Wlw/mlm Cute Winter Coat Camaraderie

wlw/mlm cute winter coat camaraderie

Inked

Synopsis: Somehow you won a free session from the most famous tattoo artist in Linkon. You never expected to be sucked into his world, but you’re slowly becoming even more obsessed with him. And with who you are when you’re with him. When you finally discover what he’s involved in, will he push you away or show you a whole new world?

AN: This fanfic was inspired & entirely fueled by the artwork above, done by the amazing @obligatedart - thank you for letting me use your work as the cover art! Go check them out and see the other tattooed Rafayel pieces they’ve done. I’ve written over 80 pages in a week so... comment if you want to be tagged for part 2!

Content Warnings: explicit language & sexual content, alcohol consumption, public sex, threesome, oral (m&f receiving), creampie, PiV, birth control mentioned (yay protection), mentions of needles (tattoo needles, not medical), genital piercings, vehicle accidents, injuries, blood, 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 16k

“I still can’t believe you won the fucking contest!”

Tara punches you in the arm and you grunt, swatting at her with a pout. She leans away from you to protect the coffee in her hand before giggling and gently rubbing the spot she hit.

“Sorry, sorry, I just… I spent so much money buying like 50 raffle tickets and you bought ONE and beat all the odds. Did you cast a spell? Are you a witch?!”

Tara’s animated voice draws the attention of the other cafe patrons. You sip your latte silently and try to avoid their judgemental gazes. Tara sets her cup down and crosses her arms. She leans back, squinting at you.

“So it’s tomorrow, right?”

You nod and lean on the table in front of you to pick at your blueberry muffin. Tara snatches the muffin away and you look up at her with wide eyes. She’s definitely irritated with your silence. But what can you possibly say? Sorry? Sorry for winning a once in a lifetime raffle to get a free tattoo by the best tattoo artist in Linkon? Who has a 5 year waitlist? Who has tattooed the biggest celebrities? Who was a judge on the #1 reality show for 3 years running trying to find the next big artist? Who is absolutely, positively, undoubtedly the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life? Fuck no, you are not sorry at all.

“I know you wanted to win so I don’t want to talk about it and make you upset.”

Tara rolls her eyes and plops your muffin back on its plate. You sit back and sigh, looking Tara up and down. She didn’t seem like the type to have a lot of tattoos, but she hid them well. When she wasn’t in her uniform she was showcasing the artwork on her body. The designs were gorgeous and you wished you had been more patient when getting yours. You basically ran to the tattoo shop on your 18th birthday to get a super basic bitch tattoo just because you could.

“I want to hear about it! I am going to live vicariously through you. Spill bitch.”

You chuckle and finish off your latte before pulling out your phone to show Tara the email chain you started with the artist. She grabs your phone instantly and scrolls through the messages.

“Oh my god, even his emails sound hot.”

You roll your eyes and watch Tara’s eyes light up when she sees the design.

“Holy shit. You are BRAVE! AN underboob tat?! You’re gonna show him your tits the first time you meet him?! Biiiiiitch!”

She squeals before zooming in on the design and ogling at the details.

“This is so pretty! The seashells and the little pearls and chains? Amazing. It will match your chest piece really well too!”

She was right, the seashells and pearls would tie into your mermaid chest piece perfectly. It was the first tattoo you put a lot of effort into, getting the design nailed down and taking your time finding a good artist. You wanted this next piece to compliment it and expand on the original concept. The shells would be a dusty pink to match the tails with the beading and pearls adding a little sparkle. You smiled, your pre-tattoo butterflies swirling.

“OH! You sent him a picture of your chest piece.”

She slapped your shoulder excitedly.

“In a bikini top! Are you KIDDING ME? Imagine him opening that picture and just getting to stare at your gorgeous tits and that tat? I’m horny just thinking about it.”

You grab her wrist to stop her flailing, your cheeks are burning since her voice is just a little too loud. She glares at you, her sly smile absolutely beaming.

“Jesus Tara, shh! It’s not a big deal, I’ve wanted this piece expanded for a long time and Rafayel’s specialty is literally anything ocean related. He’s going to touch up the girls too.”

She raises her brows and drops her eyes to your chest and you quickly realize your mistake.

“The mermaids, you horny bitch, the mermaids.”

She nods slowly.

“Uh huh… sure!”

You don’t argue with her, let her think what she wants. You were already anxious thinking about the appointment. She was right about one thing, you were basically showing him your tits the same day you officially met. It’s like “Hi, nice to meet you, here’s my tits” - nice.

When you get home that night you spend extra time prepping your skin and finding the right outfit. Sure you’d be taking off your top and just wearing pasties, but making sure you felt your best beyond that was important too. You drink your sleepy time tea, since the pre-tattoo butterflies had turned to pre-tattoo anxiety.

You slip on your nightgown and settle back, trying to force yourself to relax. About 30 minutes later, you’re on your phone. You just couldn’t help it, you scroll through your feed liking Tara’s selfie with her boyfriend, Jeremiah. A photo of Caleb at a bar, he must have gotten some R&R today. And what’s this? Zayne posted a meme? Doctor Zayne? Oh, Greyson won a bet - that makes more sense.

As you scroll, you start finding posts reposted by Lemuria Studios, recent clients, sketches done by artists and then a video that makes your chest tighten. Rafayel sits hunched over the arm of some buff dude in a tank top, the tattoo gun in his hand moves steadily against his skin. God, he looks hot. He’s just sitting there, doing his job, why are you freaking out? You want to put the phone down, watching him work is only going to make you more anxious for tomorrow. But you can’t seem to let it go. You’re mesmerised by the outline of the muscles of his forearm, barely visible under his own colorful tattoos, they twitch as he colors in the lines he just made. His dusty purple fringe brushes his cheeks, his earrings sway as he bobs his head to whatever music is playing. He stops and wipes the guy's arm with a towel before leaning back and looking at the camera. He smiles and… fuck… You drop your phone and stifle a moan. You’re not going to survive tomorrow.

The next morning, you wake up early to get ready. You cook a huge breakfast, as difficult as this session was going to be, you didn’t want to make it worse by passing out. You down a huge glass of water while you do your makeup. You sweep your hair over your shoulders in two long braids and slip on a beanie. Your joggers sit comfortably on your hips and you change out your fitted halter for a dark cut off t-shirt. You were committing to the comfortable vibe, especially if you were going to be mostly uncomfortable very soon.

Your phone rings and you race to the kitchen to see Tara’s picture flash on the screen. You answer and put it on speaker as you lace up your boots.

“What’s up?”

“I’m just checking in before your session. Are you nervous?”

You chuckle under your breath. She has no idea.

“Oh yeah, I always get pre-tattoo jitters. They’ll go away when I get there.”

“I doubt it! Girl, his face is going to be inches away from your tits. I’d bring a change of panties if I were you.”

“Tara, what do you think people at work would say if they heard you talk like this?”

“Oh, they’d lose their minds! Sweet, innocent Tara would never warn you about imagining him dropping his tattoo gun and climbing on top of you, ripping your pasties off and –”

“TARA!”

She giggles for a minute straight, barely able to catch her breath. You swing your backpack over your shoulder and jog down to the garage.

“Sorry! Honestly, I think you’ll have a great time. You’re gonna look hot with the new tat and I can’t wait to see it. Send me pics!”

“Of course. I’ll text you during breaks.”

After you hang up, you secure your helmet and hop on your bike. You take back roads instead of the highway since you know you’re too nervous and driving fast would be a bad idea. By the time you get to Regent Square, you can feel your heartbeat pounding against your ribcage. You find a long term parking garage and pay the outrageous fee. When you check your phone, you realize you only have 10 minutes before your appointment. You were supposed to be there at least 15 minutes early to fill out the paperwork. You jog down the street, only slowing long enough to catch your breath before heading inside the studio.

Lemuria Studios is gorgeous, the pictures posted online don’t do it justice. The floor to ceiling windows bathe the room in sunshine, the weathered brick walls covered in bright graffiti, neon signs with what you assume to be words - although you are not sure what language it is and the hardwood floors are covered with vibrant rugs with intricate patterns. A large sectional couch corners off the waiting room where a few patrons wait for their artists. There are various tattoo stations, each decorated to suit a different artist. Towards the back of the studio there is a door with an ‘R’ in what looks like ceramic tiles. Must be Rafayel’s private room.

You approach the front desk and greet the receptionist with a smile. She passes you a clipboard with release forms and leaves to walk to the door at the back. You watch her knock and crack the door open, she says something before turning back to look at you. You quickly refocus and fill in the paperwork. You place the clipboard on the counter and take a seat on the couch, fiddling with the tassels of the pillow next to you.

You’re about to stand and start pacing, your nerves getting the best of you, when you hear a door squeak open. You lift your eyes to see the man himself, emerge from the room and stroll towards the front of the studio. You clench your fists, yep, he’s even hotter in person.

He’s dressed casually, his button up is definitely not buttoned up. His neck tattoo swirls down his neck to the center of his chest, two koi fish swim in a circle around his Adam's apple, the fins extend towards his jaw and down his neck with pink lotus flowers complimenting the red scales of the fish. Cut off sleeves let you see his signature tattoos, full sleeves on both arms. Not an inch of skin untouched, the full color underwater scenes are vibrant, bright orange and purple coral, dark blue waves highlighted with teals and white, schools of yellow and blue fish swim in circles around his forearm and a dolphin soars over the waves. His fitted jeans hide the leg tattoos you’ve seen in photos, the ocean waves that look more like flames than water that spiral from his ankle to his hip. He also supposedly has more tattoos on his torso, but you avoided looking up any photos of him shirtless because, well… that would be dangerous.

His shaggy hair casts a shadow over his eyes, but his smile is on full display. He turns to you and you hold your breath to avoid giggling like an idiot. His blue eyes are so bright, the wash of pink in them shines in the morning light that streams through the windows. As he approaches, you awkwardly stand and put on a shy smile.

“Hi! I’m Rafayel, nice to officially meet you.”

He extends a hand and you nearly fall back onto the couch, finally taking a breath. You take his hand and revel in the softness of his skin. He suddenly yanks you forwards and starts pulling you toward the door at the back of the studio. You stumble along after him.

“I can’t wait to show you the final sketch, it’s everything you described but I added a little something that I think you’ll like.”

You giggle as he pulls you into the room. The bright purple walls are covered in either framed sketches, polaroids of tattoos, or random tattoo designs scribbled on a napkin or envelope. A vintage jukebox, with a modern AUX attachment, sits in the corner. A stack of canvases leans against the wall and a bucket of various spray paints sits on the floor. His drawing table has countless sketches pinned to it, including yours. The design is exactly what you imagined, but there’s an additional element. The centerpiece that directly connects to the chest piece is now slightly larger, having a net pattern woven behind it with a few fish and broken shells.

“That’s amazing, holy shit! But it’s a bit more than we originally planned on, are you sure you have time?”

He immediately starts getting the transfer paper prepared. You see him shrug.

“The whole day is yours, it was booked by the radio station that set up the raffle. It’s actually pretty nice only having one client to work on, I can take my time.”

You feel your cheeks flush. He would take his time on your piece, it was flattering and nerve wrecking. You set your bag down on a chair in the corner and stuff your hands in your pockets.

“Oh, awesome, I didn’t realize…”

“You’re nervous aren’t you?”

You huff out a laugh and put your hands on your hips.

“Not at all, I have plenty of tattoos. I know the drill. I’m totally fine, just excited.”

He turns, the transfer paper in hand, and walks over to his station. Everything was meticulously set up from the tiny cups of ink to the paper towels to his tattoo gun. He sets the transfer paper down before heading to the sink in the corner and washing his hands.

“Do you need tape?”

You watch him scrub his hands, it was almost like he was a doctor preparing for surgery. You tilt your head and hum to yourself, trying to figure out his meaning. He dries his hands and looks at you, his lips set in an amused smirk.

“For your nipples.”

You immediately drop your gaze and try to laugh to distract from the blush rising to your neck and cheeks. You clear your throat and meet his gaze.

“No, I wore pasties. Like I said, I know the drill.”

He smiles and motions towards the table. He puts on gloves and gives his bottle of transfer cream a shake. He eyes you expectantly.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

You turn away from him and face the padded table in front of you. You tug your shirt off over your head and toss it over your bag on a nearby chair. You hesitate to turn around. You’re not sure why you’re so nervous - sure you are literally half-naked in front of a guy you could only dream of, but he’s done this countless times! Your tits are not the first ones he’s tattooed under. You turn to face him and watch his eyes drop to your chest, he glances at the transfer paper and back to you, mentally lining up the art on your body.

“Yea, this will look amazing on you.”

His voice is rougher than before, you clasp your hands behind your back and rock on your heels.

“Thank you… uhm… do you want me to lie down or?”

He walks up and squeezes some transfer cream onto his gloved hand.

“Just stand right here. This might be cold.”

You brace and when his fingers touch the skin just under your breast, you gasp. Not from the cold, but rather from the jolt of electricity that sparked through your system.

“You were right, s’cold.”

He chuckles and continues to rub the cream along your upper rib cage, under your breasts and down the center of your chest. He grabs the transfer paper and lines it up.

“Can you hold 'em up for a second?”

You blink.

“Your… breasts. I want to make sure this will line up properly.”

You silently curse at yourself for how stupid you feel. You really should have chosen maybe a leg piece or maybe a cute little forearm number, but no you had to do this. You cup your breasts and lift them, staring at the ceiling to avoid eye contact. He lines up the transfer and presses it to your skin, slowly peeling it away.

“Fuck yes. That looks perfect. Take a look in the mirror and let me know what you think.”

He turns away and changes his gloves while you check his placement. Just the transfer looks insane, your previous embarrassment melts into excitement. You turn back to him with a huge smile.

“I love it! It’s gonna look so good!”

Rafayel smiles and you skip over to the table. You miss the flush that spreads across his cheeks as he watches your tits bounce on your way over. You hear him clear his throat as he leans to drag his chair over with his foot. You lay back on the table, your head sinking into the pillow and your hands resting on your stomach.

Rafayel sits and slides closer to you on his chair. He picks up his tattoo gun and dips the needles into the ink. He looks up at you, shaking his head to get his fringe out of his eyes.

“Ready?”

You relax your shoulders and sigh, looking up at the ceiling.

“Hell yeah.”

The outside of Rafayel’s palm rests against the side of your breast, holding the skin taut as he begins tattooing along the edge of your rib cage. The pain is about as bad as you expected. The vibration of the tattoo gun against your ribs makes your teeth chatter. You close your eyes and try to distract yourself while adjusting to the sting of the needles.

“So, why mermaids?”

Rafayel’s voice breaks up the monotonous buzz of the tattoo machine. You tilt your chin down and look at his god-like profile. With his attention on your tattoo, you finally let yourself examine his face. The ear you can see is littered with piercings. Double conch, helix, daith, an industrial with a little fish charm attached. His eyes have a hint of black smudged along his lash line, of course he wears eyeliner… of fucking course. And it looks so damn good too.

He has a variety of facial piercings, which look amazing and now you want one… or two. A small silver septum hoop. You notice he occasionally wiggles his nose, rubbing it across his top lip, a nervous habit perhaps? His lip piercings have you in a trance, the shark bites, the vertical labret - how would they feel against your lips? You also caught sight of a tongue ring. The things this man could probably do with his tongue…

“Still with me, cutie?”

You are glad he was refreshing the ink on the needles as you have a very physical reaction to this new little nickname he’s given you. You cough and try to steady yourself, once you are still he continues his work.

“Yeah, sorry, I was just distracted.”

“Oh yeah, by what?”

He’s teasing you now. Great. But you never back down from a fight and if he wants to poke at you with his cute little comments - and not just the needles in his tattoo gun - you’ll give it right back to him.

“By you.”

He laughs, a hint of surprise on his face.

“Oh really? What distracted you exactly?”

“I was just admiring your piercings. I haven’t gotten nearly enough.”

“What piercings do you want?”

His tattoo needle continues to buzz and the pain slowly fades to a numbness.

“Definitely more on my ears. I like the tragus. And then maybe my navel, basic, I know.”

“No way, the navel is a great piercing. There are a lot of creative jewelry options too. I love mine, I’d recommend it to anyone.”

“You have your belly button pierced?”

He chuckles and shifts his hand, his pinkie dangerously close to your pasty making your heart flutter.

“Yup. Was one of my first actually. After that it was all downhill. Now I have too many to count.”

“Really? What other piercings do you recommend then?”

He hesitates and glances up at you. His eyes flick to your breasts and back. And you swear you caught him biting his lip for a moment.

“Body piercings are fun. But if you’re not ready for that but bored with your ears, facial piercings are a good place to start. Septum made me cry like a bitch, but it’s a great one.”

“Made you cry like a bitch, huh?”

Your mocking tone makes him pause and look at you, his lips set in a pout. You giggle at his pathetic, yet adorable, expression.

“It’s because it fucks with your sinuses or some shit, not because it hurt!”

“Okay, okay!”

“I’ve gotten some piercings that make grown men weep and didn’t flinch, trust me, it was not because of the pain.”

You raise your eyebrows at the implication, but you decide to hold your tongue and not entertain the thought of what those “other” piercings might be. You settle your head back and take a deep breath.

“And what about tattoos? Which one was the most painful?”

He hums to himself, his hand once again shifting and pushing your breast slightly upward as he colors in a line.

“My neck was the worst, by far. I’m glad I didn’t pick something that went directly over my Adam’s apple cause I would not have survived.”

“That piece is really nice. Did you design it?”

“I did. Then my apprentice tattooed it. Never been prouder of the kid. Now you’ve asked a few questions, I think it’s only fair you answer one of mine.”

You sigh dramatically and chuckle when he stops working. You know he is staring at you, probably pouting again, so you stare at the ceiling.

“Alright, fair is fair.”

“Why mermaids?”

“Oh uhh…” You stutter as you try to find the right words. “Because they’re tragic yet beautiful.”

Rafayel stops again and looks at you, his brows raised.

“Art and literature depicts them as beautiful creatures, but their counterparts are much darker. Sirens lure sailors to their watery graves. They’re… underestimated? Like their beauty distracts while their voice reels them in. It’s powerful.”

“Was there something that prompted the need for a constant reminder of their power etched into your skin?”

You shift your gaze to his hands, resting on your stomach, the tattoo gun hovering over your skin.

“I spent a long time under someone’s thumb, feeling powerless. He always felt like he had to protect me. I was… lost… for a while. Then I read a book about a siren, using the form of a mermaid, who charmed the men in her life into submission while planning their downfall. I didn’t want Ca– my friend to be hurt though! I decided to put on a ‘damsel in distress’ act for him but I’m still in control, ya know?”

Rafayel nodded sharply, his gaze more intense. He shifted on his stool and the familiar hum of the tattoo gun started again. With his focus back on your body, you felt your mind start to spiral. Was your explanation dumb? You know sirens are not exactly mermaids, but mermaids looked better. Did he think you were dumb and confused them? Should you have said ‘cause they’re pretty’ instead?

“Most people don’t realize sirens and mermaids aren’t the same thing. Seems like you do.”

“I do! Yeah, I just… I guess…”

“Liked how mermaids looked better than a half bird sea creature?”

His voice was light, sarcasm had found its way back to him and you sighed in relief.

“Don’t get me wrong, I saw some good siren designs but nothing clicked. This one did. Plus I think it makes my tits stand out.”

Rafayal lets out a breathy laugh and sits up straighter in his chair. He grabs a paper towel and wipes the excess ink from your skin. He moves his chair forward and settles his arm over the top of your breast, his hand resting at the center of your chest. You can feel his breath fan across your skin and you have to bite your lip, hard, to avoid shivering.

“It does, but I have a feeling they looked perfect before too.”

You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you feel slightly dizzy. Did he just? Did he? He complimented your tits. This man complimented your tits, with his face inches away from them, while stabbing you repeatedly with a needle. How are you supposed to respond to that?

“Thank… you.”

Rafayel laughs at your whispered appreciation. His hands work carefully, shifting and sliding to draw the centerpiece.

“Okay, next question.”

Over the next four hours you and Rafayel go back and forth with questions. It almost felt like you were on a first date. You talked about your favorite music, his favorite movies, your job at the Hunters Association, his secret sushi restaurant that’s opening in six months. On your break at the two hour mark, he offered you a soda and walked in circles around the room, stretching his legs, while talking animatedly about a rave happening later this month. And when you begged him for the details so you could get tickets, his smile grew tenfold.

As he was adding the final touches, he stood bent over you poking and dabbing away ink until you were nearly ready to scream. His hair would brush against your shoulder and you’d stiffen, leading to Rafayel joking about ‘staying loose or it’ll hurt more’ which made you squeeze your thighs so tightly you nearly cried. When he finished and was doing the clean up he surprised you, his cheeks were a tad rosy and his usually playful tone more serious.

“I haven’t had this much fun during a session in a while. So… Thank you. I hope you like it.”

You took his hand and sat up, hopping off the table to turn and face the mirror. You were speechless. The lines were sharp and straight, the colors bright, the shading made everything pop out as if the seashells were just sitting on the surface of your skin. Your mermaids were glowing - their scales nearly sparkled and the ocean waves surrounding them looked so real. Tiny sparks floated around the mermaid's hands, creating a shield of fire. Like they were putting on a show or putting up a forcefield. You couldn’t stop yourself from squealing with excitement before you turned around and lunged towards Rafayel, pulling him into a hug.

“Oh my god…”

As soon as your chest collided with his, your excitement faded and pure terror replaced it. You jumped back, instinctively covering your chest with your hands. His ears were bright red and he stared at you, unable to blink it seems.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think! I was so excited and… Shit… I –”

He reaches out and takes hold of your arms. You snap your mouth closed.

“It’s okay. I’m glad you love it. I do wish that you hadn’t… pulled away so quickly though…”

You blinked rapidly. He was pouting again, pouting because you pulled away from hugging him. From hugging him while… His thumbs brush against your skin and you tilt your head, scanning his face for confirmation that what he said was real.

“I was going to wait to ask you out until after I bandaged you up and you had your shirt on, but why waste a perfectly good moment?”

Your mouth hangs open and you feel your knees jerk. Rafayel’s hold on you tightens and he helps you lean back against the table.

“Shit… let me get you some juice, you’re probably crashing a bit.”

Oh, he has no idea just how badly you are crashing out right now. He jogs out of the room and returns with a small bottle of orange juice. He opens it for you and holds it to your lips. You take a sip and lift your hand to hold his wrist while he helps you drink. His eyes meet yours and you stare at him, he doesn’t look away, his gaze burns straight to your core. He sets the bottle down and grabs a paper towel, dabbing at your leaking tattoo gently.

“Yes.” You whisper.

“What?”

“Yes, I’ll go out with you.”

If you thought you’d seen him excited before… He smiles, his dazzling teeth take your breath away. You raise a brow when you realize he has gems adhered to his canines - can he get any sexier?

“Well, I’d say this session went swimmingly.”

You giggle and rest your palms on the table behind you. He gets to work cleaning your tattoo and snapping a few pictures for you before covering the fresh ink with Saniderm wrap. You pull your shirt back on and down the rest of the orange juice - you were starting to feel your endorphins fade away and your body was reeling from the experience.

“How does tomorrow night sound?”

He holds his phone out to you and you take it, seeing he already set up a contact for you. You feel your cheeks burn when you see the contact name “Tattoo Cutie.” You don’t correct it, just add your name beside it and punch in your number before handing it back to him.

“Sounds perfect.”

You wake up to a banging on your front door, it’s so loud you’re sure your neighbors will complain to you later. You don’t even bother putting on your robe and jog through your living room. You swing the door open and Tara flies through, nearly knocking you over. You close the door and follow her through the hall to your living room.

“You’re casting a spell or making one of those wish bottle things or whatever it is that you’re doing to make your life so damn perfect.”

She plops down on your sofa and crosses her arms. She stares up at you with a stern expression. You try not to giggle since Tara’s version of “stern” comes across a lot like Rafayel’s pout.

“I didn’t cast a spell. I just –”

“You just what? Became the luckiest girl in the world without even trying? That’s even worse!”

You finally let out a laugh and sit down next to her, pulling your legs to your chest.

“Listen, I have no idea what’s going on, I am just trying to enjoy it while it lasts. It feels like I’m going to wake up any moment and realize it was all a dream.”

She shifts on the sofa and turns to face you.

“I don’t want to sound like I am jealous in a mean way, I am jealous in a ‘give me some of your luck’ way. Maybe then Jeremiah will finally propose…”

You grab her hand and squeeze gently.

“Oh come one, you literally picked out your ring with him! He’ll propose, he’s obsessed with you. He’s also terrified of you, so he knows better than to half-ass a proposal. Give him more time.”

Her cheeks flush and she looks down at her hand, holding up her ring finger. She lets out a sigh and looks up at you with determination.

“I want to know everything about last night. Every dirty detail. Spill.”

She kicks off her shoes and crosses her legs under her, fully facing you. She won’t let go of your hand, so you’re trapped on the sofa with her until you tell her about your date.

“He picked me up on his bike and –”

“He rides a bike! Oh my god that’s hot - what kind?!”

“A Kawasaki. It was really nice, dark blue with bright blue headlights. He told me he collects them so –”

“He collects motorcycles? Oh my god…”

“Are you going to let me tell you about the date or not?”

Tara huffs and lets go of your hand. She lifts her fingers to her mouth and pressed her lips together, “zipping her lips” so you can continue.

“We drove around for a while and then he took me to – oh I don’t know if I can tell you…”

“BITCH IF YOU DON’T –”

You laugh and lean away from her flailing hands. You raise yours in surrender.

“Okay, okay, but you have to promise not to say anything, swear.”

She places a hand over her heart.

“I swear on Winterford the 3rd I will not speak a word.”

“Woah, swearing on your dog's life is intense Tara.”

She crosses her arms and glares at you. You roll your eyes and continue.

“He is opening a sushi restaurant in a few months, so he took me there to show me around. It’s down at the pier near Whitesand Bay.”

Tara opens her mouth to say something but instantly closes it. You nod in approval, her self-control is improving.

“He doesn’t have a name for it yet, but the interior and kitchen are done. We made sushi together and ate on the rooftop terrace looking out over the water.”

Tara lets out a closed-mouth squeal and claps her hands. She motions with her hands for you to continue.

“We walked along the pier and talked for a long time. When it got dark he offered his jacket - I know - and then we went back to his bike. He drove down this alley where graffiti artists practice and gave me a can to try it out.”

“Wait - sorry - you defaced public property?”

“Rafayel owns the building and advertises it as, and I quote ‘an artists playground’ so no I did not.”

“That’s a shame, it would have been hot.”

“Tara! I’m a public servant! I’d lose my job.”

She pokes your shoulder.

“Only if you get caught!”

You rub your temples and suppress the urge to laugh at her antics.

“What happened next?”

“He drove me home.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

She punches your shoulder and you fall back onto the couch.

“TARA!”

“YOU DIDN’T EVEN GET A KISS? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

“I DID! Just not… okay… he kissed me on the cheek when he said good night. It was cute.”

“CUTE?”

You sit up and push her, she doesn’t even move.

“I don’t want to rush things!”

“At least tell me he made plans for a second date with you?”

“He did. We are going out on Friday night.”

“Thank god. Please, I beg of you, get laid or at least make out with him!”

“Tara, I swear to god…”

“You have been insanely stressed lately and from what you’ve told me, he is super into you. Just let go babe, enjoy it! Enjoy him.”

You cross your arms and shake your head.

“It’ll happen when it feels right. I won’t lie, I hope it’s sooner rather than later, but I also am willing to wait. I –”

You stop yourself, feeling your cheeks heat up. Tara’s expression softens.

“Oh. Oh.”

You get up from the couch and head into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. Tara is right on your heels.

“You liiiiike him. Aww, babes!”

She wraps her arms around you, hugging your back as you pour coffee beans into your espresso machine.

“I just started seeing him, it’s too early to tell.”

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

She releases you and slides onto a bar stool, her arms leaning on the island. You start chopping up fruit and try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. The sound of your coffee machine cuts through the silence and you avoid looking at Tara, knowing she can read you like a book. Maybe it was after the tattoo session or when you were holding hands on the pier, but at some point you realized you really liked Rafayel. He made you laugh and he asked the most bizarre questions that made you think about life in a new light. You wanted more and god, you hope he does too.

By the time Friday rolls around you are definitely ready for some fun. You’ve been constantly sharing memes back and forth with Rafayel all week. It’s certainly eased the stress of work. But you want to see him and you’re eager for his call when you finally clock out and head home.

You’re barely in the front door when you hear your phone buzz. You see Rafayel’s name light up your screen and have to force yourself to count to ten before answering it. You don’t want to seem that eager.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey cutie, how was work?”

“It was okay, not too much activity today so I was stuck cataloging old reports. I almost fell asleep like three times.”

“I bet. I… shit… I have to tell you something.”

You clench your fist and lean against the door to your bedroom, dropping your bag to the floor.

“Okaaaay.”

He sighs and the knot in your stomach tightens.

“I have to reschedule.”

And there it is, your heart sinks.

“Oh… yeah okay.”

“Not because I want to, trust me. I owe someone a favor and have to be at a party.”

You bite your lip, propping your hand on your hip as you start to pace.

“I see.”

You can’t mask the edge to your voice. A party? Someone is calling in a favor for him to come to their party? He is famous, so it would make them look good, but why couldn’t he invite you? Was he embarrassed of you? Did he not want people in his life to know you were dating? Or seeing each other? Or just talking? Are you even dating?

“It’s more like work, she’s offering free tattoos to the guests. The other artist fell through so she’s calling me in so her party doesn’t ‘crash and burn’ - her words not mine.”

“Uh huh.”

“Okay, you’re pissed.”

You stop dead in your tracks and straighten up.

“I am not!”

“I can hear you pacing.”

You look down at your shoes. Of course you wore your chunky boots with the clicky heels today. The taps on your wooden floors were that loud? Damn.

“I’m not mad, I promise.”

“Then you’re irritated?”

“No…”

“What is it? Come on, tell me.”

“I guess… confused?”

“Confused about what?”

You close your eyes and sit down on your bed. Bracing yourself for the embarrassment you’re sure will wash over you after your next statement.

“Is there a reason you couldn’t bring me? I know you said it was more like work, but I guess… You know what, nevermind.”

You flop back onto your mattress and cover your eyes with your arm.

“Nope! Not ‘nevermind-ing’ - I would love to bring you, I just… I… fuck how do I explain it?”

“You don’t want anyone knowing about me?”

“No! Fuck no! That’s not what I… shit… okay, I didn’t think you’d want to come. It’s not a normal party. Not everyone is… comfortable with this sort of thing.”

You sit up immediately. Your hand tightly grips your phone.

“What kind of party is it?”

He pauses. The silence stretches for what feels like hours. He finally sighs and chuckles under his breath.

“It’s a sex party, babe.”

You audibly gasp and slap a hand over your mouth. You shake your head and ignore your throbbing clit to continue the conversation.

“Oh, I… right… I get it. Sorry. Uhm…”

“You’re more than welcome to come as my plus one, but only if you’re comfortable.”

You take a moment and consider your options. A sex party. As Rafayel’s plus one. You’ve never been very adventurous with your sexual endeavors. You didn’t even realize sex parties happened in real life. You’re practically salivating just thinking about it. You stand and face the mirror hanging next to your closet. What have you got to lose?

“What should I wear?”

Rafayel laughs, he clears his throat before continuing.

“Something sexy, but that’ll be easy for you. I’ll bring you a mask.”

You pause after opening your closet.

“A mask?”

“Yeah, everyone wears masks to add to the ‘experience’ - everyone at these parties knows each other most of the time, but the masks offer a sense of freedom. Everybody can do what they want for the night, no consequences.”

You tug at the fabric of a sleek black dress as you mull over the idea. Just for the night. No consequences. Maybe Tara is right, maybe you should just let go.

“What time?”

“It starts at 9. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

“See you then.”

After you hang up you get to work figuring out your outfit. Rafayel might have confidence in your ability to pick out a sexy outfit but you certainly didn’t. Should it be sexy and cute? Just sexy? Sexy and slutty? Sexy and fancy? You pull dress after dress from your closet and nothing feels right. You finally decide to forgo dresses completely. The first skirt you pull out is the one. You can visualize the outfit and while it’s much more revealing than you’re used to, you are pretty sure you’d be wearing more than most of the party goers regardless.

You zip up the pleather mini skirt, adjusting it so it sits high on your hips. Your legs were on full display, the skirt mostly serving to just cover your ass. You grab your favorite black bra and shrug on the mesh top. Layering gold necklaces so your torso doesn’t appear so bare. You look in the mirror and jump up and down with excitement. Your tattoos are fully visible through the mesh. You had lathered lotion onto your new tattoos so the peeling wasn’t noticeable and carefully applied perfume, avoiding the healing skin. Your red pumps sit next to the door with your red crossbody clutch. You were ready, well sort of.

Rafayel called you only a few minutes later and you carefully made your way to the first floor. You were comfortable wearing heels, opting to wear them all the time when hitting the club with Tara or going on dates. But tonight, your nerves were making your ankles a little wobbly. The elevator door opens to the front lobby of your apartment building and you spot Rafayel leaning against a car just outside. Fuck.

He had a button up, that was actually buttoned up this time, tucked into shredded jeans. His boots were laced with gold laces. He had multiple chain necklaces around his neck. As you got closer you realized his shirt was also see through, just little golden floral appliques scattered over the sheer fabric. You could see everything and god, it was a sight. The definition of his abs, the dark lines of a tattoo on his side and swirls of ink trailing from his neck piece down his chest. You spot his navel piercing, sparkling as the setting sun casts what almost felt like a spotlight on him. Something else sparkles, nipple rings. You swear under your breath. He’s going to kill you, not literally, but - well he might with how fast your heart is beating.

He finally looks up from his phone and spots you. His eyes widen and he stares, jaw slack, for at least a full minute. Your cheeks burn and you have to focus on his face so you don’t sneak a peek at his torso again.

“Fuck, you look amazing.”

His words make you stammer. You swallow hard, working up the courage to respond.

“I can say the same for you.”

He wraps an arm around your waist and kisses your cheek. You feel his body against yours and sigh, wishing you could delay him letting you go.

“Ready to go, cutie?”

You nod and he opens the passenger door for you. You slide in and finally take a good look at the car you’re in. You’ve never ridden in a Bentley before - the seats were soft under your thighs. The leather is silky rather than sticky against your skin. The car was painted a similar dark blue to his bike and had the same bright blue headlights. You already knew he liked the color blue, but this just made it more obvious.

He settles into the driver seat and the engine revs to life.

“You’re sure you’re comfortable with this?”

You lean on the center console as you face him, leaning forwards.

“I’m sure.”

“We can leave at any point, Talia will just have to deal with it. Just don’t hesitate to –”

You press your index finger to his lips, silencing him. The surprised look on his face makes your smile hurt your cheeks.

“Rafayel, I’m sure.”

He smiles and you drop your hand, but he grabs it immediately and laces his fingers with yours. He rests your hand on his thigh, rubbing your hand with his thumb as he sets off down the highway.

As the gates to the mansion open, you squeeze Rafayel’s hand trying to quell a wave of nerves. This mansion is huge, you spot two guest houses and a pool with a waterfall - a full ass waterfall - nestled in the backyard surrounded by hundreds of trees and flowers. The cobblestone driveway leads to a massive mahogany front door, where two men stand, dressed in black. Rafayel continues rubbing your hand with his thumb.

“It’s intimidating, I know. It’ll be better once we’re inside.”

You watch party goers enter, getting pat down briefly before heading inside. From what you can see, they’re dressed fairly normally. Dresses and heels, suits or blazers. Rafayel parks in the garage of one of the guest houses and rushes around the car to open your door. You give him a playful glare.

“You know I can open my own door, good sir.”

He takes your hand and helps you out, bringing your hand to his mouth, his lips pressing against your knuckles.

“I’m aware.”

You don’t argue when he wraps an arm around your waist as he leads you to the main house. He enters through a backdoor and a security guard greets him with a smile.

“Raf, good to see you. Talia is in the main room already. She told me to show you to the booth. And who is this with you?”

His voice hardens when he spots you. Rafayel leans over and kisses your temple.

“She’s with me.”

The guard nods and unlocks a door, ushering you both inside.

All the lightbulbs have been replaced with warm red bulbs, fake candles cover every surface, cushions and blankets are tucked in corners. Rooms that typically never have beds have become makeshift bedrooms. Wait staff stroll in and out of the kitchen with platters covered in hors d'oeuvres and flutes of champagne. A DJ is perched on a balcony overlooking the main floor, the music a mix of soft jazz with sultry singers.

You’ve yet to spot any party goers, so you relax a bit as you take in the lavish interior. You’re pulled behind a curtain, a small room sits behind it with a padded table, a small cabinet, a portable sink, a large medical light and a few stools. Rafayel walks up to the cabinet and crouches, examining its contents. You spot a large collection of tattoo equipment. As Rafayel sets up his station, you peek through the curtain and see people walking around. Everyone is wearing masks and at least some form of clothing. You hear Rafayel call your name and you jump back through the curtain.

“Curious, are we?”

You scoff and cross your arms. He turns to you and holds something out. You take it and realize it’s a simple black eye mask, made of simple fabric with a thick elastic band. When you look back up at Rafayel, he is already putting his on. You slip the mask on and fiddle with the elastic, unsure if you should tuck it under your hair. Rafayel touches your hand and you pause. He turns you around and collects your hair, holding it up so you can slip the elastic band underneath. He lets your hair go and smoothes it back in place.

“You’re welcome to look around, you don’t have to stay here with me.”

“I’ll stay, at least for now. I can be your assistant.”

He smiles and brushes his thumb across your cheek. He stares at you for a moment, his eyes bouncing from your eyes to your lips. You hook your fingers in the belt loops of his jeans and he leans closer. Is he going to –

“Raffie! Oh my god thank you thank you thank you!”

A woman with long purple waves bounces through the curtain. You almost let out a gasp when you see she’s naked from the waist up. Rafayel slaps a hand over his eyes and sighs.

“Talia… You might be the one person at this party I absolutely do not want to see naked.”

“Raffie, you’re so dramatic. I have pasties on!.”

If she did have pasties, they were… camouflaged. Her teasing voice only seems to irritate Rafayel more. Or maybe it’s because of her cute little nickname for him.

“Talia, please…”

Talia sighs dramatically and dives through the curtain for a moment. When she returns she has a silky purple robe on. She reaches up and yanks Rafayel’s wrist and pulls his hand from his face. His eyes remain closed.

“I put on a robe, Raffie. Chill out.”

Rafayel opens his eyes and shoves her shoulder playfully.

“Stop it with the Raffie.”

“I don’t know, I like Raffie. It’s cute.”

Rafayel stares at you and you can’t help but laugh. Talia giggles and grabs your hand, shaking it wildly.

“When Rafayel said he was bringing a plus one I was shocked. He never brings anyone around me honestly. You must be special.”

“Oh, no I’m –”

“She is.”

Rafayel cuts you off and you nearly choke on your own saliva. His hand grazes your hip, holding you close. Talia smiles and pokes his shoulder.

“I see. Well… here you go.”

She hands you and Rafayel a keyring with three cards attached. You flip the cards back and forth, not seeing anything printed on them.

“In case you decide to… participate. Feel free to tattoo as long as you like, I only promised the service until midnight.”

Rafayel nods and accepts the side hug Talia offers. She gives you a quick hug as well - taking you by surprise - before skipping out of the room.

“So that’s Talia. She’s my aunt. And she’s so great at introductions.”

He puts his keyring in the cabinet and sits down on one of the stools next to the table. He starts spreading out a wide array of flash tattoos he’s designed, making it easier for selection. You fiddle with the keyring.

“So what’s this about?”

He looks up and, even in the dim lighting you can see his ears turn red.

“It’s a… aha… a way to approach someone you want to interact with and express interest.”

You stare at him, letting your mind wander as you try to figure out how it works. You avoid Rafayel’s gaze, embarrassed that you don’t understand his implications. You hear him stand and approach you. His hand covers your own and he takes the keyring. You watch as he flips to the blue card.

“An individual will approach another individual, or a group of individuals, and hold up a card. They’ll wait until they’re chosen or refused. The card tells you what they want.”

You lift your wide eyes to meet his.

“The blue card is for the male. The red card is for the female. And the yellow card is for both.”

You blink rapidly and clear your throat.

“So if I approached you and held up this.”

He holds up the red card.

“It means I want you… In whatever way I can have you.”

You take a deep breath and feel your chest tighten. You press your thighs together and basically beg your pussy to calm down. He places the keyring back in your hand and closes your fingers around it. He lifts his hand to hold the side of your neck. He leans closer, his nose brushing against yours, his breath fanning across your face. His lips barely graze your cheek, just above your lips. Every breath you take pushes your chest against his. It takes everything you have not to grab him and devour him on the spot.

You hear the curtain behind you flip open and Rafayel lets go of your neck, looking up to see his first client. You sit on a stool and watch Rafayel tattoo client after client. Most are completely naked, which takes you a bit of time to adjust to. You help him by cleaning the table - very well - between clients.

Every time a woman enters, their breasts bouncing and pussy proudly on display, you feel a twinge of pain. And when Rafayel puts his hands on them to begin working, it feels like you’re going to throw up.

Before you know it, midnight is less than a half hour away and your nerves start to swirl. What will Rafayel want to do once his “duties” are done? Just as you’re getting ready to ask him, a perky brunette with olive skin strolls in. Golden chains draped over her perfect body. She leans against the table and points to a simple jellyfish design.

“It’s a popular one. Where’dya want it?”

He clears the table and she lays down on her back. You glance down at your phone and check the time and when you look back up, she is laying with her legs spread wide. You hold your breath and look to Rafayel, who is still focused on getting his supplies refreshed. When he turns around a look of genuine surprise graces his face. He sets his tattoo gun down and crosses the room to wash his hands.

“Are you sure about that? It’s worse than a piercing and harder to heal. You won't be able to participate anymore tonight.”

“A night of passion or a tattoo on my pussy by the famous Rafayel? I am absolutely sure.”

Rafayel doesn’t look at you as he puts on his gloves. You tense and drop your gaze. He sits on his stool and slides over, when you finally look up you see him basically staring at her pussy. You gasp silently, you didn’t think it was loud enough for anyone to hear, but when Rafayel glances over his shoulder at you you quickly get up and dash through the curtain.

You don’t look back and you don’t hear him call for you - not that you could hear anything over the music and moans. You walk through the various rooms, grabbing a glass of champagne from a waiter on your way. You finally find an empty room and sit down to catch your breath. You down your champagne in one go and fiddle with the stem of the glass.

You know you shouldn’t be upset, you weren’t in a relationship and this was technically your second date. From the sounds of it, he’s tattooed that area before. Of course he has, it’s his job. It isn’t a big deal. You feel foolish for running out like that, he probably thinks you’re dramatic and can’t handle his job or his fame. You set the glass on a table nearby and cover your face with your hands.

You finish off two more glasses of champagne before feeling brave enough to head back into the main hall. You take your time as you walk back to Rafayel’s tattoo booth, letting yourself watch the chaos around you. Clusters of people on beds, tables and even the floor. Riding, licking, sucking, moaning. You feel like you’re in another world, where shame and embarrassment don’t exist. If you weren’t so frustrated you might actually be enjoying yourself.

You stop at the staircase, your eyes locked on a couple wrapped around each other. It’s not like the others, they take their time, kissing and touching before he lifts her to ride his cock. Her moans are soft and the smile on her face - she’s experiencing pure bliss. You feel your cheeks heat and your throat tighten. You want that, not just a night of passion with a hot guy. And maybe you aren’t able to handle Rafayel’s job or fame. Is that such a bad thing? That you know what you want? Or what you don’t want?

“Cutie?”

Rafayel’s voice breaks you out of your spiral. You feel his hand on your back and you turn to face him. You know your cheeks are flushed, your eyes hazy yet vacant as your mind tries to make sense of your newfound clarity.

“I’m sorry I ran out.”

He places his hands on your shoulders and rubs your arms.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I know it’s your job and you’ve probably tattooed plenty of pussies - it’s not a big deal.”

“Really? I think it is a big deal if it upsets you.”

“I wasn’t upset. It doesn’t matter anyway, if I can’t handle it then maybe you should find someone who can.”

He stiffens, his brows knit together and his eyes darken. His voice drops and his tone becomes rigid.

“Is that what you want? For me to find someone else?”

“Maybe I am uncomfortable with the idea of you touching another girl's pussy, even if it is for your job. So yes, find someone who doesn’t care.”

He pushes you back against the wall. His hands move from your arms to tightly grip your hips.

“What if I like that about you?”

You open your mouth to respond, but he leans in, pressing his chest against yours.

“Do you want my hands on you? Only you? Only touching your pussy?”

Your chest heaves, pressing against him with every breath. His hands move up your waist, forcing your back to arch off the wall towards him.

“Cause that’s what I want. I don’t want to touch anyone else like that, not when yours is the one I can’t stop thinking about tasting.”

His nose rubs against yours.

“I told her to change the location or get out.”

His lips brush against yours, you can almost taste him.

“So don’t tell me to find someone else because you’re the one I want. So please, don’t run away.”

You let out a shaky breath and reach up to grab his neck, you capture his lips. He moans against your mouth and you bite his lip. He gasps and tries to pull back but you don’t let him. You hold him to you and slide your tongue into his mouth, which he quickly sucks in. His tongue dances with yours leaving you breathless.

He leans down to pick you up. You wrap your legs around his waist and his hands dive under your skirt. He grabs your ass and you roll your hips against his stomach. He walks over to an unoccupied sofa and sits down with you straddling his lap. You run your hands down his body, feeling the chill of his nipple rings against your palms. He pushes your hips down and you lower onto him, his bulge growing harder under you. He suddenly pulls back.

“Wait - do you want to go somewhere private?”

You grind your hips against him and he groans loudly. You can feel eyes on you and it makes you grind harder. You lean forward and press your mouth to his ear.

“I can’t wait… and I want them to watch you take what’s yours.”

Something inside of Rafayel snaps. He rips the mesh top from your body and pulls up your skirt over your hips. His hands roam across your back as he places kisses to your chest. Your relentless grinding makes him nip and lick at your skin in response. He unhooks your bra and tosses it over the sofa, his mouth moving to capture your nipple. You throw your head back and sigh, your breathing becoming more erratic by the second.

He lifts your hips and you whine, the friction of his bulge against your clothed pussy wasn’t perfect, but it was something. He picks you up and stands, dropping you onto the couch. He kneels and unzips your skirt, pulling it completely off of you. You tug the buttons on his shirt loose and run your hands over his chest. He pulls off the shirt and you reach to unbutton his pants, but his hand stops you. You look at him, confused.

“I have to show you something first, okay baby?”

You nod and lean back. He unbuttons his pants and bends to pull them down completely - along with his underwear. Your jaw drops, literally drops, at the sight of his cock. Not just because he is well-endowed - not to the point of discomfort, but you’re sure you’ll be sore tomorrow. But because the moment you saw that glint of silver your pussy throbbed so hard you nearly came.

Right at the base of his slit sat the silver ball, you reach out and wrap your hand around him. He shudders but remains still for you. You run your fingers over his slit, already leaking pre-cum, and roll the silver ball between your fingers. You feel the other end of the piercing underneath, you shift the piercing back and forth. He moans and his hips twitch. You stroke him slowly, working your way down to the silver studs at the base, sitting atop his pubic mound. You moan as your fingers rub across it, imagining how good it will feel against your clit.

“Having fun, cutie?”

His words are broken, his breathing labored as you work him. You smile up at him and push yourself to the end of the sofa. He reaches his hand out and strokes your cheek. You hold his gaze as you stick your tongue out and lick his slit. His hands grip your hair and he pulls you away from him. He towers over you, making you lean back onto the couch. He climbs over you and leans down, pressing his lips to your neck.

“How wet are you right now?”

You roll your hips up against his cock and he growls into your neck. He sits back to tug your panties down your legs. He lowers himself again, pressing his entire body against yours. You moan with how hot his skin feels against yours. You wrap your arms around him and cling to him, your legs spreading wider as he settles against you. His hands roam your body, pinching at your nipples, fingering your weeping pussy, palming your ass - every touch sending shockwaves through your system.

He dips his fingers further into your pussy and you pull your hips back. He looks at you, sweat already dripping down his forehead. You run your fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes - those beautiful fucking eyes.

“I don’t want your fingers Raf, please…”

He chuckles and slides his hand down to line himself up. You feel the chill of metal against your entrance and flinch.

“Look at me.”

You tear your eyes away from his cock and meet his gaze. He leans forward and kisses you. It’s a slow and steady kiss. Your mind swims as you feel his tongue slide in. And then you feel that delicious stretch, his cock sinking into you, the metal balls of his piercing stroking your inner walls. The kiss turns messy as your moans and his gasps harmonize and fill the air around you. Finally your hips jerk forward and you feel his pubic piercing press to your clit. You pull away from the kiss to scream his name, the pressure and chill of the metal overloading your senses.

Rafayel whines as he holds still to let you adjust to him. You claw at his back and he drops a foot to the floor beside the couch to angle his hips better. You know he’s about to pound into you and make you scream even louder. The thought of the people around you watching makes you delirious.

“Raf.. I need you– I need you to move, please…”

He doesn’t hesitate and he pulls back until just his tip is tucked inside and then he rams his hips forward, sending you backwards on the couch. You squeal and moan as he finds his rhythm. He rests his forehead against yours and gasps for air, his chest turning red from the exertion. Every snap of his hips pushes his pubic piercing against your clit making it throb and the drag of those inside of you drives you crazy. Finally you feel it, that silver ball hitting that spongy spot that makes your legs shake. You whimper and ignore the tears sliding down your cheek, the pleasure completely encompassing your being.

“Fuck… I need to come, ahh.. Shit…”

He starts to pull out, but you wrap your legs around him and lock your ankles. He looks at you, his forehead tight as he fights off his orgasm. You release his back for a moment to grab his face, pressing a kiss to his swollen lips.

“Come inside me, baby. Pill… I’m on the pill, just come for me…”

Your command is immediately obeyed, you feel his release and shudder as the warmth fills you. His pace never falters and the added slickness from his release makes his cock slide through you even faster. Your g-spot is hit every single time he thrusts and you finally feel your back arch and your body tremble, your orgasm hits and you scream.

“Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes Rafayel fuck yeeeeessss…”

As you both come down, you feel his body relax against you. You lean your head to the side and he nuzzles into your neck. His soft kisses help your breathing to steady. You open your eyes and gasp quietly. Rafayel lifts his head and follows your gaze. A small group of people are standing in a circle around the sofa where you and Rafayel are lying. Some of them are holding cards and leaning on each other, some are just smiling and whispering to each other.

“They want to join.”

Rafayel whispers in your ear. You hold onto him, suddenly very aware of how naked you are - how naked everyone is. Rafayel lifts you, his cock slipping out before he settles you on his lap. He wraps his arms around you protectively.

“We can tell them to leave, if you want?”

You hear your heart pounding in your ears. Before tonight, you never would have thought you’d be interested in experiencing certain things, but now…

“Are you uncomfortable with anything?”

He looks at you, his brows raised in surprise.

“Another man’s dick in you, for one. Or his tongue…”

“I meant, for you.”

He tilts his head.

“I thought…”

“I don’t want you anywhere near another girl’s pussy. But his… tongue…”

You look up and stare at a particularly attractive man standing on the outskirts of the small group, partially hidden in shadow. He’s tall, broad shoulders, the hard lines of his abdomen glisten with sweat. An intricate tattoo of a dragon starts at his chest, its wings spread across his shoulder and down his arm, the body trails down his side, curving over his abs before its tail spirals down his hip and coils around his thigh. Before you can stop yourself, your eyes shift and damn… you can appreciate a pretty cock when you see one. His black and red mask covers his whole face, but even from a distance, his eyes are piercing. Rafayel follows your eyes and sees him, a blue card in his hand.

“What do you want him to do to me?”

You lean into his ear and nip at his earlobe, his cock springing to life against your thigh.

“I want him to suck you off while I ride your face.”

Rafayel groans, his head pressed into your shoulder. You play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Only if you want to. I want you to be comfortable. I want you to feel good.”

He lifts his head and looks at the man, who you’re positive is smiling wickedly. Rafayel gives him a nod and he approaches. The rest of those watching move back slightly, giving your trio more room. The man pulls a large round ottoman over and kneels beside it. His voice is deep and smooth, sending shivers down your back. Watching a man like this make Rafayel writhe with pleasure sends a new slickness to your tender pussy.

“Your ass goes here pretty boy, you lay back with your head on the couch so your girl can sit comfortably.”

He pats the ottoman, now lined up against the couch. Rafayel stares at him, his mouth hangs open. You examine the man before you, you wonder if he’s wearing contacts. Crimson eyes stare directly at Rafayel. Just as Rafayel is about to speak, the man lifts a finger to where his mouth would be. He reaches around his ear and you hear a quiet click. The lower half of his mask detaches and he slides it off, his face now only partially disguised. His smirk is breathtaking, he licks his lips slowly.

“I’m a man of my word.”

You look at Rafayel and narrow your eyes. He shakes his head.

“I’ll explain later.”

You lean in and kiss him, he whines when you pull back. He stands up with you in his arms and sets you on your feet beside him. He approaches the man, who is at least 2-3 inches taller than him. The man places a finger under Rafayel’s chin and lifts his gaze.

“Your legs don’t move and your hands stay still. If you thrust, I hold you down. I’m doing the work here. Just like she –”

He points at you over Rafayel’s shoulder.

“She is riding. You lay there and take it, got it?”

You watch Rafayel tense, but with how his breathing accelerates you can tell he is turned on. He lays down, positioning himself as instructed. The man kneels and places his hands on Rafayel’s knees. Rafayel looks down and watches the man slowly glide his hands up his thighs. You crawl onto the couch, watching the man caress Rafayel. Finally the man wraps his large hands around Rafayel’s cock and strokes him until Rafayel is panting. The man nods at you and you pull on Rafayel’s shoulders until he rests his head back on the couch. You lift your leg over his head and hover over his face, but he doesn’t let you tease him. He grabs your thighs and pulls you down without warning. His lips close around your clit. You gasp and grab onto his elbows.

You feel the chill of his lip piercings, his septum ring brushes against the skin just above your clit. And you finally have your answer, how his tongue ring would feel… you’ll never be the same. The ball rolls over your clit, the sudden chill and pressure makes your vision blur. You start rolling your hips. His moans start to get louder and you look up to see the man has started licking Rafayel’s shaft, placing sloppy kisses to his tip. He sucks his tip into his mouth and suckles, the lewd slurping sound he makes pushes you to grind your hips faster. When he finally takes Rafayel fully into his mouth Rafayel’s hips jerk. The man stops and lifts his mouth off of him and you feel Rafayel shake.

“I told you, no moving.”

He presses his forearms onto Rafayel’s thighs and grip his hips. You feel Rafayel’s fingers dig into your thighs as he laps at your clit, making your core heat unbelievably fast. You watch the man take Rafayel back into his mouth, lowering himself until Rafayel’s cock is fully in his mouth. Rafayel shakes under you and whimpers loudly. Hearing him whimper like that could make you come untouched, you’re sure of it. You watch the man’s throat move as he swallows around his length. You grind faster, knowing Rafayel won’t last long if this mystery man is deepthroating him so easily. He finally thrusts his tongue inside you and you lean forward, resting your hands on his stomach.

“Tell him to finger you.”

The man’s rushed words take you by surprise. As soon as he says them he is taking Rafayel in his mouth again. You lift yourself up just enough to hear Rafayel take a deep breath and groan wildly. You shift and bring your knees closer to his head.

“Raf, fingers… in me.”

A cocky smile tugs at his lips.

“I thought you said… you didn’t want my fingers?”

He barely gets the words out before he gasps, the man has shifted and sucked one of Rafayel’s balls into his mouth, his hand stroking his shaft. You look back at Rafayel and smile.

“Do as you’re told, pretty boy.”

You sit back down before he can reply. He quickly lifts his hands and circles your pussy as he continues to work your clit with his tongue. His teeth graze the sensitive bundle and his fingers curl and scissor rapidly against your puffy walls, not giving you a moment to adjust. You lean down and run your tongue over his nipple ring, he rams his fingers into you harder in response, finding your sweet spot. You take the piercing between your teeth and give it a gentle tug and start rolling your fingers over the other side.

You watch as the man starts bobbing up and down, from tip to base he takes Rafayel’s cock over and over.. You swear you can see the outline of Rafayel’s cock in his throat. He starts groaning, the vibration sends Rafayel into a frenzy and you feel your orgasm crest.

“I’m coming fuck fuck fuck… ahhhh yes Raf yes..”

You hear the man moan and look up to see Rafayel’s release leaking out of the sides of his mouth. That sight makes your climax so intense you worry you might blackout. You feel Rafayel start tapping your thigh and you quickly lift yourself away, he gasps for air but laughs as he relaxes. You crawl off of him and are mortified to see the couch around his head completely soaked, his face and hair drenched. But you can’t find a reason to care when he looks so pussy drunk.

The man stands and wipes at his lip with his thumb, you glance down at Rafayel’s cock and see not a drop of his release is left behind. This man really sucked him dry and cleaned up… impressive. Rafayel sits up and looks up at the man.

“Debt is paid. See you next week, Rafayel.”

With that, he turns and leaves. You look at Rafayel and crawl onto his lap.

“I’m looking forward to hearing what that was about…”

You try to wipe his forehead with your wrist.

“Leave it, I like smelling like you.”

You slap his chest and he chuckles. He looks up to see there are still people waiting.

“Still in the mood to experiment?”

You don’t even glance around, you just lock your arms around his neck and kiss his cheek.

“No, I want you to myself. I need to see if my mouth can make you whimper like that again.”

He glares at you and pinches your side. You try to wiggle away from him, but he grabs you and hauls you over to lay on top of him.

“I can promise you, when it’s your mouth, I’ll be so delirious I might speak another language entirely.”

You kiss his nose.

“That’s hot.”

He laughs and kisses your nose.

“Let’s get out of here, yea?”

You’ve basically lived at Rafayel’s apartment over Lemuria Studios for the past week. It’s closer to the Association and much nicer. Plus, waking up next to him is a great way to start your day. And being fucked senseless every night is definitely helping you sleep better.

“You should go by your place after you get off work, pick up some clothes and shit.”

You put down your coffee and stare at him.

“I want you to be comfortable when you stay here.”

You stand up from the bar stool and walk around the kitchen island. He stops chopping vegetables to lean on the counter and look at you. His shirt hangs off your shoulders, the hem barely covering your ass. You run your hands down his chest, placing a kiss over his heart. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you press yourself against him. He rubs his hands over your back and rests his chin on your head.

“I like changing into your clothes when I get off work. I like using your shower gel so I can smell like you. I like sleeping naked in your bed. I am more comfortable than I’ve ever been.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I want you wearing my clothes and sleeping naked…”

You feel his hands glide down your back and pull his shirt up over your ass. The cool air against your bare skin makes you shiver. He leans down to kiss your neck, his hands feeling the curve of your ass and diving lower between your legs.

“I just think you should have some of your own things, you know?”

“I’ll pick up a few things after work.”

His fingers press against the crotch of your panties and you shiver.

“When do you have to leave for work?”

You glance over his shoulder at the clock and smile. You giggle and grab onto his neck, keeping him close.

“About an hour…”

He plants his hands under your ass and lifts you up. He continues placing messy kisses to your neck as he walks you to his bedroom.

“That should tide us over until tonight, yea?”

Work wasn’t boring, but you were itching to leave and head to your place. The more you thought about it the more excited you were to have your things at Rafayel’s place. You loved smelling like him, but your hair types are very different and his products are definitely not working for you. You planned your entire evening while working. Completing reports, canvassing Wanderer hotspots, scanning physical reports into the digital system - with every mind numbing task, you got closer and closer to the self-care date with yourself.

When you open the door to your apartment you’re greeted with the scent of extremely ripe bananas. You forgot you’d gotten them the day before the party and now… You close your front door and drop your keys on the entry table. You enter the kitchen and stare at the bananas. As you poke at them, you have an idea. It’s been ages since you’ve baked banana bread, but your grandmother's recipe is a classic. You find the recipe book on your bookshelf and gather the supplies you need. But before you bake, you need “an everything shower.” Badly.

Your shower gel is more floral than Rafayel’s, which is refreshing. And your scalp is finally able to breathe with your products gently scrubbing away the buildup. Shaving takes forever, but it’s worth it, Rafayel’s silk sheets would feel like heaven against your skin tonight. You put on a face mask while moisturizing and dance around your kitchen in your underwear while you stack the ingredients for the banana bread on the counter

Once the bread is in the oven, you grab a small suitcase and start packing up a few essentials. The travel size versions of your hair care products, underwear, an extra work uniform, a set of pajamas - just in case - two casual outfits and your go-to little black dress. You throw the uniform you wore today in the washer into the dryer and go through your fridge in case anything went bad while you were gone.

You’re setting the trash bag by the front door when you hear a muffled grunt. You press your ear to the door and hear more quiet groans and shuffling feet. You stand on your tiptoes and look through your peephole as quietly as possible. You see what looks like a white helmet and a purple jacket. They’re so close to your door you start to panic. You hear a knock at your door and you freeze.

“Cutie? Are you still here?”

Rafayel’s voice is muffled behind the door. You let out a sigh of relief and swing the door open, forgetting you’re only in your underwear. Rafayel is hunched over against the doorframe, the sleeves of his leather jacket are torn and the left leg of his cargo pants are shredded and bloody.

“Shit! Rafayel what happened?!”

He tugs at his helmet but can’t get it off. You push his hands away and unhook the straps to pull the helmet off his head. His face is pale and he’s drenched in sweat, but he still smirks when he sees you.

“Damn… what a welcome.”

“Shut the fuck up…”

You lift one of his arms and wrap it around your shoulder. You carefully help him walk into your apartment, kicking the door closed behind you.

You help him sit down on the couch and drag your coffee table closer to elevate his leg. The fabric is almost completely torn away from his skin and you can see the dirt and gravel stuck in his wounds. You help him remove his gloves and jacket, carefully inspecting his arm to see if there’s any wounds you haven’t seen. You tug his damp t-shirt off and look for any cuts. Bruises are already starting to darken over his ribcage.

You rush through your room to the bathroom to get a first aid kit and a few towels. You toss your face mask in the trash and put on your robe, haphazardly tying the belt at your waist. When you return Rafayel has his head back on the cushion with his eyes closed.

“Raf? You with me?”

He opens his eyes and smiles weakly. He tries to sit up, but clutches his side with a grimace.

“Rafayel, you need a doctor.”

He shakes his head, but keeps a hand pressed over his ribcage.

“It’s not that serious, trust me. I just need it cleaned up. I’m sorry I just showed up like this…”

“Rafayel…”

“I’ll get checked out when my doctor gets back in town. I promise.”

You rub your forehead and reach to turn on another light. You place the first aid kit on the coffee table and rush to the kitchen to grab a glass and a bowl of water. You hand Rafayel the glass, set the bowl down and sit down in front of him.

“Drink that.”

He doesn’t argue, he drinks the water slowly while he watches you work. You dip a towel in the water and gently try to clean the dirt and gravel out of his wound. He winces, but doesn’t struggle. You start putting a bit more pressure to see where the deeper cuts are and he groans. You look up at him and he has his eyes closed tightly.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

You continue cleaning the wound until it looks clear of debris. You shake a can of antiseptic spray, squinting your eyes at him as he shrugs.

“I crashed, no biggie.”

You grit your teeth and spray a more than generous amount on his leg. His leg shakes and he curses under his breath. He reaches for your hand and takes the can, chucking it across the room.

“Enough! I.. I think it’s clean…”

You flash him a smirk and grab a roll of gauze to start wrapping his leg.

“I haven’t crashed in a long time, but these things happen. I’m okay.”

You continue wrapping his leg in silence. The feeling he is hiding something ripping into you like a knife. This is a serious injury, he could have lost his leg or worse. He’s a careful driver, you know that. So what caused him to crash? You finally look at the helmet on the floor next to the couch. The white paint on the side is scraped and you can see a thin crack along the visor. But what catches your eye is the intricate red design on the front.

“Nice helmet.”

“Thank you. I don’t get to wear it often. Guess it’ll be retiring until I get it fixed up, huh?”

You nod. He leans forward and grabs your hands.

“I know it looks bad, but I’ve had worse. Come on, look at me, please?”

Just as you meet his gaze his phone rings. He grabs his jacket on the couch and digs his phone out. His gentle smile drops when he sees the caller.

“I need to take this, I’m sorry.”

He lifts his leg and tries to stand up, but you push him back.

“I’ll go, you need to keep your leg elevated.”

You walk to your room, closing the door behind you. Holding the handle, you don’t let the lock click. You wait until you hear a hushed “hello” before pulling the door open a crack. You press your ear as close to the opening as possible. Rafayel’s voice is hushed.

“I need to know their name.”

“No, I know. I know. I’d never seen them before.”

“I don’t give a fuck, they almost got Ryūō caught. Cops knew which bike to follow.”

Your eyes widen at the mention of cops. Who is Ryūō? Is that really a name?

“Yea, they caused my crash. No, Zayne’s out of town. Of course I’m not at the hospital, I’m not a fucking idiot. I’m okay, seriously, I need to focus on Ryūō.”

Zayne?! As in your childhood friend, the head of cardiology? That Zayne? Is he Rafayel’s primary physician too? Why can’t Rafayel go to the hospital?

“I want a name by the end of the night, put any expenses on my card.”

“No, don’t say anything. I’ll set up the next meeting and fill everyone in.”

“Yeah, fuck… Okay, have Ryūō call me.”

You’re tempted to swing the door open and confront him immediately, but your brain is swimming with theories.

“Cutie? You can come out now!”

You open the door slowly. Your eyes narrow and you glare at him from across the room. He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes and your stomach tightens. As you approach him, he shifts uncomfortably, your gaze finally unsettling him. Just as you sit down to finish treating his leg, his phone rings again.

“Is that Ryūō?”

He looks up from his phone, his expression darkens. You don’t leave, instead you continue wrapping his leg and sit in silence while his phone continues to ring. Finally, he answers it.

“Hey.”

“No, doc’s out of town. I’m okay. It could have been worse.”

“Where’d you stash your bike?”

“No no no, I’ll send someone to get it. Keep your head down for a few days.”

“I’m looking into it.”

“He put down Onryō so I’m guessing it’s personal. Could be you, could be me, or both. I’ll have more info by the end of the night.”

Onryō? As in the Japanese yokai? You remember reading about popular yokai’s before your vacation to Japan after you graduated college. You recall they are ghosts who hyperfocus on vengeance. Their passion could be born out of jealousy or hatred. Does he think this person is trying to hurt him and this Ryūō person? Now Ryūō makes more sense. Another yokai.

“Sy, I am asking you not to look into it. It’ll get too messy if you get involved.”

Who is Sy?

“I know what you can do and I am asking you not to do anything. Please. I will call you as soon as I know anything.”

He hangs up and tosses it on the couch. He covers his face with his hands and groans, running his hands through his hair before looking up to stare at you.

“Go on, ask.”

You secure the gauze with tape. Picking up a new towel, you dip it in the water and squeeze out the excess before moving to sit next to him. You wipe his face and he relaxes, you continue down his chest.

“I’m pretty good at puzzles. So… I think I pieced most of it together.”

“Do tell.”

You feel his fingers trace your jaw. You pause and look at him.

“Bikes, cops, code names, someone is messing with you or whoever Ryūō is. My educated guess… Racing?”

He looks down at his leg, his brows furrow.

“Am I wrong?”

He sighs and looks at you again.

“Spot on.”

“So can you tell me what really happened now?”

He pulls the towel out of your hand and pulls you to him. You lean against the couch, careful not to put any pressure on his ribs. Once you settle, he takes a deep breath.

“I’ve been a part of the racing scene for a few years. Ryūō and I started around the same time. Now, we’ve become leaders… kind of? We’re used to having targets on our backs. So we’re careful about bringing new people onto the scene. Today, we held an open race to test the waters and it bit us in the ass.”

“Onryō? You mean?”

“Yeah... They signed in and before the race even started, cops rolled up. They targeted Ryūō and he pulled off the race to pull the cops away from us. That’s when the prick kicked me off my bike on a turn and I fucked up my leg.”

“So you have people looking for this Onryō person, what will happen when they find them?”

“My people will call me. And I’ll deal with it.”

You cross your arms and glare at him.

“And how will you, “deal with it” exactly?”

Rafayel tosses his head back on the couch and closes his eyes.

“I can’t tell you that, cutie, you know that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I am not going to put your job on the line. You have a duty to report this kind of thing, right? The less I say the better.”

“So Ryūō and Sy, they’re the same person, right?”

Your question makes Rafayel sit up straight, he turns to you and grabs your shoulders tightly.

“Drop it. Please.”

“No. You came to my door, bleeding and bruised and you’re expecting me to just ignore whatever shit you’re into that caused all this? Really Rafayel?”

His grip tightens.

“You’re not getting hurt because of me.”

You reach up to hold his face in your hands. Your thumbs brushing under his eyes.

“I’m a hunter, I am good at taking care of myself. I’m not afraid of whatever it is you’re involved in, but what I am afraid of is you getting hurt.”

He leans into your touch, his cheeks warming and his pale skin starts to flush.

“I know you’re able to protect yourself, but these people… They’re different. They play by a different set of rules and I don’t want you to risk your job or your safety for me.”

“That’s my choice.”

He huffs out a laugh and leans his forehead against yours.

“I know, I just… fuck…”

You kiss his nose affectionately and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you to his chest. You curl up beside him, pressing your face into his neck.

“Let me choose you.”

He rubs your back and your body relaxes next to him.

“So…”

He kisses the top of your head and hums encouraging you to continue.

“What’s your name? Like your racing name?”

He chuckles and leans back, tucking you into his side. You rest your head on his shoulder.

“Kiko.”

You close your eyes, it seems all the racers pick a yokai as their code name. You try to remember the lore behind Kiko.

“That’s a type of Kitsune, right? A holy fox? No, spirit fox!”

“Yep.”

You shift so you can look up at him.

“I thought you’d pick something ocean related like… Kōjin or Tatsu?”

“A biker with an oceanic racer alias, purple hair and brightly colored Kawasaki?”

“Oh…”

“Yea, I don’t need cops breathing down my neck at the studio. So I chose something, I guess, that fit my personality?”

“You relate to a fox, huh?”

“Curious, playful, intelligent. Yea, I think so.”

“They’re also very loud if they don’t get love and affection.”

Rafayel nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, you giggle, swatting at him to sit up.

“I guess it’s an accurate description then.”

You look down at his helmet and squint. The white base and red lines around the eyes and at the center.

“Ohhh… that explains your helmet!”

“Yeah, usually I wear a white leather jacket but I was in a rush today.”

“You don’t race the blue bike you’ve been driving me around on, do you?”

“No, I have a different bike for races. Different colors and fake plates.”

You sit up, cross your legs and face him.

“Take me with you.”

His eyes widened in surprise.

“Like, on a ride?”

You smile, a wicked gleam in your eye.

“On a race.”

He stares at you, his mouth open and eyes unblinking. You stare back, your smile unwavering.

“You realize it’s illegal, right?”

You nod.

“And dangerous?”

You nod.

“And you might –”

You slap a hand over his mouth. He chuckles, the vibrations tickling your hand.

“I know the risks. I want to see more of your world. Especially when mine is so… blah…”

“Hmm mmh mmh hmm huh mhm!” He mumbles, trying to speak to you through your hand.

You move your hand away and pinch his cheek. He grabs your hand and holds it tight.

“You fight Wanderers for a living! That’s not ‘blah’!”

“Fine. I want to see more of your world because I…”

You look down at your lap, trying to hide the blush spreading across your cheeks. He grabs your chin and lifts your face to meet his gaze.

“Because what, cutie?”

“Because I hope I can be a part of it…”

He plants his hands on your waist and lifts you, plopping you down on his lap. His hands hold onto your ass and he pulls you closer. It’s at this moment you realize you’re still not wearing any pants and the rough fabric of his cargo pants rubbing against your nearly bare pussy makes you twitch. You grab onto his shoulders and try to lift yourself off his lap.

“Your leg!”

“It’s fine, stop squirming.”

You let out an exaggerated sigh and shift your knees wider to properly straddle him. He squeezes your ass and rubs his hands down your thighs. You run your hands down his chest and start to play with his nipple rings, which earns you a deep groan. He takes the hint and stops teasing you.

“I want you to be a part of my life, but it’s a complicated one. Are you sure?”

You wrap your arms around his neck and thread your fingers through his hair. You lean forward and place a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Show me a whole new world, Aladdin.”

He chuckles and bites his lip as he looks up at you.

“My dick is not a magic carpet, but I will take you for a ride.”

You slap his chest and try not to laugh.

“You’re so stupid…”

He seizes the opportunity, with your hands on his chest, to grab your face and pull you to him. He kisses you until you can barely breath, your worries fade. You’re not sure what you’re getting yourself into, but you’re sure of one thing - Rafayel has made you feel more alive in the past week than you’ve felt in years. And you’re going to chase this feeling, for as long as possible.

Rafayel finally lets you breathe and you smell something burning. He scrunches his nose and you sniff the air, trying to determine what it could be. Your eyes widen and you scramble to crawl off of Rafayel’s lap.

“My banana bread!”

(AN Part 2: Surprise! It's also a crowfish fic. Smile.)

Tag List (comment if you wanna be added!): @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer @lilyadora @crowskitten22 @letharue @silverbrain @m00nchildwrites @plsdonttakemyname

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neogogori

3 months ago

I giggled doing this hehe

25K notes View Post

neogogori

1 year ago

I know tumblr will take down this sooner or later, but this is happening now in gaza now. These pictures caught by Belal Khaled, are the most haunting. Kids in gaza don't feel safe, whether at home, in a hospital, in their parent's lap, or beneath the rubble.

We are not numbers.

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neogogori

7 months ago

Hi! Love your work, you are incredibly talented! I especially liked the Shuggy piece, I think I’ve read it like 5 times lol. If you’re still taking requests, I think Jinbe with 11 and/or 39 would be pretty cool. Thanks so much for the fun reads!

Hiii!!!! I'm so so so glad that you enjoy my work.vmy shuggy x reader is also a fave of mine so I'm happy to see others enjoy it ♡. Also thanks for the jinbe request! my man doesn't receive enough love! I'm a bit in my feelings so I went with prompt 39 🤧

39 - comfort sex

cw: fem!reader, mention of jinbe having 2 cocks, size kink, husband jinbe because jinbe is so husband core, unprotected sex,

Husband Duties | Jinbe ♡

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

you're feeling down after a fight so your husband helps you feel better

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Married life has always suited Jinbe. He thrives when he has someone to take care of. He's reading when you, his beloved wife, swing open the door and lay down on the bed next to him.

“I'm so tired”, you whine, pushing your face into the pillows. Jinbe puts his book down, turning to give you all his attention. You're exhausted from the most recent fight. You're mostly injury-free, but all your muscles are sore.

“Do you need anything, my love?” he asks, hand trailing over your back. You nod, tucking yourself against him. The fight was particularly rough; you fucked up severely, almost getting yourself killed and causing Jinbe to leave his post to save you. You're usually a solid fighter; your husband or one of your crew having to rescue you is a rare occurrence. Your pride is wounded, and you're wallowing in insecurity.

“My back hurts a little,” you say. Jinbe doesn't need you to elaborate. He helps you to undress and adjusts the way that he's sitting so that he can press his hands into your shoulders. He works hard to distress you. Your husband's strong hands drain your body of all the stress it's harbouring until there's nothing less but raw emotions. Tears fall silently down your cheeks as you release all the pent-up frustration. Despite your cries being silent, Jinbe notices immediately.

“What's wrong, my Dear?” he asks, turning you over. “What can I do to make it better?” Your heart clenches at your husband's concern for you, but there's a much more distracting ache in your body you'd rather deal with first. Despite your distress, massages were often used as foreplay for the two of you, and you can't help the way your mind has wandered.

“It's just all my stress depleting, which means you did a good job with your massage. There is something you can do for me though”

“And what's that?” he asks, already having an inkling about what you're going to say next.

“That massage got me all worked up. I want you to touch me.”

When you first started dating, your straightforwardness had flustered Jinbe, but now it just makes him hard. Your mouth is dirtier than his, and he's obsessed with it. He nods, returning to his massage. He moves his hands down to your thighs, rubbing at the skin there. He's so close to your pussy that it makes you squirm. He chuckles at your movement, causing you to groan. “please don't tease me; I'm so wet.”

Jinbe can't say no to his little wife. He moves his massage between your legs, rubbing at your clit. He pushes a finger into your soaked hole, and you moan out at the feeling. Your husband is huge. He has to work you up to his cock. It's been a few years since you married, yet you still struggle to take him. He adds another finger, curling and scissoring them inside you. You need him so badly. He eagerly fingers you open. He whispers praises as your pussy pulses around his thick fingers.

You cum on his fingers, legs clamping shut around his hand. He works you through it, keeping his fingers moving as his gaze remains locked on your face. You can feel the love in his gaze as your chest heaves in exhaustion. Your orgasm does little to quell your weary mind, and in desperate need of further distraction, you claw at his arms.

“Please, Jinbe, I need your cock”, You say. He nods, fully undressing himself to match you. You feel your mouth watering at the site of his cocks. Being a shark fishman, he has two. Though you've only been able to successfully take both twice in your relationship, one of those times being on your wedding night. He knows you wouldn't be able to take both right now, so he settles on flipping you onto your hands and knees and lining up one of his cocks with your hole. He slowly pushes in, working himself inside you with shallow thrusts. He gently covers your mouth with his hand to stop your moans from waking up the rest of the crew.

Jinbe finally bottoms out and pauses inside you, relishing in how you feel around him, also giving you time to adjust. He drapes himself over, and you whimper at the realisation of how big he really is. Your husband is so sweet to you that it's easy to forget he's a former warlord of the sea. It isn't until he's got you trapped beneath him that you remember how powerful he is. While scary to others, it makes you feel safe and secure to know you have him lingering around you at all times.

“ What happened earlier wasn't your fault, sweetheart. You don't have to be so worked up over it,” he says as he starts to move his hips. Of course, he saw through your white lie. Jinbe is both patient and observant; nothing gets past him. “You're so strong.” His voice is as sure as ever as he squashes your worries with each heavy thrust. He reaches around you to press against your lower stomach. “can you feel me in there?” he asks. The sensation of him pressing against his own cock through your tummy is weird, but it feels so good. You're all but screaming into Jinbe's hand when a well-angled thrust sends you head-first into your orgasm. It crashes over you in waves, making your whole body tremble. Jinbe can't keep himself together anymore and cums too, filling you up with his seed.

“Thank you”, you whine as he rolls off of you and grabs tissues from the bedside table to clean you up.

“Do you feel better now?” he asks, laying down beside you and pulling you on top of him to rest. You nod, too exhausted to give him a response. All fucked out and cuddled up in your husband's arms, you fall asleep in minutes. Jinbe smiles, knowing he'll be there to chase away all the nasty thoughts clouding your beautiful mind.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

tag list: @bloodfixnd @sexysapphicshopowner @beachaddict48 @lem-hhn

thank you so much for reading! comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡♡♡♡

182 notes View Post

neogogori

5 months ago

like the first rule of cooking is to have fun and be yourself and the first rule of baking is to stay calm because the dough can sense fear

147K notes View Post

neogogori

2 years ago

a g r e e m e n t

“idiot girl, you belong to me.”

kakuzu x reader | supernatural AU (barely) | 18+ eventually

you were desperate, alone, and so so tired. you’d heard … heard of making deals. with demons. they could give you anything you wanted, solve any problem, and all you had to give up was your soul in 10 years time. what you didn’t know was that your demon was no demon at all. his agreement was very different and involved more than just your mortal soul.

✧ part one ❛ it’s the cruelest thing i could do. ❜ ✧ part two ❛ do you think i’d let anything happen to you? ❜ ✧ part three ❛ i broke my rules for you. ❜ ✧ part four ❛ it’s four am and you’re yelling at me. ❜

104 notes View Post

neogogori

9 months ago

he definitely listened something before LOOOOL

Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 3

Part 1: Linked Here | Part 2: Linked Here

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Shoto Todoroki x Fem Reader! 💋

Genre: Fluff, Romance, S*xual Tension, Making Out, Smut

CW: MDNI!, A18+, kissing, romance, sexual tension, spicy scenes, hand job, lemon

Link to My Master List

You wake up slowly to the feeling of warm sunlight heating your face. Damn! You think, I forgot to close my blinds again before bed! This is a bit of a bad habit of yours – training has been so harsh lately, you often fall asleep before you can even begin to perform your nightly wind-down routine. The sun feels nice across your face, but it’s also a bit too warm and becoming borderline uncomfortable.

You sigh, too tired and comfy to get out of bed to adjust the blinds. Instead, you shift and roll over onto your other side. Unexpectedly, you bump into something hard and solid. You panic for a moment, unsure of what the obstruction could be. Did you get a new plushie recently? Begrudgingly, you flutter your eyelashes and let the soft early morning light hit your eyes.

Oh, shit. Shoto Todoroki?!

Memories of the day before come rushing back in a stampede – moments in time tripping over each other as your brain scrambles to assemble a map of how you got into your current situation. You quickly remember the kiss, Endeavor’s bombastic arrival, the lonely library, and Shoto’s late night confessions. Your cheeks heat up as you recall how quickly your clothes had melted away as things with Shoto had turned hot and heavy.

You look up into Shoto’s soft face. He’s tucked in on his side, his face buried into your pillow. It’s the first time you’ve seen him look so relaxed. His pale skin and angelic features seem to sparkle in the morning light. You think back to all that he had confessed to you the night before – his troubled childhood, his estranged parents. You reach out to stroke his face, tucking a lock of bright red hair behind his ear. He sighs in his sleep, leaning ever so slightly into your gentle touch. Your heart squeezes. This poor, beautiful boy’s life has seen a deficient of kind touches.

You scoot closer to him in the bed, reaching out to gently wrap your arms around your sleeping classmate. He leans into you, unconsciously welcoming the embrace. He yawns softly and seems to wake up a bit.

“You’re so soft.” He moving to get a better hold on you, his large hands moving to cradle your hips. He smiles into your shoulder and pulls you into a more comfortable position, planting a sleepy kiss on your collarbone. He rubs a gentle, comforting circle into your lower back as he drifts back off to sleep.

You spend a few moments carding your fingers through his dual toned hair, listening to his gentle breathing. You notice the way that the hand on your lower back is slightly hotter than the rest of his body, and how great it feels against your training-stiff muscles. You feel your body relax into the touch. The hand resting on your hips, however, is refreshingly cold. You wonder if Shoto has ever thought to use his quirk for healing – his gentle touch is perfect for treating angry muscles and exercise injuries. He’d be an amazing physical therapist.

Your tired brain envisions a sexy doctor version of Shoto – tall and grown, a stethoscope draped around his strong shoulders. He will be such an amazing hero, but you wonder…if Shoto had experienced a normal childhood, would he aspire to be something different? There is so much potential in him - if his father hadn’t pressed so much on him, would he still want to be a hero?

You noodle on this question as you drift back to sleep, your body relaxing into Shoto’s temperate hands.

---------------------

Your alarm blares at 6 o’clock AM, jolting you from a sound sleep. You’re still wrapped up in the cocoon of Shoto’s strong arms, his face nuzzled into your chest.

Carefully, you extract an arm and reach to switch off the alarm. You gently wriggle out of your classmate’s warm embrace. You slide off the cozy bed and pad across the carpet to your desk, stopping to take a long sip from your sticker-covered water bottle.

You grab a small hand mirror from the shelf above your desk and use it to examine your face – you’re surprised to see that even after the late night spent talking with Shoto, you look well-rested. Your hair, however, tells a different story. Your bedhead is absolutely out of control, and you grab a brush to quickly tame it. Once the knots have been brushed out, you throw your hair up into a loose ponytail and turn back to face your bed.

Shoto must be a deep sleeper, because in the 5 minutes it’s taken you to tame your hair he still hasn’t stirred. He’s wrapped up in your comforter, looking warm and comfortable. You hate that you’ll have to wake him soon for class. Begrudgingly, you move towards the bed to get him up.

“Shoto…” You coo quietly, hoping to rouse him gently as you pull down the comforter. “It’s time to get up - ” You stop midsentence as your eyes run their way along Shoto’s body. He’s resting on his side, his white hair splayed across your pillow. His expensive looking sweatpants hang from his muscular frame in a way that’s so sexy that you take a mental photo to revisit later. But what’s really got your attention is the way that Shoto’s baggy sweatpants gather and pull around his prominent morning wood.

You bite your lip as you take in the image – Shoto’s hard dick is outlined perfectly against the grey fabric. Fuck. You’ve never seen a penis this close before. Even through Shoto’s loose fitting pants, you can tell he’s big. The soft fabric doesn’t leave anything to the imagination – you can see the way his long shaft ends in a soft, mushroom-shaped tip.

You climb onto the bed to get a closer look, glancing up at Shoto’s face to ensure that he’s still fast asleep. You shift a bit and lean in, wondering if the hardness is uncomfortable. Your mind instantly goes into the gutter, and you remember how good it had felt the day before to grind against Shoto’s rock hard length. You feel a spark in between your legs at the thought. You imagine rolling Shoto onto his back so you can straddle him. It would be so easy to line up the tip of his cock with your clit and -

You shake your head to clear it of the absurdly horny thoughts that are flying around in your mind. You only have an hour and a half to get ready for class, and any sexual experiments you want to perform with Shoto are going to take time. You want to take this slowly! Maybe!?

You check the clock on your phone again. Maybe you can spare just a few minutes for some exploration? You’re almost certain that Shoto will agree. You set a quick alarm for 15 minutes from now before placing your phone back on the night table. You then shift a bit closer to the sleepy hero-in-training and reach out your hand to touch him.

Experimentally, you trace the very top of your fingertip along the length of it – from base to tip. You feel it twitch slightly as you reach the top, and break out into a grin.

You ghost your fingers across the outline of his cock a few more times, feeling it become harder with each pass. You’re so entranced by the outline of his thick member that you don’t notice when Shoto begins to stir.

He groans softly as you let your fingers wander across his dick again. His eyes flicker open and he blinks sleepily. You quickly snatch your hand away from his nether regions, blushing furiously at being caught.

“Sorry! I just…well, I couldn’t really help myself…” You trail off weakly, ashamed. He blinks at you, expression unreadable.

“You can keep going.” He says in a gravely voice. He reaches down to take one of your hands, and brings it back to his pants. “It would feel better if you gave it a firmer grip.”

“Oh.” You say, shocked at how cool he is with this. But then you remember that for as sheltered and formal as Shoto is…he’s also just a horny teenage boy. You let him position your hand and grasp. The material of his sweatpants is loose, and you are able to wrap almost your whole hand around his cock through the material. You tighten your hand ever so slightly around him and he turns his head to groan into the pillow. You lightly squeeze your hand again, this time moving your fingers down a bit.

“So…” You say somewhat awkwardly as you continue to feel him up through his pajama pants. “Did you sleep well?”

Shoto’s face is still buried in the fluffy pillow, but he cracks open an eye and looks back at you. He’s giving you a disbelieving look.

“You’re hand is on my penis…and you’re asking me how I slept? Don’t you think we should talk…sexier?” His voice drops an octave at the last word. You gulp.

“I’m new to this! I’m trying to be considerate!” Your fingers flutter nervously and Shoto lets out a soft, strangled sort of noise at the contact.

“Well I appreciate the consideration then. I slept well, thank you. This bed is very cozy. And you make a comfortable sleeping partner.”

You feel your face warm at the words. You drink him in – he’s got sleepy eyes and his body is the most relaxed you’ve ever seen it. You wish that you could stay in this bed with him for hours and just talk and touch and kiss…

Then you remember you’re on a tight timeline before class starts.

“Shoto…” You say, voice low. “I think it would feel even better if you let me go under your clothes.”

All Shoto can do is nod and look at you with wide eyes. You scoot closer to him, placing a hand on his chest so you can roll him over onto his back. He looks so beautiful like this – vulnerable and open.

“Mind taking these off?” You tug at the waistband of his sweats.

Shoto reaches down to slowly slip the waistband down his narrow hips. His erection springs forward – hard and beautiful. You take him in – his cock is longer than you expected. It has the same aristocratic pale skin as the rest of his body, becoming the tiniest bit darker at the tip. He looks like he’s carved from marble – all muscles and smooth pale flesh. You marvel at the way that his cock stands at attention, settled stiffly against defined abs and a light red happy trail.

“Oh, Shoto. You’re gorgeous.” You smile in satisfaction as Shoto’s soft cheeks bloom red in reaction to your praise. You reach out and trace your finger up the base of his cock. The skin is silky smooth – not at all what you were expecting. You wrap your hand around his hardness and give it an experimental jerk. Shoto’s eyes close at the contact and his head falls back into your pillow with a quiet thud.

“Does that feel good?” You whisper, jerking at his dick again. All he can do is nod silently as you continue to fist his dick slowly. He moans a tiny bit when you focus your energies on his leaking tip. You roll the precum down his shaft, using it to lubricate your hand as you continue to run it up and down his cock.

Shoto looks like he’s in heaven – his expression is laced with pleasure and the muscles of his stomach and abs quiver with gratification as you work at him. He’s splayed out before you like a Greek god, defined pale muscles glowing in the early morning sunlight. You find your mouth is practically watering at the image. You lick your lips and take a beat to clear your mind. You’ve never known yourself to have any sort of oral fixation, but at this exact moment you can’t think of anything more appealing than taking Shoto’s cock in your mouth.

You lean down, mouth open and ready…

A sudden rapid knock on the door stops you in your tracks. You hear Mina and Hugakure being noisy on the other end.

“Y/N! Let’s gooooo!” Mina whines, continuing to knock. “You promised you’d help us get some training in before class!”

You tighten your grip on Shoto’s cock in surprise, he lets out a soft grunt in response.

Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no!

You recall with a start that you had promised to go down to one of the training gyms with the girls to get in some early morning quirk training. Mina has been begging you to show her the Ultimate Move you’ve been developing, and Hagakure has been asking for some tips on her new light refraction move. You look over to your desk and see your navy blue UA gym uniform folded and ready from where you’d laid it out the day before.

Your eyes meet Shoto’s in a panic. He’s looking back at you with unabashed lust – his eyes half-lidded. You feel like he should be freaking the fuck out right now, but then you realize that your hand is still wrapped around his incredibly hard dick.

You think quickly, brain scrambling through a lusty haze.

“Mina! Toru!” You call out, hoping they can hear you clearly through the door. “I’m not feeling that well this morning – I’m sorry! Can we rain check and hit the gym tomorrow morning instead?”

A pause.

“Are you okay, girl?” Hagakure calls back, concerned. “Would you like us to come in and help you?

“No I’ll be okay! I think I just need to sleep in a bit, I have a bit of a headache from studying so late last night. I’ll see you in class?”

As you’re talking, you slowly start to stroke Shoto’s dick again. His eyes widen and he continues to hold your gaze with his intense mismatched eyes. You see him bite his lip hard to keep in a moan.

“Okay, but don’t be late for class Y/N! Besides – I have some hot gossip to share! You’ll never believe who has a crush on you!” Mina teases through the door. You feel Shoto twitch in your hand and you move to increase your pace. Who would have known he was such an exhibitionist?

“A crush on me!?” You call back in mock surprise, reaching out your free hand to cup Shoto’s cheek. He closes his eyes and leans into the gentle touch. “Well now I’m dying to know!”

“You’ll have to wait until lunch!” Mina warbles, carefree and completely unaware of the X-rated scene going on behind the closed door.

“Ugh fine!” You pretend to sound exasperated. Mina and Hagakure share their goodbyes and feel-betters through the door before leaving for the training gym.

“Drink some water, Y/N!” Hagakure advises you as you hear their footsteps recede down the hallway. You continue to work at Shoto’s thick cock, you’re practically salivating as you look down and revel the way he twitches under your gaze.

“They’re gone.” You whisper unnecessarily.

“Yeah.” Shoto takes a shaky breath. He lifts his hand to fold over your own against his face. His palm is warm against the back of your hand, and you can’t help but wonder at what he can accomplish with those long, capable fingers.

You grin, leaning in close to the half-hot half-cold hero-in-training so that your foreheads almost touch. You part your lips to let out the faintest whisper: “It’s just the two of us now…baby.”

Shoto’s breath hitches. The intoxicating combination of getting handsy in front of your classmates plus the unexpected term of endearment prove to be too much for poor Shoto, because he cums in an instant. You feel the orgasm roll through him, starting at the base of his balls and moving up through his dick as you stroke him through it. He lets out an impossibly soft moan as he watches sticky white fluid flow across your tiny hand.

You’re both a bit shocked at the sight – you’ve never seen a man cum before and it’s a little different from what you were expecting. You didn’t realize it would be so damn easy to send Shoto over the edge like that. You continue to stroke at him until he winces from overstimulation. He places a hand over your own in a silent plea for you to stop.

“I’m so sorry Y/N – um, do you have a towel or something? Sorry.” Shoto is tripping over his words as he searches desperately for something he can use to clean up the sticky situation. His forehead is creased in embaressment. You lean in and kiss him soundly, trying to shut him up.

“Hey, calm down it’s no big deal. My goal was to make you cum!” You spring up off the bed, holding your sticky hand aloft and at a distance from yourself as you walk to your closet. You quickly open the door and swipe a fluffy blue clean towel off of the top shelf and throw it in Shoto’s general direction. You avert your eyes as he wipes down his dick and stomach. You grab a clean washcloth to use on your own sticky hand.

“I’m sorry. I never imagined doing this with another person, let alone someone that I like and admire so much. It feels like I’m defiling you in a way.” Shoto says, a note of concern bleeding into his usually flat tone. You turn back his way to see him shimmy into his grey sweatpants with grace only a Todoroki can muster.

You laugh out loud at his word choice. “Shoto, if anything I’m the defiler and you’re the defilee. I literally woke you up by stroking your dick. Please do not feel bad about what just happened. It was a learning experience – and a damn hot one at that.” You waggle your eyebrows, attempting to break the tension. This draws a smile out of Shoto. You now notice that his cheeks are still flushed from his orgasm and his hair is 25% messier than usual. You move back to your desk and toss him a hot pink hair brush.

“Fix your bangs, hot stuff. Our classmates will definitely know that something is up if you show up to History lessons with that wild sex hair.”

“It’s not sex hair if we didn’t actually have sex.”

“What do you call what we just did then?”

Shoto pauses, unsure if you’re asking him a trick question.

“Well…sex is only when you have penetrative sex, isn’t it?” He asks tentatively, blushing.

“Actually, that’s not totally true! Sex can be defined a ton of different ways. The way we were taught sex growing up and in school is super black and white. Sex and sexuality are more of a grey area than anything else. Think of it more as a spectrum of sexual acts! There really aren’t any rules aside from needing to gain full consent from someone before you dive in.” You rattle off, regurgitating knowledge gained from years of scrolling on Tumblr and Scarleteen.

Shoto’s eyes widen a bit more with each sentence you blurt out, looking almost abashed. “I’m embarrassed to say I’ve never thought much about it. That’s a very new way of thinking for me. It sounds like I need to do some Googling.”

“We can talk through it more too. I can show you what I know so far and we can learn together.”

“I’d like nothing more.” Shoto says, his tone characteristically flat but tinged with warmth. You smile at him, reaching up to continue smoothing across his hair. The two-toned locks fall gracefully across his face softly. The early morning light bounces off his delicate skin in a way that just makes him glow. You appreciate the view for a moment, basking in the wonder of this boy and his perfect genes. After a moment you shake your head to clear your thoughts, realizing that there’s a more pressing matter at hand that needs your attention.

“Now let’s sneak you out of here. You want to go out the window, or…?”

No, Shoto does not want to climb out the window. He’s feeling shaky and unbalanced from his first partner-induced orgasm, and so he doubts that he’d be able to muster the coordination needed for an early morning fire escape climb. Instead, he has you poke your head out your doorway and confirm that the coast is clear before he rockets down the hall and back to his own dorm room. He waves over his shoulder at you as he goes, his face breaking into a rare grin as your eyes lock.

You smile to yourself as your alarm blares – the 15-minute timer you had set is up.

-------------------------------------

A half hour later you’re feeling refreshed in your recently pressed UA school uniform. You stride down the school halls with a spring in your step and a smug grin on your face as you replay the mornings’ events in your thirsty-ass brain. You made Shoto Todoroki cum with nothing but your hand! You giggle at the thought.

“What’s so funny, Y/N?” A light voice says brightly from behind you. You snap back to the present and whirl around to see Uraraka following closely behind you. You try not to blush.

“Oh, nothing! I’m just in a good mood today. The, uh, weather seems to be particularly nice.”

Uraraka’s smile falters a bit at this comment on the weather – it’s been a temperate 60 degrees for the past month with little variation. She looks like she suspects something is up. She raises an eyebrow and chooses her next words carefully.

“Are you and Hagakure cooking up some crazy secret party again?” She asks slowly, a suspicious look overtaking her cute features.

Back in the Fall there had been an attempt at throwing a raucous party behind Mr. Aizawa’s back. The underground hero turned teacher had been off campus for a rare overnight mission, leaving Mr. Vlad King in charge of both Classes A and B.

You and your dorm-mates had taken advantage of the lapse in guardianship to throw a party in the common room. Just as things had started getting interesting (Mina had somehow acquired a bottle of wine and was going to pass it around so that everyone could try a sip), Monoma had tattled to Mr. Vlad King about the party. Monoma’s jealousy surrounding Class 1A truly knew no bounds, and he was determined to ruin the boisterous event before it could even begin. Vlad King had shut down the party so quickly that your group had only made it through he third song on Hagakure’s “Class 1A Party Playlist.”

When Mr. Aizawa had returned, he had greeted your class with a long, disappointed lecture. You remember the way your cheeks had burned with embarrassment as he called out the party instigators: you, Mina and Hagakure. Following the failed party, Aizawa had set a weekend curfew requiring Class 1A to be in their individual bedrooms by 10pm. The entire class was still furious about this – up until now they had enjoyed free reign over the common area at all hours of the night. Video game tournaments and late movie nights had been the norm. Fortunately, your classmates hadn’t really been too mad at you, Mina and Hagakare for planning the party. In truth, everyone had been looking forward to the secret event. Also, you and your friends had bought everyone dinner and lead tutoring sessions for a month in order to apologize for the new Aizawa-imposed curfew.

You bring yourself back to the present, realizing you haven’t yet answered Uraraka’s question.

“What!? No way! Although it’s been a few months since we last tried to throw a party under Aizawa’s nose…maybe he’s been lulled into a false sense of security, making this the perfect time to strike!” You fake an evil laugh and make a mental note to mention this thought to Hagakure and Mina at lunch. The three of you have been dying to re-attempt the illicit party. You had recently watched an old American 80s movie together and learned about an American game called “Spin The Bottle.” The three of you were longing to try it with your classmates.

“Nooooo don’t get us in trouble again!” Urararka looks horror-stricken at the mischievous gleam in your eye. “I miss our Saturday midnight movie nights! Mr. Aizawa said that if we all do well on the upcoming joint training session with Class 1B, he might consider lifting the curfew!”

You grin at her evilly. “I can’t help that I’m a chaotic force!” You cackle like a witch and rub your hands together diabolically, making Uraraka laugh.

“You’re so silly! If you do decide to throw another party…just pleaseeee don’t get caught this time.” She holds out her hands in a praying position, imploring you to avoid getting an earlier curfew slapped onto Class 1A.

“Deal.” You say as the two of you reach the door to your classroom. “And I think I have an idea of how we can make sure we don’t get ratted out this time around.”

“Whatever it is, leave me out of it!” Uraraka says, waving you away to your desk. “I have enough on my plate already between this month’s new combat training moves and our latest calculus test.”

You laugh and give her a thumbs up as you sit down at your assigned seat. You pull out your notebook and planner as the rest of the class slowly files in. Uraraka may seem like a goody two shoes, but you know that if there is a party, there’s no way in hell that she’d miss it. You know the gal well enough at this point to recognize that she would have FOMO to the max if she skipped an forbidden party (especially if a certain green haired classmate would be attending said party).

After a few minutes, Hagakare and Mina stumble into the classroom, both looking exhausted and a bit worse for wear.

“Jeez! What happened to you two!?” You ask as they both slump into their seats.

“Why does she look so well rested!?” Hagakare says suspiciously, pointing at you. She turns to Mina, a sharp edge to her voice. “Wasn’t she supposed to be sick?”

“I took some Advil.” You hum out.

Mina looks over at you, unconvinced. “Must have been some great Advil – you’re practically glowing.”

“I caught my second wind for the day.”

“Girl it’s only, like, 9 AM.” Hagakare says, her voice laced with fatigue. “And Mina and I just spent the last hour cooking up some special moves. It definitely took a lot more of our energy than we were expecting.”

“Any good developments?” You prompt, hoping to steer the pair away from discussing your supposed “sickness” in more detail.

“Hagakare’s light refraction technique is really coming along.” Mina chimes in, dumping her books unceremoniously on her desk and grabbing a hot pink fuzzy pen from her backpack. “And I’m working to increase the viscosity of my “Acid Man” move. It’s slow-going, but I think I’m on the right track.”

You beam at Mina, she’s been working so hard lately on her special move. She’s been trying to grab as many free hours at gym possible to spend more time practicing.

“That’s awesome! I feel like you’ve made so much progress lately. I’m sorry again I wasn’t there.” You drop your voice down to a whisper. “Listen guys – I have something we need to discuss at lunch today. I think that it’s time to activate Operation: Spin The Bottle.” You waggle your eyebrows at them meaningfully.

“What!? Really?” Hagakare perks up, turning her body in a motion that clearly showed The Invisible Girl was trying to gauge the expressions on yours and Mina’s faces.

You shush her. “We’ll talk later at lunch!”

It crosses your mind that maybe you want to tell Mina and Hagakare about your…situation with Shoto Todoroki. They are your best friends after all – and you want them to giggle and gush when you recount the sweet words he’s said to you, and the way he’s kissed you so soundly that your head spins just thinking about it.

But, no. This is a private affair at the moment. Everything that’s happened so far should stay between you and Shoto until the two of you decide together that you want other people to be in the know about your canoodling.

Speaking of Shoto…your half-hot, half-cold classmate enters class right before the bell. It’s unusual – typically he’s in his seat and ready for class 10 minutes before. He looks well groomed – his uniform is perfectly ironed and free of any creases. His hair is brushed and perfectly styled. His mouth is set in its typical hard line as he crosses the room to take his seat.

You try not to let your eyes linger on Shoto for longer than is necessary. Some of your classmates are intensely perceptive, and you don’t want to give them any reason to suspect a romantic affair between you and Todoroki. You’re embarrassed by the way you’re drawn to him like a magnet – you actively need to will your head to stay turned towards the front of the classroom. He’s so devastatingly beautiful and you just want to stare and memorize the dip of his chin, the thin line of his cupid’s bow…

Mr. Aizawa enters the classroom and gives his students a dark glare.

“Good Morning, class.”

“Good Morning, Mr. Aizawa.” The class choruses back.

“Before we get started today, I have a quick announcement. I’ll be out of town this weekend for an undercover mission with a few other Pros. Nothing to worry about – but I will be gone all of Saturday and Sunday. Vlad King will be in charge of the class while I’m gone. He’s going to keep a close eye on you all in addition to his own class.”

You try to keep yourself from grinning – this timing is too perfect!!

“That being said…” He levels his gaze on you, Mina and Hagakare. “If I hear word of any of you causing trouble, there will be swift punishment. I’m not above lowering the curfew to 8pm on weekends.” He grins at the mass of horrified looks he gets in response.

“We’ll be good, Mr. Aizawa – we promise!” Sue calls out from her desk. Kirishima nods vehemently in agreement and Kamanari whispers, “I miss movie midnights.”

You try not to make eye contact with your friends so as not to give yourselves away.

“I’m expecting a stellar report about my class’s behavior when I return.” Mr. Aizawa scowls at the room at large before cracking open a textbook on the teacher’s podium. “Now let’s dive into our first lesson of the day.”

-------------------------------------------

A few classes later, it’s finally time for lunch. You and the rest of Class 1A file into the hall and down to Lunch Rush, chattering about the latest assignments and Mr. Aizawa’s upcoming absence.

“Mr. Aizawa is so cool!” Midoriya gushes to Ida and Uraraka towards the back of the group. “I don’t know how he juggles being our teacher and a Pro. I wonder what kind of undercover mission he’s got planned that will only take the weekend.”

“It’s true!” Ida chimes in enthusiastically. “Mr. Aizawa is an incomparable hero – UA High School truly does not disappoint when it comes to its faculty and staff!”

You tune out the rest of their conversation and move forward to link arms with Mina and Toru.

“Can you believe that Mr. Aizawa is going away this weekend!?” You whisper excitedly to your two closest friends.

“For someone who woke up sick this morning, you sure are chipper.” Mina groans, rubbing at her tired eyes with her free hand. “I need some coffee before I can be excited about anything.”

“Agreed!” Toru sighs. “Mina - we pushed ourselves a little too hard this morning.”

You file into the cafeteria and get on line at one of the food counters. You grab a tray and scan the menu board above you to make your selection. The Food Hero Lunch Rush serves you up a few piping hot dishes that smell so incredibly delicious that your mouth starts to water.

“I’ll go grab us some seats!” You call over your shoulder to the girls, walking blindly in the direction of your usual table.

You’re not paying attention to where you are walking, because suddenly you collide with another student and you feel yourself start to tip backwards . Everything is suddenly moving in slow motion as you watch your lunch tray fly up into the air as you’re falling back, back, back…

You close your eyes and brace for the impact, your brain scrambles to remember the lesson Miss Midnight taught you about the proper way to fall and land without injury. But everything is happening so quickly and your panicking mind can’t seem to remember the lesson.

Suddenly – you stop falling. You feel a sturdy arm support your back, a warm hand cradling the back of your head. You slowly open your eyes and realize that it’s Shoto. Shoto caught you inches before you hit the ground and protected your head before you could hit the ground. After the events of the past 24 hours his touch feels familiar and safe. Your body instantly relaxes as he holds you.

You blink up at him in wonder, a soft zing of adrenaline pulsing through your veins. His eyes burn into your own with a fierceness you can’t quite decode. His gaze darts quickly to your lips and then back to your eyes. Oh, shit. He’s thinking about kissing you. Right here, right now. You’re in a cafeteria full of UA classmates, faculty and staff and yet all you can think about in this adrenaline-filled moment is throwing your arms around Shoto’s neck and bringing his mouth to yours. In this moment, all you see is Shoto and his fierce mismatched eyes.

“Y/N! Are you alright!? I’m so sorry! I wasn’t lookin’ where I was going.” You snap back to reality and center yourself. You’re in a crowded cafeteria at school. You bumped into someone and tripped. Your lunch went flying and is definitely laying somewhere in a sad, inedible pile. You look over Shoto’s shoulder and see that the person you bumped into was Honenuki from Class 1B, who is now furiously apologizing from behind Shoto.

“Oh my goodness, that was so clumsy of me! So sorry Honenuki!” Your face flushes in embarrassment as Shoto lifts you back onto your feet. His hand is burning, and you see that his face has a scarlet tinge to it as well. All you can think of right now is that just a few hours earlier, he was cumming in your hand. The way his eyes seem to widen a bit as he looks down at you confirms that he’s thinking about the same exact thing. You feel yourself getting turned on just thinking about it.

“Try to be more careful, Y/N.” Shoto mutters, his tone sounds almost angry as he turns away from you and begins to clean up your spoiled lunch off the ground.

“Thanks Todoroki – sorry about that, man!” Honenuki says as he steps forward to sizes you up and ensure there are no injuries. Shoto gives Honenuki one of his quiet nods of acknowledgement.

“I was so zoned out listening to my zen playlist, I didn’t even see you coming.” Honenuki says apologetically, pointing to his ear buds. “Sometimes the cafeteria gets a little overwhelming for me so I like to cancel out the noise with music. I guess I need to be a little more aware of my surroundings.”

“No harm done!” You say reassuringly, embarrassed as Shoto sweeps the rest of your lunch into the trash. He nods again at you both then walks back towards the table he is sharing with Midoriya, Ida and Uraraka. He doesn’t look back. For a moment, you feel a pang in your chest – could Shoto actually be mad at you? After such an intimate morning spent together, the silent treatment is the last thing you’d expect from him. But then again – this is Shoto. He’s not great at expressing his emotions, and he’s likely trying to keep up the appearance that the two of you aren’t close in order to preserve some privacy. You take a deep breath and let it out slowly, calming your nerves. Last night you were overthinking his text messages, and now you’re getting anxious about him literally saving you from a bad fall in the middle of the cafeteria. You repeat in your head that everything is fine, and if the way you made him orgasm this morning is any indication – Shoto is pretty smitten with you.

“Can I replace your lunch?” Honenuki asks, gesturing to the long line behind Lunch Rush’s food station.

“Oh, no, that’s alright!” You assure him, reaching into your pocket to grab your wallet. You flip open the small daisy covered case and realize there are no bills inside. Crap! You forgot to run to the ATM this morning before class. Your stomach rumbles audibly. You look up at Honenuki, your face burning.

“Come on.” He smiles (or you think he’s smiling. Born with a mutation that developed his face without lips, Honenuki has a permanent grin on his face) and nods towards the line. You follow him over and promise that you’ll pay him back the next day. He’ll hear nothing of it.

“It’s my fault your lunch ended up scattered across the cafeteria. No need to pay me back.” The two of you take up a place at the back of the long line, and you watch Toru and Mina grab seats at your usual table out of the corner of your eye. They’re looking over at you curiously, no doubt wondering why you’re chatting with Honenuki. You’ve met the Class 1B student on several occasions, mostly for joint training programs between Classes 1A and 1B, but you’ve never had the chance to speak with him 1:1. He’s always given off a cool, chill vibe that you find endearing.

“So what kind of music are you listening to?” You look up at him as he fiddles with his phone to decrease the volume of his ear buds.

“A lot of George Harrison lately. I’m really into 60s and 70s music right now.”

“I can send you some, if you’d like.”

“Oh – for sure!” You say cheerfully, always happy to make a new friend and hear some new jams. Honenuki seems really pleased with your answer for some reason.

“Here.” He holds out his phone, opened to the “contact” application. “Add your number. I’ll trade you – a song for a song.”

“Deal.” You say, punching in your digits. At this time, you’ve reached the front of the line where Lunch Rush replaces your spilt lunch with an equally yummy looking selection. You grab your fresh tray and move to walk towards your friends.

“Thanks Honenuki, I really appreciate it! And sorry again for being so clumsy.” You smile back at him before making a beeline for Mina and Toru.

“No worries, Y/N.” Honenuki waves as you scamper away. “And make sure you send me a good song!”

You slide into your seat with a sigh.

“What the heck was that!?” Toru shrieks, waving her arms around in a flurry of uniform sleeves.

“Looks like someone’s gotta crush on you, Y/N!” Mina winks at you and motions to Honenuki.

“Oh! Oh nooooo we were just talking about music. He bought me lunch to replace the one I’d dropped.” You say, embaressed.

“But you got his number, didn’t you!?” Mina claps her hands together. “This is absolutely perfect! We can try to rig spin the bottle so that you can kiss Honenuki!”

“How can you kiss someone without lips?” Toru muses aloud as she starts to dig into her lunch.

“Wow that’s pretty insensitive Toru!” You say admonishingly.

“No she’s got a point. We’ll need to strategize ahead of your big kiss with Class 1B’s chilliest student.” Mina grins deviously.

“Oh my God, drop the obsession with Honenuki! I promise I’m not interested in him that way. He’s just really nice!”

“Then who are you interested in, hmm?” Toru teases, pointing her chopsticks at the table across the room that holds Midoriya, Ida, Ururaka and Shoto. “Ida, perhaps?”

You and Mina laugh. “He’s not really my type.” You say kindly, glancing over at the table to watch Shoto take an elegant bite of soba. “I go more for a mysteriously handsome aesthetic.”

Mina gives you a Cheshire cat grin. “Ohhhh I know the perfect pairing for your spin the bottle partner then!” She cackles and you wonder if she’s figured you out. You glance again at Shoto and your eyes connect. You feel like a magnetic current is running between the two of you, pulling your energies together and bridging time and space.

“We all know who Mina’s ideal spin the bottle partner would be!” Toru declares loudly with a snort. “Mr. Tall Red and Handsome!” With her invisible hand, she gestures towards their left where Kirishima is wolfing down a bowl of rice next to a stoic looking Bakugo.

“Toru! Oh my God! Shhhh!” Mina waves frantically as she tries to quiet down your friend. It’s no secret amongst the three of you that Mina has been pining over her middle school classmate Eijirou Kirishima for the past year and a half. She’s been flirting with him and dancing around the edge of asking him out for months now.

“Oh yeah, Mina. What’s your game plan for when you get Kirishima for spin the bottle? Are you gonna kiss him…with tongue!?” You make a show of waggling your tongue at your friend and she gives you a mock look of disgust.

“Okay, so I know who Y/N is going to kiss and who I am gonna kiss…but what about you Toru? Who should we manifest for your spin the bottle debut?” Mina takes a delicate bite of her lunch as she poses this momentous question.

“The real question is…who won’t I kiss!?” Toru laughs almost maniacally, wiggling in her seat. It’s moments like this you wish you could see the expression on her invisible face – you’re sure it would be absolutely menacing. You and the girls laugh together and continue to babble about ideal “kiss” pairings across Class 1A.

“Oh! That reminds me! I’ve got piping hot tea to spill, y’all.” Mina pushes aside her empty bowl and leans on her elbows towards you and Toru conspiratorially. “Sero told me that he saw Todoroki sneaking back into his dorm room this morning.”

Oh, shit.

You scramble to compose your face into a look of shock – but not too shocked! Just the right amount of shocked! For a moment, you wish you had an invisibility quirk like Toru so you could mask your facial reactions.

“And you guys know that Todoroki is so by the book - he always abides by curfew. So where do you think he was!? Training? Studying? Having a covert love affair?”

Toru gasps dramatically. You almost choke on your rice at this last musing from Mina. From across the dining hall you see Shoto shoot you a look, clearly concerned. You avoid his stare and level your gaze at Mina. Her eyes dart over your face questioningly. “What do you know Y/N!?” She practically demands.

You push aside your rice bowl, taking a moment to compose yourself.

“Well…I saw his dad visit yesterday. Actually – I met his dad. It looks like he put Todoroki through training hell for most of the evening. I wouldn’t be surprised if he spent the night catching up on homework and studying since his dad took up all of his time yesterday.”

“You met Endeavor? The Flame Hero!?” Toru all but jumps out of her chair.

“Yeah, I did.” You try to keep it light on the details, no need to back yourself into a corner.

“What was he like!?”

You scowl, recalling all that Shoto had shared about his complicated relationship with his father the night before. Fuck Endeavor and his poor attempt at fatherhood.

“He seemed kind of like a jerk, to be honest.”

“That’s not surprising.” Mina chimes in. You’re relieved to see that she has moved away from the topic of Todoroki’s potential “covert love affair.” “A lot of what I’ve read about him online makes him sound like kind of an asshole. He’s not exactly known for being a warm and fuzzy hero with the way he interacts with the public.”

“That’s true – I heard that recently he saved a civilian from a factory explosion, then yelled at the man because he was wearing an All Might t-shirt.” Toru adds in a scandalized voice.

Mina snorts at this. “Inferiority complex, much?”

You laugh, finally back at ease. There’s no way any of them could find out about your illicit hookup session with Shoto. You two had so carefully covered your tracks. You snip and quip at each other for a few more minutes before you finally turn the conversation towards the most important topic at hand.

“Okay, girls. Let’s talk Operation: Spin the Bottle. How are we gonna get this secret party off the ground this weekend? What did we learn from last time?”

The girls latch onto the new conversation topic with fervor.

“I think we should make cute decorations!” Toru volunteers. “And we should remix our last party playlist to include the biggest radio hits from the past month.”

“Those are great ideas! I also think we should wait until Mr. Aizawa is officially gone before we start spreading the word about the party.” Mina says thoughtfully, sipping from her green tea drink. “As for our mistake the last time around…the biggest problem was Monoma.”

“Oh don’t worry – I have a plan to take care of him.” You say, rubbing your hands together like a cartoon villain.

“Oooo – Y/N, I love it when you get diabolical like this!” Mina giggles, sweeping her dirty dishes onto her tray and rising from the table. It’s time to go back to class for the second half of their school day. The three of you agree to chat through your plan in more detail later on.

You deposit your dirty tray at the correct receptacle before filing back to the classroom with the rest of your crew.

Ida, Midoriya, Uraraka and Shoto walk next to you in the halls. You and Shoto walk side by side, each immersed in conversations with your respective groups. Toru is explaining the latest makeup trends from Tokyo to you and Mina, while Midoriya and Shoto are deep in a conversation surrounding provisional licenses. You can feel the burning heat of Shoto’s body next to yours as you move through the crowded halls. It’s loud and chaotic as students bustle to and fro, rushing to their afternoon courses. For the briefest moment, you feel Shoto’s pinky brush against your own. You feel a shock of electricity run through you at the contact. You can’t help but smile. What a sweet little secret you have!

You file back into Classroom 1A and see that Mr. Aizawa is already stationed at the teacher’s podium, awaiting your class’s arrival.

“Alright, alright. Take your seats.” Mr. Aizawa says in a bored tone.

Izuku Midoriya raises his hand. He doesn’t wait for the teacher to call on him before he blurts out: “But sir – don’t we have combat training this afternoon?”

A murmur of confusion ripples through the class. Typically, this would be the point in the day when Mr. Aizawa would give you all access to your hero costumes and tell you to go to the locker rooms to prep for the combat portion of the coursework.

“Midoriya, please wait to be called on before addressing me in a classroom setting.” Mr. Aizawa reprimands quickly, but there’s no tone of annoyance in his voice. At this point in your academic journey with Eraserhead, you know that he’s just a stickler for rules and loves order.

“Sorry, sir.” Izuku squeaks out, sinking in his chair a bit now that he’s been called out in front of the entire class.

“That’s a good question. I realize that there’s an important lesson we’ve been neglecting to teach you here. Now that you’re living in the dorms, it feels more pressing than ever.”

Ida’s hand shoots up in the air at record speed.

“Yes, Ida…” EraserHead says in a bored voice.

“Sir, UA has such a strict and well-planned curriculum. What could possibly have been “neglected” by the faculty and staff?”

Aizawa smirks at Ida as if the young Engine hero has made a particularly funny joke. He looks out at the class and takes a deep breath before his next statement:

“This afternoon Recovery Girl and Midnight will be joining us as we discuss a crucial topic. I’m going to walk you through an Intro to Sex Ed.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here's Part 4

🔥Link to My Master List🔥

Thanks so much for reading - I hope you're enjoying the story so far. You all were so excited for an update, it spurred me on to write up this 20 page update! Holy Cow! The next chapter I have planned out is going to be super spicy and a little silly (I feel like you all have been digging that combo so far!?). Let's see what happens next to our dear Shoto x Reader pairing! 👀

Lol maybe I should come up with a better story name than "Shoto's First Kiss." When I started this as a one shot I did not expect this story to take off the way it did! Thanks again for reading and feel free to check out my other spicy works on The Master List pinned to the top of my blog!

XoXo, Red Riot Unbreakable Heart ❤️

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