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Lonely kids tend to stick together. Whether they’re lonely because they’re a latchkey kid, or because they move around a lot and never get the chance to make any friends, or if the rest of the children their age have just decided they’re weird and not worth their time. No matter the reason, they flock to one another like birds. To keep each other company during lunch and recess. To make the loneliness a little bit more bearable.
Hinata does a lot around the island. Some weird sense of responsibility, you think. Maybe because he’s the most capable out of all of you, or maybe to make up for time he lost during the tragedy. But it was him who worked so hard to wake everyone up. It was him who fixed the air purifiers whenever they went haywire. It was him who worked some kind of magic in the kitchen whenever Hanamura was too sick to cook for everyone.
It’s hard to feel useful when you’re standing next to the most talented guy on the planet.
When you woke up, you were panicked. Still reeling from an untimely death in the program, your hands had flown up, teeth bared, ready to fight, to attack, as if you could fight off the grim reaper before he came for you. Instead, you were met with warmth. A strong grip. Arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest and shushing you. You had squirmed, frantic, still trying to both attack and scramble away, but he held you against him. Didn’t flinch when your nails dug into his skin and you called him a number of unspeakable names. He waited until you paused for breath to murmur to you, softly, calmly, but entirely himself and nobody else; “It’s over. You’re safe.”
You had broken down and sobbed then, and he was there. He understood. You figure that’s when your little crush must have begun. Your memories of the tragedy are fuzzy, but any feelings held for Izuru Kamukura were not held for Hajime Hinata. That much, you were sure of.
Your memories of Kamukura were fleeting. A sense of intimidation, of fear that swelled in your chest and pinned you in place. Red eyes, nearly glowing in the dim light. The knowledge that one wrong move around him could end in him killing you. You wanting him to kill you. Wanting to taste that despair. To chase after Enoshima, greet her on Hell’s throne so you could be of better use to her there.
The thought makes your stomach churn.
Hinata was completely different in every way. He held warmth and comfort. Though at first you were wary, still aware of his raw strength and skill, he never gave you any reason to fear him the way you feared Kamukura. His brown eye would meet your gaze and crinkle as he smiles at you, greeting you softly. Careful not to speak too loudly, aware that you hated the way your voice once echoes off of ruined buildings. He kept his distance, allowed you to be the one who stepped closer. Never asked anything of you. Instead, he would patiently wait until you offered. Eager to please him. To make him smile again so you could see his eyes crinkle again.
You weren’t the only one he treated this way. Everyone else, as they awoke one by one, got much the same treatment. Took up more and more of his attention. He made it seem so effortless, nudging you all in the right direction. Towards hope, you guess.
You like keeping him company. You hand him tools and help dry the dishes he scrubs. It makes you feel useful, standing next to the most talented guy on the planet while he hands you a wet plate for you to wipe the water off of.
When he’s not working, which doesn’t happen often, he likes tinkering, you’ve noticed. He’ll mess with old cell phones and televisions that have long since stopped working. Seeing if he could get them up and running again. He once got a radio to blast static from its speaker, an amazing feat considering how damaged it was. He had laughed in triumph, but his shoulders slumped as he realized it was ultimately useless. There were no radio towers close enough to the island for this to do anything other than fill the air with shrill static. He discarded it, forgetting it in a pile of abandoned projects. You took it back to your cottage that night, allowing the white noise to fill the room. It helped you drift off to sleep easier, you think.
Recently, Naegi brought him an old arcade cabinet to work on. The glances you shared with Kuzuryu and Imposter told you that you weren’t imagining the irony and insensitivity of such a gift, but Hinata just smiled and took it, thanking Naegi for bringing him something new to play with. The grin on Naegi’s face told you that any hard feelings, if they were present at all, were entirely lost on him.
If the machine stirs up any feelings in Hinata, he doesn’t show it clearly. That’s something you find fascinating about him. How well he hides his feelings. He’s said that he struggles with feelings ever since the tragedy, but you’ve seen genuine smiles from him. You’ve seen real joy and real sorrow in those eyes. He feels, it’s just… different now.
You hand him a screwdriver and he murmurs a ‘thank you’ under his breath. The warehouse is warm and muggy, the humidity of the island condensing in the metal walls. The sun was starting to set, making the world outside a nice orange color. His shirt is unbuttoned, tie removed and cast aside to help him cool off. You watch the movement of his muscles under his tan skin. Humans are such complex machines, every muscle working in tandem to create a functional person who walks and talks and eats and breathes. You never found it so fascinating before watching Hinata work.
He extends his hand to you, palm up, and you hand him a wrench. He glances at it, before correcting you. “Philip’s head, please.” His smile tells you he isn’t upset, but even still, you find yourself embarrassed for inconveniencing him. You hand him the Philip’s Head screwdriver and watch as he returns to meticulously unscrewing the tiniest screws you’ve ever seen. He puts so much care into every movement, careful not to scratch the metal as he works.
“Hinata…” Your voice comes out just above a whisper, as if disturbing the silence between you two will get you in trouble. He hums in acknowledgement, waiting for you to continue. Picking at your fingertips, you bring your knees to your chest. “Uh… do you like… playing games?”
“Yeah,” He replies, not taking his eyes off the wires and panels before him. “I really liked playing this one fighting game, before everything. I didn’t always have someone to play it with, though. Online matches with strangers just aren’t the same.”
“I get that.” Nodding softly, the anxious picking ceases. “I used to play computer games when I was a kid. I had this wizard game where you could choose your house and what kind of magic you used… but I never played it for long because it wasn’t as cool, playing all alone.”
“Lonely kids end up in their own head a lot.” He muses, removing a panel from the inside of the machine and setting aside with all its screws. “Nobody is around to hear their ideas, so they end up internalizing it. They call us daydreamers because we spend so much time off in our own little worlds, where we’ve got all these made up people that listen to us talk about our hobbies. They poke fun at us, without realizing that if they would just talk to us a little, we would start daydreaming a little less.”
Unsure of what to say, you hum softly. Acknowledging he’s been heard without providing anything meaningful. Handing him tools while having no clue what he’s doing, how he’s fixing this thing, if he’s fixing it at all.
“That’s what you do, right?” Finally, his eyes raise to you. Glistening in the setting sunlight, heterochromatic irises bore into your soul like he can see through you. It’s exposing. But not unsafe. “You’re always so holed up in your head. Even I struggle to figure out what you’re thinking a lot of the time.”
“I think lots of things.” You shrug. “I don’t get what’s so important about my thoughts.”
And he laughs. Not a mocking sound, but one of disbelief. “How could you not get it?” He asks as he calms his breath. “They’re important because they’re what make you, you. Learning how you think helps me understand you better.”
“There’s nothing to understand.” Your head tilts. “I’m nobody important. I never have been. But you? You’re the most talented person to ever exist. You could bring this world to its knees - and you have, only to help it stand back up again. And you let me watch you do things like this. Something so simple and so complex. Something so mundane and so fascinating. You could throw me into the ocean and I would watch with stars in my eyes, Hinata.”
Maybe you’re being weird. Maybe you’re not making sense. Because the look he’s giving you is one you can’t describe. Eyes wide, mouth hanging open. It lasts only a split second before he chuckles, looks away, focusing back on the machine before him. “Oh, stop. You’ll make me blush.”
You do as told. You were definitely being weird, but something told you it was not necessarily a bad thing.
The next morning, you are alone on dish duty. Usually, when you have a chore, Hinata uses that time to start on other tasks, and when you’re done you hunt him down so you can watch quietly. Today, however, Hinata did not come to breakfast. This concerns you. He’s smarter than to skip meals in the pursuit of productivity. When the last plate is on the drying rack and you have nothing more to do, you go to his cottage. If he isn’t coming to breakfast, then he might have slept in. It’s unlike him, but with how thin he spreads himself at times, it wouldn’t surprise you.
Knocking on his cottage door, you hear some shuffling before it’s pulled open a crack, Hinata’s face peeking out. His tired eyes take a moment to focus on you. “Oh. Hey. I was wondering if you’d drop by.” His voice is thick with sleep and congestion. You feel the frown settle on your face. “You’re sick.”
“Yep. Woke up with a fever. Mikan said I should just stay in bed, and she’ll be by to check up on it later.”
“Have you eaten?” Your head tilts, eyes narrowing at him. He shifts slightly, leaning against the door frame. “Not yet, no. I’m really not hungry, so I put it off.”
“It’s almost eleven in the morning!” You exclaim, attempting to push past him, but it’s kinda like pushing against a wall. He watches as you struggle for a moment, then quietly sigh. “Would you please let me in?” You ask, your voice even softer than usual.
“There you go.” Hinata steps back, allowing you to walk into his cottage. It’s the same layout as yours and everyone else’s. Exactly what you would expect. Grabbing him by the arm, you yank as hard as you can towards the bed. Maybe it’s just him taking pity on you, but he lets you drag him over and shove him down, dragging the blanket over him with a mildly amused smile on his face. When you step back, he looks up at you with a chuckle. “Having fun?”
“Stay in bed. I’ll go get you some rice.” You huff softly, frustrated at his almost sarcastic tone, but the shift in his expression startles you. You’ve seen that before. When he failed to wake Komaeda for the third time. When he found Imposter’s body under a table. As Izuru Kamukura stared down at Chiaki Nanami.
That’s real sorrow.
“I’ll wait here.” He replies, as if he has no problem with you leaving. As if he’s perfectly fine with it.
He could be tricking you. Manipulating you into… something. He’s got every talent locked away up there in that head of his.
But he’s never once given you a reason not to trust him. Even if it goes against what comes out of his mouth, you trust him.
“I guess… I can stay a while. See if you get hungry later.” You shrug, moving towards his cottage door and closing it. “It’d be better if someone was here to keep an eye on you, anyway.”
He doesn’t suddenly perk up. It’s more like he relaxes, resting fully in his bed and letting his eyes drift shut with a sigh. “If that’s what you want.” He mumbles, tiredness clear in his voice. Picking at your fingertips, you move over to sit on the edge of his bed, staring at his face.
Hajime Hinata is not the same boy you met on that artificial beach. That Hinata was a lost, confused, awkward boy who constantly looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack. Not that you blamed him, necessarily. But he put aside his anxieties when he realized he had to step up. When he realized that with ‘Togami’ gone, there was nobody to band everyone together. To point to the future and demand you all move towards it.
As he lays before you miserably, though, you consider all of your time with him outside of the program. He’s always been calm, warm, inviting. A comforting presence that made you feel like no matter how dicey things got, there was still a future to look forward to. Like he would never let anything bad happen to you, not as long as he was around to get in its way.
It makes you wonder how much of that is real. How much of his encouragement is meant for himself just as much as it is for everyone else? Before your death in the program, even though Hinata stepped up to take the lead, he still held this nervous air about him. He wasn’t made of steel. Nothing could make watching your friends drop like flies any easier.
Nothing could make the consequences of your actions any easier. That rang true for him, too, you realized. You feel silly for depending on him blindly for so long, as if he was some untouchable god who couldn’t be harmed. The man you revered, the man you once wished to high heavens would grant you the honor of choking the life from your body, is now laying in bed with a slight fever and probably a tummy ache.
“Thinking anything important?” His voice, soft and gravelly and thick with sickness, pulls you from your train of thought. You consider how you should respond for a moment. He’s asking because he wants to know. Is that right?
“I’m thinking about you.” You reply simply. His eyebrow raises, soft laughter rising from him. “Why?” He asks. Like there’s no reason for anyone to be thinking of him. No good reason, at least.
“Because you’re nice to think about.” You tell him. “Some things are difficult and unpleasant to think about. But not you.”
And he winces. And it hurts. Because that means he doesn’t believe you.
“I don’t see why.” His eyes flicker across the room, to nothing in particular. Refusing to make eye contact to make the interaction less vulnerable. “Like you said. I played a large hand in bringing the world to its knees. You saw me do it. You were miserable in all that destruction, and I’ve seen how my actions have haunted you.” Shifting slightly under his covers, now fully turning his head away from you. Even facing you is too much. “How could any of that be pleasant to think about?”
You give him a moment. A small pause, a moment of still air so he can find comfort for a bit. Vulnerability is hard. It only gets harder when you’ve been taken advantage of. You need to let him know that vulnerability is safe now. You need to say and do the right things so he knows that whenever he’s wearing thin, he can let his guard down around you, at the very least.
“That is not you.” You break the silence, voice quiet, but firm. “That was who they made you to be. And the moment you woke back up, and saw everything you had done, the first thing you did was try to fix it.”
He hums. A small, displeased noise from his throat. “I still did it. It’s the same face. Same body. Same hands. What’s it matter if my brain was stirred up or not?”
This time when you pause, it’s to think. Think, think, think. What would Hinata say to you, if it were you in this position right now?
“If a person who had too much to drink is offered sex by a sober person, and they accept, only to feel as though it were a mistake the next morning, what is that?” You ask. Hinata’s eyes widen slightly, a light pink blush rising to his cheeks at the bluntness of your phrasing. He clears his throat. “That’s… they were taken advantage of. The sober person took advantage of them when they were vulnerable.”
“That’s right.” You nod. “And when a pop star takes a teenage fan backstage, telling her how mature she is for her age. You know what that is, don’t you?”
He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to.
“Do you see the point I’m trying to make, Hinata?” You scoot closer to him, reaching out a hand to rest it on his shoulder. “You were not in your right state of mind when you made those decisions. Yes, you still made them. And now you have to deal with the consequences. But when it comes down to it, from every angle you could possibly look at it, you were taken advantage of.”
He curls in on himself, pulling his shoulder away from your palm. Silent. Uncomfortable. Far, far too vulnerable. Fuck. You said the wrong thing, didn’t you? You made it worse. How can you make him less vulnerable? That’s what he needs. He’s already in his bed, under his blankets… this should be a safe space for him. Maybe it’s amplified because he’s not feeling well? If you can’t make him feel any less vulnerable, there has to be something. Maybe if you make yourself more vulnerable, so that in comparison, he feels less exposed?
Exposed. That’s it.
Having settled in your train of thought, you reach up and tug your shirt off over your head, letting it drop to the floor next to the bed. That gets Hinata’s attention. His face lights up a bright shade of red, his eyes immediately focused on your forehead and nothing but your forehead. “W-what are you doing?!” He nearly squeaks, a sound you haven’t heard from him before. It’s cute. You can’t help but giggle as you stand, fiddling with the button of your pants. “I’m being vulnerable!” You reply, as if that answered any of his actual questions.
Your pants drop to the floor, leaving you in your underwear before him. He splutters, finally sitting up. “Why are you undressing?! That’s… that’s really not necessary!”
“I’m vulnerable.” You repeat, turning to face him. The air in the cottage is cold and you feel the instinct to wrap your arms around yourself, to hide behind your hands, but you don’t grant yourself the option. This is about him. Not you. “So you don’t need to hide. I’m naked, and I’m not hiding.”
“Th-that’s… not how this works.” He sighs, scooting off the bed and standing up, taking the blanket with him. Lifting it up, he wraps it around your shoulders, cloaking your body in its warmth. “Sometimes people just… feel bad. And you need to let them feel that way. They need to process those emotions, and it’s a lot easier when someone is there.”
He meets your eyes, at long last, and suddenly you feel silly.
“I’ve never… done this before.” You breathe. “I’m trying to do it right. I’m sorry that I’m not good at it yet.”
“I know,” He sighs, but his lips twitch up into a soft smile. “But you’re doing your best. And I really do appreciate it.”
Licking your lips, searching for the right words. Something, something needs to come out. Something needs to be said. To fill the silence. To ease your mind. “I… um…” He waits, patiently. Lets you rack your brain and fumble with the words, trying to slot them together, desperate to form a sentence. “I… want… uh, you.” You manage finally. His eyebrows raise as your cheeks grow warmer. “I-I mean, um. I want. To be with you. To be there for you.”
And he laughs. And it’s good.
“You’re always there for me.” He says in between breaths. “There’s hardly a moment I spend without you.” A brief pause. A hand on the back of his neck. “That’s not a bad thing, by the way.”
You stare at his face. This is Hajime Hinata. The most talented man on the planet. And right now, you finally feel like you truly stand next to him as his equal.
“Hajime,” You mumble. His eyes gleam, his smile growing. The late morning sun from the window bounces off his cheek. You swallow hard. “I want… um…” Searching. Searching. The words won’t form, they won’t slot together, not easily anyway. He sees your growing frustration and grants you a reprieve. “If you can’t find the words, can you show me?” He asks.
Words are not your strong suit. But actions speak much, much louder.
He’s granted you permission. You step forward, closer to him, raising your hands to the back of his head to cradle it. His soft hair between your fingers. He tilts his head down to watch your expression as you tug him closer. His skin is warm under your hand. His lips part and the tiniest puff of air leaves them as he catches on. You let the moment sit, giving him the chance to pull back, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans forward, catching you off guard as your lips connect a second before you expected them to.
His lips are soft and warm. He tastes like honey and comfort. He smells like cotton balls and summer evenings. Like golden hour, when the sun bathes the world in an orange hue. He’s gentle with you, wrapping his arms around your torso to pull you closer. The blanket falls, and you are safe. There is no reason to hide.
He’s the first one to pull back, breathing deeply. You chase after him, rising to your tiptoes to capture his lips again. He grunts, but doesn’t push you off. His arms hold you tighter against him, his hand trailing down to your lower back and pressing his palm flat against the bare skin. You tilt your head as the kiss becomes more feverish, and it isn’t long before you feel his tongue press against your lower lip. You open your mouth, letting him in. Giving yourself over to him. He groans softly against you and a chill runs down your spine.
It’s you who makes the first move to take things further, pushing him backwards onto his bed. It’s then you know that this is something he wants. Had he been against the idea, your attempts at moving him would have been completely fruitless. That thought gives you the confidence to straddle his lap, caging him in with your thighs. In this position, it’s you who has to lean down in order to keep your mouths connected. Your hands move to cup his cheek, thumb brushing over his soft skin. This time it’s you who pulls away, gasping for air, but you’re a bitch on a mission now.
Tugging at the hem of his shirt, he leans back and raises his arms so you can lift it over his head, discarding it across the room. You’ll pick it up later. For now, you need to be all over him. You need your actions to speak, because god knows you suck at it. You need him to know.
Leaning in again, you tuck your head into the crook of his neck, letting your tongue drag along his sun kissed skin. You touch your teeth to his pulse point and he tenses underneath you, which you take as your cue to bite down. He groans, hand on your lower back sliding down further to squeeze your ass. You let out a huff of air against his neck before traveling downwards, biting and kissing and pausing on one spot in particular to suck at the soft skin until a purple-ish bruise has formed beneath your lips. Mark him. Everyone should know he’s vulnerable to you right now. If you could, you’d announce it to every single person on the planet.
You travel lower, lips grazing the skin of his bare chest, planting kisses and looking up at his red, focused face through your eyelashes. He has a big chest, soft and squishy under your mouth. He finally moans as you take his left nipple into your mouth, flicking your tongue over it. He’s so warm, so soft. Like putty in your hands. Er, mouth. No, don’t think about how gross having putty in your mouth would be. Focus.
You lift your right hand to his opposite pec, squeezing the soft flesh in your palm. Hinata breathes heavily, each puff of air coming out shaky, staring down at you with hazy eyes. You pinch his nipple between your thumb and index finger while sucking hard on his other one, and his voice jumps in volume, his hands coming to rest on your hips and squeeze the skin there. “Th-that’s-” He swallows, cut off by a groan as you suck again. “That’s- so good. You’re so good. Oh, sweetheart…” He murmurs the pet name and it sends a wave of electricity through your body, moaning softly against his tit before popping off, looking up at him with a bit of drool falling from your lips. You can feel how hard he is through his pajama pants, and you grind down against him, watching him toss his head back as he grips your hips tighter.
A sharp inhale through his teeth, and the next thing you know you’re on your back. He hovers over you, knee planted in the mattress between your thighs, hands at either side of your head. For a moment, he doesn’t move, eyes searching your face. Waiting. A question without speaking a single word. Is this okay?
Of course it’s okay. Because it’s you.
His lips meet yours again, feverish and almost desperate. His leg rises until his thigh is pressed firmly into your groin, shifting his hips to give you a bit of friction. You whine into his mouth and buck your hips upwards, into his leg, and in return he presses it against you even further. Meanwhile, his lips shift from your mouth to your cheek, down to your neck. You turn your head to give him room while he nips and sucks at the skin, making you squirm beneath him. He slides his hands under your back to hold you closer as he sucks a mark on the side of your neck, just as you did with him a moment ago. The two of you find a rhythm, you raising your hips as he presses his thigh into you, repeating the motion until you’re physically shaking, pawing desperately at his shoulders as a whine drags out of you.
He sits up a bit, heterochromatic eyes meeting yours with mischief behind them. “What is it, baby?” He asks, feigning innocence. You huff, wiggling your hands between your bodys to tug the waistband of your underwear down. Well, as far down as you can get it. Hinata’s leg is still in the way, and he doesn’t seem to have any intention of moving. You glare up at him and he chuckles. “What? Why are you frustrated?” Removing one hand from below you, he brushes a strand of hair out of your face. “You’ve gotta learn to talk to me, precious.”
“I-I…” Licking your dry lips. Think. Think. “I-I want… I need… ” Searching. He’s being so patient with you, still meeting the motion of your hips and still hanging off every sound that leaves your lips. You whimper. “Hajime, I need you. Pretty please, sweetpea?”
“Sweet-” He chokes on the word, eyelids fluttering briefly before, quick as a flash, your underwear and his pajama pants have both been discarded. His cock, finally free from its confinement, feels blazing hot as he rubs it against your sex, hands grabbing your hips and lifting them up off the bed with little effort. You watch the head pop up over the curve of your belly and moan, spreading your legs further for him. He pulls back and you can feel the tip against your entrance, pausing there, hesitant. He casts one last glance up to your face, searching for permission, but he doesn’t need to look hard in order to find it.
He’s thick. He moves slowly to ease you into the stretch, but god nothing could prepare you for how full he was making you. You lift a hand to bite down on your knuckle, squeezing your eyes shut while you try to force yourself to relax. He removes one hand from your hip to cradle your cheek, shushing you. “I know, I know. Just a bit more. You can take it, can’t you, precious?”
You let out a soft whine at the pet name, nodding your head as you drag your eyes open to look up at him. He’s watching you with such focus, monitoring your breathing patterns to ensure he isn’t hurting you. A bit more pushing and his thumb brushes over your lower lip. “It’s all in, baby. Let me know when I can move.”
“Mm-hmm…” You hum in response, trying to keep your breathing steady while your body adjusted. You feel full to the brim, like any more and you would burst like a water balloon. He’s inside you. Hinata’s really inside you. He’s sharing this moment with you when he could be doing anything else. Like resting, since he had a fever. Shit. Should he be participating in something like this if he’s sick?
A moment later and you finally start to relax, breathing a soft sigh as the tension releases from your body and the discomfort starts to fade. You lower your hand from your mouth to hold onto the bed sheets, looking up to meet eyes with Hinata. He nods once and slowly pulls his hips back, groaning as he feels out every inch of you. You arch your back as he pushes back in, still struggling to comprehend how far he stretches you. He’s so, so warm and the sounds he’s making as he drags himself back again are driving you wild.
He’s moving so slow. Being so gentle. He leans over and plants kisses on your neck and chest, groaning against your skin, making your head feel light. Words are suddenly even harder to come by, but you’re certainly trying, afraid that if you don’t he’ll stop. “H-ha aaa… Hajimeee…” You drag out his name, clinging to the last syllable like it’s your lifeline. Breathing hard, he lifts his head to look at you with a questioning hum. Find the words. Say something. “M… more, Hajime…”
His eyes widen, pupils dilating. His grip on your hip tightens and he swallows hard. “S… say again..?” He mumbles, as though he hadn’t heard you the first time. You know he did. He just wants to hear it again.
“M-more. More, sweetpea.” You repeat, throwing in the nickname he seemed to love so much. That’s what gets him to finally let loose, a groan escaping him as he buries his head in the crook of your neck and starts pounding into you. His pace is relentless, and he reaches so deeply inside of you that you’re starting to wonder how you ever managed to get off with just your fingers. Nothing could compare to this. Nothing could compare to him.
The most talented man on the planet has his cock inside of you. Hajime Hinata is fucking you into his bedsheets, he’s moaning and groaning into your ear while you squirm and cry underneath him. He’s not being rough, he’s not hurting you, and it feels so, so good. If the version of you from a year or two ago could see you now, they would call you an idiot and a coward for leaving yourself so open for him. They would cackle and wait to see your throat slit.
God, would that version of you be jealous.
“Haji- me-” You gasp, releasing his bedsheets to drag your nails down his back. He groans, his speed picking up just a bit. Lifts his head just a bit, just enough to get the words out. “W-what- fuck- what is it?”
“Boobs,” You whimper. “Mouth. In.”
“... What?” His brow furrows, struggling to understand.
“I want your boobs.” You manage to get out. “I wanna suck your boobs.”
“My boobs?” He repeats, sounding flabbergasted at the idea. “Right now?”
You whine loudly, a frustrated sound, and he nods. “Okay, okay, here.” Readjusting, straightening his spine so his chest hovered over your face. You latch onto his right nipple, taking the soft bud into your mouth and swirling your tongue around it, feeling the muscles in his back tense at the feeling. His voice drops an octave when he moans, gripping his bedsheets for dear life. “O-oh, god, that’s- ah!” He cries out when you ever-so-gently bite down, arms beginning to shake as they support his weight.
He starts fucking you harder, his movements getting less precise, his chest heaving with every breath to the point where you had to time your little nibbles at his skin with his inhales so you could actually reach him. “Y-y-you’re so- you’re so good, fuck-” He mumbles, the praise making you suddenly aware of the pressure in your lower belly, the pool of heat that’s quickly reaching its boiling point. He swallows hard before he speaks again. “You’re m- mine, you’re so warm and- and precious, I-” You moan against his nipple and he tenses. “Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum. I-I- you’re gonna make me cum like that… ”
He almost sounds surprised, as if he wasn’t expecting it to actually happen, but that only encourages you. You bring a hand around to pinch his left nipple while you suck on his right, raising your legs to wrap them around him. His hips snap into you so roughly you can hear the slapping sound it’s creating echoing off the walls, and it sounds heavenly. He claws at the bedsheets, desperation growing in his voice. “You’re so good, you’re precious, I-I’m gonna…” He pants hard, whining when you pop your mouth off to give your neck a break, but seeming relieved when your other hand comes around to occupy his nipple in the meantime. He peers down at you from an odd angle and you tilt your head to meet his hazy eyes. “A-are you…?” He murmurs. You nod, your own heavy breathing doing nothing to soothe the raging fire in your abdomen. You were wound up so tightly, a spring about to snap. Hinata knows this. He shifts his hips just a bit and finds just the right spot, and seconds later every hair on your body stands on end as you come undone. Clenching hard around him, arching your back as shockwaves of white heat unspool and leave you trembling as you come down.
Hinata doesn’t let up as you’re cumming. He doesn’t even slow down. Even as you start whimpering from the overstimulation, he only pushes himself in deeper, a feat you had no clue was even possible. “Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay-” He soothes, threading his fingers through your hair. “You can take it, can’t you? My precious little bumblebee? My everything?”
Tears prick your eyes. They cascade down your cheeks. His everything? You nod.
“Good, good,” His breath hitches, “oh, sweetheart, you take me so well.” nudges one of your hands, still resting on his chest, encouraging you to touch him again. “I’m gonna cum for you. Is that what you want?”
You nod, rubbing your thumb over his nipple and whining softly. He tenses. “More of that, bumblebee, and I’ll cum for you. All for you.” Those words send a shiver down your spine and you pinch his nipple, moving your other hand to rub the opposite one. Hinata’s mouth drops open and he presses his hips firmly against yours as he finally cums, the feeling of his cock pulsing and throbbing inside of you sending more tears down your cheeks.
He slows to a stop, and for a moment the two of you just lay there, breathing heavily. Then he pulls himself out and rolls over, flopping down on the bed next to you. You can feel his cum leaking out of your aching hole, but you’re far, far too tired to do anything about it. Instead, you scoot closer to him and he wraps his arms around you, holding you close. He smooths your hair back, pushing loose strands out of your face.
Neither of you say anything. You both already know.
After a bit of laying together like this, eventually, the two of you get up to take a shower. His big, warm hands help you scrub your back and scratch a spot you just barely can’t reach. He leans down and lets you scrub at his hair, and you watch the tension in his shoulders release as you rinse out the soap, careful not to get it in his eyes.
You tug your clothes on, and grab him some breakfast. Rice and some water. Something easy on his stomach. On your way back, you stop by your cottage. You grab some spare clothes. The radio that plays nothing but white noise. A few of your favorite books. You bring it all to him, and the smile on his face when he sees it tells you that you both had the same thing in mind.
Curled up next to him on his bed while he eats his rice, you read quietly to him while the radio drones on in the background.
Lonely kids tend to stick together.