Archive of Our Own

It’s half past nine on a random Thursday night in March when her entire world shifts on its axis, but Maki doesn’t know it yet. 

Her face is bathed in a flashing purple glow as she steps through the doorway of the dive bar. The establishment’s name is spelled out in brilliant fluorescent bulbs: Jackpot. 

The light casts shadows across her features, tracing the fine slope of her nose and partially obscuring the raised, silky skin of her burn scars. It does little to hide the way her characteristic Resting Bitch Face breaks with the rolling of her eyes.   

Of course Hakari would name a place something like this.

She’s starting to regret coming out tonight, but it’s a little too late for that. All of her friends are inside, not to mention the fact that two of them own this place. Hakari and Kirara were always the wild cards of their college friend group, but they’d invested in Jackpot shortly after graduation and it’s been a booming success ever since. 

How much of that can be attributed to the gambling rings Hakari undoubtedly runs from the sketchy basement level of the bar is unclear, but they do host live performances every other week that pull large numbers. 

Tonight is no exception. Some up and coming indie band is playing songs off their new EP, and the bassist is one of Hakari's old buddies. 

Well, kind of. 

Kirara had sent some long-winded text to the group chat about how the actual bassist had gotten sick, and this guy—Okkotsu—was subbing in for the night. He’d apparently just moved back to their city, and he just so happens to be some sort of musical prodigy, too.

Hakari really tried to sell it to them in his invite:

“Listening to Okkotsu slap a mean bass line is the closest I’ve ever gotten to feeling the Fever without playing Private Pure Love Train…you won’t want to miss it,” he’d texted. 

Kugisaki’s response summed her feelings up pretty well: 

“Waive the cover and I’ll consider going.”

Maki’s nose crinkles as the bar envelopes her in a veil of haze. Tobacco and marijuana smoke cling to her like a second skin, and she knows she’ll need to wash her clothes when she gets home if she doesn’t want them to reek. 

Gaudy neon signs light her path as Maki searches for her friends amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces. She walks past a row of flashing dollar signs before spotting a spiky head of hair turned away from her. 

Bingo. Thank god Fushiguro still hasn’t invested in a comb. 

As she draws closer, she sees the rest of her friends standing together in a tight semi-circle next to the bar. The place is absolutely packed, so they’d probably had to fight tooth and nail for the single barstool they’ve secured. In spite of the buzz around them, her cousin looks bored as he spins from side to side on said stool. He doesn’t notice her presence, but when her best friend does, she flings herself at Maki. 

“You’re late!” Kugisaki drapes herself across her body in a loose-limbed hug. It’s clear she’s already a few drinks in. “I thought you’d leave me here to deal with all of these losers by myself.”

“We’re right here, you know!” Itadori crosses his arms and looks at Kugisaki with fake hurt. 

“You are like, 30% of why I drink,” she points at him with her cup. A little bit of her drink sloshes over the edge and spills onto the already sticky checkerboard floor. 

Maki gently pushes her away so she can shed her jacket without getting splashed. Humidity sweeps across the exposed plane of her back when she shrugs it off, and she grimaces when she feels a tiny droplet of perspiration beginning to form between her shoulder blades.

When Kugisaki lays eyes on her outfit—the very one she picked out for her—she lets out a wolf whistle. 

“It just got even hotter in here!”

The ruched front of the black, strappy tank top accentuates the swell of her bust, but the open back displays every powerful ripple of her strong traps. High-rise flare jeans hug her wide hips, and the statement belt Kugisaki selected to tie it all together calls attention to her trim waist. 

Wearing all of this makes Maki feel…unusually aware of herself. It’s a reminder that while she’s a whopping 170 cm of solid muscle who’s broken multiple punching bags at her gym, she’s also a woman. 

She wouldn’t say that she’s a lady—that’s more of Kugisaki’s thing—but she is a woman, and a whole lot of it. 

Maki might just be too much of a woman, seeing as how she’s never had a serious boyfriend in her twenty-five years.

It’s not like she’s inexperienced. She’s had her fair share of suitors and a couple of hook-ups here and there, but no one’s ever left her satisfied. If it weren’t for the fact that she can get herself off, she’d probably think there’s something wrong with her. 

But no—she’s just never not been disappointed by men, and that goes beyond the bedroom.

Maki’s not asking for much. There’s only two boxes a guy needs to check for her: They have to be smart, and they have to be strong. Considering the fact that those are her only two qualifications, you’d think finding a partner would be simple. 

She’s actually found it to be the exact opposite: No man seems to be fundamentally capable of embodying both brains and brawn. 

Well, some do on paper, but not in principle. Take her co-worker Todo, for example. He can bench three times her weight and has a self-reported IQ of 53,000, but he uses both his strength and intellect for disgustingly pathetic ventures. For instance, following that one idol’s tour across the country like an obsessive groupie. Any romantic thought about him makes her want to hurl. 

So sure, intelligence is one thing, but strength doesn’t necessarily have to mean someone who’s physically stronger than her. She’s fine with being the physically gifted one in the relationship so long as her partner has strength in their convictions. The number of spineless, self-serving men she’s encountered is truly demoralizing, but she thinks she might still have hope. Maybe. He’d really need to prove himself to her, though. 

She ignores the nagging voice in her head that asks what she’s trying to prove, showing up looking like this tonight. Maki shakes her head and saunters over to the bar. She waves Kirara over to order a drink.

“Maki! You look great, babe.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s slaying the house boots down,” she gestures at her outfit. Maki swears she can see stars in her eyes with the way they twinkle, so it must be a genuine compliment. Whatever that means. 

“Okay, sure. Do you have anything non-alcoholic?”

The twinkle dims. 

“Um…we have club soda? We ran out of regular soda, and I wouldn’t recommend drinking our water. Decorating this place was expensive, so we really had to cut some corners, if you know what I mean.”

Maki smooths out the pinched expression on her face with a sigh. It’s not that she dislikes Kirara, but sometimes…she really just has a way of driving her crazy. Hakari does, too. It’s no wonder the two of them have been up each other’s asses for as long as she’s known them. 

“Fine,” she reluctantly concedes. “But get me some limes, too?”

“You got it, babe!”

She has to stop Kirara from getting side-tracked in conversation five separate times before she gets her drink, but when she finally, finally does, it’s just in time for the lights to dim. There’s a short tug to one of her belt loops, and she turns around to find Inumaki beckoning her to join their friends on the dance floor. 

Maki smacks his hand away, but she follows him anyway. Her friends had wormed their way within a foot of the stage, something that feels like a feat given how packed the place is. This band must really be on the rise. 

Itadori and Fushiguro stand with Kugisaki boxed between the two of them, and Panda’s tall stature keeps Inumaki from getting jostled. She holds her own, daring anyone to get close enough. Between her burn scars and buff physique, not many people try. 

Hakari hasn’t killed the background track yet, so people are dancing along to the faint tune of São Paulo playing from the speakers. Bodies bump and grind together, the movement generating a borderline oppressive heat. Maki gulps down a large mouthful of her club soda. The limes aren’t really doing much for her. 

There’s a loud pop of interference—like someone plugging an instrument into an amp, and then the lights cut altogether before coalescing into a single spotlight. Someone walks up to the lone mic stand. 

“Well, well, well, what a turnout we have tonight,” Hakari squints out into the crowd. One of his thick gold chains catches the light and reflects directly into Maki’s eye. 

“I knew that Prison Realm was popular, but this is something else,” he takes the mic and moves to the other side of the stage. “It’s a real shame that Choso is under the weather and can’t join his band this evening, but the show must go on.” 

Hakari has to pause when several boos ring out. The band’s actual bassist must be a fan favorite. “Tonight,” he continues, “this show is going on thanks to some help from an old friend of mine. Reuniting with his former bandmate Orimoto Rika and subbing in to shred the bass, we have the talented Okkotsu Yuta!”

Hakari extends his arm towards the back of the stage, and the spotlight follows the motion. It shines down upon the guest of honor, who lifts a hand from strings of his glossy red bass to shield his eyes. Broad shoulders stretch over slim hips, and although his instrument obscures most of his long torso, Maki can tell that there’s lean muscle behind that lithe frame. He removes his hand after a second and stiffly bows, black tendrils of hair falling over his forehead in the process. Maki suppresses the visible signs of annoyance threatening to spill across her face. She’s seen guys do the whole humility act before, and it doesn’t impress her. 

“Let’s not forget to give some love to the band,” Hakari’s voice booms over the microphone. “We’ve got the rest of Prison Realm here—Rika on guitar, Tengen on the drums, and Uraume on the synthesizer. Give it up for them!” 

He returns the mic and shuffles off the stage, letting the band take over. The girl who plays guitar must also sing, because she steps forward and wraps her pale hands around the stand. She wets her lips before speaking, tongue tracing over a beauty mark at the corner of her mouth. 

“This one’s called ‘Shikigami,” her voice is light and airy. “I hope you like it.” 

She looks over her shoulder and nods to their drummer, who taps off four quick counts before launching into an intricate rhythm. Rika joins in shortly after, effortlessly switching from chord to chord. The placid smile resting on her face contrasts the swift movement of her fingers. 

The synthesizer joins in with a counter melody, and Maki’s already impressed. The three members of the band are amazing, falling into sync with the kind of seamlessness born from rigorous practice. It's something a master of any trade can recognize and appreciate; there’s beauty in the pain of taking something apart and honing it until it’s so perfect it looks easy. 

Then there’s the bassist.

It must not be his part of the song yet, because his hands remain still. He keeps his head down and taps one of his feet to keep tempo. Several lights illuminate the stage now, cyan, magenta, orange and yellow casting a kaleidoscope upon his fair skin. When he glances up and out at the audience, Maki gets her first good look at his face. 

He’s got some of the deepest bags she’s ever seen, and they’re made all the more intense by his eyes. They burn bright with…something despite being a cold, slate blue. When they land on Maki, the fire spreads to her and settles in the pit of her stomach. She lifts her cup to take another sip of her drink, but she doesn’t break his gaze. A shadow of a smile ghosts across his lips, but his concentration is broken when the guitarist starts playing in a different key. 

Okkotsu clutches his bass like it’s a sword he’s wielding for battle, yet his fingers are graceful as they dance across the strings. He plays like he’s pouring his entire soul into the piece, and the emotion bleeds into the song. This isn’t even his band, but he’s so impassioned. 

Rika drifts towards him, leaning in close when she sings. She’s so close that the curled ends of her long, dark brown hair nearly touch the neck of his instrument while he plays. He briefly meets her eyes, and they exchange a look. Okkotsu then shifts his weight to lean back on his other leg, putting space between the two of them. 

The corners of Maki’s mouth tighten. Hmm.

The song ends shortly after that, and Rika finds her way to the other side of the stage. She throws a friendly arm around the shoulders of their synth player, but it doesn’t carry the same kind of familiarity.

Before Maki can think too hard about it, Rika introduces the name of their next song and gets right into it. This one features a moody bass line, and Okkotsu certainly looks the part. He curls forward, brows knit together and heart flush in alignment with his instrument. He plays like he’s possessed—just a messenger for the sounds being pulled from the strings. 

Her friends are equally entranced by the performance. Kugisaki and Itadori are bumping their hips in tandem, and even Fushiguro is swaying a little bit. There’s not much room to dance without straight up grinding on someone, and Maki feels the presence of other bodies pressed against her own. But she’s not interested in any of them. 

She can’t tear her focus from the stage.

Okkotsu raises his head at the climax of the song. When he finds Maki in the crowd again, it’s like his eyes never left her. Her body moves to the rhythm on its own accord, each note he plays tugging at her limbs like a silent command. People in the audience are passing around a joint, and the smoke only adds to the haziness that’s slowly overtaking her senses. Maki’s head buzzes, but it’s from a different kind of intoxication.  

She holds her cup between her teeth and uses both hands to pull her hair up in a messy ponytail. It’s finally grown past her chin, something she never thought it’d do. Okkotsu plays in perfect time with the rest of the band, but he watches her closely. Maki looks up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. When she finishes tying her hair back, she tilts her head up and gulps down the rest of the tonic water without using her hands. 

Okkotsu’s expression falters, but his performance doesn’t. She wipes a stray droplet from her chin and cocks her head as if to say, “And what about it?” He chuckles to himself and shakes his head ever so slightly. Rika looks over at him, but he raises a hand and brings it down on the strings to finish the song off with a final riff.

Cheers roll through the crowd. Kugisaki reaches past Fushiguro to tap her on the shoulder. “I’ve gotta pee. Come with?” She frames it as though it’s a question, but Maki knows it’s really not. 

“Alright,” she resigns herself. 

Kugisaki links their arms together and makes a beeline for the bathrooms. It’s just as eclectic in here as it is throughout the rest of the bar. She initially thought there might be a zodiac theme going on with all of the different astrological symbols painted on the stalls, but there’s also faux fur on the ceiling and a sign that reads “Please don’t do coke in the bathroom” in pink cursive font. Whatever is going on, it screams Kirara. 

Meanwhile, the show rages on outside the bathroom walls. Maki can feel the drumbeat in her throat as leans in close to the mirror, refreshing her eyeliner. She reapplies a razor sharp line to her waterline, sighing in frustration when her hooded lids obscure the majority of her work. 

A toilet flushes, and Kugisaki barges out so she can nudge Maki away from the sink to wash her hands. 

“No one's using the one over there, you know,” she checks her with her hip. Kugisaki whines something or other in response, and then she declares that they need to hit the bar before going back to the dance floor. 

She orders what should probably be her last vodka cran of the night, but Maki doesn’t bother refilling her drink. She uses both hands to steer her friend through the crowd to find their friends. The band had just finished playing a slower piece, and they’re partway through another one that sounds like it’ll be their last song of the night. 

Maki dumps Kugisaki off on Itadori and slips in front of Panda—the tallest of their group—so she can have an unobstructed view of the stage. She skims over the outline of each member until her eyes fall on the bass player. The hair on his forehead is slicked down with sweat, his complexion glowing beneath the stage lights. He rocks his whole body back and forth as he plays, the tendons in his forearms flexing and constricting.

She closes her eyes and melts into the bassline, getting carried higher and higher with each note. The song sounds like it's drawing inspiration from a mixture of Fleetwood Mac and MGMT. Maki’s not sure how well those two work together, but there’s no denying how amazing Okkotsu’s playing is.

Then, the sound ceases, and it's replaced by applause. Maki peels her eyes open to see each member of the band clapping along and waving goodbye. Rika thanks the audience, thanks her Prison Realm bandmates, and gives a special shoutout to Okkotsu. 

“I can’t leave this stage without thanking my dear Yuta, either. I can’t even begin to tell you how special it is to get to play with you again.” She gives him a knowing smile, and he returns it with a flustered one of his own.  

The band begins to pack and leave after that, walking off the side of the stage that takes them right past where Maki and her friends stand. She crosses her arms when the bassist—dear Yuta—walks by. His instrument is slung across his back, revealing his wide chest. Her attention is drawn to the text on his shirt that she hadn’t noticed before: “Loverboy.” 

She twists her face into an indiscernible expression just as their paths cross. He brushes by, but looks back over his shoulder one last time before finally walking off the stage. Music begins playing over the speakers again, and the moment passes like it was never there to begin with. Maki runs her hands through her hair to try and loosen up. 

Something sour and herbal is passed her way. She pinches the joint between her fingers and brings it between her lips, sucking the smoke in through her teeth. The lights now blink in a slow strobe effect, alternating between green, purple, and blue. Maki exhales through her nose and passes the joint to Inumaki. The next song that plays is one she actually knows. A pleasant warmth pools in her toes and travels upwards, making her limbs feel featherweight. She swivels her neck a couple of times to relish in the looseness. The chorus of the song feels like it's working its way through her veins, and Maki can’t help but move accordingly. She raises her arms above her head and rolls her torso. 

Hesitant, calloused fingers delicately graze her side, taking care to avoid the exposed skin on her back. For that, Maki doesn’t slap this unfamiliar person for touching her without permission. Still, she keeps her hands balled into fists when she turns around to confront them. She’s a full-time personal trainer, so she has no problem kicking someone's ass. Except, she finds that there won’t be any need.

“Oh, it’s you.” 

Okkotsu sheepishly rubs the back of his neck from where he stands just inches away. “Yeah, it’s me. What’s your name?” 

“Maki.”

He repeats it under his breath. “So what did you think of the show, Maki?”

“It wasn’t bad,” she moves her hands to her hips. “Why, do you think you could have done better?”

“There’s always room for improvement,” he laughs, inching closer. “I was asking more because of the fact you looked like you were enjoying yourself.” 

There’s an edge to his words, and Maki bristles. It’s not with anger, but with excitement. It’s been so long since someone caught her interest, never mind challenged her. She slides one foot between his two and closes more of the distance between them. 

“You’ve been paying an awful lot of attention to me, Okkotsu,” she pokes his chest with a firm finger. 

“Call me Yuta, please.” He clasps the hand she’s touching him with. 

She pulls away. “What, like that girl?”

“Huh?” He thinks for a moment before recalling what she’s talking about. “Oh, Rika-chan?”

“Yeah. You and that girl, she your girlfriend?”

She can’t be bothered to be jealous if she is. Rika is everything Maki isn’t: soft, gentle, and petite. Pretty girls don’t know the things that she knows. They don’t know the first thing about what it’s like to have all your beauty burned away and be left with nothing but your strength and dignity. The fire was years ago, and yet its memory is etched into her skin.  

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Okkotsu shakes his head. “We’ve just known each other since we were kids. We used to be in the same band together back in high school.”

“Huh,” Maki muses. “Well that’s good.”

A song with a steady, pulsing beat drones over the speakers. He places an experimental hand on her waist. “Do you want to dance?”

She glances down at his hand, then up at his deep-set eyes. They’re brimming with sincerity and something a little darker, too. Maki knows that this is probably a bad idea. This guy is Hakari’s friend, so she’ll probably see him around after tonight.

But then again, the worst case scenario is that he leaves her feeling dissatisfied just like everyone else. She’s been there, done that, and the world has gone on.

The question now becomes whether or not she’s willing to take that chance on Okkotsu. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth while he awaits her response. He’s just a little pathetic, and Maki kind of loves it. 

“As long as you can keep up.” She leans into the touch.  

His other hand wraps around the small of her back and pulls her flush against him, pressing their chests together. Maki actually has to tilt her head back and look up if she wants to meet his gaze. She keeps her chin held high as he crookedly smiles down at the crown of her head. 

“Try me,” he teases, and oh, does Maki want to. 

Her other hand has been hanging loosely at her side this entire time, and she brings it up to trace the outline of Okkotsu’s mouth. She drags her thumbnail over his cupid’s bow, and smooths over the indentations from his teeth. He swallows hard, fingers clenching against her spine. She taps her index finger against his lips twice. 

“Open.”

He readily heeds her command, and she slips a digit into the heat of his mouth. Maki traces a circle against the meat of his tongue, gathering saliva. She spreads it over his molars and traces the ridge of his upper palate, eliciting a tiny, choked sound from Okkotsu. When she’s had her fun, she withdraws her hand from his mouth and wipes it off on the front of his shirt. 

The air between the two of them is hot and sticky from their open-mouth pants and unbridled tension. Maki pulls away so she can turn around and press her back against him. His hands are drawn to her like magnets, one settling back on her waist as the other winds up into her hair. He slips her hair tie off and slides it onto his own wrist, letting the loose strands tumble down. 

“You smell good,” he murmurs, leaning in to rest his chin on the top of her head. Maki’s glad he can’t see the heat that dusts her cheeks when he says that. 

She pushes her hips back in response, grinding her ass against him. The grip on her waist tightens.

“Maki…” 

Their rhythm stutters. She grins, sensing that she’s reclaiming the upper hand. She arches her spine into Okkotsu, cradling his head in the crook of her shoulder. He grabs hold of her hip bones and drags her back against him, hard. Maki can feel a throbbing heat poke her from behind. 

She wiggles her hips in a circular motion to add insult to injury. Okkotsu is unraveling by the minute. Swearing fiercely into her neck, his teeth scrape against the sensitive skin there. He nips up her jawline, whimpering every time she grinds into his growing arousal. The front of her own jeans feel uncomfortably tight, and she squeezes her thighs together. 

When the song comes to an end, he spins her around so that she’s facing him. His pupils are blown wide, and he cups her cheek with a trembling hand. 

“Am I allowed to kiss you?” Okkotsu’s eyes dart down to her lips. 

Maki laughs. “You let me put my fingers in your mouth without asking, and you want to know whether it’s okay to kiss me?” 

“Well, is it?” He knocks his nose against hers, breath hot against her face. 

“Come a little closer and find out, loverboy.” She fists her hand around the same part of his shirt where she’d wiped his spit and pulls their faces together.  

His lips eagerly seek hers out. They slot together with frightening precision, and when his tongue probes her bottom lip, she relaxes her jaw to let him in. His fingers splay across her face, curling beneath her chin to angle her head for better access. Maki sighs through her nose when he pulls the hair at the back of her head. She wedges a knee between his legs and grinds it into his crotch, causing him to break the kiss with a gasp.

She dives back in with embarrassing enthusiasm only for Okkotsu to grab her shoulder and hold her at bay

“Wait a second,” he says breathlessly. 

Maki freezes, fearful that in the heat of the moment, she’d fucked up. He must feel the tension that grips her body—feel that instinctual urge to flee, because he pulls her into an embrace. She can feel his heart pounding in tandem against the firm expanse of his chest. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Okkotsu looks her square in the face. His expression is firm, but it softens the longer he looks at her. “I was actually going to ask if you wanted to get out of here.” 

She stares.

“I’ve never done this kind of thing before, but god, you’re beautiful. I’ll regret it forever if I don’t shoot my shot now.” 

Once again, Maki stares. He peels away from her to study that look, concern clouding his features. Okkotsu’s in the process of spouting off a jumbled apology when she cuts him off. 

“How far away?”

“What?”

“How far away is your place from here?”

“Oh,” he says. Then it seems to hit him. “Oh! M-my place. It’s two blocks over.” 

“You have roommates?” Maki tucks her chin into the nape of his neck and drapes her arms over his shoulders. 

“Ahh, no,” he sighs into the little bites she’s leaving up and down his neck. “Just me.”

“Good,” she smirks. “Because I’m going to make you beg, Yuta.”

His eyes all but roll into the back of his head. He grabs her by the chin and plants one final kiss to her lips before lacing their fingers together and tugging them towards the exit. Maki makes a mental note to text her friends and let them know she’d left for the night. Where she’s going is none of their business. 

She lets him lead the way to his apartment complex and all the way up the stairs. When Yuta locks the door to his modest studio apartment and kicks off his shoes, she’s on him within seconds. He seems startled when his head knocks back against the wall, but he scoops Maki up like she’s nothing more than a delicate flower. Her sculpted thighs wrap around his waist and squeeze. Yuta palms two fistfuls of her ass and grinds their crotches together.

The friction feels amazing, but it’s hardly enough. 

“Bedroom,” her voice comes out gravelly. “Get us to your bedroom, now.”

He seals the deal with a kiss and begins to walk backwards, hands never ceasing their grip. They walk until the back of his legs hit the mattress, and then Yuta falls back into a half-sitting, half-laying position with Maki sprawled on top of him. She takes advantage of the opportunity and brackets his hips. 

“Yuta,” she lays a hot palm across his stomach, feeling it rapidly rise and fall. “Will you do as I say?”

“Yes,” he raises his head from the mattress and nods. Fingers scale up and down her thighs, toying with her belt. “I’ll do anything you ask.”

“So obedient," she praises him. “Now look, but don’t touch.” 

Maki lifts her shirt over her head and tosses it onto the floor, leaving her chest exposed. Her nipples had already been hard beneath her shirt, but they stand at full attention in the cold air of Yuta’s bedroom. She cups her breasts together with both hands and thumbs at the stiffened peaks. It sends a jolt of arousal straight down to her clit, and she bucks in his lap.

“Maki,” he groans, and she can feel the short, aborted thrusts he’s desperately trying to suppress beneath her. “Please.”

“Please what?” She’s feeling a little mean. 

“Please,” he tries again lamely, too wound up to find the words. 

She makes a show of unbuttoning his pants and slowly pulling the zipper down only to stop in her tracks. Maki toys with where the bottom of his shirt meets his waistline. 

“I want you to take this off,” she tugs at the soft cotton. 

Yuta is all too willing to grab the back of his shirt and pull it over his head. When he gets the offending fabric off, Maki flattens him back down against the mattress and puts her mouth on every inch of skin she can. She presses her lips against the soft spot between his belly button and his happy trail, lips curving upwards when it makes him shake beneath her. She circles his navel with the pointed tip of her tongue before continuing to kiss upwards.

He shivers when Maki squeezes one of his pecs and bites the tender meat of the other. Her tits dangle heavily between the two of them, and when her nipples drag against his flushed skin, the friction is toe-curlingly good. She marks up and down his torso until the ache between her legs grows too painful to ignore. 

Maki pulls back to inspect her work, admiring how purple suits Yuta’s complexion and feeling extra fond of the way he’s got a white-knuckle grip on the sheets in an effort to be good for her. Reaching down, she undoes her belt and throws it to the side. It’s about time she rewards him. 

“Maki,” he moans beneath her. “Can I touch you now? Please?” 

She pushes off of him so she can stand, and he whines at the loss of her warmth. Unbuttoning her pants, she steps out of them with a roll of her eyes. 

“Quit your whining, you big baby. I’ll give you what you want.” 

She’s got him all figured out. Yuta is definitely the kind of guy who likes to be bossed around in bed, and she’s happy to oblige. He’s proven himself to be obedient thus far, and he’s shown an eagerness to learn. She’s excited to see just how many ways she can teach him to make her feel good tonight.

Maki leaves her panties on and crawls back into bed. Yuta has finally adjusted his position so that he’s sitting on top of the covers, no longer halfway off of the mattress. She approaches him like a big cat stalking its prey, olive eyes devouring the contours of his body. 

He gently grabs her by the wrist when she crawls over to frame his body with her own. “I want to make you feel good, too.”

“You will.” She tries to shake his grip off so she can continue her attempt at mounting him, but he keeps her in place.

“Let me make you feel good the way I want to, please?” He looks at her with this hopelessly devoted expression, and a crack forms in Maki’s resolve. She frowns at him in an attempt to get him to stand down, but he holds steady. “You can trust me.” 

Hearing those words from a hookup would normally make her call bullshit, but coming from Yuta, it feels terrifyingly sincere. That flightiness she’d felt earlier—that deeply-engrained fear of intimacy, threatens to seize her heart once more. But when he rubs his thumb against her cheek, she swallows it down and embraces the point of no return.  

“Okay.” It comes out as a whisper. 

His smile reaches all the way up to his eyes when he hears her affirmation. Reaching up towards the head of his bed, he grabs a pillow.

“Will you lie down for me, sweetheart?” He pats the space in the center of the bed. “I want you to get nice and comfortable.” 

Maki’s cheeks are ablaze at his casual use of the pet name, and she thinks her body moves out of pure shock. When she settles down, she feels the weight of the bed shift as Yuta slips out of his pants. He caresses the scars that run along her legs.

“Lift your hips for me? I’m going to put this under you.” 

For the first time ever, Maki does as she’s told and lets him slide the pillow beneath her. He gently pries her knees apart and settles between her thighs. Yuta meets her eyes, searching for permission. It looks like he’s going to ask her something embarrassing again, and Maki doesn’t think she can bear that. 

“Go ahead,” she squeezes her eyes shut. “I trust you.” 

He lays on his stomach and inches up towards her pelvis. She’s dripping in her panties, an embarrassing wet stain on the fabric from where her leaking folds rub against the fabric. Yuta blows a stream of hot air against her covered lips, laughing to himself when her hips jerk. 

“You’re so sensitive, and we’re just getting started.” He peels her underwear down and pulls them off, leaving her completely bare. This also makes her jolt, and he pins her down with both hands. 

“Stay still, Maki.” 

He flattens his tongue and licks a hot stripe across her core. She immediately curses, hands flying down to knot in his soft hair. Yuta hums into her mound, encouraging her to tug harder. Then he pulls back and traces her vulva, lapping at her lips and drawing little “ah, ah ahs” from her. He sticks his tongue right in the crease of her folds and slides it up and down, gathering her slick and using it to lubricate the slide. 

Maki wrestles against his hold, lifting her hips to mash her pussy against his face for more. He’s been avoiding her clit this whole time, and she knows it's on purpose. Unlike him, she is not going to beg for it. Yuta abruptly stops, and she has to bite her lip to suppress a moan. 

He rises to his knees and scoops her up by the ass. His mouth is buried in her pussy, and only her upper back remains on the mattress. When his tongue probes past her opening and licks along the silky sides of her inner wall, all Maki can do is pant. He fucks his tongue in and out of her, then closes his lips around her clit and sucks.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck, Yuta,” she crosses her ankles behind his neck and squeezes his face between her legs. 

He groans into her, pulling away to leave a bite mark on her thigh. “You taste so sweet, I think I’m going to get addicted.” 

Her chest heaves up and down as he pets her slit with his tongue a couple more times.  He sets her hips back down on the bed, then gets right back to work. 

Yuta watches her for any signs of discomfort as he slides his middle finger into her heat. Maki clenches around him, but her body sucks him in. His breath catches in his throat as he slips it in until the second knuckle. 

“Good?” He rubs her walls.

“Give me more,” she huffs. 

His other fingers keep her legs splayed open, and Yuta uses his left hand to part the hooded skin around her clit and reveal the tiny nub. He rubs his thumb over it while he pumps his finger in and out. Maki chases his touch, thrusting her hips in time with his finger. She’s so wet that she can feel herself running down her thighs. She tries to rub them together, but that only seems to spur Yuta on. 

He starts to finger her in earnest, his palm slapping against her pelvis with each stroke of his wrist. The fingers he’s using to spread her open grip down around either side of her clit, building intense pressure around her G-spot. 

Maki’s entire body feels like it’s being wound tighter and tighter. Yuta looks at her hungrily, leaning down to steal a kiss. It’s sloppy, and only when he pulls away does she realize there are tears staining her cheeks. He slips his ring finger in alongside his middle finger, then curls the two of them. They press against a sensitive patch of tissue deep inside of her that makes her legs fall slack against the bed. 

Pitchy little cries are being punched out of her as the room is filled with squelching sounds. Her knees knock together, but Yuta keeps thrusting his fingers into her pussy and pinching her clit. She doesn’t know how much more she can take, and she tries to warn him of the strange sensation that’s dangerously close to bubbling over. 

“Something is—fuck, ah, something is going to come out!” She throws her hands over her face.

“That’s okay sweetheart, you can let go.” His voice drips like honey, but he relentlessly pounds into her. 

Maki thrashes her head from side to side in an attempt to fight the feeling, but she finally snaps. With a rolling tremor down her spine, she gushes all over herself, the sheets, and Yuta’s fingers. He keeps fucking the squirt out of her, the wet sounds absolutely obscene. 

Aftershocks of her orgasm shoot through her limbs like misfired synapses. Her mouth is open, gaping like a fish out of water. Every hair on her body feels like it’s standing on edge as she comes down from her high. 

“Holy fuck,” she exhales, absolutely boneless. Maybe she should be embarrassed about the fact that she just squirted for the first time in her life and absolutely soaked this guy’s bedding, but she’s too out of it. She’d never felt something that good.

“Did it feel good?” He removes his fingers from her and reaches down to grab his discarded shirt from the floor. He wipes his hands off, then leans across her trembling body to gingerly wipe her down. 

“Do you have to ask?” She turns her head to the side and fixes her gaze on him. He wears color high on his cheeks and possesses a wild expression. Still, he offers her a smile as she shakily rises to her elbows.

“I do, because it’s important to me.” 

“Weirdo,” Maki sits up a little straighter, shifting uncomfortably on the soggy fabric. “Sorry about your sheets, though. I can help you wash them.” 

“Oh, it’s fine,” he waves nonchalantly. “I figured we could strip the bed, lay a towel down, and worry about the laundry when we’re done. I think I can make you come a couple more times.”

She blinks a few times as his filthy words register to her. Maybe she doesn’t have him all figured out like she thought. He’d let her boss him around a little bit, but she’s been the one wrapped around his finger all night. If anything, he’s teaching her new ways to feel good. 

Her eyes are drawn to the bulge in his underwear. His cockhead peeks out over the elastic, flushed and weeping. “And what about you?” Maki hooks a finger beneath the waistband and snaps it against his aching cock. Yuta whimpers. “What’s it going to take to make you feel good?” 

“You make me feel good,” he insists. 

She narrows her eyes, but gets up and helps him start pulling the bedding off. Yuta casts the soiled sheets aside and spreads a towel over the mattress. He walks over to his closet and starts rustling around for something. Finding what he’s looking for, he joins her over where she’s sitting on the edge of the bed. Three silver foil packets rest in the palm of his hand. 

“These are the only condoms I have. I don’t usually do this kind of thing,” he blushes.

Maki is tempted to admit that it’s the same for her, but something about that feels a little too akin to a confession. She blurts the following instead:

“I guess you have three more opportunities to prove yourself to me then.” 

Something flickers across his face, and he tears the wrapper to a condom. Shedding his underwear, he pinches the tip and rolls the rubber down his shaft. “Lay on your stomach, and I’ll make it worth your while.”

She grumbles something about liking to see that happen, but sprawls face down and ass up. Yuta smacks the fat of her ass, groaning as he watches it jiggle. He rubs his fingers up and down her puffy slit, admiring the way it glistens. Then he stokes his cock, lining it up against her entrance. Even through the barrier of the condom, Maki can feel the way it hotly pulses. 

Her legs almost give out when he pushes in. Yuta wraps an arm beneath her stomach to hoist her up, covering her back with his chest as he spears her deeper. His cock isn’t overly thick, but it’s so long. 

“Breathe, Maki,” his hot breath fans her ear. “I’ve got you.”

She exhales, melting into his firm grip. It allows the rest of his cock to sink in, balls flush against her skin. A fierce shudder runs through his body, and he caresses every bit of her soft skin he can reach. Resting his head against her shoulder, Yuta pulls all the way out before tugging her onto his cock again. 

The penetration punches the air out of her lungs. He places a hand between her shoulder blades and gently presses her down until her breasts are squished against the mattress. With her hips pulled back against his, there’s not a single inch of space between them. Yuta grinds into her, every ridge of his cock rubbing against her sensitive walls. 

“Can you take it if I fuck you harder?” He nibbles on her earlobe. Maki pants, unable to form coherent words. His next thrust pushes a little deeper, and she feels him in her stomach. 

“Mmmm, oh my god,” she drools onto the towel. Yuta bends her spine a little bit more, angling her hips so he can grip them with his full strength.

“C’mon baby, you know I need a clear answer,” his cock stills. She can feel it throbbing inside of her, the sensation obscene. 

“Mmmhmm,” Maki slurs. 

“What was that?” Yuta brushes her damp hair away from her face and tilts her chin towards him so he can kiss her. The angle is a little awkward, but she licks into his mouth anyways. 

“Yes,” she moans. “You can fuck me harder. Please, Yuta.” 

He gyrates his hips in a tight circle, and Maki swears she feels the head of his cock in her cervix. One of his hands skims across her throat, lightly squeezing. The other holds her waist in a death grip, pressing their bodies together so he can continue to mount her. 

“That’s my good girl,” he pecks her cheek. It’s a humorously chaste gesture. The wet, steady slap of his balls against her pussy is maddening, and so is the way he’s groaning along with each strike of their skin. She clenches around him, and he swears. 

“If you’re going to make me come again, then we might as well come together,” Maki hoists herself to her forearms and pushes her ass back in time to meet his thrusts. 

“God,” he throws his head back, “you’re going to kill me, you know that?” Yuta reaches between her legs to circle his fingers around her clit. “I want to feel you come on my cock while I pump you full.” 

Hearing those words spill from his no-so-innocent mouth sends her over the edge again. Molten pleasure rips through her, and she spasms around him. More wetness spurts out as he fucks her through it.

“Yesss,” he hisses, the roll of his hips bordering on animalistic. He sinks his teeth into her shoulder, and Maki feels his white-hot cum spill into the condom. It’s almost comforting, the way the heat spreads and fills her up. 

She can’t hold on any longer and collapses under his weight. He rests on top of her for a beat before pressing a kiss to her spine and rolling off. Maki turns to her side. 

“You’re fucking insane,” she croaks. Her mouth is so dry, her throat sticks together. Yuta grabs a full glass of water from his nightstand and brings it to her.

“I really hope that’s a good thing,” he chuckles nervously. 

Maki drains it and hands the glass back to him, wiping the corner of her mouth. “That depends. Can you go two more rounds?”

Yuta grips his steadily hardening cock. “That won’t be an issue.”

“Good,” she teases a nipple with her finger. “Now get over here and let me ride you.”

Things get out of hand. Yuta has to run out to a 24/7 convenience store to buy another pack of condoms for their fourth round, and when they’re washing off in his shower after their final go, he drops to his knees and eats her out until she sees white. 

He makes the bed back up with a spare set of sheets and slips under the covers afterwards. Lifting the blankets up, he beckons for her to join him. Against her better judgement, Maki crawls in after him. She scoots back until she’s tucked beneath his chin, and Yuta’s arms wind around her. 

“Goodnight,” he yawns into her hair. “I’ll make breakfast for us in the morning, don’t worry.” 

She grunts something in response and lets sleep take her. 

Not only does Maki break one of her own rules by spending the night with a hook-up, she stays for breakfast. 

…Actually, she stays until it’s nearly 3:00 in the goddamn afternoon.

Yuta had made spam, rice, and eggs for them, and then they’d gotten to talking. They sit around on his living room couch and talk music, both of them dressed in a pair of his comfy clothes. His apartment is actually right above the record shop where he works, and the owner lets him borrow vinyls to play on his own time. Maki lays with her head propped up on the arm of the couch and her legs in Yuta’s lap as a copy of Everybody Else Is Doing It, So Why Can’t We? spins around on his record player. When the beat drops in “Sunday,” he taps his fingers against her shins. It's disarmingly domestic

Maki gathers her things when the song finishes. Yuta trails behind her, and when she goes to leave, he stops her in the doorway. His fingers graze the side of her neck, and he looks at her through long eyelashes. He uses his thumb to angle her jaw up and meets her lips in a soft kiss. She leans into it, eyes fluttering closed. 

“I had a lot of fun,” he pulls back and rests his forehead against hers. 

“Me too,” she nudges her nose against his before putting her hands on his chest. “I should go, though.”

“I understand. Before you go, I just need to know…” Yuta looks down at the ground and back up at her. “Is this a one-time thing?” 

Maki has to laugh. “You idiot, do you really think I’d let you kiss me if you were just a one-night stand?” 

He lets out the breath he was holding. “I don’t know! Everyone’s got different rules about that kind of thing.” 

“Well I have certain rules for hook-ups, and you’ve broken just about every single one of them. Do with that what you will, I’ll see you around.” She finally ducks out after that, leaving Yuta looking a little bit dazed. 

Things spiral out of control from there. There’s no spoken agreement between them, but they continue to hang out, and they continue to fuck. A lot.

He bends her over just about every surface of his apartment, and at one point they break a coffee table. When Maki brings him over to her apartment for the first time, he fucks her against the sliding glass door of her seventh floor balcony. The sex is mind-blowingly, astronomically good. She thought that he wouldn’t be able to top making her squirt two times in a row the first time they ever fucked. But now that he knows her body, he can wrench orgasm after orgasm from her. 

The same goes for her. Maki picks up on more little things about him every time they fall into bed. The prominent vein on the underside of his shaft is especially sensitive, and Yuta will all but cum in his pants if she smothers his face with her tits and rocks in his lap. 

There’s sweeter moments, too. 

Yuta fills her place with flowers every time he visits, and he always holds the door for her. 

She notices that he scratches his nose when he’s thinking hard about something, and the callouses on his fingers from hours of strumming the bass never really fade. 

He listens to her talk about her sister and picks up on her cravings for sour candy when it’s that time of the month. 

They operate on their own wavelength, slipping into each other’s lives so naturally that even their other friends don’t question the sudden companionship. 

That summer, everyone returns to Jackpot to sample the new seasonal drink menu. They pack into one of the private booths, several pitchers and half-drunken cups spread between them. Maki sits with Panda to her left, and Yuta to her right. The latter rests his hand over her thigh beneath the table. 

“So,” Kirara sits across from them and toys with the tiny paper umbrella from her drink. She uses it to point between her and Yuta. “When is your guys’ anniversary? You’ve been together for some time now.” 

Yuta furrows his brow, and Maki does too. 

Anniversary? Together? She thinks.

“Hmm, I think it’s on the sixteenth?” He says. 

They look at one another. 

“How long have we been dating, has it been three months now?” Yuta asks, squeezing her leg. 

Dating. She never told Yuta that they were dating, but she also never told him that they weren’t. Now that she thinks of it, something romantic had nestled its way into their relationship a long time ago. She rarely sleeps alone, and there’s two toothbrushes at either of their apartments. Maki has never said “I love you,” but she lets him kiss her goodbye every morning before work and whisper sweet nothings into her ear.  

They’ve been together for a while now, and she just needs to catch up. She loves him, whether she’s said it aloud or not. 

“Two and a half,” she corrects after doing the math on her fingers. “It’s almost been three months, but not quite.” 

He presses a kiss to her temple. “Ah, that’s right. I’m just excited, I guess.” 

Kugsaki gags, but Kirara fawns over them. “Aww, what cuties!! And to think, our bar brought the two of you together. It’s like destiny!” 

Maki looks at Yuta—her boyfriend—and cracks a small smile. 

“Yeah, I guess you can say that.”