Here you go guys, here's my piece for Smutember Week 3, and the trope I used was 'Kink' – quite obviously! Thank you as always to my wonderful, wonderful beta Uglygreenjacket. Thank you for always taking time for me IMMEDITATELY, love. I appreciate it so much. Thanks also go to Antigone2 this time – this fic wouldn NOT have been the same without your suggestions and excitement! Thank you!
ANYWAY: This is an established relationship fic, and as such, they'll have covered the topic of protection long, long ago. Just assume she's on the pill, or has an IUD, or a contraceptive patch, or whatever you want to imagine they have tried out and settled on eventually! I'm not gonna mention it in this fic, for the simple reason that long-term-relationships don't talk about their contraception every time they have sex, but it's there!
So, have fun! And please let me know what you thought!
Tsukink
A Short Story in the Lemon Tree Series, Written for Smutember 2019
The first day Usagi had stepped foot into the looming, tall Square Enix headquarters skyscraper in Shinjuku had had her heart pounding in her throat. The security guard outside wouldn't let her in at first, since she would only get her little employee badge later in the day, but one phone call later and she'd stood in an office full of people with phones and timetables and coffee that she would be working in from now on.
She'd spent that day meeting her new supervisor, someone else entrusted to show her the ropes and where the copy machine was, and she signed a ton of non-disclosure contracts before a few admins started setting up her shiny new Square Enix email account, login and pass codes, shared employer outlook diaries with her and more stuff she didn't know yet what she would need it for.
She felt good. This would be good. It was week one of Responsible Hard-Working Tsukino Usagi. She was in the working force before even Mamoru was!
And, cute burgundy paperbag-waist pants and black patent-leather ballet flats, she looked office-y and cute goddammit, even if she didn't actually know what she was doing.
But making friends! She could do that!
She did that. Didn't take long. Day four in her first week and she knew most people's names and had accompanied tons of people on their coffee breaks and was now equipped with boyfriend's and wife's and kid's names and also brought Makoto's eclairs on the third day and won them all over with delicious custard filling.
And that was how she found herself in the small one of the office kitchens, trying to offer comfort to Nobu-kun who had broken up with his boyfriend that very morning of her fifth day of week one.
"I just… I couldn't keep taking it anymore. It was too much!" Nobu-kun sniffled into his coffee cup and she patted him on the shoulder.
"I'm so sorry!" Hanako from reception was trying to console. "There's really no chance it can work out?"
Nobu shook his head, sad and dejected, his fingers clamped tightly around his coffee cup.
"I understand it, though," Hachiro from recruiting was saying, his broad shoulders and chic, stern salaryman look contradicting his soft words. "I had an ex-girlfriend who was jealous like that, too. It couldn't work out."
Nobu nodded again. "Yesterday he freaked out in the middle of Uniqlo because I'd chatted with someone who worked there. I was just asking for the event shirts! He made a giant scene, everyone looked. He was fuming all throughout the night and all the way until this morning. It was just the last straw."
Usagi froze. She'd done that with Mamoru. Tons of times. Like that one time in the pet store, when all he did was help Fish-Eye-in-disguise with a cut, being the sweet, nice guy that he was.
And she'd been in the right. Fish-Eye had been hitting on him, and even threatening Mamoru's life, even if she couldn't have known it at the time, of course. And even if she'd done it way more often than that, too, when it didn't turn out to be one of their enemies…
"Yeah, that lack of trust gets to you," Kiki, one of the developers, agreed with a sage nod.
"Exactly!" Nobu agreed with a sniffle. "He doesn't trust me! At all! A guy just had to flirt with me and he'd be up my throat for days! He just didn't trust in the fact that I chose him, or in my word. He overstepped boundaries snooping after me. I can't take it anymore."
Usagi inhaled sharply. She'd definitely done that, too. Did that all the time. With few exceptions, almost whenever Mamoru got flirted with, she tended to explode in his face or overreact.
Michiru. Fiore. Ami. That dentist woman. Esmeraude. Natsumi. That middle-aged, older cook-lady they'd once saved who had kidnapped Diana. Random women on the street.
She'd stalked Mamoru in a Ninja costume when he'd stayed at Rei's for a couple days. She'd followed him. Hell, she'd been jealous of Chibi-Usa for months. Years, if she was honest.
"But…" Usagi said, swallowing. "The jealousy is also a sign they love you, right?"
"No," Hachiro said firmly with a frown. "Jealousy is a sign of lack of trust. In yourself, in your partner, in your relationship."
"It's toxic," Kiki agreed. "If you don't trust your partner to be true to you, how can you trust in this relationship? I get it, I've broken up with someone who was constantly jealous, before, too. I think jealousy kills every relationship in the end, in the long run."
Usagi started sweating, panic gripping her heart.
"I agree," Nobu said with a small voice and dejected shoulders. "We tried, you know? Went to a counselor about it. He vowed again and again that he trusted me and loved me and tried to stop. And yet…"
Hachiro nodded and gave him that weird manly-man shoulder pat. "You're better off without him, man…"
That made Nobu's face crumble and Hachiro cringe in regret, and Usagi feel terribly, terribly afraid.
That conversation didn't let go of her. Kept ringing in her ears all weekend.
"Do you think I'm too jealous?" she'd barked into her phone, not waiting for a greeting, stomping her foot a little on her way to meet Mako-chan at the patisserie she worked at until she could afford her own place.
"Well," Ami said carefully into her ear. Usagi could almost hear the awkward shift in her. She was trying to tread carefully. "You do get very jealous, sometimes, yes? Is everything ok?"
Usagi's shoulders slumped in total dejection. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no. What if Mamoru left her too at one point, like Nobu-kun left his boyfriend? Just snapped one morning and had enough?
"Do you think it's too hard on Mamo-chan?" she whispered into her phone, all tragedy.
Ami's voice turned all the more concerned. "I think that's for Mamoru-san to decide, Usagi-chan. Not me. Have you talked to him? Is everything ok?"
She'd shaken her head slowly, reassured Ami she was just overreacting over a conversation at work, and ended the call when she arrived at Makoto's, and bought her weight in pastry.
She did end up talking to Mamo-chan. Later that weekend. She should maybe have chosen a different moment.
"Hey, Mamo-chan?" she whispered into the quiet of the night, the lights from outside casting shadows across the ceiling she frowned at. When he didn't react, she shook his arm a little and repeated the whisper until he shifted against her under the sheets.
"Hmm?" he murmured groggily, more than half asleep, his cheeks and lips hitting her shoulder as he rolled onto his side facing her, eyes closed.
She reached up her hand and carded them through his long, inky fringe, the strands falling into his closed eyes prettily.
"Do you think I'm a very jealous person?" she whispered into the dark room like a confession.
Even half-asleep, the smile that stretched his lips was entirely smug, and his arm flopped out blindly to reach around her waist and under her loose night shirt to pull her flush against him, then stroked his nose against the crook of her neck, nuzzling her throat with a content, deep inhale.
"Oh yeah, you are," he breathed into her neck and promptly passed out again.
He missed the uptake in her frantic heartbeat completely, even as it hammered in her throat against his lips.
She vowed then and there to try her best and never ever get jealous again. She wouldn't let herself get left over coffee one Monday morning just because she couldn't keep her jealousy in check.
Come Monday morning, her resolve had hardened even further. And so, when Mamoru told her about his declination of car-pooling with a group of female co-eds for a symposium a little ways out when he drove her to work that morning before his first class (it was totally her fault they ended up in the shower a little too long this morning and she would have been too late otherwise), she'd grit her teeth and told him it would be fine, he should call them and re-schedule.
He'd looked at her in wide-eyed surprise as if it were completely out of character for her to suggest something like that, and made her stomach roll a little and harden that resolve a little more.
As much as he hated the cliché, with some things you really did only realise exactly how important they are to you when they inexplicably disappear.
Overnight. All of a sudden. Completely out of the blue. Gone.
For the longest while, Mamoru had never thought he had a kink.
It had only come to him gradually how many he had.
Most of them weren't what he'd usually understand as a kink – he didn't like to be gagged and he didn't like to hit anyone for pleasure and he didn't like to be watched and all the things he did like were mostly way, way tamer and probably would receive a verdict of 'boooring' were Minako ever to get a list of the things that got him going.
Some he'd discovered really quickly. Usagi's legs. He was a leg guy. No denying it at all. Had been obvious from the start with her short skirts and endless legs and… well.
Or the torture that was watching her eating ice cream. Also obvious from the start and giving him a very hard time regularly, very quickly, very much out of his control.
Or even just her eating in general. She moaned too much and too familiarly when she did, enjoyed it so wantonly and unapologetically, and it took his mind places.
Some had been so obvious and yet still took him a while. Her hair. His absolute obsession with it and with her hairstyle and how touching it even just in public -usually a turn-off in itself, doing anything in public - was something that made him stiff and wanting no matter his mood.
He had no real clue what exactly about it it was; the silky texture, the way she could almost envelope him with how much of it there was, how attractive it was in general, all of it was true… And yet there was more to it. Something about the Odangos. Maybe because they were just so her… He'd come to the conclusion that it was probably a blatant expression of the fact that she really didn't care any which way if anyone found her weird or eccentric. Her hairstyle was a manifest reminder of the kind of bravery in life she had aplenty, and he lacked; and he was drawn to it in a very, very sexual way.
Some were ones he'd denied for a long while. Sailor Moon of that category maybe the biggest one. The fact that he was really, really, really into her when Usagi was transformed, especially when he wasn't. It was something she'd seen through very early, and he'd denied close-lipped, even when she'd teased and acted and flustered him and exploited it blatantly. Something about the pure power that she had underneath her fingertips when she was transformed, the way she could overpower him so easily like that, and sometimes did, and sometimes chose to do the absolute opposite even when she so easily could.
His superhero kink was probably one of the most flagrantly kinky ones he had, and he was lucky that she shared it – in any constellation in who was and wasn't transformed between them.
And then there was that one kink, the one that was secretly the biggest one of them all. The one he had always known about deep down and yet never sat down to acknowledge and analyse.
He really, really, really liked it when Usagi got jealous.
Like an instantly working aphrodisiac, it went straight into his veins whenever Usagi would puff up and get possessive like that.
If he did allow his mind to dive deep and analyse, he was pretty sure he would find his answers in the fact that growing up as unwanted as he had, this outward and expressive way of her jealousy told him the exact opposite. It told him that there was this most important person in his world, and she was so strongly adamant about the fact he was hers…
It told him in very unmistaken terms that he was very, very wanted. It was something that spoke to him on a level that was deep and instinctive and neglected and filled every childhood scar of his.
And now she'd just… stopped.
And it freaked him out in a way he would never have expected.
It took about half a week of its apparent, utter lack until his anxiety had latched on completely. Wasn't she happy with him anymore? Did he do something wrong? Did she not want him anymore?
He started trying to be extra attentive. Cooked her favorite meals for her, picked her up from work as a surprise, ate her out in the freaking bathroom of the bar they'd been at on Friday night when they were out with the girls – something he would never do otherwise, people could come in and hear her – but so far three women had hit on him that night and she hadn't even given him a single look.
He wanted it back. He needed it back.
Usagi was quietly freaking out.
She must have been doing so badly if the SECOND she tried to reign it in, Mamoru suddenly became Mr. Perfect.
Not that he wasn't already - but the way he just… Last night she'd woken up to find him stroking her hair almost reverently. In the middle of the night. Mamoru was amazing, but he was never this blatantly attentive.
But there he was, stroking her hair while he thought she was asleep and whispering how he never wanted her to cut it please because he loved it and he loved her.
Mamoru smiled at her brightly and didn't roll his eyes as often and didn't make a fuss about her mess and suggested taking her out to dinner to her favorite place and chose a romcom to watch with her on Netflix and cooked for her and gave her mind blowing orgasms and hadn't even protested but simply joined them when she'd asked him if he wanted to come along for Saturday brunch with Minako and mimosas. And all she had changed was biting her tongue and clenching her fists in her pockets when someone came on to him.
Wow. He must have hated it so much.
But Saturday brunch was when it got so much worse. Or rather, straight afterwards.
Two weeks into this torture and it became legit torture for real.
It might have all been heightened from the fact that she was tipsy from all that champagne in her orange juice. Or the fact that she was pulled absolutely taut.
But when they sat in the metro on their way back, and she looked up from her game on her phone, one of those magical women who stood in front of Mamoru in her chic and spotless shoes and trenchcoat even when it was fucking raining outside, was smiling at him.
The flirty kind. The holding eye contact kind.
And when she looked sideways at Mamoru, he was smiling back.
It felt like fucking lava in her veins.
And it took all her fucking willpower to turn back to her phone and stare blindly at her screen as she lost her perfect streak.
You can do this you can do this you can do this don't make a scene just DON'T—
"I can't do this," she announced with a cry as she burst into Minako's and Ami's shared apartment unannounced on Monday evening.
"I still don't understand why you're doing this at all," Rei said with a roll of her eyes at the dining table, no one whatsoever reacting on Usagi's sudden appearance.
"You don't understand," Usagi cried, peeling off her coat and throwing it haphazardly across a chair.
"What, did he smile at another stranger?" Minako teased.
"Worse!" Usagi cried. "That woman at the conbini asked for the time and he answered!"
"What ever has the world come to," Rei deadpanned with a raise of one eyebrow as even Ami tried to keep from laughing at Usagi.
Usagi stomped her foot, then crashed onto one of the chairs and collapsed her head onto the table.
"You don't get it. It was a giant queue and she had her phone with the time in it in her hand and yet she singled out Mamoru to ask and he answered."
It was terrible. She'd nearly burst watching this.
"And then he winked when she thanked him," she lamented in a loud wail and curled her arms around her head, nearly toppling over the teapot that sat on the table right next to her face.
"Oh dear," Minako sighed but visibly blinked back a smirk.
"And now he's sitting in a car with three girls on the way to this stupid smart people symposium!" she cried into her arms, muffling the sound. "THREE WOMEN. They all got into his car. And I can't say anything!"
Ami's awkward pat on her shoulder wasn't comforting at all.
"Again," Rei commented in her driest voice. "Why do you think you need to do this?"
At first, he started just…reacting to flirts. He'd never done that before. Nothing special, he didn't even flirt back (as if), just… he didn't put his I-will-murder-you-if-you-talk-to-me face on and when someone approached him, he politely smiled.
He was desperate and had started to turn towards desperate measures.
He just… He wanted her back.
Unfortunately, turns out, if you give people attention you don't actually want attention from, they give you a lot of attention you don't want.
Or it put a hoard of irritatingly mundane women in his car. He'd fought the urge to lock his doors and not let them in, but Usagi was standing there completely calm and it hurt, and he wanted her to freak out like she would always do and then she just didn't.
So, because he couldn't deal with it, smiling back when people flirted with it was back out of the running. So was chauffeuring women that were careful with his car, quiet and polite.
And so his desperate measures turned even more desperate.
But he wanted to get a rise out of her, badly, and so this was how he'd found himself looking for someone absolutely not at all interested in him that he could turn some attention towards, instead.
It took him a while. But finally, he found her.
She was smart in a no-nonsense way, not romantic at all, objectively attractive (he asked Kobayashi to reassure himself in that assessment), and, to make her perfect for the task, she was absolutely 100% lesbian and not only did she have zero interest in him, she also found him kind of weird. A win on all fronts.
And it was just his luck that, just when everyone was packing their stuff together after their gynecology lecture, she just so happened to tell a classmate right behind him that her lab partner had ditched her for today.
He was pretty sure he had never approached a woman so fast.
"I could help you out!" He'd practically yelled at her.
She stared him down with both perfectly styled eyebrows raised. "Um, that's alright. But thanks…"
"No, really!" he said, hopping over the row of wooden benches that separated them. "It would absolutely not be a problem."
She blinked, having to raise her eyes up at him now, and tilted her head. "Haven't you done that lab already, Chiba-san?"
He shrugged, brushed it off.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Chiba-san… I have a girlfriend."
His smile grew. "Oh yes, me too," he said. This was going perfectly.
She frowned, took a small step back. "Uh… ok then…?"
Usagi was fighting a losing battle with this stupid, unfair, paper-jammed copy machine when her pocket started vibrating.
Cursing at the machine in front of her, she answered without checking who it was, and sighed in relieved content when Mamoru's baritone rumbled against her ear.
"Hey, I'll go to Donki later getting those batteries and stuff for dinner – did you need anything?"
His voice sounded a little rushed, people were talking in the background, but he sounded all soft and sweet anyway. His Usako-voice. It was a little higher than his normal talking voice, and way, way softer.
She smiled into her phone and stopped kicking the copy machine. "Yes!" she cooed into her phone. "Heat packs! The ones that say 'for clothing' on them?"
"With the big yellow—" he started.
"—yes," she interrupted with a smile.
She did have the best of all the men.
But then she frowned, because then he cleared his voice, and when he talked again, his Usako voice was gone and his normal speaking voice was on. "Anyway, I'm going to be home a little later today," he said.
She gripped her phone a little tighter. As if on cue, the stupid copy machine started beeping at her again and blinking red. "What's wrong?"
"I'm helping a classmate with an assignment," he said, and his voice sounded… weird.
She narrowed her eyes, and they singled onto the red blinking button on the monster machine in a rush of trepidation and utter, utter irritation.
"A classmate…?" she asked, trying to sound carefully neutral.
His voice lowered, as if he was turning away to hush into his phone.
"Yeah, she… um… she begged me to stay. I couldn't say no."
She swallowed her anger. It took all her Sailor Moon strength to keep the venom out of her voice completely.
"She did, yeah?" she said. Somehow - magic, it must be magic - it sounded sweet, and not murderous.
A pause. Mamoru didn't speak. As if he was waiting for something.
Unfortunately, her mind used this pause to fill it.
She was pretty sure she might be going up in flames. And in it the imagery of her mind's eye repeated itself over and over in its white-hot core.
Some smarty-pants, perfect med-student flinging herself at her Mamo-chan in her sexy student outfit, moaning and grinding and gasping. Oh Mamoru, put your glasses on and check my temperature and come have me on this pretentious library table.
She almost accidently cracked her copy card.
Gritting her teeth and shaking, she managed to answer. "That's ok," she ground out. "I'll be out shopping with Mina-P after work, anyway"
Mamoru's voice … cracked weirdly. "Ok…" he said.
"Mhm," she rushed out, immediately, hurriedly. "Ok, see you later bye," she rushed and hung up before he barely had the chance to return it.
Then she walked into the hall, took off her cardigan, bit into it and screamed, sound muffled by the precious merino fabric.
And then she remembered that this precious merino wool cardigan was a gift from Mamoru, and she growled even harder.
She spent the last half hour of her workday completely useless and kept obsessively stalking the instagram accounts of all of Mamoru's co-eds that she knew.
It was Kobayashi in the end, good old Kobayashi, that proved to be the most fruitful. 15 minutes after she'd begun her stalking spree, he'd posted a story. In the second bar of it, a boomerang image showed Mamoru and an outrageously beautiful woman with perfect hair in two matching starch-white lab coats behind a row of microscopes, shaking transparent test tubes into the camera.
Her internal cinema changed from mahogany library desks and sexy reading glasses to a disinfected white room, test tubes being swiped off a white, sterile desks and lab coats over naked skin.
She called Minako, forced her to go shopping with her, dragged her into Lumine and loudly wailed her agony and lab-coat-hate all across Jill Stuart, United Tokyo and Muji.
When she walked through the door, much later and 20.000 Yen poorer, Mamoru was already cooking, and she'd calmed down enough to put on the best fucking poker face of her entire life.
She slipped off her shoes, smelled the gorgeous smell of onions cooking in butter and dropped her shopping bags on the couch.
And well, all her previous irritation did evaporate the moment she saw him, because there was her Mamo-chan, standing barefoot in the kitchen and cooking for her, two giant family packs of the heat packs she'd requested waiting for her on the counter.
"Hey," she purred, and slung her arms around his middle from behind, the pan sizzling on the stove.
It felt like he melted in her arms, collapsing a little against her hold almost in relief, as if he'd been tense all day and only got to relax now that her arms were around him, and it caused her to preen just a little bit as she stood up on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss against the nape of his neck.
"Hey," he returned, his voice almost regretful it sounded so relieved, and he brought his left and unused hand up to wrap around where both of hers were tightly clasped just beneath his sternum.
She sighed in content, snuggling herself against his warm back a little tighter, and then let go with one last nuzzle to his shoulder.
"Anything I can do?" she asked, hopping up next to him, and he shot her a sweet smile, then leaned forward to press a kiss against her forehead.
Then he nodded to the open plastic bag on the counter and the cutting board and knife already laid out there.
"You can peel the carrots," he said.
With a nod, she peeled off her coat, threw it over a chair (it fell to the floor with a thud to a roll of Mamoru's eyes), and went to wash her hands in the sink directly next to him. He hip-checked her playfully with a small bitten-back smile, and she giggled.
"What did you buy?" he asked conversationally as she rinsed the suds off her fingers and reached for the soft, flowery towel that hung from the oven door in front of his hips.
"Oh, just a few office outfits," she said with a shrug, bent over to rub her fingers in front of him. Then she straightened, walked around to his other side, and started peeling the carrots. "Something a little more sophisticated. I have so many skirts, thought I'd update it with a few more pairs of pants."
He nodded, and the carrot peel came off in long, orange strips. "The ones that are so popular right now? With the high ankles and the wide hips and obi belts? So that I look like I have a bit more curves and my legs don't look so freakishly long anymore," she said.
He clanked the wooden spoon he was cooking with loudly as it fell from his grasp.
She threw him a look, and he threw her an odd one back.
"Everything ok?" she asked with a frown, peeler poised in the air.
He blinked, cleared his throat audibly as he shifted his gaze back to the stove, reached for the grader in the small tin beside her on the counter, and started grating ginger into the butter with a rather high-pitched and short, "Mhm."
She frowned at him, started chopping the carrot she had peeled into small, rather unattractive shapes while Mamoru did this weird thing where he opened his mouth, seemed to reconsider, closed it again, and huffed.
"Anyway, um," Mamoru started in a weirdly stiff voice. "The lab was quite fun today…"
Her grip tightened on the handle of the knife, but she forced her tone to remain even.
"Oh yeah?" she said.
She felt his frown.
"Mhm," he made again. And then added, carefully. "Kobayashi came and joined us for a bit, too…"
Her skin started crawling. It was a sudden, immediate, explosive thing. She wanted to jump into the air and into his face and demand him to tell her every detail and to never look at that unfairly beautiful woman again and also to drag him by his hair into the bedroom and take his cock for a spin while she growled 'mine' a lot until he understood.
And then go and ritually burn the lab coat he'd worn when that woman was with him on that sterile lab counter and its yeeted-off equipment and while she was already at it burn that whole lab down, too. Yes. Yes, this sounded good.
And how dare he bring up Kobayashi. Mamoru knew Kobayashi and his social media addiction was her main stalking vessel, and hadn't she already done that and bookmarked this woman's instagram (Matsushima 'I'm-so-perfect' fucking Ai was her name, go figure) because of course you could count on Kobayashi tagging people, she'd now be itching to get her phone to get on the hunt.
Instead, she said, "that's nice…"
But, turns out, she'd never actually felt jealousy in her life before. Because what bubbled up in her next was worse than anything she'd ever fucking felt.
He threw her some serious side-eye and again that weird, expectant look. "We worked really well together. It was done pretty quick. Then she asked me for a rise home and I I gave her one…"
HER. A ride home!
She tried. She tried so very, very hard. But all her insides were burning in hot, infernal fire the likes that would burn even Rei, and her internal screaming was so loud she swore she could hear it ringing in her inner ear, flailing and burning and screaming like the stupid fucking elmo meme.
It must have been the silver crystal. She blamed the silver crystal for the hugest feat of the century, the fact that she remained calm and strong and simply grit her teeth and ground out a patient, "well, you have a car that only makes sense. It's only logical she'd ask for a ride."
"Actually, it was my motorcycle."
Oh, and would you look at that. Thunder joined the party, too! Jumping up and down her spine and paralyzing her stiff fingers.
"I see," the silver crystal said, all calm and patient.
The lab was gone from her mind's eye. The lab was dead to her. Replaced by that perfect, stupidly sexy woman and how she was all over her precious, innocent Mamo-chan on his stupidly sexy motorcycle. Oh Mamoru, here I am with my fancy degree and adult-people hair come have me.
"Oh shit," Mamoru called out and dropped the spoon loudly again, and she frowned and glanced down at the board in front of her.
She hadn't even noticed she'd cut her finger. A small, shallow cut on her thumb, but it bled pretty hard because obviously. She was boiling on the inside after all, of course it would sprew from her like a fucking fountain.
But of course her good-boy Mamo-chan was there right away and turned off the stove and cleaned her finger and dragged her with him to sit her down on the rim of the tub as he cleaned and dressed her clumsy-people wound, hovering like a concerned mother hen and being absolutely adorable.
She did drag him into the bedroom by the hair then. He came very, very willingly, and very, very loudly, some time later. And turned the stove back on when they were done, but she didn't get to chop anymore.
Basking in the afterglow of intense happy orgasm-space even the next morning as she logged onto her work computer, she remembered to freak out again.
Had he always done that? Flirt with people? Had she just not noticed? Or… had he been hiding it until now that she finally seemed ok with it…? Was he even happy with her?
Well, and, sure, sure the sex was spectacular at the moment, as spectacular as it usually only was if the frigging world was ending and they were both in various states of panic-induced super-horn.
But still… was she doing more shit wrong? Was he so relieved she finally acted like a normal person that he let loose…?
"Are you ok?" he blurted out that evening when he came home from his oncology class to see her doing the laundry. She never did the laundry. They had that running gag about her clothes slowly starting to take over the apartment and changing the locks one day when they were out.
She'd looked up at him, confused and… concerned?
"Why should I not be?" she asked, standing there in her pink cotton bra and filling the machine with clothes that shouldn't be washed together.
He walked up and picked a few items back out from her load that would surely mess up the colors of her light-colored, fragile blouses.
"I…" he started, then changed his mind. "You've been acting… different, these past weeks," he said instead.
Her eyes blew up, concern taking them over full force, and sky-rocketing his anxiety.
"It's… been so bad that you'd notice right away?" she murmured with dejected shoulders and let go of the laundry completely, when he took the wrong detergent from her hands and exchanged it for the right one for her fabrics.
That… freaked him out more than he could deal with. He filled the detergent into the machine with shaking fingers and clicked it shut. Tried to breathe deeply as he pushed the right buttons and the drums of the washing machine roared to life.
"Are we ok?" he ended up tentatively asking.
She looked at him in alarm. "Of course!" she yowled, pushing her hands onto his body.
He carried her to bed, stripped her of pink cotton, and made sure she remembered what she had.
There needed to be ways to get it back. He'd told her about a woman on his bike last night, his original sin, and she hadn't even flinched. Maybe he needed to try even harder…?
It wasn't all that surprising that the Square Enix and Holdings building in Shinjuku Eastside with it's four thousand-something employees had its own party floor. It was surprising (though probably shouldn't be) how many people of these Usagi already knew by name after just four weeks of working there.
The lobby was lined in framed game art, the waiters that ran around the event were dressed as characters from various games and the party floor had its own Dragon Quest themed bar with themed drinks and employees fully nerding out over them, and all in all he found himself feeling fully out of place and like Usagi had found somewhere she belonged.
She looked divine, more divine that she usually did even, in that classy, cream-colored floor-length dress with the sequined bodice and those slits on both sides that went all the way up her thighs and exposing her spectacular legs, a pink cocktail in her hand, and he felt pretty privileged hanging from her arm like that.
She'd made a huge fuss all week for this; her first ever big-ass work party so early on in her tenure, nerves running wild and attractive on her and he'd taken her shopping for the occasion and let himself be patiently dressed up in a new suit by her, too.
Even when it cost him a stab to the heart once more when the shop-lady had checked him out and Usagi didn't move a single muscle.
And even here; one by one she introduced them to a hoard of her colleges, pulling his arm from table to table. Asami from sales, Saburo and Ryo from recruiting, Ritsuko from development, Masahiro and Ike from finance, Stéphanie the intern from France, and on and on it went. She greeted them all brightly like old friends, and some of the women in tight dresses smiled at him and joked with him and she smiled tightly but joked right along.
They finally settled at a table where someone had saved a seat for them in advance, and he quickly learned this was her kitchen crowd, the ones she'd been talking about a lot recently. 'Hana-chan' from reception, 'Hachi-kun' from recruitment, 'Kiki-chan' from development, and 'Nobu-kun' who worked in the same department as Usagi did, as well as two other people who seemed to be +1s like him. Apparently, it was a surprise to see Nobu-kun's supposed partner at the event for everyone present, but he felt it was quite impolite to ask why exactly.
He excused himself to get another drink at the colorful, themed bar, taking her empty glass with him, and ordered two fruity cocktails (a 'Kupo' and a 'Croft') from a guy dressed in a Chocobo costume, rather proud of himself for recognizing it in the first place and mentally making a note to brag about it to Usagi later to receive a preening little pat.
And so, when he received an unexpected pat to his shoulder, he was so surprised to see his classmate standing there he nearly dropped the drinks.
"Matsushima-san!" he greeted with raised eyebrows.
"Chiba-san!" she said with a smile that was kind of wary, and yeah, from the way he'd acted with that lab thing and the talking her into giving her a ride like that and then ghosting her completely, he wasn't surprised if she was wary to see him at an event like this where she was, too, and was briefly terrified she might think he was stalking her.
"What are you doing here?" she said with an edge and a hand to his arm.
"My girlfriend works here, actually," he said with an awkward shrug.
"Oh!" she said, rolling her shoulders back, "mine does, too!"
And as if he'd summoned her, Usagi appeared at his side, clutching at his arm, sizing Matsushima's burgundy velvet dress up bottom to top, and for the first time in weeks, he found her eyes hot and fiery and angry and it sent such a thrill up his spine in sweet, glorious relief that he couldn't help but be an abominable idiot.
Honestly, it felt a little like a car crash even to him, and yet it was happening. With a little wrench away from Usagi, as if in slow motion, he saw Matsushima's growing and weirded out eyes as Mamoru dropped his arm on her shoulders in the weirdest, half-hovering-not-really-even-touching-because-too-weird, most-awkward pose he'd ever made.
"Usako!" he said in a voice that was too loud and too strange but just… happened… "let me introduce my good friend Ai—"
But it worked. Usagi was boiling. He saw it, and so he couldn't stop now that he was so close—
"Matsushima Ai," Usagi ground out between her clenched teeth with her gorgeous fists clenched tightly against her dress and his chest swelled. "Yes, I've heard of you," Usagi hissed.
"Uh…" Matsushima said, and disentangled herself with a duck out from under his arm and took a step back, but he was focused rigidly, and entirely, on his precious girl and her vibrating, livid, gorgeous eyes, thank god there she was—
"She's the one who rode on my motorcycle the other day," he said, too slowly, too brightly, too excited.
Finally, Usagi exploded. Erupted like the Tsukino-rage-bomb that he knew and adored, all flailing arms and puffed out chest and flying up towards him, and it was the fucking best sight he'd ever seen, he's never been this happy to SEE her like this—
"GET YOUR STUPID-SEXY MANICURED HANDS OFF MY MAN RIGHT THIS—"
He flew to her, melting, shutting her up with his own lips and moaning into her mouth, and held her face in an absolutely smitten, relieved puddle of pure, undiluted, relieved joy. He barely registered the whispered, "They're so weird," that the woman that had sided up next to Matsushima whispered who was most probably her girlfriend.
But he fully registered with a delighted sigh how Usagi's hands fisted in his hair as she dragged him with her.
"She's NOT getting you," Usagi hissed angrily against his mouth, pulling at his tie, and his knees nearly buckled because yes yes yes—
He was pushed against a wall, except it turned out to be a door and it flipped open behind his back and he was pushed into fluorescent light and moaned in flustered agony when she bit his lower lip and growled.
He got so hard so fast that it made the world swim that little bit.
"You hear me?!" she screeched at him, yanking at his belt buckle. "You're mine, Mamo-chan," she howled at him, and he shivered and melted and shivered some more, excitement running down his spine like electricity.
Who cared that this was a bathroom at her workplace? He closed his eyes and let her hands push at his hips and he hoped for the best and mewled into her mouth and gobbled it all up.
"You're never talking to her again," she ordered right against his panting mouth and it travelled straight to his cock with a whimper from his throat, furious hands ripping his belt out of his belt loops, and his back hit another door.
He had barely enough time to flip the lid on the posh, fancy toilet in this tiny room with fancy black floor-to-ceiling tiles and paint, before his belt landed on it with a loud metallic clank that would have landed in the bowl instead, and she shoved him against the wall (for real this time), and kicked the door shut, his lips her willing prisoner.
Then her hands were in his pants, one hand gripping his cock, the other his ass, and she stood on her tiptoes to keep attacking his mouth, alternating between shoving her tongue into his mouth and shouting at him.
"She's not having—" she broke for groan as he pushed back at her, and in one movement, not even a step in this tiny space, just him leaning forcefully forward, it was her with her back against the wall, and his mouth biting at her throat. "—you. Never. Y-you hear me?!"
"I do," he growled. "She's not," he said, and licked up her throat with the flat of his tongue up behind her ear, then bit at her earlobe. "Only you are."
"Yes," she hissed - and he hissed too, because her hand squeezed his cock and pulled on him.
"And you're—you – you—"
She had trouble speaking, because his tongue was too impatient, and so instead he bit her shoulder and pushed his hands into her hair and down her ass to lift her and press himself against her, because he needed her mouth free, he needed her to talk—
"— never answering anyone the time again, no one, just me," she babbled, now a little breathlessly, because his hand had slipped beneath her dress and found her crotch.
He could only nod against her shoulder in blissed out, pitiful lust, moaning at her skin, and started to rub her firmly through her panties, shaking and needy and cock leaking in her hand.
"And train bimbo is NEVER SEEING YOU AGAIN," she gasped out in harsh spurts, and this time he had to laugh; loud, snorting, happy sounds erupting from his throat, and it - god yes -only riled her up even more.
"AND NO WOMEN ARE EVER GETTING IN YOUR CAR AGAIN NOT EVEN THE GIRLS," she yelled at the top of her lungs, even when she pushed her hips and her sex down against his hands, writhing and quivering and soaking through the fabric.
"Tell me more," he groaned brokenly, weakly, and hiked up her skirt fully to fish her panties out from between her legs, dragging them in sloppy movements down her thighs.
"You'll shout at people to go away," she cried, now one long wailing moan, "Not smile at them, understand?!" and then she swore with clenched teeth and trembled pliant and stiff and boneless against his hand as it dragged blindly up her slit through her soaking wetness until she cried out some more, mumbling and cursing and swearing more threats under her breath that stopped making sense, her chest flushing pink underneath her cream bodice and he groaned, slipped his other hand from her hair and yanked one of the straps of her dress down her shoulder to free a breast.
"GOD, I missed this," he hissed before he pinched at both her nipple and her clit at the same time.
She did that thing where her breathing started to stutter and her eyes flew open towards the ceiling and it made him even harder, so impossibly, painfully hard, even when her hand fell limply from his cock.
"I tried to make you jealous so much, you have no idea," he babbled, watching her distracted face with greedy eyes closely, his gaze wandering her face as he kept stroking.
"W-wait," she choked, squeezing her eyes shut and gasping as he tapped at her clit. "W-what?!"
But he just went on. "Where have you been?" he gasped, then pressed his mouth into her hair, flicking his fingers and entering her in one languid stroke. "Why'd you stop?"
She cried out, because as if to emphasise his words, he'd pulled his fingers from her and away, and her hips came off the wall to get them back. But instead, he yanked at his pants, getting them out of the way, hefted up her thigh, and thrust into her.
She moaned long and hard and rolled her hips against him, grabbing onto his shoulders and surrendering her weight to him to do with whatever he wanted.
He groaned into her hair, pulled all the way out slowly, and thrust back in hard.
"My—" she started, then grunted when he did that again, "My co-workers said jealousy is bad," she whimpered, eyes closed as he filled her.
He frowned, bewildered, breathing harshly, and squeezed her butt and pushed in again. She keened. "Never listen to your co-workers again, Usako, ever," he panted. Pulling out slowly, thrusting back hard, hitting her clit. Repeat.
"I tried so badly to be good," she whimpered, nails digging into his shoulders, even through the fancy black dress shirt.
He snorted into her hair, stroking her ass and lifting her against his cock as he pushed back in. "Never, ever, ever be good Usako, please."
She stiffened, swore and succumbed and rode against his hips. "You're MINE," she hissed under her breath, fingernails digging harder.
He whimpered and accidently slipped out, causing her to cry out in frustration.
"Say that again," he begged, and slammed himself back into her.
She shouted. A long, drawn out, "MINE!" that rang in his ears and made him twitch inside of her and he had to bite his tongue because it was music and perfection and yes—
Her words came out in broken stutters in the rhythm of his cock hitting her ass against the wall in loud splats again and again. "No on—e gets to— touch y-you –but m—me."
"Again," he cried.
"Mine. Mine mine mine mine oh FUCK—"
Afterwards, sitting closely side by side - with finger-combed hair in mirrored poses and crossed legs back at 'their' table - they watched the biggest scene of the evening in rapt attention.
Apparently Nobu-kun had smiled at the waiter, or maybe told him the time, Usagi wasn't sure. His boyfriend, however, was yelling with a red face at the top of his lungs.
She shot Mamoru a startled look when she caught him muttering "Lucky bastard" quietly under his breath.
(I managed a comedy for once I think, woot!) Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this ridiculous mess lol. Reviews are love!