roll back and tried to push her up. Levi held her in place, arm surrounding her thighs and arching her core to his face. Despite it all, her hole twitched with the necessity of more, demanding something even bigger as she felt her pinkie fingers going numb from the overpressure.

Knees buckled as he parted momentarily. “What a cute little slutty hole. You’re so tight; I will enjoy fucking it raw,” while she trembled in anticipation, Levi smirked as if he could already see everything he had planned in his mind. He softly pressed a finger on it only to see it clamp down onto it. “So fucking needy; when was the last time you got a good cock to fuck you back into your place?”

With a smirk, Levi withdrew his finger, replaced it with his mouth, and plunged inside, sucking her into his mouth. His finger teased against the back wall, exploring her depths before finding the spot that made her buck wildly. She mewled, her voice hoarse and filled with a hint of desperation. Her head thrashed from side to side, her nails digging into the sheets as she begged for mercy.

The following two orgasms were quick; Levi was getting eager to plow into her pussy with his dick now. His finger pried her open, and his tongue easily got in and swirled around. At this rate, she was just spread on the bed, twitching miserably, whimpering out of pleasure and the sweet pain it provided. “It’s so pretty when you cry,” he joked as little mewling sounds left her rose lips, and her eyes looked translucent with clamped-out eyelashes by the moisture. “Beg me more.”

Her eyes fluttered open, desperate and pleading. "Please, sir… just fuck me already," she begged. The intensity of her arousal was overwhelming; her body begged for release.

Levi got up to his knees, looking down at her and then between her legs, admiring his own creation with a smirk on his face. Fingers casually unbuckling his belt, letting it hang loosely around his hips as he undid the front button of his black uniform trousers and shamelessly patted the front of his engorged dick, feeling the outline of his erection through the fabric and hissing slightly as he finally got some relief from the pressure. As if he enjoyed forcing himself to enjoy every little bite from his meal, saving the best for last, testing his endurance of resisting to the last limit so each little inch that he plugged in of his dick finally in that slippery hot heaven felt like pure blessing. His left hand, which wasn’t touching himself, caressed her leg that forced to be up because she could no longer do it on his own.

“Ass up, girly,” he said. The command had been processed, but it was as if her body wasn’t replying to her mind. The only thing she could fully process was the movement of the mattress and how cold the bed felt as Levi abandoned it. Lazy steps against the wood planks that gave up little cracking sounds. Striding in front of his dresser, slightly bending, allowing her to have a good view of his ass as he dropped the trousers with the underwear all together and then quickly folded them and threw them over the surface, but he upheld something with his left hand from his clothes that she couldn’t perceive from the perspective of spying on him from her lazily open legs and half-lidded eyes. Fingers rummaged through a couple of things before he got what he had been looking for.

“It seems like I’ve to do fucking everything,” he complained, but there was no hint of actual anger in his voice, stoic as ever as he walked back to the bed with his hard dick on full display. Impossible erect and slightly dripping pre-cum from the tip that was a deep shade of red compared to the rest of his pale body, it involuntarily twitched as if it was happy of being finally free. She bit her bottom lip as she delighted herself with the view before doing a little eye contact; it was a good size, way more than she anticipated. Underneath it his heavy balls and on top a nice happy trail that resembled a signal that indicated anything under his belly button and chiseled abs was also a happy surprise.

Her eyes quickly fell to his left hand, and she noticed the belt from the 3DMG gear. While the reason why he may have kept that was rather obvious, the possibility escaped her rationality. “Wait- You’re not using that-“

“I said.” He just gripped the sides of her hips and flipped her over, “Ass up.”

Knees sank on the bed, “MHMP-“ her complaints were muffled by the bed as avoiding her full upper body falling completely into the mattress was difficult as he gripped her arms.

“I told you, it was your last warning,” Levi said as the belt tied up against her wrists, knotting up safely. Her face buried in the sheets by the pressure of her own weight, “I’ll teach you discipline, little shit.”

Hands massaging her ass cheeks, fingers sinking in the meat as his own knees against her legs forced more space. “HMP!” muffled complaint as swiftly one hand impacted on her ass, heat spreading through the skin and turning it red as the sound echoed in the dead of night. His hand followed, leaving a mark on her ass. The heat traveled through her skin, and she could feel her pussy drenching with need. She whimpered, trying to squirm against the belt, but he held her in place. Another and another, each time made her jerk forward slightly as her breath held in her chest and then puffed out.

“Please…” she whispered as her head turned to a side, resting her cheek on the mattress. “I’ll behave, please.”

Levi hummed, but his hand didn’t leave her ass, caressing the hurt zone softly. “Don’t you think we should make it even?”

The next swat landed on her other cheek, making her eyes water and her body jerk. "Please!" she cried out, her voice hoarse and desperate. Her whole body tensed, every nerve ending screaming in anticipation and desire.

Levi grunted, "Ah. You’re such a crying baby. As all MPs," he growled, rubbing the red splotches with his calloused hand. "You're so wet, begging for my dick. You better be grateful you're getting it."

“Ah-!” she gasped loudly as he slapped her ass again. The grip on her hair pushed her head up, and despite the tug and the strength of the grip, the relief of fresh air filling her lungs finally clouded her mind. His breath impacted on her face from the side as he held her, watching how her mouth hung open, panting softly.

“Thank me for showing you your place,” Levi demanded.

“Thank you, sir,” she whispered, forcing herself to look at him from the side. Locking her pleading eyes with his demanding stare. “Thank you for reminding me of my place, sir.”

Levi hummed satisfied, his fingers weaving into her hair again. "That's my girl," he growled, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. “Good girl,” he repeated before placing a kiss on her shoulder blades that were working extra hard by having her hands tied back. He released her hair, gave her ass one last swat, and then positioned himself behind her. She whimpered one last time, face resting on the side as she observed him opening up the foil of the condom carefully and then the subtle hiss as he rolled it down his dick. One hand lazily jerked himself as another reached for her folds and casually ran up and down his thumb through them, spreading the slick evenly.

“You should be riding my cock until I got tired of keeping it wet and warm, yet here I am,” Levi complained as if he wasn’t the one taking each and every decision while shamelessly gripping her tied-up hands from the back to position himself. “Fucking you silly and doing all the shitty job; maybe I should get that promotion,”

‘As if this wasn’t what you wanted.’

But she decided to carry on with the performance, either out of self-preservation, arousal, or the feeling of the cold-wrapped head of his cock running up and down her folds, applying soft pressure at her entrance before withdrawing, had already made her mad. “Thank you, sir.”

The angle of her body, the arch of her back, his hand on her hip, and his subtle hum of approval. Her mouth hung open, and the gasp was fully cushioned by the bed, struggling against her binds. Despite her assumptions, Levi sank in slowly and patiently, despite slipping inside effortlessly.

“Ah- Fuck,” he scoffed out, gritting his teeth as his head fell backward slightly, forcing himself to savor the moment but not completely lose it, gasping slightly. Withdrawing only a bit before thrusting back in, testing the waters. He took a moment to adjust, breathing heavily through his nose, and then began to thrust slowly. Each movement was met with a soft whine from the girl. But the soft, almost loving pace lasted the split of a second, a brief moment of calmness before the storm.

She should have known, at this rate, the second one of his hands abandoned her hip to grip the belt around her tied-back hands and used it as leverage. The tug from the resistance, the forced into place, and one deep thrust that knocked the air out of her lungs. Withdrawing almost all the way, almost only the tip left in before he used her own hands as a grip to push all the way in.

"God damn," he cursed under his breath, pushing in deeper. “You’re so tight,” he muttered, a pleased growl escaping his throat. Meanwhile, she would swear she was trying to breathe more, but the sheets stuck to her face and covered her nose. She tried to cry a little bit less loud because despite her features being buried down, the loud muffled moans each time he plunged all the way in mixed with the loud slapping of the bed frame against the wall must have woken up someone somehow.

“MH-HMP!” Her dignity told her not to sob of how good it feels, how deep it hits, how it felt as if he was trying to break her in half, conserve some dignity, but tears ran down her face of how perfectly synced he set the rhythm, how the friction of her parted knees against the sheets was starting to burn, but it was the perfect mix of how his cock’s head hit that place so brutally sweet.

“Fucking shit, what a pretty view on all fours,” he grunted, his voice sounding less controlled. The lust creeping in as his free thumb pushed his ass cheeks apart, locking his eyes on the way his cock disappeared into the slippery mess of her abused hole at that rate. “Ah-“ Levi let out a subtle moan as if the view was too much to handle, as the sweat glistened on her skin. The only way to not get completely lost in it was to spark it again.

“NH-AH!” she cried out as her legs trembled and her lips gasped for air.

“Best ass inside the walls,” Levi groaned. “And it’s all mine to fuck raw.”

Each thrust, each pull out, and then the deep push - Levi grunted, his own breathing ragged. He gripped the belt, pulling her hands slightly, making her hiss as the pressure against her skin was starting to leave obvious marks. Marks that joined all the rest of them, the still fresh, almost pulsating red handprints on each of her ass cheeks, the shameless bites he left on her shoulder blades each time he bent over to it.

His pace quickened, and so did her tears. She was soaked, her toes curled, and her body shook with each hit. She was a mess, a crying, whiny mess, and yet she was enjoying it, her core clenching around his cock with every movement. Levi growled, and his thrusts became harder, faster, more forceful. A relentless groan escaped him as he slammed into her harder, the friction of her wet core against his shaft nearly driving him insane. His grip on the belt tightened, and he pulled her hands back even further, making her body arch even more. The sound of leather against her skin echoed through the room, the scent of her arousal mingling with the smell of the clean room.

She was close, so close, but Levi stopped suddenly, and she wanted to scream out in frustration, to put an end to this sweet torture. Her knees hurt, her arms hurt, her pussy throbbed with need and abuse when he pulled out of her. No time to think as his pale, sweaty hand appeared from the top, grabbing the pillow and then turning her around forcefully from her shoulder.

“I want to see that fucking pretty face of yours while I fuck you,” Despite the darkness of the night, the room felt like it lighted up for her now with her face finally on display. Pillow under her hips, both legs over his shoulders, and without a minute to spare, he thrust all the way in.

“AH!” her moan echoed in the room as the angle felt too much, her toes curled impossibly, and her legs shook. “Ah- Ah- MHA! Captain-“ Top of her body twisted as her head rolled to the side, tears running down her cheeks, and the restless attention of him on her face was humbling.

“SHHH, quiet, little shit ah-“ He whispered. Sweat dripped from his forehead and from the tips of his dark locks, but he ignored it. “You want the entire fucking scouts to hear you?”

The bed creaked loudly, their bodies merging into one, like an animalistic dance. He gripped her legs more tightly, pushing in and out, setting up a pace that seemed to put both of them into a trance. Few messy soppy kisses to her legs as he had them within reach. Y/N bit her bottom lip trying to suppress her moans, leaving restless whimpers and cries of pleasure “Ah ah ah- hmmm,”. She tried but couldn't contain the sounds, but his dick was hitting her cervix as if that was his glorious duty; he folded her as if squeezing her legs against her bouncing tits was somehow helping her not to feel how his dick filled each corner of her. No, it did not help.

“Stop, stop, stop, almost, fuck-” she begged, pressing her legs against his head and trying to control her body from shaking.

Levi laughed roughly, a sound filled with victory and lust. “Want more? Want me to ruin you completely?”

“AH! YES-!” a loud moan as her back arched, head thrown backwards, and eyelids flickering of how good it felt. Nothing that felt like this, as someone pushed her down on the bed, slamming his cock into her, should be healthy, she concluded. “Quiet,” Levi warned, his voice hoarse. He loved how she clenched around his cock, how her pussy milked him with her orgasm. Frowning deeply as the feeling of her clamping down on his dick was too much to handle, a soft, quiet little moan left his gritted teeth. His abs contorted and his white knuckle grip on the sheets made his arm veins pop up.

“Please, Captain, Ah!” Why bother, the sound of the bed should be enough of a clue for the rest. And what if someone thought she was Captain Levi’s slut? What if she opened her legs wide and steady for him to fuck her restlessly? Who cared? Not her, definitely not her, as the only remaining feeling aside from the scorching heat of the pleasure waves around her body was the tingling sensation of her numbed arms and feet.

“Shut the fuck up,” he insisted, looking down at her. His hand around her neck, two fingers pushed down her parted lips. “I fucking told you to keep quiet.”

“NHG!” She choked on them as Levi kept them there while he lost his rhythm, thrusting into her restlessly and messily.

Her eyes watered up, staring into his as she struggled to breathe. The sweaty, panting man fucking her hard and fast, with an unapologetic expression on his face. She attempted to shake her head, but he wouldn't let her go.

"Shhh," he muttered, panting mouth as sweat ran down his face. "Just let me finish this."

Each thrust seemed to drive him closer to the edge. The friction between his dick and her pussy grew more intense, sending waves of pleasure through him. He couldn't care less about being quiet anymore - he just wanted to come, and he wanted her to see him do it.

"You're gonna cum with me," Levi growled, his voice ragged. "Look at me."

Her eyes locked onto his, filled with a mixture of fear and desire. Levi's eyes bore into hers, making her shiver with each thrust. She let out a soft whimper, unable to deny him anything anymore. The pleasure was too overwhelming to resist.

"That's right," he praised, his grip on her throat tightening slightly. "Cum with me, you little slut." His thrusts grew more desperate, each one driving him closer to the edge. He needed to come, needed to release the tension building up inside him, and she was his outlet. Her pussy clenched around him, milking his cock with every twitch, and he couldn't hold back any longer. Tears ran down her eyes into her ears as so did the saliva around his digits drool down her chin, pleading eyes looking into his begging for him to put this to an end.

“MHM-Hmp,” soft humming whimpers that were wordless pleadings of him letting her finally cum.

"You want it?" Levi snarled, thrusting into her harder. "Fuck, you're so damn tight. You love this, don't you?"

Levi couldn't resist anymore, the sight of her tear-filled eyes and pleading look pushed him over the edge. He growled, his thrusts becoming more forceful as he felt his orgasm approaching. He grinned down at her, his grip on her throat tightening slightly. “Fuck- Aren’t you pretty?” he murmured against her face, almost smiling out of satisfaction.

Both panting in the microspace of the closeness of their faces, breathing each other's ragged puffs of air. Their noses thrusting into each other sometimes as he slammed into her the final times, feeling the wave of pleasure wash over him. Frowned closed eyes, as mewled moans mixed together. Her pussy gripped him tightly, milking him like a vice, and he knew she was cumming too. His eyes met hers, her face a mask of pleasure and pain, and he couldn't help but smirk.

"Not bad," he breathed out, collapsing on top of her. He tried to catch his breath once, twice before he rolled to his side. Finally withdrawing from her slowly and laying flat on his bed next to her. One knee up, arm over his chest, and the other behind his head as a makeshift pillow as his lost eyes glued to the ceiling.

The room was silent except for their heavy breaths, the sweat dripping off their bodies mixing together. His chest raised up and down still erratic as both of them slowly blinked. Y/N lay there, panting heavily, her hands still bound behind her back. She could feel the sweat from Levi's body on her, where their skin touched. Her legs were shaking, and her pussy was still throbbing from the intense experience they just had. Her eyes met his, and she couldn't help but smile weakly.

His body twitched from time to time from the stimulation; her body felt like jelly. Completely boneless. She closed her eyes, trying to catch her breath. But as the cold began to creep in, she contorted uneasily and cleared her throat timidly. “Could you…ehm-“

Levi didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stared at the ceiling, still catching his breath. After a few moments, as he came out of his lethargic state, he finally spoke. “Oh yeah.” His fingers began to undo the knot around her wrists. “There.” Y/N rubbed her hands, feeling the blood returning to them. Her eyes focused on the deep red lines and bruises around them, and she grimaced uneasily. Her heart still pounded in her chest, and she couldn't help but glance at Levi. He shifted, sitting up and rolling off the used condom before tossing it into the bin close to the nightstand.

He stood up slightly to pick something up from his nightstand and also to push the blanket closer that was at the bottom of the bed. She tugged a bit from the sheets to cover her body as the moment slightly washed away, and nudity felt obscene and unnecessary. Levi let the blanket crumple around his hips as he turned on a cigarette.

"You good?" Levi asked, taking a puff from it and leaving the cage back on the nightstand. He looked at her, examining her bruised hands and the red marks from the ropes. A small frown appeared on his face, but he quickly hid it.

Y/N nodded, biting her lip. The marks on her wrists stung, but she didn't want to complain. She slowly sat up, trying to regulate her breathing. The room was still filled with a mix of their sweat and the scent of their passion. Her eyes caught on his lips, more precisely the cigarette. They were rather new now that they discovered the world outside the walls.

Levi looked back at her, at her silence, and casually took a last puff from it before placing it in her lips. “There, have it,” he offered. “You know how it works, right?”

She placed both fingers around it and smoked patiently as she hummed and nodded in approval. Somehow, that made him scoff entertained. “Of course you do, MPs always get used to luxuries rather quickly.”

As the smoke left her lips, she returned it. Y/N hesitated, still rubbing her wrists. She couldn't help but wonder if she should be honest. "Ehm—" she pondered around how to approach the topic, her voice shaky. "Was that… good enough? For the promotion?”

Levi glanced at her from the corner of his eye as she smoked the cigarette. The smoke swirled around them, marking the end of their intimate moment. He took the cigarette back and flicked the ash away, taking another drag.

"Good enough?" he repeated, a smirk forming on his lips. "Was it?"

She grew nervous as he asked back, not sure what to reply. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, glancing up at him. "I gave you what you wanted?" She asked, her voice soft but curious. She couldn't help but feel a bit vulnerable, lying there with him after their intimate encounter.

He chuckled softly, his gaze returning to the ceiling.

Levi sighed, extinguishing the cigarette in an ashtray. He leaned back against the headboard, crossing his arms. “You want advice for next time?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "Let the other person make an offer first, girly. I asked for your support at the camp so I had an excuse to give you a recommendation; I’ve already heard about your struggle from one of your friends. I had the stupid letter written before you even set foot inside this building."

He paused for a moment, turning his head to look at her. The smirk never left his face.

"But since you offered yourself, I wasn’t going to say no.”

Y/N's face flushed red, feeling embarrassed and a bit betrayed. She bit her lip as she looked at Levi, trying to process what he had just said. Then she scoffed offended, pushing him by the shoulder a bit playfully but also with anger.

"So it was all for nothing," she exclaimed, disappointment evident in her voice and obviously irritated. Holding the crumpled sheets against her chest, “You’re an asshole!”

Her eyes closed in reflex as she noticed his hand moving closer to her face, wrinkling her nose and pushing backward in self-defense. But Levi’s index fingers only softly pushed her frown playfully, and he said, “And you’re too naïve for being an MP,” Levi snorted, rolling his eyes.

Levi watched her move, a small smile on his lips. He slid his legs off the bed, sitting on the edge; his body still feeling sore. To her surprise, he grabbed the blanket and threw it over her head playfully.

"You shouldn't have done that," Y/N muttered, her cheeks still flushed. She took the blanket off her head, which only made her hair even more tangled, glaring at him. "I thought you actually meant it."

Levi smirked, standing up and pulling on his pants. "You really thought I'd turn down an offer like that?" he asked, clearly amused. He reached for his shirt, still smirking at her.

"Get some sleep, I don’t use the bed anyways," he said, zipping up his pants. "But don’t get used to, this isn’t a hotel."

He crossed the door of his bedroom and closed it behind him as she mocked his reply and cursed under her breath.

Walking down the corridors, everybody running to be somewhere else. That’s what the capital is like, always a new pub to discover, always a better party to attend than the previous weekend. Hot and dirty like the vicious air of the underground that laid underneath their boots. Her friends made plans as they called out for the week, writing their names and working hours down on the cards at the front desk. Yellow paper flowed under the conflicted air of the reception office, names written down with different calligraphies and a restless pen swinging as it hung from a cord to the forms.

‘Volunteers,’ it read at the top. The last row was empty, but it was quickly filled out.

‘Squad leader: Y/N L/N’

One of her friends who was eagerly talking to the rest turned around and frowned, confused. “Why are you wasting your weekend volunteering for the Scouts,” she asked, frowning in disgust, “You’re already a squad leader, Y/N, don’t sell yourself short.”

Her fingers gracefully placed the pen back on the table as a smile raised on her features. Adjusting her purse around her shoulders, she casually said, “You know, it’s important to remain humble.”

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @i-literally-cant-with-this @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @flxrartsstuff @katharinasdiaryy @kikarouflames @levisecretgfblog @searriously Wanna join my tag list? Here!

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spiteless-xo · 2 months

Text

╰┈➤ aurora borealis — loving — part 4/5 ⋙ A snapshot over five years of how your relationship with Satoru Gojo develops.

ft. satoru gojo / fem!reader wc. 10.7k cw. nsfw - minors do not interact, explicit language, explicit sexual content (blowjob, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, very minor (blink and you'll miss it) feet kink, submissive-ish gojo), alcohol, friends to lovers, slow burn, pining, sexual tension, sexual jokes, some details are intentionally ambiguous, mention of children/pregnancy, ⚠️major character death⚠️, potential manga spoilers, second person POV

Previous ⋆ Masterlist ⋆ Next

2016.

“Satoru Gojo?”

He makes a strangled sound in his throat—a mixture between a gasp and a groan—and throws his forearm over his eyes. Satoru falls back onto the bed as if wounded while he clutches your phone tight to his chest.

“My government name?”

He rolls back and forth on the bed in feigned agony, curling up into the fetal position on his side and moving his hand away from his eyes to cradle the phone close to his face. He blinks down at the screen, eyes wide and trembling, before flicking up to meet your face.

You stand at the side of the bed with your hands on your hips and a frown on your face, but you’re not mad—not really.

“You couldn’t have given me a cute nickname? Pookie? Love of My Life? Satowoo?”

Your angry facade breaks and you snort. “Satowoo?”

“I dunno—literally anything would be better.”

You reach down and snatch the phone from Satoru’s grip, scrolling away from your text screen with him and back to the messages from Utahime from this morning. She said they were going to come pick up the two of you on the way to Suguru’s house for the party.

“Because I know that idiot is going to beg me for a ride five minutes after I’ve already left the house,” Utahime’s message said.

You respond with a quick confirmation and set your phone down on the nightstand before crawling onto the bed and on top of Satoru. He accommodates you with ease by rolling onto his back, stretching his long legs across the mattress and making room for you to settle onto his lap.

His porcelain skin is marked with dark purple bruises along his collarbones and lines of red scratches across his biceps from the night before. The view makes your heart thud a little harder against your ribcage and you move to press your palms into his chest as you loom above him.

“What’s my name in your phone?” you ask, cocking your head to the side. “Snookums? Sweetie Pie? My Soulmate?”

“My One and Only.”

Satoru’s expression softens as he speaks. His face relaxes and his eyes widen minutely as his hands come to rest on your hips. The corner of his lip twitches against his cheek as he fights back a smile, but even with all of the theatrics, you don’t let yourself fall for it.

“Liar. That’s your name for Suguru.”

His features sharpen in an instant—grin splitting across his face and gaze turning sinister while his fingers press hard into your skin. Satoru runs his tongue across his teeth, catching on a canine and pressing into it with devilish delight.

“You caught me,” he says, and he can’t hide his excitement. “Whoops! I guess I need to be punished for being so bad.”

Satoru’s voice deepens into a growl and you lurch forward when he presses his hips up into you. He’s already hard against you and you can see more signs of his arousal from the pink flush on his cheeks, slowly crawling down his face, his neck, and down to where your fingers are sprawled across his chest.

“Really?” you say, unimpressed.

“Oh, come on,” he whines. His impatience is evident from the way he drags your hips along the length of his cock and the quickened rise and fall of his chest. “How am I supposed to make it through tonight if I don’t get my rocks off at least once?”

“How are you going to make it through… a night with your friends?”

Satoru nods. His face softens again as he pleads, his brows pitching into the centre of his forehead while he juts his lower lip out in a pout.

He’s determined—you’ll give him that. Willing to try any strategy he can to get you out of your clothes.

Unfortunately, you’re in a bit of a time crunch this morning.

“Uta said they were coming by in a few hours and I still need to finish making my dish for dinner—”

“It’s not going to take you hours to do that.”

“—and I still need to shower and get cleaned off from yesterday—”

“I’ll join you! I bet I can get you extra clean with my tongue.”

“—not to mention the fact that I haven’t picked out an outfit for tonight yet, either—”

“Don’t wear anything! Or better yet, just wrap yourself up in some ribbon so I can unwrap you under the tree.”

You quirk a brow. “In front of everyone?”

“Sure,” he shrugs. “I’m sure Nanami could use some pointers in the bedroom. Consider it a live demonstration in the art of lovemaking.”

“And Shoko and Suguru?”

“It’s nothing they haven’t seen before.”

Satoru shoots you with another wolfish grin and you’re painfully reminded of Satoru’s embarrassing run-in with Shoko immediately after eating you out, as well as Suguru demanding that the two of you find your own place to live after catching the two of you hooking up in the living room when Satoru was staying with him.

Despite the excitement in your veins from the press of Satoru’s cock against your core, you give him a gentle pat on the chest and swing your leg off of his lap and step back onto the floor at the side of the bed.

“As romantic as that sounds, Satoru, I’m going to have to decline. Now, I’m going to take a shower while you go… take care of yourself—” you gesture down to the tent in Satoru’s pants, “—and while I’m getting dressed, can you wrap the presents for me?”

“You’re really going to leave me here to jack off by myself?”

His voice follows you out of the room as you make your way to the ensuite.

“Just don’t get cum on the sheets,” you call back before closing the bathroom door behind you and getting ready for your shower.

You and Satoru have been living together for a few months now—dating for almost a year—and it’s been so…

Easy.

Everything with Satoru is effortless—natural. Not that you thought it would be hard—of course, not—but things with him are just so much easier than you ever expected. Maybe being friends for so long beforehand helped.

(Or the unspoken, mutual pining.)

The flirty banter you had as friends has continued, although the stakes are higher now that you know he’ll make good on all his threats. His touch doesn’t linger on your skin anymore the way it used to. Instead, he holds you tight every chance he gets. Like he’s constantly trying to make up for lost time by smothering you with his love.

It’s nice. Waking up every morning wrapped around his body. Feeling the soft rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. The way his lashes flutter when he dreams. How his skin turns pink when you touch him.

You never thought that you could be so happy with someone like this.

Under the stream of warm water, you hear the familiar click! of the bathroom door opening. You still, listening to the slow patter of Satoru’s bare feet on the tile as he approaches. He pulls open the shower curtain and seems surprised that you’re already staring over at him, expecting his entrance.

Satoru ducks his head under the shower rod and he steps in behind you, already stripped naked and still sporting a half-hard cock.

“What?” he asks, feigning innocence as he reaches past you for his body wash. “I need to shower, too.”

“I thought you were jerking off.”

“Nah, that’s boring.”

Satoru squirts a generous handful of shower gel into his palm, setting the bottle back in place before pressing his hands together to lather the soap. “Want me to help you soap up?”

You level him with a skeptical look, which he returns with a wide grin.

“No funny business.”

He gasps, hand to his chest. “I would never!”

When the two of you make it downstairs, you’re in a panicked rush, certain parts of your body are much cleaner than others, and there’s a dull, familiar ache between your legs as you walk.

“They’re going to be here in less than an hour!” you say, stepping quickly to the fridge to pull out ingredients for a dish that you, realistically, should have prepped last night.

Satoru scoffs, unbothered, as he tugs on an oversized black hoodie. His hair is still slightly damp and beads of water drip from the ends and litter across his hood and shoulders.

When he looks like this—hair floppy on his head and his cheeks flushed pink—it reminds you of the night you first met him. You get a twinge of nostalgia in your chest when you look up from the cutting board and feel a sense of calm wash over you.

“Just tell them we’re running a few minutes late,” he says, leaning back on the kitchen counter beside you. He crosses his arms and rests his head on his shoulder, pursing his lips. “They’ll understand. They were young and in love once, too.”

“I’m not telling our friends we’re running late because we spent too long fooling around in the shower.”

“Why not?” he frowns, and his surprise seems genuine. “Honesty is important.”

It takes you a beat longer than you’re willing to admit before you realize that he’s joking. With a groan and a roll of your eyes, you nudge him in the side. He takes the hit with an exaggerated giggle before he scampers away, leaving you to work on the dish alone.

“I’ll go wrap the gifts,” he calls from over his shoulder.

This is the first time all of you have found the time to get together in almost a year. Since Nanami and Utahime got married, they’ve been spending a lot more time with just the two of them, (“Making babies”, Satoru always says, waggling his eyebrows.)

Shoko’s new position has her working weird hours, so it’s difficult to find time to see her that isn’t in the middle of the night. She works twelve-hour shifts that are both mentally and physically draining at the ER of the new hospital in the city, so you don’t blame her for ignoring Satoru’s incessant texts in favour of getting some well-deserved rest.

But you always find time to see Suguru.

You’re not sure when he stopped being Geto and when he became Suguru to you—the transition was so seamless that you struggle to remember a time when the two of you weren’t as close as you are now.

The dynamic you have with the two boys—Satoru and Suguru—is a fun one. There are times when you and Suguru team up on Satoru for acting immature and doing something needlessly goofy. Other times, Satoru and Suguru team up on you. Teasing you like childish bullies in the schoolyard—poking at your sides and pulling your hair (Satoru) or holding things just slightly out of reach (Suguru).

The real fun is when you and Satoru team up on Suguru.

When you wrap your arms around his waist and pull him into a tight hug while Satoru tries to climb onto his back. When Suguru laughs at the two of you, his eyes wrinkling in the corners in a boyish way that makes your heart feel warm. When he just sits back and watches the two of you playfully bicker, his favourite mug in his hand and a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

It’s rare these days to see Suguru really smiling. He’s experienced a lot of loss this past year—first his father in the spring and then his mother shortly thereafter. The girlfriend you thought was perfect for him ended up cheating and breaking his heart in the fall, so now you and Satoru have taken it upon yourselves to take care of him.

Just like how he used to take care of the two of you.

You’re only partway through cooking your dish when you hear a knock at the front door and then your panic spikes. You try to talk yourself into packing up the half-cooked casserole for the car ride, but when Utahime and Nanami walk in, you see panicked looks on their faces, too.

“Our apologies for arriving early,” Nanami says with a soft, embarrassed smile. He walks around the kitchen island to give you a hug and presses a chaste kiss to your temple before pulling away. “We were hoping that you would have some icing sugar so Uta can finish her cake.”

“Oh, yes, of course!” you say, and you gesture to the pantry.

“We tried calling,” Utahime says. She huffs as she sets her dish down on the counter: a plain, undressed cake. She lifts another bag from her feet, where Nanami had set it down, and you can see the rods of a standing mixer peeking out from the top. “All the shops are closed and I’m missing the key fucking ingredient for this goddamn cake.”

You laugh and let her pull you into a one-armed hug. She presses her cheek into yours with a heavy sigh when Satoru’s voice rings out from the other room.

“Is that Utahime I hear?”

“Nobody would blame you if you left him,” she whispers, only half-joking as her face falls at the sound of Satoru’s voice growing louder.

“I said: is that Utahime?”

“Gojo, I don’t—”

When Satoru rounds the corner, he tackles her with a hug, lifting her feet off the ground and spinning Utahime around in a circle while she shrieks at him to let her go. You raise your hands defensively, guiding Satoru out of the small kitchen and into the adjoining dining room.

With any luck, if he keeps spinning around like this, he’ll knock over Utahime’s cake and then he’ll really be giving her a reason to scream at him.

“Uta - hime!” he cheers, bouncing her up and down while her clenched fists pound at his back. “Happy Wedding Anniversary!”

“Put me the fuck down!”

“Aw, come on—I haven’t seen you in ages, Utahime.”

“And you’re never going to see me again if you don’t drop me right this instant.”

“Why?” he coos, but he sets her back down on her feet before leaning into her face. She snarls with disgust and pushes him away, but he returns with a vengeance. “Do I need to be careful with you, Uta? Is there something you need to tell us, hmm?”

“We’re not pregnant,” Nanami says, his voice deadpan as he sets a bag of icing sugar on the counter.

Satoru’s shoulders slump forward. “Aw, really? It's been like a year. Don’t you want to fill that big, lonely house of yours with some mini-Nanamis?”

“You shouldn’t ask people that sort of thing,” Utahime chides, but her back is to him now as she fishes out supplies from her bag. “What if we’re having fertility issues? It’s not any of your business whether or not we’re even trying to conceive.”

Satoru slides back over to your side, wrapping his arms around your waist and his chin on your shoulder. His body is warm and his hoodie is soft against you and when you tilt your head to the side to accommodate him, he presses his lips softly into your skin.

“Should we spoil the surprise?” he whispers not-so-quietly. “I know you wanted to wait until the party, but I’m just so excited.”

Nanami’s attention shifts to the two of you, his brows up in his hairline. “Do you…” his eyes shift down to Satoru’s hands, which have moved lower to press protectively against your stomach, “have news to share?”

“Yeah,” Satoru says, voice turning serious. Even Utahime looks over at him, eyes wide with excitement. “Came in her this morning—”

Nanami frowns. Deep, long lines form on either side of his mouth as he shakes his head.

“—we’ll see if it sticks this time. Although, the birth control might be an issue.”

“You’re fucking disgusting,” Utahime groans, clenching her hands into fists as Satoru cackles. Her gaze shifts over to you, this time, exasperated. “I really don’t know what you see in him.”

You laugh and raise your hand to cup Satoru’s face. He hums in happiness, leaning into your touch as he holds you tight against his body. “Unfortunately, I’m in love with him.”

“Unfortunate, indeed,” Nanami sighs, but you can see the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“They’re right though, Satoru,” you say, patting his cheek. “You shouldn’t make jokes like that.”

“Aw, come on—I’m just teasing, they know that.”

Nanami and Utahime shift their attention back to the undressed cake and they pull out the remaining ingredients and set up her standing mixer. You’re grateful to have a bit more time to finish making your casserole.

“Did you finish wrapping all the gifts?” you ask, pressing your lips into Satoru’s cheek while he hums against you.

“Yeah, I just gotta put a bow on Shoko’s gift then I’ll be all done.”

“Can you help me clean up the kitchen then? I should be ready to go once Uta’s finished with the cake.”

“Anything for you,” he coos, pressing a sloppy, wet kiss to your cheek before pulling away. He rolls up the sleeves of his hoodie, revealing his forearms, as he walks over to the sink to start washing up your mess from earlier.

You join him at his side, grabbing a towel to dry off the dishes as he cleans them, and then setting them aside to be put away later. By the time everything is cleaned, dried, and put away, Nanami and Utahime are finishing up by piping buttercream icing onto their cake and your casserole only has a few minutes left in the oven.

“We don’t need to fully cook it, I guess,” you rationalize with yourself, reaching for the oven mitts. “We can finish cooking it when we get to Suguru’s—we won’t have dinner for a while, still.”

“Do you think Shoko will attend tonight?” Nanami asks, watching Utahime with amusement as she makes perfect flowers onto the surface of the cake. Her tongue is peeking out from between her lips and you can see the adoration in his eyes as he looks at her.

“She said she’d try to swing by before work.”

Nanami sighs, shifting his gaze from Utahime to you, watching you as you set the oven-hot casserole down onto a trivet to protect the countertop. “It’s unbelievable that she’s working on Christmas Eve.”

“She works almost every day,” Satoru snorts, stepping to peer over Utahime’s shoulder as she pipes the icing. He reaches out from behind her with a single finger, looking to scoop some icing off of the cake but she elbows him in the stomach—hard—and he doubles over with a grunt.

“Ow! Uta, that’s—” he coughs, “—that’s not very ladylike of you.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Gojo,” she seethes.

After what Utahime would call, an excruciatingly long twenty-minute drive, the four of you arrive at the home of Suguru Geto with food and presents in tow.

Suguru doesn’t greet you at the door but he leaves it unlocked for you to let yourself in. The second you pass through the doorway, your senses are assaulted with the warmth of his home.

The sight of Suguru’s home decorated in tasteful Christmas-themed decor. The smell of dinner cooking in the oven. The soft sound of atmospheric ambient music playing throughout the home and the even softer sounds of the fireplace video crackling on Suguru’s TV.

You can’t help but grin as you step into the house. You immediately feel at home.

“Suguru!” Satoru yells, cupping his hands around his mouth as he leans over Utahime’s shoulder. She flinches from the volume and shoves at him with her elbow. “We’re here, Suguru!”

Suguru steps around the corner leading to the kitchen with a tea towel in his hands. He’s wiping off food from his fingers but otherwise is dressed in a fitted knit sweater with his hair tied up into a tight bun, akin to the style he used to sport at school.

“I thought you weren’t going to make it.”

“Gojo held us up,” Uta huffs, pinning the blame elsewhere, despite the fact that she was just as much the cause for the delay as Satoru was.

She kicks off her shoes easily and steps past you to greet Satoru. She presses onto her toes to reach his face, but he still has to duck his head for Utahime’s lips to connect with his cheek. She presses a firm kiss to each cheek as she holds the cake between their bodies.

“It’s good to see you, Geto,” she says, her voice soft. “You look like you’re doing well.”

“I probably wouldn’t have gotten out of bed today if you all weren’t coming over.”

Suguru smiles down at her to punctuate his teasing words, but the lack of warmth in his face has Utahime shifting awkwardly on her feet.

He’s not joking.

“I’ll go put this on the counter,” she says, and you follow her into the kitchen just in time to avoid Satoru’s charge toward Suguru.

“Suguru!” he cheers, and even as you step into the other room, you can hear Suguru’s laughter.

“Is he…?” Utahime speaks to you out of the corner of her mouth. She sets the cake on the counter to free her hands as she looks at you through the reflection of the kitchen window.

“He’s better… but not great.”

She nods solemnly and brushes both palms down the front of her dress. The two of you linger in silence in the kitchen for a moment, allowing the boys outside to greet one another as you share sympathetic looks.

“It’ll just take some time,” you say finally, your voice just a whisper. “I think tonight will be good for him.”

“I hope so,” she says, glancing over to the doorway of the kitchen. From here, you can only see Nanami’s back and Geto’s palm resting on his shoulder. “I’ve grown fond of him over the years. I hate to see him in pain like this.”

“Yeah, me too,” you say, and this time you smile. “It’s a shame Satoru hasn’t grown on you yet.”

She groans, rolling her eyes and breaking the tension. “Honestly, I don’t know how you live with him.”

“Does that mean you’re not interested in a husband swap?”

You’re only teasing her and you both know it, but she feigns anger. “I knew it. You’ve always wanted him for yourself.”

“I was there long before you were, sweetie,” you coo, leaning into the bit, “and I’ll be there after you, too.”

“Stupid bitch,” she says, but her tone has lost its bite and she brings a hand up to her mouth to muffle her laughter. “In all seriousness, I’m happy to see you again, too.”

Utahime pulls you in for another hug, this time squeezing you tight around the middle.

“And I hope you don’t think my comments about Gojo are legitimate concerns. I know how happy he makes you and I wouldn’t want to cause you any feelings of doubt.”

She’s lying—you know how much she genuinely hates Satoru. Even before the two of you were dating. Back before she was with Nanami.

But you appreciate her kindness and you’ve never taken any of the snide comments she’s made about him to heart. Besides, Satoru doesn’t even realize how much Utahime truly hates him—he thinks it’s all playful banter.

If it doesn’t bother him, it doesn’t bother you.

“Thank you, Uta,” you say, returning her squeeze before pulling away to look at her face. “I’m happy to see you, too.”

Nanami walks in as the two of you step away from the hug and he greets you both with a warm smile, his gaze lingering on Utahime. He moves beside her, wrapping one arm around her waist and pulling her close at his side.

“The boys went upstairs to check out Geto’s… lights?”

“Smart lights,” you explain, shaking your head with fondness. “He’s set up LED lighting in his room and has it all connected to his phone so it changes colour. He’s been chatting about it with Satoru for the past few months, he’s really excited about it.”

Nanami smiles. “That’s good, even if I don’t fully understand the concept.”

“I don’t either, to be honest,” you admit, “but it keeps him busy and helps keep the demons at bay.”

He nods but doesn’t pry. He’s never been one to gossip, especially about someone’s mental health, and he’s heard about what’s been going on in Suguru’s life from the man himself—

Nanami’s firm helped Suguru with his parents’ wills after they passed.

“Geto said that Shoko promised she’d make it here for dinner,” Nanami says. “She told him to have a bottle of whiskey ready in the freezer for her.”

You laugh. “Must be a tough day.”

“I wonder if there’s an increase in injuries and accidents near Christmas,” Utahime says.

Nanami’s attention draws to her like a moth to a flame. Even from behind the shine of his glasses, you can see his gaze soften when he looks down at her.

“I would imagine so, right?” she continues. “People drink more… have to deal with their families—their in-laws … I can picture someone driving off in the snow, drunk on a few too many rum and egg nogs, after a blowout fight with some family member with different political views.”

“That’s a pessimistic viewpoint,” you say with a frown. “Maybe there are less hospital admissions because people want to spend more time with their families. Rather than rush to the ER because of some chest pain, they try to tough it out to enjoy the holidays with their grandchildren.”

“Interesting point,” Utahime says with a nod. “We’ll have to remember to ask Shoko when she gets here.”

“Ask me what?”

The three of you are greeted by the sight of Shoko standing in the doorway of Suguru’s kitchen, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a reusable bag of presents in the other. She looks tired—exhausted—with bags under her eyes and dry, chapped lips. She’s still wearing her white coat from the hospital.

“Shoko!”

Utahime steps toward her first, prying the items from Shoko’s hands so she can pull Shoko into a crushing hug. Shoko laughs and her hands come up to press against Utahime’s back to pull her closer.

“Where are the idiots?”

“Upstairs looking at lights,” you say, stepping to pull her in when Utahime steps away. Shoko smells like a mixture of tobacco and hand sanitizer that you’ve grown to love. Since she’s been trying to quit smoking, the smell of tobacco isn’t quite as strong as it usually is.

After greeting all of you, Shoko tells the three of you about her shift at work—all personal identifying information redacted, of course—seated at the coffee table as she pours herself three fingers of whiskey into a short glass, giving the bottle to Nanami to put in the freezer.

“Did Suguru put one in there for me already?” she asks, looking past you as Nanami pulls open the fridge.

He gazes into it for a moment, searching, before turning back to Shoko. “Doesn’t appear so.”

“That little shit,” she hisses. “He’s got no faith in me, I’m telling ya.” Shoko’s fingers press to her lips, miming a cigarette, before she returns her hand back to her lap. A nervous tic. “I told him to stick it in ages ago, but he never believes me when I tell him I’m coming. I should just do it myself.”

“Have you been visiting often?”

Shoko nods—presses her fingers to her lips, sets her hand back down—before speaking. “Yeah, I come by most nights after my shift.”

That makes sense. You know Suguru hasn’t been sleeping, so of course Shoko would come by to stay with him.

When you and Satoru can’t be there.

“Oh!” Utahime misinterprets Shoko’s explanation, glancing between you and Shoko with excitement. “You spend the night… with Geto?”

Shoko doesn’t even blink. “In his spare room, yeah,” and Utahime visibly deflates. “Suguru’s like my brother, Uta—don’t be gross.”

Your conversation comes to a lull just as you hear the familiar sound of Satoru and Suguru’s feet against his carpeted stairway, moments before they come into view at the kitchen doorway.

“You know,” Suguru says, nodding back toward his living room, “we aren’t kids anymore. We don’t need to cluster around the kitchen at parties, we can sit in the den.”

The group files out of the kitchen to relocate to the living room after Suguru’s prompting, but you linger at the back of the pack so you can finally greet him for the first time this evening.

You step onto your toes to help reach as you wrap your arms around his neck. Suguru places two warm palms against your lower back and pulls you into him until your bodies are flush. He holds you there for a beat with his face pressed into your neck.

Suguru’s chest expands as he takes a long breath, drinking you in and pressing you tighter against him. “Thank you—all of you—for being here today.”

“I haven’t spent Christmas Eve without you since we first met,” you say. “Why would I start now?”

“Thank you for encouraging me to host this tonight. It feels like old times.”

“I promise Satoru and I will stay off the roof tonight.”

He laughs at that and pulls away, turning his face from you to hide his expression and he steps past you and into the kitchen. “I’ll grab some wine for everyone,” he calls, and you join the group in the living room for some drinks and lively conversation before dinner.

The group of you chat amongst yourself throughout the evening. Reminiscing on stories from when the Suguru, Satoru, and Shoko trio were in high school and their drunken recklessness. Silly stories from a drunken Utahime about Nanami from their honeymoon in beautiful Malaysia. And you and Satoru share the trials and tribulations of trying to buy a home together and all of the mindless open-house viewings you’ve been to.

You feel so grown up with everyone here tonight—nothing like the kid you were when you first met them. The Nanamis are married, Shoko is working on finishing her residency, and you and Satoru are about to become homeowners! It almost feels surreal.

At this age, you thought that you’d already be married and pregnant, so you’re a little behind on your life plans, but oddly enough, it doesn’t bother you. You’re happy with how things are in your life with Satoru and he knows what you want, so you feel no sense of urgency to check off items on your life plan.

Suguru smiles throughout the entire evening—really smiles—and it brings such a feeling of warmth and ease in your chest that you don’t want this night to end.

You keep the drinks flowing. Pouring whiskey into Shoko’s cup before she’s even finished what’s left in her glass and topping up everyone else’s wine, even though the more Utahime drinks, the louder she becomes.

Satoru stays sober along with Nanami, the designated driver. But Satoru acts like he’s drunker than anyone else in the room with all of his hooting and hollering and by the way he eggs on Utahime to yell louder and louder.

Dinner goes by in a drunken blur, but after getting some delicious food into your bellies, the group seems to sober up a bit as they grow drowsy from their gluttony.

Nanami and Utahime sit together on the couch in Suguru’s living room, the same couch they sat in together when they first connected at Satoru’s party all those years ago. Even though there’s plenty of room for them to spread out, Utahime is curled against Nanami’s side with his arm casually thrown over the back of the couch. With his free hand, he helps cradle the wine glass in Utahime’s hand, careful not to let the liquid spill as she sways from side to side on her seat.

Suguru reclines back in his armchair, hands clasped together behind his head painting him the picture of relaxation. Shoko sits on the armrest of his chair, leaning into his shoulder every time she laughs.

You and Satoru sit together on the floor. He’s found a way to curl himself around you completely with his arms around your waist and his chin on your shoulders while long, lanky legs trap your body on either side.

Your cheeks are warm from the drinks and the company and they hurt from smiling so much. It’s been so long since all of you have been able to get together like this and you selfishly wish that you could stay in this moment forever.

Utahime leans forward, resting her now-empty wine glass on the coffee table and reaching forward for the bottle. She tries to pour more into her glass and wails when only a drop rolls out.

“We’re out of wine!” she cries. “This is a disaster!”

“I’ll go get more.” You volunteer with a laugh, untangling Satoru’s arms from around your body so you can sit up. He whines in your ear but lets you stand up without a fuss.

“I’ll go with you,” Shoko says before downing what’s left of her drink. Her cheeks are flushed dark red, but otherwise, she seems completely normal. She’s always had a high tolerance when it comes to alcohol. “I need a refill.”

Utahime gasps in childlike delight, reaching her hands out for both of you as her chin wobbles. “I love you—I love you both, so so so so so so so so so—”

“Yikes, now I see why you guys don’t want kids,” Satoru teases, grinning across the room at Nanami.

“—so so so so so so so so—”

“Alright, alright,” Shoko scolds, reaching out with a hand to squeeze Utahime’s cheeks. Her lips purse together into a pucker as she blinks up at Shoko. “We get it—you love us. Thanks a ton.”

“I jus’ wanna make sure you know,” she says, speaking around Shoko’s grip.

Shoko grins as she releases her and Utahime slumps back against Nanami’s side. Utahime turns to look over at Suguru on the armchair and he regards her with a raised brow.

“And I love you, too,” she says, and you can already hear the waver in her voice as she turns to look at Nanami. “And I love you, most of all.”

“Hey, what about me?” Satoru calls, raising a hand.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” she yells, keeping her back turned to Satoru.

You and Shoko share a look of amusement before stepping out of the chaos and into the kitchen. She grabs her bottle of whiskey and sets her glass down on the counter as she twists the bottle cap, watching you choose from Suguru’s collection of wine for a replacement bottle.

“I have to say, I’m surprised you two are still going strong.”

You pull a bottle of red from Suguru’s shelf and take a look at the label to make sure it’s not too expensive before uncorking it. “Hmm?” you ask from over your shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“You and Satoru,” she says. You look up to see her taking a slow sip of her drink, levelling her gaze on your face. “We were all tired of the whole, will-they-won’t-they shtick after all these years, but I never thought you two would ever actually end up together.”

Your brows furrow in confusion. Shoko must be really drunk if she’s saying something like this, you reason. She’s typically positive-to-apathetic about your relationship with Satoru.

“Why would you say that?” You turn to fully face Shoko now, crossing your arms over your chest.

She shrugs noncomittally, suddenly appearing disinterested in the conversation, but you push.

“No, Shoko. What do you mean by that?”

“I just mean that I always thought the two of you were more interested in the chase than you were in each other.”

Shoko doesn’t even seem guilty about her comment.

“The one girl that isn’t immediately enamoured by The Satoru Gojo is the one he’s going to obsess about the most,” she continues. “And Satoru really doesn’t seem like your type.”

“What’s my type?”

“You know,” she gestures vaguely at the other room. “The Nanami-type. The Higuruma-type. The guys that own more suits than casual wear and don’t show emotions on their face.”

“I’m not interested in Nanami,” you say, taken aback. “And things between Higuruma and I didn’t work out.”

“But he broke up with you,” she says, pointing her finger at you. “If he hadn’t, I bet you would’ve married him.”

You start to feel a cold sweat on your back. Shoko is one of Satoru’s best friends—from long before you were ever even in the picture. Unlike your banter with Utahime today, this conversation feels serious—loaded.

You straighten your spine, tilting your chin up to try to feign confidence as your heartbeat pounds against your temples. “Did Satoru say something to you or…? I just don’t understand why you’d bring this up all of a sudden.”

Shoko shrugs and takes another sip of her drink. She looks away from you, into the party in the other room as she rolls the liquid in the mouth. After a thick swallow, she returns her attention to you.

“I just think that you have a really rigid life plan—you always have. House, married, kids… you’ve got it all figured out.” Her face softens, “That’s not a bad thing. I think that’s great that you have those aspirations, but—”

The dreaded but.

“—Satoru is a kid at heart. I know he’s happy playing house with you right now, but when it comes to buying a real house together? Proposing? Kids? I just… I think the two of you need to have a serious conversation about that.”

You think about all of Satoru’s snide comments about kids from today—jokes and mocking comments to Nanami and Utahime. Does he really not share the same desires as you?

You’re shaken up by the conversation, but you feel trapped here. You can’t leave without Nanami and the others, and if you go into the other room and request that everyone leaves, it’s going to draw questions.

So, you try to brush off the unease. Shoko is drunk—she doesn’t know what she’s saying. She doesn’t know what your relationship with Satoru is really like. She’s just making assumptions.

“Thanks,” you say, even though nothing Shoko said to you is deserving of it.

You stay for a few more hours. Until Utahime is falling asleep on Nanami’s shoulder and the group finishes another bottle of wine.

You kiss Suguru goodbye on the cheek and give him an extra tight squeeze when he holds you close. To Shoko, you just offer a chaste brush of your lips against her face and a side hug.

“Another year without the lights,” Suguru comments, tsking as he points up at the sky. It’s a clear night, but you still haven’t seen the fabled northern lights that Satoru and his friends constantly rave about. “Maybe next year.”

Usually, you would quip back with a witty comment—”Maybe we should be looking for them on other days, too”—but your tongue feels dry in your mouth and you’re only able to respond with a forced smile and a nod.

You’re still rattled by your conversation with Shoko as you walk outside with the others. You settle into the backseat with Utahime even though she yells at Satoru for getting shotgun in her own car (“Do you want me to throw up?” Satoru challenges. “Ruin your beautiful upholstery? Get it in your hair and all over your pretty dress?”) and you all buckle in for the ride home as Shoko and Suguru wave at you from the entryway of his house.

The drive is relatively peaceful. Utahime is fighting sleep against your shoulder and Nanami is quiet, as usual. Even Satoru seems tired from tonight’s events, as he’s silent as he sits up front with Nanami.

The warmth of your home feels hollow when you enter. Spending the drive in your head, thinking about what Shoko said, wasn’t the best way to calm your nerves.

You’re so lost in your own head that you don’t notice Satoru’s distress until his hands cup around your face, lifting your head to look into his eyes.

“Is everything ok?” His eyes are wide with worry, his face panicked. “You started acting really weird all of a sudden. Did I do something wrong?”

Your reflex is to deflect his concerns. Whenever you get moody or upset, it’s rarely Satoru’s fault, but you’re used to him blaming himself for your bad moods. Ever since the fight that you caused at Nanami and Utahime’s wedding—as a result of your own insecurities—Satoru is quick to fall on his sword to keep you from running away from him again.

But right now, he is at fault. At least partially.

“Do you ever talk about me with Suguru and Shoko when I’m not around?”

He frowns. “Uh, sometimes, yeah.”

“Do you ever tell them things that you don’t tell me?”

“Maybe? I don’t know—nothing serious, but maybe like, little stupid things I know you wouldn’t care about—”

“Do you want to have kids, Satoru?”

He jerks back in surprise, blinking down at you. “Uh, woah. That’s quite the left turn—”

“Do you want to get married? Do you even want to buy a house?”

Satoru cocks his head to the side. He stares at you for a beat while his thumbs brush against your cheeks, wiping away the tears that would be there if not for your stubbornness holding them back.

“I want to be with you,” he says.

“Did you tell Shoko that you don’t want those things?”

“I told Shoko that I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” he says. “I’m not sure what I want in life—I don’t think about it the way you do—but I want whatever you want.”

“We talked about it,” you counter, “when you and Suguru were overseas. We talked about it.”

“We talked about you and Higu-what’s-his-face.” Satoru scoffs, leaning back to his full height and waving a hand in the air in dismissal.

You frown and cross your arms over your chest. “But even then, you know what I want, right? I’ve been upfront with you since the beginning.”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember. Kids before thirty.”

“I’m twenty-five, now, Satoru.”

“I know.”

“We don’t have a lot of time left.”

He snorts. “You want us to start trying now? Say less, babe.”

“Satoru, I’m being serious.”

“So am—” he groans, lifting his hands up into his hair and tugging on the strands with his fists. “We’re literally in the process of trying to get a house right now, isn’t this what you want?”

“But is it what you want?!”

“You are what I want!” he insists, growing frustrated. “I’ve always wanted you—from the first time we met and then every day after that. If you want a house—I’ll buy you a house. If you want to get married—let’s get fucking married! And if you want to have kids… if you want kids, then we’ll have kids, ok?”

“Kids aren’t some sort of joke. We’d be bringing a new life into this world.”

“I know that.”

“You can’t just agree to have kids just because I want them. You need to decide for yourself whether or not it’s something you really want or else… or else—”

“Or else you’ll leave me?”

Satoru’s voice is quiet and meek. You’ve been avoiding his gaze throughout the conversation—it’s been too hard to look into those piercing blue eyes while you talk—and now when you look up, you see the worry etched in his face.

“No, I…” you stumble around your words.

“If I decided next year that I don’t want to have kids, would you stay? Is it really that important to you?”

“I—no… it’s not.”

“I won’t leave you if you want to have kids. I’ll be right there with you, raising those brats,” he grins down at you and your shoulders relax. “And if you decide you don’t want them anymore? I’ll be there, too—hanging out with you in our lavish mansion in all of our DINK glory.”

“DINK?”

“Dual income no kids.”

Satoru steps forward, pressing his palms into your shoulders and pulling you into his chest. He wraps his arms around your body once you’re close and his lips against your temple. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you, too.”

“And yes, I’m freaked out at the idea of having kids—but I’m not scared about our future together. I’ll figure it out by the time you’re thirty, don’t worry, and we can have all the little Gojo’s you want.”

Your hands lift to loosely wrap around Satoru’s body and he squeezes you tighter in response. “I just feel like I’ve had all these plans about how I wanted my life to be and I expected you to want them too… but after talking with Shoko today, I’m scared that I’m just forcing you to do what I want.”

“Let’s just get married and then we can figure out the rest later.”

You snort, finally relaxing in his arms and pressing your face into his chest. His hands are cool on your back as they rub small, gentle circles.

“I think you need to propose first before we get married.”

“Ok, I propose we get married.”

You groan and playfully shove him away. He steps back enough to create some distance between the two of you before grabbing your hands and pulling you back into him, this time with your chin pressed against his chest so you can look up at his smiling face.

After all this time, Satoru’s gotten good at calming down your insecurities. You spent most of the latter half of the evening in mental turmoil about the future of your relationship, but Satoru can put you at ease with a few honest words and physical touch.

You love him.

“I’m sorry if my friends said something stupid to you at the party, but let me make it up to you, ok?”

You smile and close your eyes as Satoru leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Why does everything with us always have to be so dramatic?”

“You’re forgetting about all of the boring days we have together,” he says, lips curling into a smile against your skin. “Remember yesterday when we had a perfectly normal day? We ate food, watched tv, and then fucked—end of story.”

“Pretty boring story. Nothing like today.”

“Right—today, we’re fucking twice!”

Satoru scoops you up into his arms, lifting you from the ground. Your legs wrap instinctively around his tapered waist while your arms lock around his shoulders, allowing him to carry you up the stairs to your bedroom.

You giggle into his neck while he huffs up the stairs, feigning effort despite the fact that he carries you to bed every night with ease. He walks until he’s right at the foot of the bed and then launches you onto the mattress and out of his grip.

The blankets are soft against your skin as you fall back into them, bouncing slightly from Satoru’s toss. Your eyes rake across his body as he moves his hands to grab the bottom hem of his hoodie, pulling it up and over his head to expose his naked torso.

Satoru throws his hoodie off to the side with a sigh before ruffling the hair on the top of his head. “What do you think?” he hums, reaching down for his belt.

Your mouth waters as you watch the tendons in his hands flex when he pulls at his belt, pulling it from the buckle with a metallic clink! Satoru clicks his tongue for your attention and when your gaze swings up to his face, his brows are raised—expectantly waiting for your response.

“Huh?” you say, dazed.

Satoru laughs. He languidly pulls the belt free from the loops of his jeans before working on the button—then the zipper—before sliding his pants off of his hips and onto a heap on the floor around his feet.

“I said—”

He grabs at the bulge in his briefs, squeezing it with a grunt as he settles his knee onto the mattress near your feet. The bed dips from his weight and you sink in his direction. Your face feels warm and you can already feel your breathing deepen as you watch Satoru’s eyes darken.

“—will you let me take care of you tonight?”

You hum in thought, rolling your head to the side until your cheek rests on your shoulder. Satoru’s long, lithe fingers wrap around your ankle and bring it up to press into his chest. His hands curl around the top of your stocking and pull it down over your foot, exposing your skin the to cool air. He lifts your foot to his face and presses a tender kiss to the arch of your foot.

“So?” he prompts. He brushes his lips across the sole of your foot, moving to the top of your foot to press another soft kiss.

“I dunno, Satoru…” you say, pursing your lips into the corner of your mouth.

He trails his lips up to your ankle, kissing there.

“No?”

Satoru’s hands move up the length of your calf, following his touch with his mouth as he slots your leg over his shoulder. The position has your legs spreading open for him, exposing the lacy panties you have on underneath your dress—the ones that Satoru helped you pick out—until you can feel the cool air against the damp patch on your crotch.

“You don’t want me to—” he presses a kiss to the side of your knee, wet and slow while his gaze stays fixed on your face, “—worship you?”

“I feel like I haven’t been fair to you.”

His brows twitch in intrigue, but he continues his ascent up your leg as he leans in for another kiss to your inner thigh. This time, he teases your skin with his tongue and a small amount of pressure as he sucks on the skin. The action makes you squirm and his eyes light up with delight.

“S’ok.” Satoru’s eyes flutter shut as he moves to brush his cheek and nose along your inner thigh. The skin on his face is soft and smooth, adding to the heat and need building between your legs.

Despite your desire to have his face move higher and higher still, you reach down with your hand to run your fingers through his hair. He purrs against your skin, lashes fluttering when you tug on the white strands and pull his head up to face you.

“Let me take care of you tonight, Satoru.”

“Yeah?”

He crawls up the length of your body, keeping your leg over his shoulder as he slots between your open thighs. Your body curls in on itself as he leans forward and the warmth of Satoru’s breath against your cheek when he presses his forehead into yours has your mind swimming.

Satoru nudges your nose with his while his hands move to the bottom hem of your dress. “You wanna take care of me?” he coos.

His hands drag the fabric up your body—up up up—tracing the curves of your body with his palms until he’s pulling your dress over your head and exposing you to him completely. His breath shudders when he looks down at your matching, lacy set.

“Fuck, princess—you can do whatever you want to me.”

You giggle, pressing forward to meet his lips with yours. Satoru returns the kiss with fervour while you adjust the position of your leg, moving it off of his shoulder and wrapping it around his hips. His heart pounds under your palm when you press it against his chest and you use the momentum of your kiss to roll Satoru onto his back with you straddling around his hips.

Satoru’s grinning with excitement when you pull away. He’s flushed pink from his cheeks to his chest and you can feel the firmness of his cock beneath you.

“Take care of me,” he purrs, moving his hands down to your hips to rock you against his length.

This moment feels reminiscent of this morning. The two of you wrapped up in the sheets together, fighting off a sleepy haze as the arousal builds in your gut. You run your fingers down his chest, watching his body shiver with goosebumps in their wake until your fingers curl over the waistband of his underwear.

You shift your position and drag Satoru’s underwear down with you. His cock springs free from the confines of the fabric until it slaps up against his stomach. The tip is flushed red and shiny with precum and it twitches when you move onto your hands and knees between Satoru’s spread thighs.

He tucks both arms behind his head, propping himself up to watch as you grab the base of his cock. You give him a few slow, experimental strokes, and watch as the tip leaks more translucent precum.

Satoru’s breathing is strained—ragged—as his gaze follows your movements. You run your tongue across the seam of your lips as your hand moves the length of his cock toward your mouth.

You start by blowing cool air through pursed lips and watch as Satoru’s abs flex hard in response. He groans when you bring your hand up along his length, thumbing at the spilled precum and smearing it across the soft tip of his cock.

“Put it in your mouth,” he says, voice wavering. “Please, please—I need to see you sucking on it.”

You respond by opening your mouth and letting your tongue hang out. You lean forward, pressing your tongue against the underside of his cock and Satoru’s head falls back with a throaty moan.

He flops his gaze forward as you rub your tongue along his length. His lower lip is pulled between his teeth, the skin turning white from the pressure as his lids droop. Satoru looks like he’s in a daze as he watches you lick along his cock.

“Come on,” he urges, sitting up on his elbows to get a better look. “You said you weren’t being fair—don’t tease me.”

You grin. “Yeah, ok. Sorry.”

Your free hand comes up to cradle his balls, the weight of them settling perfectly into your palm as you hover your lips over the tip of his cock. Satoru’s chest is heaving with want, hands balled into tight fists against the sheets until his knuckles turn white.

“Please.”

The head of his cock is slippery when you slide it past your lips. When it hits your tongue, you taste that familiar saltiness of skin and precum. Satoru’s jaw falls slack, brows pitching up into his forehead as he watches—mesmerized—as you take him in, inch by thick inch.

Your tongue smooths along the underside of his cock as you bob your head along his length. Your body tries to resist the intrusion as you poke and prod at your tight throat with every movement and drool spills down from the sides of your mouth, over your knuckles, and along the veins of his cock.

Satoru whimpers, his usually bright blue eyes turning hazy from his arousal. “Ohhh, fuck—just like that, holy shit.”

His hips buck up into your mouth, urging himself deeper and deeper and pushing past the tight ring of your throat as you press your nose into the white hairs at his base. Satoru’s thighs twitch when you swallow around his cock before you pull back up to cough for air as thick strings of spit trail between you.

“Please, baby—it feels so good, keep going.”

His hand lifts from the bed to press against the back of your head, guiding you until your lips are wrapped around him again. He moans, keeping light pressure against the back of your head to hold you in place as he fucks up into your face.

“Shit, I wish you could see yourself—my pretty girl with spit all over her chin and my cock down her throat.”

He bites hard around his lower lip as your hand starts to move in tandem with his hips. His cock pulses against your palm as you slide along the shaft and you can feel the pull of his balls towards his body as he gets close.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum,” he whines, cheeks turned completely pink. His stomach flexes hard, twitching as he fights back his orgasm. “Is that what you want, baby? Want me to cum in your mouth?”

You hum around the tip of his cock before pulling off of him completely, swatting his hand away from the back of your hand as you rest both hands on his hips.

“No, no, no—” he whimpers, his hips rutting uselessly against the air as his cock slaps against his stomach. “Come back—please, please, please.”

You lean down to press a soft kiss to the underside of his cock before sitting up on your knees. Satoru watches with rapt attention as you climb into his lap, sliding your palms up his torso as you do so until they land on his chest.

He falls back against the mattress with the lightest touch, letting your weight hold him down as you straddle around his hips. Satoru’s hands flex and twitch at his sides, but he doesn’t touch you.

“You wanna ride it?” He asks, breathless.

You don’t answer but lean forward instead. Your chest presses against his and he tilts his face up expectantly, mouth open and breath shuddering. His white lashes flutter against his cheeks when they fall closed and he nudges your nose with his, searching for your lips.

When you finally meet, Satoru’s hands come up at last—one clutching the back of your head while the other wraps around your waist. The kiss is rabid—frenzied—just a blur of lips and tongue and teeth as Satoru’s hips grind against yours.

“I love you,” he says against your lips, “I love you.”

Your hands slide up from between your bodies, ghosting across the ridges of his collarbone, along the length of his neck, until they burrow amongst the strands of his hair. Satoru moans into you when your fingers weave around him, tugging against the hair at its roots.

“Fuck—” he hisses, nipping at your lip with his teeth. “You drive me insane, you know that?”

“I know,” you hum, grinning as you pull your lip free from Satoru’s bite.

You sit back up on Satoru’s lap, shifting your hand between your legs to reach for Satoru’s cock. He grunts when you take hold of it and it kicks against your palm—still sensitive, you note.

“Are you going to last, Satoru?” you purr, guiding him until the soft head slides against the mess between your thighs. You ache for him, too.

“Probably not,” he admits, teeth clenched. “Consider it a compliment.”

“That’s ok—”

You lower yourself down and Satoru’s cock presses into you. You both suck in a sharp breath at the feeling, and your body takes over as your hips roll against him.

“—I want you to cum, Satoru.”

He closes his eyes, face twisted in agony as you sink down completely until your hips are flush with his. You’re so wet, you can already see the slick arousal coating the hair at the base of his cock. Satoru twitches inside of you and your body squeezes around him in reaction—he feels so big, so thick, so satisfying.

“Don’t say that or I’m gonna lose it,” he says, voice strained.

You roll your hips up—and then back down again—landing with a wet squelch! in Satoru’s lap as your pussy squeezes and drools around his cock. You moan at the feeling and every nerve in your body seems to come alive, burning from your toes to your fingertips as you rock in his lap.

“Oh shit—” he groans, stomach flexing as his back arches off the mattress, changing the angle of his cock inside of you, and you feel another surge of electricity shoot up your spine, “—fuck, please stop sounding so fucking sexy.”

You bounce in his lap, feeling the slap of his thighs against your ass with every movement and Satoru’s hands shift up to grab your hips. You think he’s going to stop you—hold you flush against him until the tide of his orgasm subsides—but instead, he digs fingers into the meat of your hips and helps guide you along his length.

With Satoru’s help, every bounce has the tip of his cock brushing directly against your sweet spot. Combined with the way Satoru is writhing and fighting back an orgasm beneath you, you feel the telltale surge of your own climax rapidly approaching.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice thick with arousal, “you’re squeezing me so tight—ahh, holy shit, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Please,” you beg, feeling the haze creep into your mind as you chase your orgasm. “I want you to cum, Satoru—need it—please, I love you.”

His grip turns painful—blunt nails biting into your skin as Satoru’s body tenses beneath you. He babbles out your name, squirming and whimpering as you feel each pulse of his cock deep inside of you, spilling and filling you with the warmth of his cum.

But you keep going—bouncing in his lap, rolling your hips, grinding your clit against him—as you feel the pressure building in your gut.

Satoru’s whimpers turn into panicked hisses and his squirming to jerky twitches as his cock turns sensitive from the stimulation. He pants beneath you, his chest expanding in collapsing with every deep breath as he moans out.

“Oh, fuck—”

He can hardly speak between each breath. Between each guttural moan as your pussy squeezes around the length of his cock.

“—don’t stop—don’t stop—don’t stop—fuck, it’s—so much—”

His feet kick out behind you, toes curling as his face twists. The mess between your bodies becomes thicker— sticky —from his cum and the slide of your clit against the hair at the base of his cock turns sinful.

His abs tighten when your hands move to rest upon them, using the leverage to bounce harder in his lap.

“Satoru—oh god— I’m gonna cum—”

Satoru can only offer you a strangled whimper in response and you feel the kick of his cock inside you as he cums again.

The feeling of being flooded by his seed has you in a daze. Through sharp, staccato breaths you moan out his name, each syllable punctuated by the squeeze of your pussy as you cum around his cock. You curl forward as your stomach tenses, your body quaking from the tremors of your climax.

Your knees squeeze around Satoru’s hips and his hands lift up. One arm wraps around your waist while the other cradles the back of your head—much like before—and he pulls you close into his chest. His breath is hot against the shell of your ear and his skin, even hotter. Your chests press against one another for space as you each take heaving breaths until the haze of your arousal finally clears.

Satoru’s cock, soft and soaked, slips from between your thighs when you sit up. His eyelids are heavy, his gaze dreamy, and he’s got a goofy grin painted across his face when you look down at him.

You brush away the sweaty, white strands from his forehead and he crinkles his nose up at you in delight.

“So?” he says, voice still airy and weak. “How’d I do?”

“Not your best work,” you tease.

You swing your leg over his hips and settle into the bed beside him. Your thighs feel sticky and your body is covered in sweat, but you still curl into Satoru and let him pull you into him.

“Liar,” he tsks, nose brushing against your cheek.

You laugh to yourself, burying your face into his chest. “Ok, fine. It was great—amazing, even!—The best lay I ever had.”

Satoru presses a tender kiss to your temple before whispering against your skin, “That better be my name in your phone the next time I check it—The Best Lay I Ever Had.”

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