#and everyone in the class just looked at me n prof was like “why do u know that” and i was like “why wouldn't u teach about it”

[inniave]

pharmacies should automatically give you (or at the very least offer) naloxone any time you get an opioid prescription

[sun-snatcher]

( credits to the lovely @chrlie-cox for this adorable gifset ! )

✟ — 1/? | IN RE: “ODI ET AMO.” | i. The Problem with Stalemates.

summ.  You and Matt Murdock have been rivalling for Summa cum laude since the start. It’s your guys’ thing. So when you start to slip— it only makes sense that it’s him who catches you of all people. pairing. college!matt murdock / f!reader w.count.  4k, baby! a/n. set pre-s1 , pre-established ‘frenemy’ relationship , academic rivals-to-lovers , Matty is a soft cocky boy with blindness for rizz , Reader is an aloof girl who has a staring problem , latin title quoted from below . fic tag. #INRE:

“Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris. Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior." — Catullus, "LXXXV"

SALUTATORIAN ; VALEDICTORIAN.

Magna cum laude ; Summa cum laude.

You and Matthew Murdock.

Or, in re:

“Heckle and Jeckle,” Foggy laughs, half-exasperated and half-impressed at the mock-trial unfolding before him.

( It’s nearing almost an hour in. Nothing new when it comes to the likes of both you and Matt. )

Backchat, bickering, and banter is to be expected whenever you and Murdock cross paths. You can barely remember when you even began locking horns with him, really— it’s almost become a staple of your week to get rapt in a practice dispute with him that almost always ends up without a verdict or pushed to the next lesson for a retrial.

Professor Nguyen likes to call you two ‘Stale-mates’ because of that, and much to your chagrin, it’s stuck.

God forbid Matthew Murdock ever becomes a mate of yours. The thought has you scoffing. 

Murdock has always been outdoing you by a hair’s breadth since the start of law school, and you refuse to believe it’s ‘natural talent’ no matter how much everyone else claims it to be. He’s simply better. Which means you need to be better.

He’s also cocky, and charmingly so, you can admit that— the whole confidently-sweet-blind-gentleman shtick has half the class swooning and half the professors vouching for his success; which is exactly why he’s the bane of your existence. He had an, advantage, if you will, with a face like that. 

And brains, ofcourse.

“Objection, Foggy— I mean— Your Honor,” he amends, “Uh, I believe the defendant just called me a stubborn dumbass? I’m pretty sure that constitutes misconduct.”

The lecture hall breaks into laughter. 

You throw your hands up. That— well. Okay. Maybe you do tend to speak on impulse. But he had that effect on you: Disarming, as if acutely aware of your buttons to push and exactly when to push them.

Definitely not because he’s more level-headed than you when it comes to debates.

( Definitely not because of that jawline, either. )

…Whatever.

“Sustained, Mr. Jeckle Murdock,” Foggy waves. “As for you, Ms. Heckle, as much as I personally know how much of a pain in the ass my roommate can be, please maintain professionalism in court.”

Later, behind the lectern, Professor Nguyen dismisses the class short of a few minutes before it’s end. “As entertaining as it was, today’s trial went nowhere. Both parties ended up at an impasse, as usual. A stalemate.”

You wrinkle your nose at that. ( Matt notices from his end of the room. )

“And while it does show that dear Heckle and Jeckle here skilfully know their way around law, it also shows that both of them are terrible at exercising it. Why? Because what we’re trying to do here, at the end of the day, is find a conclusion. To seek resolution.”

Prof. Nguyen looks pointedly at Murdock. A swell of pride washes over you. ( Which, is recognisably a petty and self-indulgent thing to feel, considering he can't even see her look at him, anyway. )

“You should’ve taken the settlement, Matt. It was practically gift-wrapped,” Foggy tells him afterwards, during their usual trip down campus for a quick grab-and-go snack. “Doesn’t always have to be a cage fight, y’know?”

“And give Ms. Heckle the satisfaction of thinking she won on terms? Not a chance,” he snorts, nudging his guiding arm. “She’ll see that as surrender. At least, I would, with a compromise like that. Besides, even if the tables were turned, you know she wouldn’t have taken it either.”

“Aw, you guys know each other so well, don’t you?” Foggy sing-songs. “Practically all up each other’s faces earlier. Swear I thought she was gonna jump your bones for a sec—”

“Oh, c’mon, Foggy,” he groans, “Not this again.”

“I’m serious! God, if you can see the way she looks at you.”

“Fortunately, I can’t.” 

He can. In a way, ofcourse. Not that he’d ever admit that. Yeah, sure, he’s privy in the fact that you’re undoubtedly attracted to him, what with the fluctuating heartrate and tell-tale scent of natural pheromones, but that still doesn’t discount how you genuinely find him grating above it all. 

Matt would’ve almost considered it endearing— if he didn’t find you just as frustrating at times, too. 

It’s the boldness, he reasons. You never seemed to hide. Unapologetically and deliberately agitating.

( …Pretty voice, too. )

“You’re still smiling. That’s creepy. What’re you smiling about, Matt?”

It’s only when they’re too exhausted to read through some lengthy case study about Torts, lazing over their beds in their messed up dorm room, that the conversation gains traction again.

“Next time, remind me to keep your ass out of settlement negotiations.”

“I was giving her a reason to come back with a better deal,” Matt says, face half-smushed against his pillow.

“Mhm, sure. Just admit it—” Foggy pokes his head out the side of his laptop. “—you want her to come back. Every. Single. Time.”

“That is, hah, not true. I just wanna win fair and square.”

“You can’t see, but I’m making the biggest ‘that’s bullshit’ face ever,” he snorts, setting the debris of his bed off to one side. “First of all, law isn’t about winning. It’s not a game, and you of all people know that. Second of all, you can’t deny the sexual tension and chemistry of academic rivals!”

Chemistry that don’t exactly mix well, Matt wants to argue, not with your cross-sword tempest of a personality and his cool as ice quickdraw against every contrement you two share. Half of the school calls the pair of you oil and water when really it’s more a struck match to open gasoline.

Instead, he goes with: “Did Marci tell you that, Foggy-Bear?” 

Matt receives a pillow to the face. He barks out a laugh. “Okay, low blow, sorry, buddy.”

“You’re just jealous I got a girl and you’ve got the hots for the ‘Heckler’.”

“I do not. And in her defense, that nickname came from a good cause.”

( The ‘Heckler’, of which was borne: the time you discovered one of the University’s wunderkind sophomores got away with harassing Nabilah from your Interdisciplinary Legal Studies class under a registrar’s aegis.

You’d harangued both men, tore their reputation asunder with damning evidence, and left a monstrous shiner across the student’s face that printed all over the front page of Columbia Daily Spectator— the school paper— as a cherry on top. 

Matt remembers your voice echoing the flagstones: Another victim’s story swept under the rug of shitty institutionalised silence along with all the untold scandals!

No one crosses you since.

Until Matthew Murdock, of course, and so turned ‘Heckler’ into Heckle and Jeckle. )

“Never thought I’d see you come to her defense, Mr. Jeckle Murdock.”

“Well, I am an aspiring lawyer.”

“And Ms. Heckle—” Foggy points with a finger. “—is your literal enemy! She’s the only person standing against you and a Summa cum laude distinction— right after me, ofcourse— and is also the most stubborn force to be reckoned with.”

Matt shrugs. “She’s… you know. Passionate. I respect that.”

He regrets his words as soon as they leave his mouth. He can feel the smirk cutting across Foggy’s lips before he could interrupt him.

“…Respect, huh? That’s what we're calling it now?”

“Foggy.” Another groan. Matt volleys the pillow back— manages to clock him straight to the head despite an attempted dodge. “I respect her. Doesn’t mean I care about her.”

Matt Murdock realises very quickly he eats his words.

If he had the time to feel humiliated about it, he probably would.

“Heckle!”

On a sunny Monday afternoon, you wince mid-step down the flight towards your seat in the lecture hall, a lovely— you glance at the clockhand— 15 minutes late to class. 

The attempt to sneak in is ten times more awkward with the now-empty coffee cup in your hands.

“Nice of you to finally join us, Heckle,” comes the Professor’s terse voice. Tardiness has always been scorned by Mr. Lowell, and over the past few days— you’ve been arriving later and later. It’s unusual of you.

“…Good afternoon, Professor,” you greet, sheepish. 

You’re suddenly pinned by a hundred gazes. All except your Jeckle.

Murdock’s standing with a cant to his head and a smirk on his face you want to wipe off, looking pointedly forward. He must have been called upon in class to dispute a case before you stepped in. 

“Before you take your seat,” Prof. Lowell begins, “A tenant has claimed ‘illegal eviction’ after their landlord changed the locks to their door when they were away for a week. What’s the landlord’s best defense, in this case?”

You blink. Gather yourself by muscling your tote and laptop to another arm. 

“Abandonment. Since there was an extended period without any notice, or in this case, a week’s absence of no communication— they have reasonable grounds to assume abandonment was the tenant's intention, and justify locking the door as preventing damage or unauthorized occupancy.”

Matt Murdock’s reply is quick as lightning. 

“Abandonment is not a specific ground for eviction according to the law.” ( He doesn’t bother reminding you under which law and in what section; he knows you’re smart enough to know. ) “The landlord is still required to follow eviction procedures and file a holdover case in Housing Court to prove anything, regardless of their concerns about damage or squatters.”

Then, to add insult to injury: “Though self-help eviction can be deemed practical— it cannot be legally justified,” he shrugs. “So the tenant’s rights are still violated.”

The class turns to you. 

Your mouth opens, and shuts. 

Murdock smiles.

( It’s hardly a triumphant one, considering you were set up for failure. Little context, and even less evidence— Mr. Lowell is notorious of knowing exactly how to punish his students without making it blatant. Had the tables been turned, Matt knows himself he’d have argued the exact same thing and lost the exact same way. )

“Thank you,” the Professor nods. “Well argued, Heckle and Jeckle.”

You take your seat.

Then:

…Matt’s smile drops.

“Hey, uh, Foggy, is she—?”

Foggy is telling him something, probably clapping him on the back for actually winning, but he’s tuned everything out in favor of listening to you.

Matt tilts his head to concentrate. “Is she, Is she okay?”

“Hah, after that? Probably n—”

“I’m serious, Fog.”

A blink. 

The tone in his voice sends Foggy looking over his shoulder to look at you. “Not that I can tell?” he scrutinises. “Looks like her typical self. Not exactly wallowing, but maybe she's tired today?”

No, Matt doesn't say. 

You’re… crying. Been crying. 

He can hear your quiet sniffles; feel the hitching of your breath in the air; can taste the salt in it from where they’ve dried down your cheeks. Your bracelet tinkers as you down the remaining droplets of your cold brew.

“Something’s wrong,” Matt says, an hour later, for the third— Or fourth time? He’s not sure. He hasn’t been concentrating on whatever the lecturer has been saying, too busy paying attention to you.

“I can’t shake the feeling.”

“As someone who’s job one day involves taking hyper-educated guesses; I’m pretty sure she’s just stressed as hell. I mean, we’re law students. Even the great Ms. Heckle is bound to lose herself every once in a while, Matt.”

This is different, he wants to insist, even though the logical part of him is reasoning out the same answer. It wouldn’t hurt to check, though, if the nervousness he can practically feel radiating from your end of the room is really just workload-stress. 

He’s devised a flimsy plan by the time the lesson is over. Flimsy, by way of meaning: he thought of it on the spot as everyone rushes out of class when the clock struck 4pm. 

A clumsy bump. Brailled papers sent fluttering to the floor. Matt’s stellar acting as a blind man struggling to gather scattered work.

You curse and mutter an uncandid apology. “Didn’t see you.”

“Makes two of us,” Matt jokes, and once you’d neatly stacked his papers and returned it, goes:

“Heckle.”

He feels your gaze flick up to him.

“Jeckle.” 

A pause. Matt flounders. He hadn’t really expected to get this far. ( Neither did Foggy, apparently, who he can feel peeking around the corner. )

“I…”

“Listen, Murdock, I’m not in the mood,” you sigh in the silence, and he can hear your bracelet charm again as you raise your hand to rake through your hair. “You won. Congrats. Is it not enough for you that I got caught with my pants down in front of everyone already?”

“No, that’s not— That’s not what I was gonna talk about. I just,” he fumbles, fidgeting with his satchel’s strap, “Wanted to know if… everything’s okay.”

You blink.

Matt waits for a scoff. The curt counter. The caustic remark. Then, like a record-scratch jerk on a vinyl:

“I’m fine. Thanks.”

A lie. And an uncharacteristically polite one. The beat pulses late, loud and clear in his ears. 

And, perhaps most curiously:

That rush of bloodflow around your elbows, carefully hidden under your sleeves; the faint scent of coagulate pooling into a fresh haematoma and forming a shaped contusion on your arm. 

A bruise.

You’re late for Advanced Legal Ethics on Tuesday.

Professor Abena is a strict Ghanaian woman who never tends to be lenient, but you tell her you’re late because of a dragged-out interview for an externship. She buys the lie.

Matt doesn’t, for obvious reasons.

The bruise on your arm has begun to fade. He wonders how long it’s been there. 

You disappear too quick for him to ask. 

You’re absent on Wednesday.

It’s hard to focus without you.

“Where’s your stale-mate, Mr. Jeckle?” Professor Nguyen jokes.

Wish I knew.

You miss MBE Prep.

Matt tries not to worry.

He offers to take the theory typescripts out the Professor’s hands to pass along to you— just so he gets the excuse to ask around if anybody knew where you were, or whether you had a roommate.

( No one’s exactly sure— apparently your only friend had dropped out a year ago due to some medical issue, and you’ve been a loner since. )

Foggy learns from Marci, though, that she’s pretty sure you stay in a single-dorm at Lenfest Hall.

Word-of-mouth reaches you by Friday that Matt Murdock had demolished four other students back-to-back on a practice Defamation case. 

He’d apparently told Foggy he misses having competition.

You don’t smile, but… it’s a very close thing.

The Diamond Law Library on campus is gargantuan, so you’d practically jumped out your skin when someone decided to take the seat across your work-scattered table. At 9:45pm on a Saturday night, the library’s mostly a ghost town.

It’s Murdock.

Under the moon and the flaxen-dim lamplights, he’s painted more softly than you’ve ever seen him.

( Perhaps it’s the sweater and the mussed hair. Whatever it is, you’re just glad he can’t ever see you staring. ) 

He greets you in lieu of the usual head tilt:

“Heckle.”

“Jeckle.”

You continue before he can. “What do you want?”

( Blunt. Cursory. Borderline rude— he almost sighs in relief from the familiarity of it. )

“It’s more of: What does Professor Nguyen want,” Murdock says, inviting himself by folding his cane and resting it on the table to take a seat. “Remember the Legal Research assignment? She wants it done in pairs.”

Ah. So this is where it’s going. “There is absolutely no way in Hell that I’d partner with you, Murdock.”

“Ah, well,” he shrugs, nonchalant. “You were absent Wednesday. A little too late to say no. ‘Sides, she already noted I’m gonna be your partner.”

Something in your frontal lobe haywires. Words catch in your throat. Your palms are thrown wide. “What do you mean—?! Why the hell didn’t you partner with your ‘B.F.F’ Nelson?!”

( Someone shushes you in the distance. Matt almost laughs when he senses you flick a middle finger their way. )

“Because I have an advantage,” he states, matter-of-fact, and because it’s far better verbiage than saying ‘you need me’ to one of the world’s most independent and mule-headed people alive. “And I know it’ll hel—.”

“I don’t want your help,” you override, pen placed down with an impatient slap. 

Murdock leans back against his seat. There’s a mien you see washing over him; the same calm, collected and cocky one that he always slips into whenever he’s called up for an answer or dialogue. Prepared for a fight.

“Listen, Heckle. It’s the final year, and we’re drowning in work. Now, I can tell by the fact that you’re here on a Saturday night that you’re behind on something, because I know I would be if I missed nearly a week of classes. What you need the most is time, and fortunately for you, working with me grants you that.”

A confused look. “You’re gonna buy me time?”

“Us,” he rights, cheekily, before explaining simply: “Me being visually impaired has its perks. I’m blind; considered disabled. And students with disabilities have the right to ease of access and accommodations.”

The chair creaks as you sink back into it. He can tell you’ve already connected the dots.

“Like an extra week for submissions,” you huff, resigned. 

Matt drums his finger on the table edge. “A week and a half if I push it. I mean, Ms. Nguyen loves me. Can’t blame her, really.”

Another eye-roll, but with less heat this time. Matt knows the space of contemplative silence is really just for show in favour of protecting your ego. Which— fair enough. He’d have done the same.

“You’re holding a cudgel over my head,” you say, testy.

“I prefer to call it an olive branch. Speaking of which: Mr. Ravi from the prep course handed out a review guide…” He trails off as he feels for his bag, sliding out two spiral bound booklets and setting it on the table. It’s a compendium of notes for the final year bar exam.

A braille label is pasted on the top right corners of both books. His fingers read the raised dots, before he slides it across. “This is your copy.”

Your finger runs curiously at the dents translating your name.

Unbidden, you picture him domestic in his dorm room, meticulously taking the time to emboss a label to differentiate yours from his. The thought alone has you with half the mind to rip it off.

(You end up leaving it as is. Wouldn’t’ve made a difference if you did, anyway. Yeah.

Totally not because you find it endearing— No. Never.)

Coloured sticky notes with chicken-scratch writing are littered across some pages as you flip through. He must have heard you thumb at some of them, because he goes, “Oh, I got Foggy to annotate whatever you might’ve missed. I hear he’s got bad handwriting so, uh, I made him do it on post-its. If you can’t read it, you can ask him.”

( …God, he makes it hard to be pissed off at, sometimes. Maybe you just need more caffeine. )

“Mh. How thoughtful of you.”

It’s the closest thing to a sincere thank you he’s sure he’ll ever get. Matt has to bite back a smile. “You’re welcome, Heckle.”

You set the guide aside with your other study materials, ignore the nickname. “How’d you even find me here?”

He shrugs. “You won’t believe me even if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“Alright. I caught a whiff of coffee and misery a floor away and knew it could only be you,” Murdock jokes, smoothly. (Except it’s not a joke. He could smell your perfume and your cold brew from the stairwell.) 

When you scoff, he makes a you-asked-for-it face. Before you can remark, though, he lets out a soft exhale. It’s honest.

“…Your bracelet.”

Realisation takes a moment. “You heard it?”

“I recognise it,” he emphasises. “Always makes a sound whenever we argue because you like to throw your hands around. Like tiny bells.”

That shouldn’t have felt more intimate than it sounds.

You breathe sharply out your nose. Press your tongue against your cheek. The air is charged with something, but not so much the keyed up kind you two share in a mock-trial. If anything, it almost feels right; as if he’d filled in a space you hadn’t yet realised was empty. 

Margining a comfortable silence. 

“Where’d you go?” Matt decides to finally ask, so imperceptibly that had you not been in the silence of the library, he doesn’t think you would’ve heard him. “Mock trials have been boring,” he adds, before he can even stop himself. 

It’s a sliver of heart. Unforgivable sentiment to extend to his so-called nemesis.

He hears your heartrate spike. The sleeve of your jacket shifting as you fidget at your arm. The bruise is healed, now. Matt can’t tell if the adrenaline he can sense is borne from his question or his admission.

“I visited my friend in the hospital,” you say, turning your attention to your pens and highlighters instead as you put them away. “She was my roommate.”

Steady pulse; honest truth. “A week-long visit?”

“I caught something there and ended up sick.”

The fib is delivered so fluently he’d have been convinced if he hadn’t been listening to your heart. Matt breathes a sigh out his nose. He’ll have to try again another time, he supposes, and fortunately he’s bought plenty with you.

“Feeling better?”

You zip your pencil case sharply. Shut your laptop with an abrupt click. “Well, I was, until you came along. So, no.”

A lie. Beat late, loud and clear. 

Matt Murdock tilts his head at you. Puppy-like, almost— as if he’s studying you.

Then he ducks his head and smiles.

It’s punctuated by the briefest slip of knowing, soft laughter; Has you tarrying over the flash of his canines; the dimple carving into his cheek; the windswept look of him in his stupid navy, cotton-light sweater.

…Boyishly handsome. It stuns you into place. 

“I’ll see you Monday,” he avers, “Don’t be late, Heckle. Remember, we’re stale-mates, now.”

“Shut up,” you snap, bristling.

Somehow, against all odds—

It’s the least insulting tone you’ve taken with him yet.

( Matt considers it a win. )

[satellitespinner]

✼ mommy issues .. (one)

a/n: oh did you think this was gonna be a cute lil fluff fic? nahh it’s sad city down there!! be careful..

content warnings: ANGST panic attacks.. hurt (no comfort.) joel is dead. ellie’s a lil sad :/// ellie’s a lil anxious… ellie’s a projection of me.. ANYWAYS. reader and ellie are kinda the same but different ??? swearing ofc.. reader is very much okay with being a lesbian ! and she’s on good terms with the baby fawtha cause what! ellie is not fond of children apparently?? she also might be autistic.

wc: 2k.

taglist: @flowersforvi @diddiqueen @ellslvr @saturnsdrafts @3lli3l0v3r @williamssgirl @liasxeatt @adelaide013 @a-little-bit-of-everybody @elliessweetheart @pedropascalsbbg @ellies2missingfingers @nelzooo @r3starttt @jaeminpookie @onlinelesbo @tphmnv @p4ison1vy @pascals-doll @snowy-vee @diddiqueen

ellie grew up around masculinity, thats why people assume she is the way she is. but ellie can assure that her brain would work the exact same way if she had a mother.

plus, she had joel. that was really all she needed. she still knew how to be a woman. it’s not like she grew up without a mother and didn’t know anything about herself.

2 WEEKS AND 4 DAYS AGO..

ellie sighed and threw the white stained towel over her shoulder. fuck she muttered under her breath as she read yet another email.

ATTENTION STUDENTS!

You will all be required to purchase the following textbooks in order to complete the course - They will help immensely in the upcoming exam. I recommend reading carefully and thoroughly.

Sincerely,

Prof Morgan.

all 5 of the books linked in the email were over $150.00 each. how the fuck was she supposed to work that out? all while paying her own tuition, rent and utilities.

“yo, williams!” her manager jesse yelled, interrupting her calculations.

“breaks over.” he snatches the towel from her shoulder and makes his way back into the kitchen with it in tow.

she scoffs and shoves her phone back into her polyester pocket. jesse’s head pops back into the room “oh and” he starts before turning to her. “you’re training today” she scoffs and lifts herself off the chair.

“is that even in my job description?” she follows him out of the kitchen once again.

“sure it is, i just described it to you.” he winks, ellie huffs.

the sky had dimmed by the time ellies shift was over. skating home was gonna be a bitch.

“you need a ride home?” dina places a hand atop her shoulder, a helpful smile on her face. ellie really wanted to say no. she’s been asking for help from others so much lately.

“no, uhh- i’ll get home t’night. thanks dee.” she nods as she grabs her skateboard from her locker. have the trucks always been this lose?

“no, i insist.” dina presses. she pulls out her keys and throws her bag over her shoulder.

“let’s go, my child.” she giggles at the nickname. ellies shoulders relax.

“thanks again, i really appreciate it.” ellie said, her tone laced with genuine gratitude. dina dismisses her with a hand flick. “don’t even sweat it.” she bragged. “now get goin, it’s late.”

ellie pushes the car door open with a steady grip on her skateboard. her smile falters as she waves dina off.

she unlocks her door with a trembling hand, she hated being alone.

the picture of her and joel neatly placed beside the coat rack mocked her as she placed her skateboard down in its dedicated spot. she stared into the picture until the colors morphed into one big glob.

the loss of not just a parent, but her only parent cut her deep. she could barely lift her head for the first while, nevermind go to work. she should be proud of herself! but she isn’t.

how could she be? she felt like everyone else in her life was doing so much with themselves. dina had a kid for fucks sake! dina had a whole kid and ellie couldn’t even get to class on time.

“fuck.” she muttered as she placed her keys down. bills upon bills were flooding the kitchen counter. tears burned at her eyes, blurring her eyesight.

i look so pathetic right now. she thought. a slight chuckle leaving her throat at that.

she tried to blink back the tears but she couldn’t, they just kept coming.

her silent whimpers quickly turned to snotty sobs as her chest heaved in and out involuntarily. she placed a heavy hand on her heart as she slid down the kitchen cabinet. soon enough she found herself completely breathless and wailing.

she eventually calmed herself through deep breaths and a cold glass of water. as she does through every panic attack, although the melancholic feeling always lingered.

after joels death ellie could never find herself truly happy. especially not in an environment where he was everything, everytime she turned around she was reminded of the man who wasn’t even her real father.

nothing was really hers.

she made her way down the dark, dusty hallway to her bedroom. desks adorned with pictures of her and joel. she ignored them this time.

she stripped of her uniform and took to the shower. the water burning her skin till it turned red. she scrubbed harshly at her scalp and body. she smelt like grease. gross.

the after shower feeling made her feel a bit better. she grabbed her toothbrush and rinsed it before wiping a glob of colgate toothpaste on the bristles and shoving it in her mouth.

ellie chased sleep for what felt like an eternity. her damp hair scratching at her neck was definitely a part of the problem.

thank god she didn’t work saturdays..

the first 30 seconds of ellie’s day were complete bliss, usually. but not today.

today ellie woke up to the obnoxious sound of a child crying. she decided right then and there that the universe hates her and wants her to die. (but she thinks that about everyone in her life..)

she scoffs and walks over to the curtains, her own padded feet already annoying her.

she peeks out the curtain only to be met with a u-haul and an suv parked in the driveway next door.

new neighbors, how wonderful. and they had a whiny kid! perfect.

she continues watching out the window until she sees you hand off the kid to its father. her eyes follow you until you step into the u-haul and start dragging boxes out. that’s when she sighs and decides to get ready for the day. even though she doesn’t want to.

your entire life you were desperate to be equal. to be taken seriously. you craved maturity.

you spent your entire childhood chasing adulthood. you were desperate to grow up. you didn’t know it then, but you would regret it.

the one thing you didn’t regret, was felix. the baby that you got out of your last relationship. that was before you realized you were very much a lesbian..

“cmon baby, just put your shoe on.” you struggled against the child in the backseat as he wailed. the sound was excruciating.

“please- can you just let mommy put your shoe on?” you gritted as you attempted to shove the shoe onto her other foot.

“no!” he screamed, almost directly into your face. that was it.

“you know what? fuck it.” you muttered the last words under your breath. truthfully you already weren’t setting a good example, but hey! let not say fuck infront of our kid!

you gave up on the shoes and shushed him gently as you undid his seatbelt from his car seat. you placed him in the arms of his father, tossing the shoe into his dinosaur covered backpack.

he slowly came down from his tantrum as he placed his head on his dads shoulder.

“you sure you don’t need me to help unpack?” your ex asks, unsure of leaving you behind with an entire house to furnish.

“yep! i’m good!” you smile. you gently kiss your baby’s forehead before shutting your car door.

the father nods in response. “just text if you need and we will be here. isn’t that right felix?” he asks the child who nods profusely.

“of course mama!” he shouts causing you and his dad to laugh. “well alright then!” you rush, it was still early but you were eager to get to your gardening before dark.

you watch as your ex buckles the kid in and situated himself in the car, before pulling out of the driveway he rolls down felixs window.

you blow kisses as the pull out of the driveway and take off to ‘the old house’ in your sons words.

as soon as the car is out of sight you make your way over to the U-Haul.

you’re so focused on getting this last box out of the truck that you don’t even feel the presence creep up behind you.

“hey did you need some hel-”

“what the fuck!”

you jump in fear before turning around. being faced with a red headed, green eyed girl.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry.” she apologizes calmly. an awkward look on her face as you stare at her wide eyed.

you chuckle lightly before putting your hands on your hips. “it’s alright, hon.” you reassure.

you two just awkwardly stare at eachother for a few seconds before ellie finally speaks up again.

“i saw you struggling. did you want some help?” she asks. her eyes drifting to the box filled with gardening tools.

“oh that would be amazing!” you said before wiping the sweat of your forehead.

ellies eyes follow a droplet of seat down your neckline all the way down your cleavage. she finds herself licking her lips

before you introduce yourself.

she darts her eyes back up to your own, praying that you didn’t see her blatantly check you out. “i’m- i’m ellie.” she jumps over her words.

since when did you not know how to speak, idiot? she internally face palms before walking over to pick up the box.

“where do you want this?” she asks with a grunt as she steadys the box in her arms.

“just over here” you direct, letting her follow you as you walked over to the side of the house. she follows you and sets the box down with ease. she jokingly wipes the dirt off of her hands before nodding and starting to walk off.

“oh sweetie! i don’t wanna be a bother but would you mind helping me with one more thing?”

you must’ve been magic because somehow you swindled ellie into helping you with almost everything, and she was totally fine with it.

currently you were both at your kitchen island, laughing over a bottle of wine.

ellie had confided in you about school and you had rambled to her about what it’s like to be a mother.

“yeah, i mean- besides pregnancy it’s not all that bad.” you admit. ellie’s face shifts at the mention of pregnancy.

“i don’t know if i could ever have a baby inside me. i think i’d like- die.?” she questions. “not that i would of course” she giggles. your face becomes a look of confusion.

“no boyfriend? or just not one for kids?” you ask. you totally forgot that it’s very possible for her to be-

“i’m a lesbian” she answers and takes another sip of wine. her eyes watching your face for any negative reaction.

you clap your hands over your mouth quickly. now it seems obvious.

“i am so sorry, that totally slipped my mind.” she laughs at your attempts to redeem yourself.

“it’s totally chill, don’t worry.” she reassures, a smile on her face.

“i am too, actually.” you admit, it was your first time admitting it to someone other than yourself of your now ex husband.

“oh i was just gonna ask if that was your husband out there earlier.” she fidgets with the rings on her fingers as she asks.

“well, ex. it’s not easy to find a baby sitter that actually takes care of my kid these days.” you admit to her. she ponders for a slight moment before speaking up again.

“well, if you’re looking. i’m usually free during the day, i work nights most of the time.” she offers up. she wasn’t really sure why. she wasn’t even a fan of kids.

“really?!” it looks like your eyes had bulged out of your head. “god that would be amazing! i’ll pay you!”

ellie didn’t hear anything besides ‘i’ll pay you’ that’s all she needed to know.

“yeah of course. i’ll take him.” she confirmed.

that night ellie left with your phone number and a smidge of hope in her heart.

[ikykwklk-ash]

"How did you meet?"

Pairing: Kim Seungmin x fem!reader

W/c: 1180

Synopsis: A normal history and philosophy lesson with Professor Kim Seungmin and the topic "do opposites attract?" and the story of how y/n and seungmin met.

A/N: Hope you like it!! ♡

<<Professor I still do not understand why opposites attract! It does not make sense! We call them opposites, but they could also be equal in theory! >>

It was the twentieth time the poor professor had heard that question. Of course, if we talk about chemistry and physics, it is all different...but in love things are more complicated.

That was how that working day had started, a simple statement from the professor and millions of objections from his pupils.

<<Professor, tell us know what you think! We pupils are always talking, and you keep quiet as if you were in detention.>> One of the boys in the class had spoken only to say that sentence.

Seungmin looked up at him, adjusting his glasses that had almost fallen to the tip of his nose.

<<In my opinion: opposites attract.>> he replied simply, nothing more, nothing less.

<<Come on, teacher, which is not fair! Give us more motivation.>> This time one of the girls said.

What was supposed to be one hour of History and one hour of Philosophy had turned into two hours of debate without even meaning to.

<<I think: it is true that opposites attract, we can say that from many points of view, can't we? You did it in science. The north pole of one magnet attracts the south pole of another and vice versa. We could summarise this in the practicalities of life as 'despite being different from you it attracts you' right? Do you agree? >>

The class had his undivided attention.

<<But if we apply this idea to life, it is not so because there are people who like people of the same sex and people who like people of a different sex.>>

<<Rightful observation, but surely the concept of 'opposite' should not be attributed to the physical but to character. However similar two people may be physically; they will never be equal in character. Consequently, opposites, understood in character, attract.>>

Of course, it was easy for him to attract attention with those words; teaching philosophy had served more than just teaching the subject.

<<Are any of you here engaged?> a third of the class raised their hands.

<<And you professor? He never told us anything about you.>> Cleverly someone took advantage of the moment to ask that question, which elicited a laugh from the professor.

<<I am engaged, but that is all you need to know.>> The pupils, obviously curious as they were, started asking a thousand questions.

<<Oh, come on professor, at least tell us if you are older than that!>> and the professor denied it.

<<Could you tell us whether your hair is curly or straight? And the colour? Does she wear glasses?>> They were flooding him with questions it was difficult to please everyone, Seungmin knew that in their own way they were building up a sketch of his girlfriend to see if she was someone from the school or from outside.

<<Hm let us see, dark curly hair, wears glasses yes, dark eyes, bigger than me by a little but I am taller. She is from Busan while I am from Seoul...>> and so on.

Paradoxically, he had just revealed that they were opposites.

<<And what does her girlfriend do? >> Someone asked in the middle of the crowd of guys who were no longer even sitting in their seats.

<<She is currently working in a bar to pay for his last year of university.>> They looked at him curiously.

<<But if she was older, she should have finished university like you! Prof do not make fun of us.>> He laughed with gusto at that sentence.

<<I graduated earlier than expected and the principal at once provided me with a job here at the school. What, you are not happy to have a young prof? >> he pretended to be offended.

<<Of course we did, but once in a while he could dress in a way that he didn't look like the usual forty-year-old father with three children prof.>> he laughed, maybe he did dress that way, but he liked it, and so did his partner, so he would continue to dress that way.

<<Prof tell us how you and your boyfriend met, come on! >>

He began to tell the long story.

Our two protagonists have known each other for a lot of years, by pure chance they met in the third year of high school following an educational trip to Seoul for the one in Busan and a simple field trip for the one in Seoul.

The teachers from both schools knew each other they had organised that 'field trip' together and so they spent the entire day together.

From small and quick glances, they went on to sit next to each other during lunch, talking and talking to no end, until they exchanged numbers. The two best friends of the little boy with the discoloured fringes soon found out about this and began to make plans to try and get them together. Somehow, they even succeeded.

<<Wait, so you have known each other since you were 16, and if he is 26 now...oh my gosh you have been together for 10 years? Congratulations teacher, I did not expect that to be honest! >> The last few minutes passed quickly amidst the chatter of the students until the bell rang and everyone started getting ready to change classes.

<<For tomorrow I want to bring in a little essay on what you think of the phrase "opposites attract" and I want some good reasons.>>

<<Of course, though, a boy from Seoul and one from Busan who are now in Japan... that is a beautiful story. I wish I had one like theirs.>> There were only two girls left in the class and without knowing it, they made Seungmin smile as he continued to correct the previous week's tests.

With his school day over, he could finally go to his favourite café to relax and spend time with the companion he had fallen in love with ten years earlier.

<<In what sense do your pupils know me?>> Y/n asked as he put the usual things, he always took in front of him: peppermint tea and handmade almond biscuits. <<In the sense that they practically interrogated me about you, honey. They are kids are more curious than Scooby-Doo was.>> he replied, drinking the tea, and making the other laugh.

<<You have biscuit crumbs on your chin love. Also... I understand you are the students' favourite. Where did the subject of us being engaged come from? >>

After wiping himself with a handkerchief he replied: <<From a simple sentence. "Opposites attract". I had intended to lecture but they didn't, so some sort of debate ensued and from there the topic "prof but are you engaged?">>

<<And I guess you did not hesitate to tell the whole story to lend credence to your thesis that opposites do indeed attract. Right? >> the boy sitting at the table smiled, also making the waiter smile, who kissed him lightly shortly afterwards.

[beaker1636]

Baby It's Cold Outside - Vinny Mauro College AU Smut

A/N: So I know I said no requests posted until Fridays and Saturdays but I am so excited about this one, I absolutely love it. It may be my best smut story to date at almost 6,000 words! So I decided to post it early because I am too excited and can't wait to share it! The request was literally just Vinny Christmas Smut, and while this doesn't touch a lot on Christmas it is where my mind went. Hope you enjoy!!

God damnit, you groan in your head as you trudge through the cold weather towards the house of your classmate.  Of course Vinny would skip one of the final classes before winter break, making your teacher ask you to take the assignment to him… meaning you had to walk out in the cold, and had to do it this morning before the storm hit.

Truthfully you could have done it last night but you just didn’t want to, preferring to return to your dorm room so that you could sulk about the task you are currently doing in your head.  You’re hoping that the rest of the guys he lives with are gone already, so you only have to deal with him, but who knows.  You honestly were shocked when you found out he hasn’t left to go home for the holiday yet, he is extremely close to his family.  Yet another reason for you to be jealous of him, but you would never admit that.

You finally walk up the sidewalk to the house, knocking on the door.  You don’t expect him to answer right away given it is only 10 in the morning, and any usual college student would still be sleeping in at this point in the day on a day of no classes.  So when the door opens almost immediately you are almost caught off guard, to be met with Vinny standing there, tousled hair from sleep and a smile on his face.

“Hi, I was sent to give you the homework you missed.  Because Prof decided you needed to be miserable over Christmas break.”

Apparently you shouldn’t have said that, because Vinny immediately laughs, his bright grin on his face while you try to dampen the emotions in your chest that it made you feel, reminding yourself that he doesn’t like you in that way. Bringing yourself back down to earth not focusing on how attractive he looks right now.

“Thank you, why don’t you come in for a moment before you get too cold.  Have a cup of coffee in thanks for bringing this all the way here for me,” he offers, stepping aside so that you could step inside the house around him, his voice still rough from sleep.

You slowly step inside, taking in the warmth that your body was craving and letting your eyes wander around the empty and clean house that he shares with his band that they’ve formed.  Last time you were here was for a party where a window was broken by Ryan while playing a dumb game and people were everywhere, a moment that had you too close to Vinny that you are praying he was too drunk to remember.

“Where is everyone else?” You ask curiously, not taking off your coat or boots to give the wrong impression that you were going to get comfortable.

“They all left already for the holidays, I was the last one to get a flight that leaves in a few days unfortunately.”

Oh, so it was just the two of you alone.  You tried your best to look normal, unfazed by this revelation despite the fact that you are currently nervous being in such close proximity, worried that your crush that you have been hiding for years is going to break through.  Though you had to admit it was painful, the fact you have waited for years hoping that he would notice you but he never did.  You were still boring old y/n from highschool, despite the fact you are now in college together.  You have always just been friends, and you accepted that years ago unfortunately.  Nothing has changed through the years except he somehow got hotter than is fair, more than any other guys your age, but that is besides the point.

With you lost in your mind it gave Vin a chance to watch you, trying to figure out what he did wrong.  Ever since that party a few weeks ago things have been different between both of you, you giving him the cold shoulder most of the time, and he can’t even remember what he did. He noticed you looked stiff, but didn’t want to ask what you we’re thinking about and scaring you off like he has always been good at.

“Come on, let's get coffee,” he offered, moving to lead you towards the kitchen but noticing that you hadn’t moved.

Truthfully, you are trying to figure out what your excuse to leave can be, wanting to head out the door and never come back, not able to ignore the clear edge in his voice.  He didn’t seem upset though, in fact something a bit more was in his gaze, even if he seemed friendly, not on guard.

“I’m serious, you have to be freezing, it is damn near below zero and windy because of the storm moving in.  You’re still shivering and have your coat on. I can even loan you a cup to take it in if you want to leave that bad but I would rather you at least come in and warm up some,” he says, giving you a warm smile.  Hoping to coax you into staying for at least a little bit, so he can pick your brain, figure out what he did to upset you so much.  

Damn him, now you can’t leave without looking like a jerk, he is being so friendly it would look bad if you said no.  And truthfully as cold as you are coffee does sound nice right about now.  

“Sure,” you say. “I could use some heat, but I want to get out of here and to my dorm before this storm officially hits.”

The tension in the air disappears as you follow him into the kitchen.  You watch as Vinny pours you a cup when suddenly you hear the wind pick up, the lights flickering in the house and you panic.  This was not good at all.  The weatherman said the snow storm wasn’t going to be here until tomorrow and now it is hitting early, you never would have left your house if you knew it would hit early.

“Should we be worried?” You ask, you hate storms of any kind and the lights flickering makes you anxious, worried that the lights will go out and that you will be stuck here, you don’t want that.  

“The house doesn’t always like wind and storms, especially as windy as it is getting.  Cream and Sugar for your coffee, correct?” He says, deflecting your question, trying to distract you because he remembers how much you hate storms.

“Yes please, so anyways should we be worried?” You ask again, watching him pull some creamer out and pour it into your cup and adding a little sugar before handing it back to you with a smile, hoping that it was correct.  Watching your expression when you take the first sip, hoping that you enjoy it.

“Good?”

“It is good, thank you,” you say with a smile, taking another sip as you close your eyes to take in the warmth from the cup before you glance at him with a stern look. “Okay now stop distracting me please, I want you to answer my question.

You meet his eyes, watching his reaction closely as he goes to answer, but as he does the house goes dark, like something has been pulled over the windows as the power goes out.  You glance out the windows and notice that it is dumping snow, suddenly anxious at the weather change.

“Fuck, that actually just happened.  Thank god you got here before it suddenly hit,” he says, giving you a nervous look before helping you to the couch and pulling his phone out of his pocket to pull the weather up.  “They’re talking about downed wires and power outages, that we need to stay inside.  Guess you are stuck with me for now.  Thank god we have the fireplace and a lot of wood in here, I will get that going.”

Vinny says before scurrying off, getting started at lighting the fireplace so that the two of you have some heat, even if it isn’t a lot it will be enough for you both as you watch him, your nerves growing as you listen to the wind howl.

He gets it going and then walks off, before returning with a thick blanket for you, laying it over your lap before starting to light some candles that he found, bringing a little more light to the room around you.  “I’m going to grab some blankets to insulate the house as much as I can, fill the gaps under the door and windows.  Want to help?” He asks.

You get up and help him do that, to help prevent the cold air from making its way into the house that is already getting cooler, both of you somewhat miserable in the rest of the house and letting out a sigh when you sit on the couch, pulling the blanket over both of you.

It is now that it hits you that you are stuck here with Vinny, sitting closely to him on the couch.  You try to ignore the fact your stomach is in knots, you aren’t sure if it is nerves because of the storm or because you are so close to him right now… or maybe it is both.

“Hey, I know storms freak you out.  How are you feeling?” His voice startled you, but you quickly relaxed into the warmth of the blanket.

“Uhh a little cold, but alright I think.  At least I am not stuck weathering the storm alone in the dorm,” you say softly, trying not to let out just how cold or freaked out you actually are at the moment.

“Shit, you are cold,” he says the second his hand rests on yours to comfort you, able to tell it is bothering you more than you are letting on.  “Stand up for a second, I will move the couch closer to the fireplace.”

You do as he asks, watching as he moves it closer to the fireplace before both of you settle on it again.  This time he sits a lot closer to you, pulling you into his side without a word, you know you are blushing at this.

“This will help keep you warm, if you are okay with this,” he says sheepishly, realizing that he probably shouldn’t have just done that, hoping that you aren’t mad.

You nod, not responding as you sigh contently, curling up next to him and taking advantage of his body heat.  Truthfully, he only did this so he could be close to you, wanting to feel your touch, but he wouldn’t admit that out loud.  He adjusted to pull you onto his lap, letting you soak in his body heat that he is sharing while your face is pressed into his neck. 

“Thank you, this is…. Nice,” you say shyly, glad he can’t see the look on your face as you are probably blushing again.  You are gladly going to take advantage of this, it’ll haunt your dreams for months to come.  You move, your hands resting on his arms, making him jump.

“Fuck, you are freezing.  Why are you like this,” he says, shivering slightly at your cold touch, making you giggle.

“I don’t know, I just always have cold hands.  I’m sorry,” you say softly, moving to pull them away but his hands rest on yours, holding them to him.

Neither of you say much for awhile, just basking in the warmth from the fireplace while curled up together under the blankets.  Eventually a hand is in your hair, gently stroking it, letting it run between his fingers for several moments, making you sigh and lean into him more, enjoying the gentle touches.  He hears your quiet sigh in his ear and continues, enjoying the fact that he can tell just how sensitive you are to his touch.

“You’re sensitive there… Where else?” He asks you, you are almost able to hear the smile in voice as you try not to answer, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. You also are not wanting to admit this to him in fear that he will stop touching you, and you are enjoying it, even if it is only your hair too much to let him stop.

He takes your silence as his permission to keep going and slowly slides his hand down the side of your neck before settling close to your collarbone, gently stroking it while trying to gauge your reaction.  Satisfied when you let out a soft moan, letting him know that you are enjoying his touch right now, more than you probably should when he is barely touching you.

“You are a mess huh,” he says lowly, continuing to lightly run his fingers along your collarbone, teasing you, wanting to draw more sounds out of you.  “I can keep touching you if you want, doesn’t have to be anything naughty, just this.”

You want to be alarmed, want to say no and fight him off when his hands move down, roving your covered hips and thighs briefly before returning to rub circles along your neck, happy that you are now leaning into his touch.  He is pretty sure he knows your answer even if you won’t say it out loud.

“I- I mean I guess. It was… it felt good.  But won’t this change things between us?” You ask, embarrassed at everything that is currently taking place.  To be admitting that the man is barely touching you and you are already thoroughly enjoying it.

“I think things changed at the party, don’t you?  Can I ask you a question about that night?” he asks you, hands leaving soothing circles against your lower back.  Trying to keep you relaxed enough that you won’t try to run when he asks what he wants to ask.

You nod, him feeling the movement against his neck where you still have your face nestled, glad he couldn’t see how much you were blushing.

“Would you have actually slept with me that night if Rick didn’t walk into the room?” He asks, his hands moving to your hair again as his nails lightly move across your scalp, the feeling almost distracting you from his question, you trying to think of the best answer you could come up with.  When you don’t answer him in the time frame he feels like waiting he lightly pulls on your hair, making you gasp.

“I asked you a question y/n, don’t be rude and ignore it.”

“I-I don’t know, maybe?” You mumble, embarrassed that he is asking you this.  That he is bringing up that night again.  That you are being forced to think about the night you shamelessly kissed him while drunk and it led to more between the two of you… and the fact that you fled the second you got the chance when Rick accidentally walked in on both of you.

“You don’t have to be so shy, you can admit that you would have. It’s only us here and I think you are just as into me as I have been into you for years at this point,” he says cockily, knowing that you are getting anxious and will want to end this conversation. 

He distracts you by moving his hands down the back of your neck, trailing along the soft skin with light pressure, trying to work the tension out of your body as his hands slowly work on it.  Wanting to relax you, to make you comfortable with him. 

“Okay, so I do have a crush on you.  But I can’t say yes for sure because I-well I’ve never done that before so I don’t know if I would have agreed or not that night,” you admit, somehow feeling safe and comfortable in his arms, with him, to admit to him that you are a virgin despite being in college now and aren’t sure what you want or wanted that night.

“Okay, now it is my turn to be caught off guard.  I didn’t expect that to be what was holding you back.  I shouldn’t have asked, I’m sorry,” he says softly, worried that he embarrassed you too much and made you uncomfortable, if he made you admit to a secret that you weren’t ready to share with anyone.

Neither one of you speaks as he continues to lightly rub your neck, something that you feel like you should not be enjoying but you are. You are enjoying his hands on you much more than you probably should, and the way he gets you to shift every so often on his lap is making him a little harder than he feels like he should be right now.  Worried you will notice it and it will bother you that he is.

“Is this okay,” he asks, reaching for the zipper of your hoodie that you have on, hoping that you will let him remove it.  When it hit you what you were asking you said sure, pulling away from him a little so that he could do so, letting him slide it off your shoulders.  

He slips his hands under your thighs for a moment so he can move you, your back now against his chest as you lean into him, into his touch and warmth as he settles his hands against your now exposed collarbone, running his hand over it gently as he continues to lightly touch you.  His goal now is to make you enjoy his touch, make you crave it and possibly allow him to touch you elsewhere, get you to recognize that you enjoy it.

His fingers brush over your throat as he moves to your other collarbone, making you quite aware of where his hand is.  You breathe in, and hope that he can’t feel it, that you are aware that if he barely moved he would be able to choke you, something that you don’t feel should be such an arousing thought to you but it is.  But he does realize what the barely there touch just did to you and settles his hand at the base of your throat, not applying any pressure but rather lightly stroking it with his thumb as he feels you take a couple shaky breaths.  Praying that he can’t see the more than likely flushed look on your face, the half closed aroused look on your face because you don’t want him to know what he is doing to you right now.

“You still good?” He asks, checking in on you with a low chuckle.  He knows that you are, can tell by how you are shifting and breathing but he wants to hear you say it.

“Great,” you say softly, regretting the word choice that you just used.  You don’t want to come across desperate despite the fact that is how you feel at the moment.  

“I’m glad, tell me if you want me to stop.”

His hands start to slide down, lightly gliding over your breasts, making you gasp slightly but his hands keep going, settling on your stomach while he lets out a chuckle.

“It’s just us, you don’t have to hold anything in.  Please don’t, let me hear what I am doing to you,” he whispers in your ear, his hands settling on your hips.

His fingers lightly digging into the soft flesh there, rubbing circles just barely under your shirt as you continue to try and hide how you are feeling, not wanting him to stop but also still not willing to show just how much you are enjoying this, enjoying him.  When the hell had you gotten so warm, maybe it was a bad idea to let him move the couch up closer to the fireplace.  

Before too long his hands settle on your lower back, between the two of you.  Firming massaging your tight muscles there, trying to work out all your anxiety you are holding, because again, he wants you relaxed, enjoying this.  He wants to enjoy having his hands on you, getting to worship your body as much as you will allow him because he doesn’t know if you will ever give him this chance again, and even if you will he now knows that this is your first time doing anything like this and wants you to enjoy it, not feel used at all.

His hands slowly work there way up as he feels you continue to slowly unwind under his touch, now much closer to your ribcage when they slide back to your front, teasing you right under where your bra sits, trying to gauge if he is allowed to keep going or not.  Judging on how you sighed into his touch and leaned into him he is pretty sure that you are allowing this.

You stiffen slightly when you lean back into him, you are able to feel how hard he is against you, but quickly relax again, and shift yourself against him slightly because while you haven’t done much you have read plenty and are confident that he will hopefully enjoy it.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly, slightly embarrassed that you noticed, worried that it will make you retreat back into yourself, but it doesn’t.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” you say softly, playing dumb.  And while you know that he isn’t stupid and that he knows that you know why he’s apologizing, you felt that would be easier.  To ignore it and pretend that you aren’t aware of what is happening with him, because honestly you are too far gone at this point, he could do just about anything he wants to with you and you would let him.

The tension between the two of you finally snapped, him urging you to turn back towards him and the second you do his lips are on yours. Moving against your own urgently, wanting nothing more than to feel you closer to him as you now straddle his lap, your own arms around his neck as you lightly move your hips against his own.  

One of his hands is still under your shirt as he slowly slips it off of you, his hand starting to slowly ease the cup of your bra out of his way before he gives up and unhooks it with his other hand, giving himself more room to touch you.  To lightly squeeze and palm your breast underneath the cup of your bra, holding back his own groan when he hears you lightly moan against his lips.  His fingers move so that they can lightly rub over our nipple, feeling it harden almost immediately from his touch.  He hesitantly slides the straps off his arms, going slowly so that you have time to stop him if you want to, but you don’t.

He pulls his lips away from yours, looking at your face as he continues to toy with your nipple between his fingers, trying to read your face, loving the flushed cheeks and half lidded eyes that he sees.  

“You’re so sensitive.  Has anyone ever touched you like this?” He asks, face moving to your neck as he begins to lightly kiss and suck on the sensitive skin there while he moves his hand to your other breast, giving it the same attention as you continue to move your hips, now seeking that friction between both of you.

“N-no,” you whimper, trying hard to keep your composure and failing, it is so hard to focus with his lips in such a sensitive place and his hands teasing you so much.  You never expected to enjoy any of this so much and now that you are, well it’s making it hard to think, all your reservations now slowly slipping.

His hands slowly move, now slipping down your torso towards your waist, leaving more teasing and light touches right above the waistband of your jeans, dipping barely under it before slipping back out while his lips find yours again.

“Can I take your jeans off?” He asks you in between kisses as he slowly moves, laying your back down against the couch while he leans over the top of you, aching to touch you, to feel how wet he has made you.

You tense at his words and he immediately notices, pulling his hand away to settle on your cheek, stroking your jaw lightly as he pulls his lips away from yours, making you look at him.

“We don’t have to keep going, again, this is whatever you are comfortable with.” He says gently, eyes meeting yours as he tries to give you a reassuring smile, one that slightly worked.

“Jeans can come off, but I- I don’t think I am ready to go all the way, so panties are staying on please,” you answer, hoping that he won’t be upset with you.  

“I can work with that,” he says gently, moving so that he can slip his own off, kicking them off his foot while you slowly slip out of your own.  

You watch as he removes his own shirt too before he settles back over you, bringing his lips to yours again, much softer than before, as if he was trying to reassure you that everything is going to be alright, that he isn’t upset that you aren’t willing to completely go there yet.

His hand slowly slips down between both of you while you held your breath, unsure what to think, embarrassed because you know that you are soaked and he is going to feel it, know just how much of an effect his hands are having on you.

His eyes go wide when he finally settles his fingers over your covered slit, moving lightly against it, able to feel how damp your panties are under his touch, incredibly turned on by the fact he has made you this way.  He slowly moves them to the side so that he can actually touch you, feeling your arousal on his skin as he lightly moves his fingers between your folds, coating them before using one to circle your clit, making you suck in a sharp breath.

“Fuck,” he groans softly, pulling away so that he can look at your face, taking note of how you seem to be a permanent shade of red at this point, and enjoying that you are.

His attention returns to his hand where it is down below, now really starting to work his fingers against your clit, giving you more pleasure than you have thought imaginable.  This is definitely much better than when you get yourself off in your bed at night, it feels so much better.  You don’t try to hide your moan when it slips out of your lips, encouraging him more.

Your hands winding into his hair as you pull his lips to your own again, you honestly don’t think you can get enough of them at this point.  Of his lips on yours, swallowing all your sounds as he drags you closer and closer to the edge, making you question why you never let him do this sooner.

When he finally pulls you over the edge your whole body tenses for a moment, your back arching and pressing your chest into his as you come undone at the hands of someone else for the first time.  He pulls his lips away from yours again so he can watch you as you do, the sight more arousing than any of the porn he has ever watched, than any of the other women he has been with before.  

When you relax under his touch he leaves a couple gentle kisses on your lips, wanting you to feel comfortable and able to tell that he cares about how you are doing as you both smile at each other as your chest heaves from your heavy breaths as you come back down.

You don’t say a word as you push on his shoulder, urging him off of you before you glance at him, shy but determined.  Feeling a new sort of confidence as you want to return the favor, want to make him enjoy himself too.

“Lay down Vin, please,” you ask him shyly, hoping that he listens and allows you to do this without questioning you.  He looks at you for a second, reading your face before speaking.

“You don’t have to touch me you know,” he says softly, wanting to make sure you don’t feel forced into anything.  While you appreciate this, and find it incredibly sweet you still want to return the favor.

“I know, but please?” you ask again, watching as he processes your question and lays back, his back against the cushions of the couch as he listens.

You slowly move the band of his boxers down, watching as his length springs free from its confines before you hesitantly wrap your hand around it, barely gripping it as you move your hand up and down, stroking him gently.  You’re assuming that you are doing this right based on the groan that leaves his lips as he watches you, egging you on to continue your touch.

His hand wraps around yours, encouraging you to grip him tighter before letting it go, letting you continue on your own as he throws his head back for a moment, almost unbelieving that this is happening right now, but it is.

He moves to watch you again, seeing you gain confidence as he grows closer and closer from your touch, before he finally finishes his cum decorating your pretty hand while you watch his face for a moment, looking away the second his eyes meet yours, embarrassed.

“Hey, don’t be shy with me now. Let me go grab something to clean your hand up, yeah?” He asks, sitting up and giving you a soft kiss before walking away, returning with a towel and a shirt for you to slip on after you are both cleaned up as you both sit in the awkward silence for a moment, watching the fire.  You can tell he is thinking something, but you aren’t sure what.  

“What’s wrong,” you ask him quietly, turning to look at him.

“Don’t worry about it, it is nothing bad, promise,” he says softly. “Just stupid shit.”

“It’s not stupid if it is bothering you Vin,” you respond, reaching out to lightly rub his arm, wanting him to be open with you as you just were with him.

“I’m worried I fucked up by doing this, because I gladly would do it again but would you? I feel like I pressured you into it,” he admits, refusing to meet your gaze as he continues watching the fire.

“You asked more than once if I wanted you to stop, and I didn’t.  And you were right, things changed at the party a few weeks ago between us and no matter how much I want to deny that I can’t.  You were sweet, making sure that I was alright the entire time, and even if I wanted to I can’t deny I’ve wanted more between us for a while,” you respond, somehow having a new found confidence after everything.  Maybe it is just because you have seeing him unhappy, unsure of himself but you felt the need to reassure him, to let him know just how you feel about him even if you are risking him feeling the same.

“It has always been you y/n, since we were stupid kids in highschool until now.  I guess mauve I should have told you sooner but it’s true,” he says, now turning towards you.  Hoping you can tell that he is telling you the truth, that you are happy with the truth.

“Really?” you ask with a slight smile, unable to help yourself when it spreads across your face.

“Yes, now if you don’t mind I want to kiss you until you ask me to stop, until this blizzard stops and we can’t anymore,” he says with a smile. “How long was this even supposed to go on?”

“A couple days, so we may wind up stuck here for Christmas unfortunately,” you respond softly, a little disappointed that you might not be home for the holiday, it didn’t hit you until just now when you two started talking about the storm again.

“Well, good thing we have enough wood for a few days, and we just may wind up having our first Christmas together in the process.  And that gives me plenty of time to enjoy this” he says, pulling you into him so that he could kiss you again, making you giggle.

“I guess so.”

[fakeagatha]

Mrs Fletcher | Prof!Eve Fletcher x Fem!Reader

Chapter Three

A/N: For my own reasons, I got very inspired to continue writing for this series fic. I had already planned out the story, but I changed my mind a few days ago about how I want it to go, and what to include. Please let me know of any errors, and enjoy!

Words: 1055

TWs: Alcohol

Your mind was a complete blur as you woke up on the floor, your bed a mess. You knew Steve was with you, so you assume you must've sent him back to his dorm out of exhaustion.

You wondered why everything was fuzzy, until you noticed the bottles of wine on your desk. That explains it.

You have class, and your head was still hurting. Surprisingly, you didn't seem to be too hungover to the point you couldn't function, though you still can't miss out on your education that your parents are just barely affording. So, after finishing up in the bathroom, you took your things and left.

You smirked after realizing your first class was with Mrs Fletcher. Something inside you made you admit to yourself that in fact, maybe you do like her. It's a disaster of course, but can you control your feelings? Unfortunately not.

You entered her class and sat next to Steve, who also seemed to be in a bit of a state.

"When did you leave last night?" You mumbled.

He blinked, and simply shrugged, "I don't remember... Are you hungover?" He randomly added.

You grimaced in response "No, not really, I feel a bit tired, but I'm doing okay. You?"

"Same." He replied, scratching his head.

When your professor entered the room, you acted casual. Now that your feelings were confirmed to yourself, everything felt more real. Your eyes widened as she brought up the work that was due, but quickly relaxed after realizing you'd completed it a few days ago. You handed her your text book, and she smiled at you.

Eve's hand brushed yours as she took the book from you, and she blushed. She couldn't believe she felt this way about her student. She wasn't sure why, but you were different to her.

The conversation she had with Amanda the night before switched something on inside of her. She knew that she must remain professional, even though she was crushing on her student. It was very new to her, as this was the first time she had accepted any kind of feelings she had for anyone after Amanda, and Julian, literally being her son's old classmate.

Eve cleared her throat, holding her hands in front of her as she got everyone's attention.

"So, I have an exciting announcement to make..." She smiled softly to herself, "We've been approved for our yearly school trip to Europe!"

You gasped, your eyes shining slightly. You've been to Europe before, Germany specifically, but you've wanted to go again, you wanted to travel.

Eve took a breath, "We'll be going to Malta, and the cost is 400$, but that includes tax, as well as the sight-seeing and museum costs."

Everyone looked around at each other excitedly, already discussing their plans before Eve could even give them any more information. Eve lightly hit her desk with her palm to get everyone's attention again. "Can everyone who would consider attending raise their hand, so I can write their names down and let the principal know?"

In an instance, several hands went up, except for one or two students, who either weren't interested or were disappointed about the expensive cost.

You hesitated to raise your hand, since you weren't sure if you could cover the cost, though you did anyway, smiling when Steve did the same. Then, Eve interrupted your thoughts. "You might be wondering which professors will be joining you," Everyone went quiet to listen, "It will be me, of course, couldn't miss it," She chuckled, "Mr Rogers, Miss McDavies, and Miss Evanora." She bit her lip as a few students groaned at the last name.

You turned to your best friend, "Hey, a lot of teachers behave differently out of school, Evanora might not be that bad!" You whispered, and he shrugged, "I guess so, well, I hope so honestly. She's... quite the character." You both laughed quietly.

Then, after a few moments, you smirked to yourself. Eve is coming with you! You absolutely have to go now, you just can't miss this trip. Also, you've never been to Malta, and you haven't even traveled a lot before if anything.

Your parents were out of state, back in New York where you grew up. They both still work, and even though you don't usually like to ask for help, you figured that they both would be more than happy to help with the cost of your trip. You glanced back up at your professor as she spoke,

"Our flight is on..." She looked through a sheet of paper she was holding, "May 12th! So it's just less than three months from now." She nodded,

"Perfect! That gives both me and my parents plenty of time to gather the money!" You whispered to Steve, and he smiled "Yeah, same! We're gonna have an awesome time."

And you knew you would...

The rest of the day went by smoothly, to your surprise, and even some stricter professors were quite chill. After the day ended, you got the chance to call up your parents. Not only to ask for money, but also to check in on them, as you haven't spoken yet this week.

Both of them happily obliged, feeling happy for you and the opportunity to travel with your peers. You thanked them continuously, and after hanging up, you had to tell Steve that your parents agreed.

Y/N: Steve! My parents are helping me pay for Malta!

Steve: Just called mine... They said we can't afford it :(

Y/N: You're kidding, right?

You looked at your screen, watching the text bubbles reappear as he typed,

Steve: Lol yeah I am kidding. They're gonna pay half!

You rolled your eyes,

Y/N: You're an asshole, but I'm pleased we can both go.

You sighed, putting your phone down, and opening up your diary.

January 16th, 2019

Miss Fletcher just announced our annual school trip! I asked mom and dad for some financial help, and they agreed! Eve is coming with us, and that makes it all the more exciting! Miss Evanora is coming too, but me and Steve figured that she might be more laid back on our trip, unlike how she is in school. I already know, for my own reasons, that I'm going to have an unforgettable time in Malta.

[ohmyjinsus]

gorgeous

park sunghoon x gender neutral! reader

college student! au || 5.4k

this is literally over a year old and I’m only posting it now I’m the worst and I’m not going to proofread it either, whether or not it makes sense is in god’s hands, it’s also been like 5 and a half years since I played beer pong so hopefully I remember it correctly rip

there’s some underage drinking and y/n has some ~suggestive~ thoughts about sunghoon, there’s just kissing though - we’re also going to pretend y/n has a brother for the sake of this storyline, so sorry if you don’t

summary: you’ve been kind of crushing on this cute guy in your business class for a while now, but like, it’s not like he’d ever like you back anyway, he doesn’t even know you exist …. right?

You don’t believe in crushes. They’re a waste of time and energy, in your opinion. As a college student, dating someone is definitely not one of your priorities.

But of course, that hot guy in your business class exists.

You notice him on the first day of class. He’s absolutely stunning. He always looks so well put together, meanwhile there’s you, who woke up 20 minutes before class started and ran down the street in sweats. You’re sure if he was the one wearing sweats, he’d still look gorgeous.

He’s 110% your type, but you push it aside. There’s no point in trying to get with him. Even if there was, he’s out of your league. You don’t even know each other’s names. Every time you think about it, you come up with a list of reasons it wouldn’t work out. As long as you remember those, you’ll be fine.

That’s what you keep telling yourself, until you actually have to speak to him during your second class.

“Okay everyone, work with the person sitting behind you. Do practice questions 1-5, make sure you write down your answers, and then submit them to the dropbox online. When you’re done, you can leave.”

You look at your friend, rolling your eyes. In every other course, your professors just let you work with the person sitting next to you. You don’t know why this prof feels the need to make life harder for all of you.

The person in front of you is already working with someone else, so you turn around, hoping you get paired up with someone decent.

“Hey,” a voice says from behind you. “I’m Sunghoon.”

You want to throw yourself out a window. He looks even better up close, as cheesy as it is to say. You aren’t even sure you brushed your hair this morning.

“y/n.” He smiles, pulling his laptop closer.

“Last name?”

“What?” He smirks.

“For the assignment,” he clarifies. “It needs both our names on it.”

“Oh, right, duh.” You spell it for him and tell him your student number.

“Let’s get it, I guess.” You laugh, opening your textbook to the right page. As long as you can get through this without making a total fool of yourself, you’ll be fine.

“Okay,” you say, “question one.”

Thankfully, Sunghoon’s pretty talkative and he actually pays attention in class, so he has answers. You agree with them, for the most part, and add things on here and there.

“So for solvency ratios, you divide by net income, right?” Sunghoon asks, focused on his laptop.

“It’s net income divided by liabilities.” You’re pretty sure. But he makes you nervous. “Isn’t it?”

“Let me see that.” You hand over the textbook, letting him flip through to find the answer. You’re about to turn back to your laptop and scroll through your notes when Sunghoon groans. “You’re right, y/n. I’m just stupid.”

“Yes.” His head snaps up. It takes you a second to realize what you’ve said, but you can’t take it back now, so you just shrug.

“Damn, y/n. I thought we were friends.” You shake your head, not sure what to say. You’re scared you’ll just embarrass yourself at this point, so you try to focus on literally anything else.

It’s okay though, because Sunghoon is still smiling at you. You can’t ignore your heart beating a little bit faster. You hate that he has this effect on you. Especially since it’s your first time having a proper conversation with him.

He asks you for the next question, breaking your thoughts.

It doesn’t take you much longer to get through the work. When you’re done, Sunghoon turns his laptop around so you can double check everything. Once you give it the green light, he hands it in.

“I think he said we’re free to go now, right?” You ask, awkwardly. There’s still a lot of people in the room. You don’t want to be the first two to leavy.

“I believe so.” Sunghoon closes his laptop and pulls his jacket on. It looks expensive. You kind of wish you had one for yourself, but you know you probably can’t afford it. “Are you heading out? I’ll walk with you.”

You glance at your friend across the row, who’s still working. Part of you wants to say yes, and see what happens. Realistically, you know you’d be too nervous to say anything. You have no idea if he cares about you enough to continue speaking to you.

“That’s okay,” you tell him, gesturing towards your friend. “I’m gonna finish up some work and wait.”

“Sure,” he grabs his bag and gets up. “I’ll see you around then, y/n.” You nod awkwardly.

“Have a good weekend.” He smiles at you again, and it makes you just as nervous as the last time.

“You too.”

You watch as he heads down the aisle and out the door. As much as you try to focus on your other coursework, you can’t get him out of your head. You almost want to kill him for getting to you like this.

That night, while you’re practicing how to calculate solvency ratios, you’re still thinking of him.

You’ve probably seen him around campus before, but you don’t know anything about him. You have a feeling he’s older than you, but you’re not sure. You put your notebook away and grab your phone, opening Instagram.

It doesn’t take you long to find him. Thankfully, his profile is public.

You scroll through, looking at all the photos of him with his friends. There are some of him alone as well. You can’t help but notice how aesthetic his feed is. It suits him. Your profile is boring in comparison. The odds of him looking at it are slim anyway. You’re not too worried.

There’s a lot of photos of him with one girl as well. You click on her profile, trying to figure out if they’re together. There are pictures of her with some other guy. One of the captions mentions something about their third anniversary.

You breathe out a sigh of relief. You actually have a chance.

That thought makes you stop in your tracks. You don’t need a chance, you don’t have a crush on him. Do you?

You put your phone face down on your desk, opening your business textbook again.

Solvency ratios are a thousand times more interesting than Park Sunghoon. That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.

You have to get this stupid boy off your mind, as soon as possible.

===

You pretend he doesn’t exist until you see him in class on Friday.

When you walk into your lecture hall, you pass by him. When he notices you, he looks up and smiles. You try smile back like a normal person, ignoring the warmth in your cheeks.

You find your friends a few rows back, and get settled next to them. Usually when you get bored in lectures, you distract yourself on your laptop. Today, you find your eyes focusing on Sunghoon.

When you glance at him, he’s running his hand through his hair. You can’t help but wonder how soft it is. An image of the two of you making out pops into your head. The thought of your fingers tangled in his hair makes you blush. You hope none of your friends notice.

Your professor gives you some group work to do soon after that. You’re grateful for once, as it gives you something else to focus on.

Once you’ve completed it with your friends, you can’t help but glance at Sunghoon again. He’s talking to the person next to him, laughing at something they said. You can’t help but wish that was you making him laugh like that.

“Did you get what our prof said earlier?” Your friend says from beside you. You jump, trying to act normal.

“Sorry, what?”

“Our prof,” your friend says. “What pages did he say to study for our quiz?”

“Oh, right.” You scroll through the notes you took on your laptop, trying to find where you wrote it down.

For the rest of the lecture, you make sure to focus. You’ll be damned if your GPA drops because you were staring at some random boy in class instead of paying attention. That would be an absolute embarrassment.

When class is over, your friends ask if you want to get lunch with them. You say sure, packing up your things, getting ready to go.

As all of you head out of the room, trying to decide where to eat, you feel a hand on your arm.

“Wait, y/n,” you turn around. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

Of course it’s Sunghoon.

“What’s going on?” One of your friends ask. You shake your head.

“Go,” you tell them. “Text me and I’ll meet you there after.” They nod, and you watch them disappear down the hallway.

“Sorry,” Sunghoon says when you turn to face him, “I wanted to catch you before I forget.”

“Sure,” you respond. You have literally no idea what he wants.

“I just wanted to say I know you.” You blink.

“I’m sorry, what?” Sunghoon looks down. He seems almost embarrassed.

“That probably sounded creepy, whoops.”

“A little bit.” The two of you smile at each other.

“I know your brother,” he clarifies.

“You do?” He nods, telling you they were friends in elementary school. When he mentions the classes they were in together, you recognize their teachers’ names. Your brother’s 2 years older than you, so Sunghoon must be as well.

“Last week I thought your name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t figure out where I’d heard it before.”

“Oh, wow,” you respond. “I feel bad, I don’t remember you at all.” As soon as it comes out of your mouth, you regret it. You probably sound so mean. Sunghoon doesn’t seem fazed.

“I didn’t think you would, we never really spoke before.”

“Wait,” you say, suddenly. A memory just popped into your head. “Didn’t my brother accidentally slam your finger in a door at his birthday party? Or am I thinking of someone else?”

“That was me.” Sunghoon laughs. “Of all things to remember, it had to be the most embarrassing one.”

“I’m sorry.” You can’t help but laugh too.

“I’m just glad I exist somewhere in your memory.” That makes you blush.

“Of course you do.” He smiles at you.

“Anyway,” he says. “Your friends are probably waiting for you, you should go.”

“Oh, right.” You had almost forgotten about them. “Good thinking.”

“We can catch up later,” he tells you. “I’ll see you around, y/n.”

“See you.”

Once he’s walked away, you pull out your phone, trying to figure out where your friends went. They’re right next door, so you speed walk over. You need advice. You can’t believe Sunghoon remembers you from over ten years ago. You can’t wrap your mind around it.

“He likes you!” is the immediate reaction when you tell your friends what Sunghoon said. You roll your eyes, but you’re pretty sure you’re blushing.

“Oh my god, do you like him too?” Your best friend asks. You shake your head right away.

“Of course not.”

“I wonder what he looked like as a kid, was he cute then?” You shrug.

“I genuinely do not remember him.”

“But he remembers you.”

“Maybe you have a point,” you admit.

“Exactly!” Your best friend says. “He was thinking of you outside of class, that means something y/n.”

“Oh my god.” You can’t argue with that logic. “And he said we could catch up later, what does that even mean?”

“He wants to talk to you again!” One of your other friends chimes in. “I ship it.”

You cover your face, so no one sees you blushing. “I don’t need this right now. It sounds like a fic or something.”

“y/n’s out here living my dream life. Your brother’s best friend, my god.” You roll your eyes. “Did he ask for your number?”

“No.” You sigh.

“Idiot.” That makes you laugh. “You have the rest of the semester to make him fall in love with you. That’s more than enough time.”

They all start talking about something else, which you’re grateful for. Although Sunghoon’s still in the back of your mind. They made some valid points.

He was thinking about you outside of class. And he did imply he wants to talk to you again.

Then again, that doesn’t mean anything. He was probably just being nice.

But when you get home that night, your phone lights up while you’re getting ready for bed. When you see it’s an Instagram notification, you pray it’s him.

It’s just your cousin. You hate that you’re disappointed.

As you lay there in the dark, contemplating whether you should add him as a friend, you can’t deny it.

You do have a crush on Park Sunghoon after all. Damn it.

===

For the next week, you try to act cool about it. You haven’t spoken to Sunghoon since he told you he knows you. You were hoping he would add you on some form of social media, but he hasn’t. You know you could make the first move yourself, but you’re too anxious to do that.

Your friends continue to tease you, but you just roll your eyes and tell them to stop being ridiculous.

You make more of an effort with your appearance for the next class. Sunghoon’s always showing up in blazers, looking flawless. You know you could never reach his level, but you should at least try.

The stupid boy’s got you waking up early just so you can pick a decent outfit and make sure you look alive. You hate him.

You get to class before he does on Friday. Thankfully, your friends don’t say anything about it when you sit with them in the back.

Towards the end of class, your professor reminds you of your midterm project.

“I know it’s early, but you should start preparing.” He says. “I’ve randomly assigned you partners, you can find them under the class list online.”

“What if you got paired up with your future boyfriend, y/n?” One of your friends whispers.

“Shut up.”

But you open a new tab in your browser and check anyway.

“Oh no.” Your friends all turn to look at you. You highlight where your name and Sunghoon’s are on the screen and turn your laptop to face them. “I’m screwed.”

“No, you’re not!”

“It’s a good opportunity to get closer to him.” You roll your eyes. “Literally or figuratively.”

“Stop it!” Although you have been thinking about getting closer to him physically these days. You would never admit it though. Those thoughts are for you, and you alone.

After class, you contemplate asking Sunghoon for his number, for academic purposes, of course, but you can’t find the courage to do it. You expect him to come over and ask for yours, but he doesn’t either. You’re slightly disappointed while you walk home from class.

Later that night, you get a Facebook message from him. You had completely forgotten you even have Facebook, considering you never use it anymore. You don’t know anyone your age who uses it. Then again, Sunghoon is older, so maybe that’s why.

Sunghoon [10:37pm]: hey y/n, I saw we’re partners for the midterm project

Sunghoon [10:37pm]: we should probably meet up and figure out what we’re gonna write about

y/n [10:40pm]: hey !!

As soon as you send the double exclamation mark, you want to kick yourself. You sound way too excited. It’s bad enough you’re responding less than 5 minutes after he messaged you.

y/n [10:41pm]: that’s probably a good idea, did you have something in mind already?

Sunghoon [10:41pm]: I haven’t looked at the instructions yet, I don’t even know what the paper is on

The fact that he responded so quickly makes you even more excited. Then again, he could’ve just had his phone in his hand anyway. It’s probably just convenient for him to respond to you now instead of waiting.

Sunghoon [10:43pm]: you live on campus, right?

Sunghoon [10:43pm]: we could meet in the student centre over the weekend and think it over

You’re about to respond and tell him yes, of course, when you get another message.

Sunghoon [10:44pm]: or we can wait, I know normal people go out on the weekend

That makes you pause for a second. What is he trying to say? You shake it off.

y/n [10:45pm]: are you not a normal person, park sunghoon? 👀

You don’t know what compels you to use his full name like that. Hopefully he doesn’t think it’s weird.

Sunghoon [10:45pm]: shut up y/n 😤

Sunghoon [10:45pm]: I just thought you might have like, a hot date or something, I didn’t want to ruin your plans

You want to scream. You wish you had the guts to send something back about going on a hot date with him, but you can’t bring yourself to do it.

y/n [10:47pm]: don’t worry

y/n [10:47pm]: you can have me all to yourself

Why are you so stupid? Sunghoon reads your message before you even have time to figure out if there’s a way to unsend it.

Sunghoon [10:47pm]: good

Sunghoon [10:48pm]: does tomorrow work for you?

y/n [10:48pm]: sure

You’re afraid to say too many words, in case you wind up saying something stupid again.

Sunghoon [10:49pm]: 2?

y/n [10:49pm]: yeah, that works!

Sunghoon [10:50pm]: okay cool

Sunghoon [10:50pm]: I’ll probably stop at starbucks before

Sunghoon [10:50pm]: what’s your order?

Okay, now you’re really going to scream. The fact that he’s willing to bring you a drink is so sweet. He could just be being nice, but you choose to believe this is something more.

You take a second to think about it. You can’t even remember your usual Starbucks order. Your mind’s gone completely blank. You open the app on your phone to look at their menu. Then you realize how stupid you seem. Sunghoon’s not good for your health.

y/n [10:53pm]: an iced chai latte would be great 🥺

y/n [10:53pm]: bless your soul

Sunghoon [10:54pm]: okay cool I’ll see you then

You don’t want to leave him on read, but you have no idea what else to say. You like his message instead. A heart seems a little excessive, but whatever.

The next day you get to the student centre earlier than you intended. Your anxiety convinced you it would be best to get there before Sunghoon. You find a spot in the corner and pull out your laptop, looking at the assignment requirements.

About five minutes later, you get a message from Sunghoon. You tell him you’re over by the vending machines.

It takes all your energy not to stare at the door and wait for him to come in. You force yourself to look at literally anything else. The last thing you want to do is make a fool of yourself. Again.

“y/n!” Sunghoon sits on the couch across from you, putting your drink down on the table in front of you. “Here you go.”

“Thank you,” you respond, picking it up. He got you a venti. After you take a sip, you pull out your phone. “Here, I’ll pay you back right now.”

“No, it’s okay.” He shakes his head, smiling. “It’s my treat.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” He gets his laptop out of his bag. “You can get it next time.”

The fact that he thinks there’s going to be a next time makes you blush. You focus on the screen in front of you, you can’t bring yourself to look at him. He probably means another study session, but you can’t ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

“Shall we pick a topic?”

The two of you spend the next hour working. You both wanted to research a similar topic. Sunghoon says he’s okay going with your idea. He thinks it’s better than his. You can’t hide your smile.

You both go through your university’s online library, looking for resources. Once you’ve found the required amount of peer-reviewed articles, you decide to take a break.

Sunghoon watches as you chug about half of your drink.

“Thirsty, are we?” You almost choke. You know he didn’t mean it like that, but part of you wonders if he’s winding you up.

“Shut up.” He just smiles, taking a sip of his own drink.

You finish it, and suggest you get back to work right away. You aren’t sure how to make conversation with him like a normal person, so it’s probably best to just focus on your school work.

The two of you come up with an outline for your paper and decide to stop there for now. Sunghoon suggests you get together in a few days, to add some information and start writing the actual paper. You tell him sure, promising to buy him Starbucks then. He agrees.

As you leave the building together, part of you hopes he’ll offer to walk you home. He doesn’t.

“I’ll see you later, y/n.” You nod.

“Sure.”

“I’ll text you.”

That makes you smile.

“Sure,” you say again, sounding much happier this time.

You hope Sunghoon doesn’t notice, but he’s laughing as he walks away.

You completely forget about it when you get home, as your roommates bombard you the second you walk through the door.

“What’s going on?” You ask, taking off your shoes. “Did someone die?”

One of them shakes her head. “Jungwon invited us to his Halloween party.”

“Halloween party?” You frown. “We never go to parties.”

“Well no,” your other roommate responds. “But it’s Jungwon.”

That’s a solid point. All of you have known Jungwon for quite a while now.

A lot of the guys on your campus are big into drinking, throwing parties every weekend. You and your roommates aren’t into that sort of thing. Some of them don’t even drink. But Jungwon’s pretty tame, you know he wouldn’t throw a crazy party like that. This one will definitely be much calmer. You trust him.

“Do we have to dress up?” You ask, more concerned about that than anything else.

“Of course we do!”

“Let’s do matching costumes.”

“Please, no.”

“Come on, y/n! It’ll be fun.”

===

The second you step into the party, you regret going. You should’ve convinced your friends to stay home and watch scary movies instead. You feel so stupid with the cat ears on your head and the whiskers you drew on with eyeliner. You don’t even have a tail.

Now, you’re awkwardly sitting on the couch in Jungwon’s living room. There’s some Pitbull song about a hotel room playing from another room. They could have at least chosen better music.

Your friends are having fun, at least. One of them got you a drink. You aren’t sure what it is. Coke and something. Maybe vodka? It tastes good, that’s all that matters to you.

When your friends decide to play beer pong, you can’t help but laugh. One of them is quite tipsy, so her aim is way off. After missing a few shots, her partner gives up on her.

“We’re switching players,” your friend tells the other team. “y/n, come here.” You didn’t sign up for this, but at least it’ll give you something to do. You get up and walk over.

“Wait, wait,” one of the guys says. Jay, you think. You know he’s one of Jungwon’s friends. “If you’re allowed to change players halfway through the game, so are we.”

“Go on then,” you respond, grabbing a ping pong ball. Your team is losing. You’ve got 2 cups left on your side of the table. Jay’s side has 5. You know you’re probably screwed, but it’s worth a shot. Maybe it’s the alcohol that’s making you competitive.

“Get out of here, Jake.” Poor Jake looks slightly wasted too. You don’t blame Jay for wanting him out. “Sunghoon, you’re up.”

You freeze. Of course Park Sunghoon’s who you’re playing against. The universe seems obsessed with throwing the two of you together.

He’s dressed as a vampire, which suits him quite well. He pulls out his fake teeth and grabs a ping pong ball.

“Oh, hey kitty,” he says when he notices you. It takes you a second to realize he’s referring to your costume. “You look cute.” His smile almost makes you pass out. There’s no way you’re winning this. Your team would’ve been better off with your drunk friend instead.

“Shut up.” It’s the only thing you can think to say. Sunghoon raises an eyebrow at you before tossing the ball. It lands right into the cup in front of you.

“No, y/n,” he replies. “You shut up.”

You give him a dirty look, grabbing your drink. Thankfully, someone suggested you leave the cups empty and have your own drinks whenever you need to. Apparently one of Jungwon’s roommates said traditional beer pong is unsanitary. You agree.

While you take a few sips, your friend makes a quiet comment about how Sunghoon’s clearly flirting with you. You almost choke. This entire situation is ridiculous, you should just run away.

“Okay, let’s go.” You say once you’re finished. Thankfully, you manage to get a ball into one of their cups as well. Jay grabs his beer, quickly drinking some before taking his shot.

When he misses, you can’t help but cheer. You’re a little bit louder than you intended though. You spot Sunghoon smiling at you from across the room.

Your friend manages to get the next ball in as well. Sunghoon throws back his head while he chugs his drink and you can’t help but to notice what a pretty neck he has. All you want is to pull him into an empty room and mark him as yours.

Jay’s voice snaps you back to reality. Maybe you should have dressed up as the vampire instead.

Thankfully, you don’t totally suck at beer pong. You manage to get 2 balls in yourself, and your friend gets 2 as well.

The boys have only managed to get the one in. You’re down to one cup each. It’s your turn, so you let your friend take the shot.

Once the ball lands in the final cup, you cheer. All your friends crowd around the two of you, giving you a big group hug. You almost want to dance to the stupid Pitbull hotel room song. Maybe coming to this party wasn’t a total flop after all.

As you all let go of each other, you see Sunghoon across the table, finishing whatever’s left of his drink. When he puts the cup down, he makes eye contact with you. You’re surprised you manage to hold his gaze. It’s probably the alcohol.

You’re even more shocked when he appears right in front of you. It’s quite loud. He leans down so you can hear him.

“Let’s get out of here.” You can feel his breath on your ear.

“Okay.” His face breaks out into a smile, and he grabs your hand. You barely have time to process it before he’s leading you out of the room.

“Where are we going?” You ask, once both of you are in the hallway.

“My room.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Your eyes go wide.

“No, it’s okay,” he says quickly. “I live here. Didn’t you know?”

You follow him as he leads you up the stairs. “Nope.”

“I’ve lived with Jungwon since last year.” Sunghoon pushes his bedroom door open, letting you walk in first. It’s cleaner than you thought it would be. “I didn’t know you were friends.”

“We did a project together in psych once,” you tell him. You have no idea where you’re supposed to go. The only place to really sit is his bed but that doesn’t feel right.

“Come here.” Sunghoon takes your hand again, pulling you over to the window. You didn’t realize it opened out onto the roof. It’s flat so you’re not concerned about drunkenly falling off.

“Wait, this is so cool.” He opens the window, climbing through first. Then he helps you, holding onto your waist until you get your footing. “Thanks.”

He pulls off his vampire cape, laying it down so the two of you can sit on it. You make sure you’re facing him.

“The view isn’t that nice though.” The two of you glance towards the street. It’s the main road on your campus. There’s not much to look at, besides a lot of buildings.

“Don’t look at that,” you respond. “Look at me.” You’re surprised you have the guts to say it. If you're going to flirt with him, it may as well be now, while you’ve got liquid courage in your veins.

“Gladly.” When you make eye contact again, you feel less nervous. “You’re much prettier anyway.”

You can’t get a read on him. He must be somewhat interested in you if he’s ditched a party and brought you up to his room. It would only make sense.

“Don’t be silly."

“I’m not,” he replies.

You aren’t really sure what to say to him, so you two sit in silence for a little while. It doesn’t feel uncomfortable.

“I was going to ask you to come here,” Sunghoon says suddenly.

“To your room?” He shakes his head.

“To the party, I mean.”

“Oh, duh.” It must be the alcohol making your brain fuzzy. Or maybe it’s being in his presence. Or both.

“When I found out Jungwon told you about the party instead, I was kind of sad.”

“Oh?” You aren’t sure where he’s going with this.

“Yeah,” Sunghoon looks down. “I thought I missed my chance.”

“To do what?”

“Remember when you said I was stupid?” His voice is quiet. You can’t help but reach out and lift his head so he’s looking at you. Once you make eye contact, you drop your hand so it’s on his arm instead.

“Technically, you said it.” You remind him. “I just agreed.”

“Right,” he says, smiling. “Well, you had a point.”

“I know.” That makes him laugh.

“I should’ve asked for your number then.”

“What are you trying to say, Park Sunghoon?”

“I like you, y/n.” You take his hand in yours.

“I like you too, Sunghoon.” He shakes his head.

“No, like, I like you.” You smile.

“I know,” you tell him. “I’ve had a crush on you since the beginning of the semester.”

“You have?” He seems shocked.

“Of course,” you hit him with your other hand, but he grabs that one too. “Have you seen yourself?”

He looks down, smiling at himself. “You think I’m handsome?” He asks quietly.

“Why are you acting all shy?” Sunghoon looks up again. You’re pretty sure he’s blushing. “Obviously, I do.”

“Wait, wait,” he says, “I got distracted.”

“Distracted from what?”

“I meant to ask you a question.”

“Go on then.” You squeeze both his hands.

“Can I have your number?”

You can’t stop yourself from laughing. You didn’t know what he was going to say, but you didn’t expect that.

“Give me your phone.”

Once you’ve typed your info in, you hand it back. Right away, your own phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out, checking the message Sunghoon sent you.

Unknown [12:03am]: can I take you on a date tomorrow?

y/n [12:04am]: tomorrow as in today or tomorrow tomorrow

Sunghoon laughs from beside you. You can’t help but smile as well. While he responds, you save him as a contact.

Sunghoon [12:05am]: whenever you want

y/n [12:05am]: I’d love to :)

You wait for Sunghoon to text you back, but he doesn’t. When you glance over at him, he’s already looking at you.

“Good,” he whispers, before leaning into you.

You don’t hesitate, immediately doing the same. You can’t help but grin into the kiss. You’re pretty sure Sunghoon is as well.

When he pulls away, you’re laughing.

“Are you laughing because I’m a bad kisser or because you’re drunk?”

“I’m not sure,” you admit. “Kiss me again and I’ll let you know.”

Sunghoon smiles, pulling you into him again.

“Sure,” he places a kiss on your neck. “I’d be more than happy to.”

[chasing-chimeras]

it’ll be okay bestie. fuck that prof honestly he’s probably already forgotten ab you being late bc i imagine he’s got lots to do and remember and this is def something small to him, so why should it be big to you! if it makes you feel any better i was late to my grandpa’s funeral bc i pregamed it w my sister (btw i’m not 21) and we had to call our cousin to pick us up bc obvi we couldn’t drive and mind you he was already at the funeral home so that was a 40+ minute round trip for him and i was one of two people doing a eulogy that day. also during my eulogy i threatened god and everyone i talked to after said the priest sitting behind me gave me a dirty look and iced me out for the rest of the funeral AND to make it worse at mass the next day he tried really hard to give me communion and i had to refuse bc i’m not confirmed and he squinted reaaaaal hard at me and looked super stern n shit bc that’s when he knew i wasn’t religious. when we did the peace be w you stuff he was a total dick ab it too. imagine being hated by a priest just bc of your personality lmao

but here’s an actual story about me sleeping past my alarm: i missed a really important group presentation for an AP class in high school bc i slept past my alarm. my group was furious with me (i was friends with all of them, they weren’t just people from class) and my teacher (who’s the chillest guy ever) said he was disappointed in me. it really sucked. and that year i had a friend who picked me up every morning and she was also in my group so i woke up to dozens of texts and calls from her and i felt soooo incredibly guilty for making her late too.

but yknow what these two stories have in common? i don’t care about it anymore. the situation is over and done with and there’s nothing i can do to change it bc shit happens. i honestly really hope you feel better, sometimes you just gotta let things like this go. life goes on. be a goldfish

🥺🥺🥺 sorry this took me so long to reply to, i queued a bunch of moodboards and then got completely sidetracked but you’re so sweet and this was incredibly helpful lol oversleeping sucks but you’re absolutely right it’s over and it doesn’t matter anymore. btw i showed this to my bf and every time i’ve gotten stressed about something the past day/two he looks at me and says “be a goldfish” and it’s actually working lol(also sounds like one hell of a eulogy, i’m sorry that father downer didn’t appreciate it 😕)

[levi-da]

Teaching Professor Braun

Pairing: Levi Ackerman/Reiner Braun, Eren Yeager/Mikasa Ackerman (for like 3 lines)

Tags: Domming From The Bottom, Bottom!Levi, Top!Reiner, Teacher!AU, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Drunk Sex, Office Sex

Summary: Prof. Ackerman and Prof. Braun have an ongoing rivalry between the English and math departments of Shiganshina High. A night out with some other professors leads them to relieving some tension together.

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Here's my first post! I hope you enjoy :)) This took me WAY longer than it should have.

Read on AO3

The bell rings as laptops and textbooks are shoved into bags.

“This class sucks, man. Why’s Professor Ackerman always up our asses?”

“I dunno, dude. Professor Braun never makes us do anything like this.”

The class clears out as the day ends, leaving Levi alone in the room. He’s halfway through grading the students’ most recent essay when a knock sounds out against the door.

“What the hell are you doing to these kids to make them so miserable? You got a stick up your ass or something?”

Levi rolled his eyes and looked up from the paper he was grading. He let out a sigh before he asked, “Making them use their brains. You should try it sometime.”

Reiner clenches his jaw. “Whatever, just remember that Hanji is forcing everyone to go out for drinks tonight. I know you’d much rather read a dictionary, but they’ll kill you if you don’t show up tonight.”

“What’s so special about tonight?”

“They won’t say. Just make sure you’re there at nine.”

Levi waves his hand towards the door dismissively. “Fine, just get out of my classroom and stop distracting me.”

Reiner quietly leaves the room, though Levi’s eyes follow him every step of the way. How that man got anything done, he could never guess. Levi shakes his head, clearing his thoughts before returning back to his work.

---

The music of the club rattles through Levi’s skull. Already annoyed with the circumstances, he looks for his gaggle of idiots. Scanning the room, he finds most of them grouped together at a table.

“Look who finally decided to show up! Fashionably late, too, might I add.” Hanji slurs, slipping her arm around his neck. He wasn’t the biggest fan of contact, but trying to stop Hanji from touching would require more energy than it’s worth.

“I made it,” Levi says, a smirk sneaking up on his face. He slips onto the chair next to Hanji.

“Wow, you actually made it,” Connie says from across the table. “Never thought I’d actually see you here.”

“Even Levi has to destress once in a while,” Jean exclaims, pouring Levi a shot. Feeling the migraine already kicking in, Levi takes the shot, feeling the burn the whole way down. He immediately starts coughing.

“Can’t even take a shot, huh?” Reiner snorts, walking over to the table with Armin, more drinks in their hands.

Armin hands a glass of whiskey to Levi. He takes the glass gingerly before leaning against the table and glaring sharply at Reiner.

Reiner rolls his eyes, putting down the rest of the drinks. “This is why the kids hate being in your class. You’re such a dick.”

“Where’s Eren and Mikasa?” Sasha asks, interrupting Reiner.

Armin sighs, sitting down next to Jean, “Who knows at this point, I don’t question it anymore.” Hanji giggles, stumbling off the stool to get another drink.

“They’re probably fucking in the bathroom or something,” Annie says, downing her fourth drink of the night.

“Are you sure that’s a smart choice, Leonhart? Don’t you have midterms to finish grading this weekend?” Levi lets out against the rim of his glass.

“Fuck off,” Annie says, then lays her head flat on the tabletop.

Apparently, Levi can’t catch a break since he feels someone looming over him. With a sigh, Levi spins around on his stool. He looks up at the person towering over him.

“What is it now?” Levi asks.

Reiner slots himself in the gap between Levi’s legs. “Are you just going to sit around all night? Get up and dance.”

“I’m here. Shouldn’t that satisfy you?”

“You’re not here to be a lameass. Let’s go.” Reiner grabs Levi’s wrist, dragging him to the dance floor.

Where had this man gained the balls to act towards Levi like that? Though, Reiner may have a point. He should just enjoy himself for once. He could do with letting loose a bit. Just a bit.

The grip of Reiner’s fingers around Levi’s wrist pulls him from his thoughts as they move throughout the club. As they arrive upon the dance floor, Reiner tightened his grip on Levi.

“Stay close to me, yeah?”

Levi’s body presses close to Reiner as they work their way through the crowd of people. Once they settle on a spot in the middle, Reiner pulls Levi close and releases his wrist.

A random bump from behind has the two pressed together, chest to chest. The lack of space between the two causes Levi to feel Reiner’s body heat across every inch of his skin. Reiner’s skin felt like a fucking furnace, practically burning Levi with each point of contact. Reiner’s hands graze over Levi’s hips and he wonders how it would feel if they actually made contact; if Reiner actually held on to him… The music consumes them, and they dance, as if they don’t pick a fight with one another every time they interact.

Eren and Mikasa emerge from the depths of the crowd, drinks in hand. They each hand off a drink to Levi and Reiner, then venture off, likely to do some dancing of their own. Not a word was said, just a knowing look in the couple’s gaze.

The pair knock back their drinks and leave the glasses on a nearby surface. Not wanting to stop dancing, Levi drags Reiner back to the dance floor.

“Look at you. Who knew you could be so outgoing?” Reiner whisper-screams over the music.

“Don’t push your luck. I just decided to do something different for once.”

A hint of mischief in his eyes, Reiner pushes, “Your perfect decisions finally starting to bore you?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Levi says, as he pulls Reiner closer, by the same wrist that had grabbed on to him. Reiner stumbles a half step, caught off guard from the sudden pull. His hands reach for something to support his slip up and it’s Levi. He grabs Levi’s hips for balance, tipping them back.

They still, breathing against each other's lips.

“Shit. Sorry.” Reiner goes to release Levi, but smaller hands are grabbing his and holding them down before he even gets the chance to pull away.

“Don’t apologize.”

Frozen in the moment, Reiner’s eyes glance down at Levi. Their eyes lock and, in that moment, it’s just them. Levi’s shoulders relax, his eyes softening as he gazes back up at Reiner.

That’s all Reiner needs to decide they’ve spent enough time in this club. Maybe it’s the drinks making the decision, but that’s an issue for a later time. He just wants Levi now. His fingers slip around Levi’s wrist as Reiner pulls him through the crowd again. Shouts from the others follow them but are ignored entirely once they’re out the club.

Outside, Reiner pulls out his phone and calls a cab. He slips his phone away and looks back towards Levi.

Levi, who looks devastatingly handsome in his loose button down and fitted slacks. Levi, who’s staring at him like he wants to devour him. And Reiner can’t get enough.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Reiner hand cups Levi’s cheek, pulling him closer, closer, closer. Levi pulls him in just as much, his back hits the brick of the building as Reiner closes in on Levi.

Their breaths overlap, mix, and then lips graze one another.

“Just fucking kiss me already.” Levi’s hands are tugging his hair at the nape of his neck. Then their lips are finally pressing against one another.

They kiss and kiss and kiss, nipping each other’s lips in retaliation.

Just when Reiner’s hands start drifting under Levi’s shirt, a honk interrupts the pair. They part, resituate themselves, then crawl together into the back seat of the car.

“Whose place are we going to?” Reiner mumbles, lips against Levi’s jaw.

“Mine, I don’t trust that yours is clean enough for me,” Levi lets out, voice breathy as his eyes roll shut.

Unable to argue with that logic, Reiner gives the driver directions to Levi’s place. The drive being 20 minutes long is apparently too long for them, as the pair are unable to keep their hands off each other. The cab driver must be sneaking looks through the rearview mirror since there’s a blush spread lightly across her cheeks.

Levi’s hands can’t stop touching. From Reiner’s knee, to his inner thigh, it’s all just Levi. Reiner is breathing slowly through his nose, trying to will himself some control, but once Levi starts brushing his fingertips over his zipper, his restraint all but vanishes.

Reiner rips the last two buttons on Levi’s shirt open as the cab slows to a stop outside Levi’s apartment. Levi hastily shoves a bunch of bills into the driver's hand with a quick thank you, pulling Reiner’s hand.

They make it all the way to the elevator before clinging to one another again. They could’ve only been a few inches from each other, but it takes everything in Reiner to not reach out to Levi.

Blood rushing in his ears and trying not to pant, Reiner sneaks a look at Levi pressed against the wall beside him. Levi’s already looking up at him, pinning him down just with his stare.

How the fuck did he end up here? Nothing could have prepared him for sleeping with Levi of all people. Not that he was going to complain.

The elevator dings, letting them know they’re that much closer to what they’ve been chasing.

Levi slides out as soon as the doors open, leading the way down the hall. He stops right in front of a door, fumbling with the key.

Reiner presses right up against him, “Need help with that?”

Levi stills, feeling the heat of Reiner fully pressed behind him. The hardness pressed against his ass only spurs him to unlock the door faster, get that dick inside him faster.

As soon as the door opens, it slams shut against his back. Reiner slides his hands under Levi’s thighs, grip tight as he lifts him up. Without a thought, Levi locks his legs around Reiner’s waist.

Reiner’s lips trail down his neck. Faint marks litter the column of Levi’s throat. Levi fists Reiner’s hair and pulls his lips close. Their lips crash against one another. Levi’s hands travel everywhere, tugging Reiner’s shirt off and throwing it on the floor. 

Levi kisses Reiner like his air has been stolen and the only way to breathe is to steal it back.

Clearly Levi wants Reiner’s dick in him yesterday, lacking any regard for cleanliness at this point if he’s chucking shirts. Reiner shoves Levi’s shirt off his shoulders, buttons already gone.

He thumbs over Levi’s nipples.

Levi moans into the kiss. “Can you fucking be any slower?”

Reiner huffs a laugh and shoves his pants just past his ass, pulling Levi’s slacks off entirely. Levi’s boxers are gone too, leaving a trail of clothing across the room.

“Do you have any lube?”

Levi tilts his head. “In my office.”

Reiner just carries Levi, hands squeezing his ass as he walks into the office. He plops Levi on the desk, scouring the drawers for the bottle.

“Check the bottom drawer.”

Fingers wrap around the bottle and he slams the drawer shut. Instantly, he’s back on Levi. He kneels between his legs, kissing and marking up Levi’s inner thighs.

Levi, in all of his short glory, already looks properly fucked out spread on his desk. Face and chest flushed, slightly dazed eyes, and a heavy stare.

“Just fucking look at you.”

Levi rolls his eyes. “Hurry up already. How many times do I have to repeat myself?”

With a hand on each knee, Reiner forces Levi’s legs open. He slicks a finger with lube and traces around Levi’s hole. A moan rips itself from Levi’s throat as Reiner slips his finger down to the second knuckle. He sneaks a second one beside the first, curling once inside.

Levi lets out a broken moan at that. “Fuck.”

Reiner kisses his way back up Levi’s body, stretching out his hole.

“Any fucking day now. Seriously, just fucking put it in me already. I can take it.” Levi hooks his foot around Reiner’s shoulder, urging him closer.

“I’m just trying to find the stick that’s up here.”

“Very funny.”

Reiner slides his fingers out, “Yeah, I’m fucking hilarious.”

Whatever Levi planned to say gets cut off by Reiner pressing his tip to the rim. Levi’s legs slide down to wrap around his waist. Broken moans fall from Levi’s lips as Reiner slides in fully, pelvis to pelvis. Maybe it’s the booze talking, but Levi looks practically holy. His hair splayed out, head tilted back and moans filling the room. Offhandedly, he hopes the neighbors won’t wake up.

Hands tug on his hair, pulling him from his thoughts and pressing his lips down to meet with Levi’s. Reiner grips his hips, thumbs digging into hip bones. They move together, timing their thrusts with one another. Their pace picks up as they get closer to their release.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Reiner breathes out between their barely pressed lips. He wraps his fingers around Levi’s cock, bringing him closer to the edge.

Reiner wants Levi to finish first, so he whispers out, “Come on baby, cum for me.”

That’s all Levi needs before the tension snaps and he’s spilling into Reiner’s hand. He’s not too far behind either because with a few more thrusts, Reiner is filling up Levi.

Their breaths are loud in comparison to the sudden silence of the room. A few minutes pass with them in silence before Reiner slowly slides out and leaves the room.

When he comes back, it’s with a damp washcloth. His pants are buttoned again and he’s slightly less rumpled. He gently wipes the cum and some sweat off Levi’s boneless body. Reiner scoops him up and carries him to bed, crawling under the covers and pulling him closer as the two fall asleep.

---

Levi wakes up to sunlight peering through the window directly in his eyes. Details of the night before slowly start to piece together as rustling was heard from beside him.

“Morning Sunshine,” Reiner says, his voice rough from sleep. He smirks at Levi.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Reiner lets out a snicker as he slides up behind Levi, hooking an arm around his waist. His heat spread out along Levi’s backside, settling a chill he didn’t realize was there. 

“Not a morning person?”

“Not at,” he glanced over at the clock, “6:30 A.M.”

Reiner’s hand slides over his stomach, pausing in the middle. “You could go back to sleep.”

“What, and leave you to mess around my apartment alone? Absolutely not.”

Despite not wanting to wake up, Levi made no effort to get out of bed. In actuality, Levi was hiding deeper under the covers. He pushed back against Reiner, seeking out his warmth.

Reiner’s breath is hot against his neck as they slot together. Levi can feel Reiner’s hardness pressing against his bare ass.

“You‘ve got to be kidding me. The sun is barely out and you’re hard already?”

A nip at the back of his neck is all he gets as a response.

“Is this how you always are? So desperate to fuck a hole, disregarding the world around you?”

The lips trailing across his neck still as Reiner takes in what exactly Levi just said. He lets out a huff.

“I shouldn’t be so surprised you could be so bossy in bed. You were so pretty last night under me that I didn't even think about you on top.”

Levi rolls his eyes at that. He pushes his hips back, drawing a hiss from Reiner.

“Lay on your back. I’m getting back at you for the bruises.”

Not waiting for Reiner to move, Levi shoves him onto his back. Reiner is left stunned, earning him a lapful of Levi. He grips Levi’s thighs.

Levi leans over Reiner, going for the bedside table to grab lube. He pours some lube over his fingers and starts to open himself. Muffled moans slip out as Levi tips forward, catching himself on Reiner’s chest.

“Fuck, you look so perfect like this.”

“Shut up.”

His thighs tighten around Reiner’s hips as he lowers himself down, Reiner’s thickness filling his hole. Levi fully plants himself on Reiner’s cock, feeling the veins against his walls.

“Is this what you wanted? Just to fuck a hole?” Levi lifts himself from Reiner’s lap, just to drop himself back down. The pair let out a moan at this. The tip of Reiner’s cock barely brushes over Levi’s prostate, leaving him seeing stars. 

Reiner’s grip tightens on Levi’s hips as he thrusts up. “Maybe it is. Doesn’t seem to be an issue.”

His hands are shoved off Levi and pinned above his head faster than he can register. Levi slips his hips back down, leaving Reiner feeling too close too quickly. With Reiner’s hands trapped above his head, there’s not much stopping Levi from taking what he wants from him.

“If you keep going like this, I’m gonna–”

“I’m not finished with you.” Levi’s lips are harsh against his throat, giving him matching dark marks.

With his lack of control, Reiner thrusts up as best as he can, matching Levi grinding down in his lap. His nails dug into Reiner’s wrist as he slams down for the last time, cumming between them. Levi loosening his grip is the opening Reiner needs to grab Levi’s hips and snap them together swiftly. Within a few thrusts, Reiner’s finishing inside.

Levi collapses on his chest. Reiner pauses to catch his breath as Levi begins to still against his chest.

“Fucking bastard,” Reiner mumbles, wrapping his arms around Levi, joining him in his slumber.

---

Levi wakes up with the feeling of sweat and cum stuck to his skin. Feeling disgusted with himself, he slowly goes to sit up, ready to shower. Just as he’s about to crawl out of the blankets, his phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Hiya, Levi. How’s your morning been?” Hanji’s cheery voice rings out from his speaker.

He flinches at the volume. “Fine until you called me. What do you need so early in the morning?”

“It’s already eleven, it’s not that early. Besides, I had to make sure you got home safe, considering you left so soon without telling anyone.”

A beat passes. “Okay?”

“You know, the whole reason I wanted us to go out is because I thought you needed to get laid. You’ve been extra grumpy lately. What I didn’t expect was you going home with Reiner of all people, but honestly I should’ve seen that coming.”

Reiner lets out a snicker behind him.

“Shit happens I guess.”

“Well, considering Eren and Mikasa have been dating for years without Administration finding out, you guys would probably be fine as long as it doesn’t affect your work.” The smile in their voice is evident.

Levi glances over at Reiner. “It’s not going to be a recurring event. We don’t need to worry about all that.”

“If you say so. I’m gonna go now, have fun! But not too much fun.”

With a click, the call ends and it’s just Reiner and Levi in the silence of the bedroom.

Reiner gaze locks on the comforter. “Did you mean that?”

A flash of confusion spreads across Levi’s face. “I mean, we were drunk. I figured this was going to be the end of it.”

“We weren’t drunk earlier.”

A moment of consideration sits between them before Reiner speaks again. “It doesn’t have to be just this one time.”

Levi feels Reiner’s eyes finally look up at him. “No, I guess it doesn’t. But don’t expect much from me.”

The two finally look at one another.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

[slightlyslytherinthings]

Secret fears Part 1

Part 2 Part 3 (final)

Include: Y/N, Sebastian, Ominis (some side characters as well)

Trigger warning: angst, crucio

It will be split into parts.

As the DADA class begin Prof. Hecat welcomed the students and started to explain the todays lesson.

"Good morning everyone, this day lesson, I want to teach you a quite important spell, it will help you face your fears and to overcome them."

Unsure what that meant, everyone was looking at each other. You looked at your best friends, Ominis and Sebastian. Sebastian whispered to you, "Don't worry. I think she is speaking of the ridiculous charm."

"Ridiculous charm?", you asked. "Yes it can be used to defeat boggarts.", he explained. Even more confused you questioned, "Boggarts?"

"Mr. Sallow, instead of only explaining it to Y/LN. Why don't you bless the whole class with your knowledge?"

"Sorry. Prof. Hecat. The ridiculous charm is a spell to defeat boggerts, which forms into the observer's worst fear. By casting it you have to think about something funny, to turn the boggart into something amusing. The incarnation word is "Riddikulus".", Sebastian explain.

"Correct. 10 points to Slytherin.", Hecat said with approval. "Now I want all of you to perfom the wand movements as I do and speak clearly the incarnation 'Riddikulus.'"

After everyone in the class tried to follow Hecate up, you messed the performance up. "Y/N, what are you doing- wait let me help you" Sebastian said amused by your hilarious movement. He put his hand over yours and guided you to move it correctly. Your face expression quietly thanked him. He grinned at his success pridefully.

"What is a lesson without real practice" Hecat continue, "I want you to line up before the wardrobe."

As Hecat moved the tables and chairs to the side, every student moved to the middle in a crowd. With whispers of any direction, about what everyons worst fear might be and already try to get a clue how to shape it into something funny. You heard someone say, "...that is going to be so good, knowing what Sallow fears, will surely help me to win the next duel." You tried to recognize who said that and searched where the voice where coming from. Of course, Leander just said that. You tried to bottle up the urge to punch him, for talking like that over Sebastian. Sebastian noticed your frustration and calmed you. "Don't worry this fool will never have the chance to win a duel against me." he winked at you.

The first in line was Everrett who was first quite confident but as Hecat open the wardrobe, a wibbly wobbly thing just came up and shaped in different ways just before it got a clear shape of Everretts worst fear.

He was not exactly knowing what he feared, maybe some beasts, maybe even Imelda who won in a broom racing duel and humiliating him in front of everyone but for his surprise it was his broom, which he worked so hard for and saved up every knut to buy the one in his intrest for so long. Just laying there in tiny pieces with brand marks.

With a devastating look on his face he heard laughter behind him. He started to rationalize and concentrate again, with a smooth hand performance he said "Riddikulus". As the spell hit the boggart it starts turning in a huge stink bomb exploding in same secound.

Everyone was coughing, and screaming, some even started to gag. You pressed your robe on your nose to cover it, the smell was awful, like rotting meat. The tables had turned, Everett was the only one laughing. "Quite good execution, you will earn house points for that but for putting your classmates in such a disaster, I will also have to give you minus points. It's 0 then." Hecat confessed, covering her nose and performing a spell to distinguish the smell.

"Next one please", as you heard Prof. Hecat. You could feel hands on your back pushing you forward. You were nervous not of the fear itself but what possibly would be your fear. You overcome a lot of things in the last years. You escaped death so often, you faced to many dreadful things you couldn't imagine what could be the worst one. You look to Sebastian, who gave you a comforting glance, which expresses that he is believing in you and your capabilities. As you moved forward closer to the boggart. You still tried to figur it out, dark wizards, trolls and goblins or even spiders weren't so scary at all anymore since you already encountered so many of them, you got used to it. What could it be then?

You stayed straight towards the boggart, watching quite closely what it could turn into. It took a while as you could start to see a silhouette, you started to deny it. As you could finally see what the boggart assumed your worst fear, you got immensely confused. Not knowing what that supposed to mean. Concluding from the fast whispers behind you, it was clear that you weren't the only one being confused. As you look over your shoulder to Everrett who also tried to riddle why the boggart turn into that. Leander also was confused and frowning giving you a serious side eye. Your eyes filled with perplexity wandering to Sebastian searching for comfort and support. But his confidant smile turned into disbelief, he himself looked like he would face his own fear.

You could see Ominis nearing his head to Sebastian to ask him in what creature the boggart turned into. But Sebastian couldn't answer, he was crushed by not knowing what that supposed to mean.

You know you had to face it, so you tried to bring up confidence, even without support from Sebastian. Saying to yourself, you have to overcome it and to find out what that boggart is trying, in fact you got furious that this vicious beasts is playing games with you.

With a deep breath you looked straight into your fear into that boggart. The fear that you faced was no one else then Sebastian.

Sebastian Sallow, well the boggart, who portraits itself as Sebastian Sallow. Started taking a wand to his hand. You unsure what it supposed to mean, positioned your wand in the direction of the Sebastian-boggart. But you hesitate to cast the ridiculous charm, since you forgot in the heat of moment to think about something funny infact, you were far from hilarious thoughts. Because you begin to realize which fear you were exactly facing. For your classmates they could assum it was about a silly crush towards him. But it was darker than that, darker than those innocent teenagers around you could possible even imagine.

The boggart performed with the wand movements of a charm you unfortunately knew to well. You couldn't speak or move, infact you felt petrified. As the boggart called the cruciatus curse on you. You fall on to your knees, your limbs started to cramp, putting your hands toward your chest with pain, your eyes nearly rolled into your head.

Hecat intervene after a moment of shook, not knowing to expect something like that to happend.

As Natty stormed foward, "Riddikulus!" she said turning the Sebastian boggart into colibris. Hecat performaned a spell to capture the boggart back to the wardrobe. She dismissed the class with an exercise to write an essay about boggarts and that everyone should try to think about their fear and how to overcome them. She ordered Everrett and Natty to help her carry you to Hospital Wing. You blacked out as they grabbed your arms to get you up.

[dewsdoit]

we're not really strangers

wonu x y/n | soft romance with a bit of angst ❗️no professional proofreading. may contain grammatical errors.

this is purely fictional so please take it with a grain of salt! this fic is mostly soft and maybe a bit cheesy... I will be updating this post from time to time regarding the chapters as well. hope you'll enjoy it! treat people with kindness, everyone!

———————————————

We started this about three months ago but we make sure we get to walk on this familiar street and keep going in circles until we sit on the swings at the playground. 

“Last card?” you ask as if you weren’t sure if this is the 150th card inside the box. Nonetheless, I nodded in agreement but not once did I look up to even glance at you. 

We talk about how we both see the world ending and we get too factual about it. I wanted to come up with silly stories and let you build up the plot so we could keep this going, but we ended up backing each other up with scientific facts about global warming and possible alien invasions that may wipe out our existence. “Can you lighten up?” I couldn’t help but make that request, it’s too deafening to deal with the silence after every hum of agreement. 

“You lighten up,” you respond as you playfully kick my ankle, making it hit the other one. I look at you with tired and annoyed eyes, in hopes that you’ll send me home rather than deal with whatever this is. We sit in silence for a while, I think and talk to myself if you’re real at this point. 

“Can I still see you?” you ask. “Hmm?” I couldn’t quite understand, I was somewhere else. “I don’t want this to end,” you press on that sentence with your sober eyes as you look at me. “Come see me again. Let me see you again.” 

First: Perception

I thoughtlessly chose this class because I ran out of electives. You’re not hard to miss because you’re the only one with thick glasses and fluffy hair, making you stereotypically attractive for losers who need someone who will partially change their life forever. But if everyone was going for the last slice of decadent cake, I think I’d rather reserve myself for a flavor no one even bothered to touch. I always thought it was easy to divert myself from the girls who whisper and giggle in your presence. 

The rest of the school year passed by too quickly as I easily came and went to every class, but the day I got partnered up with you slowed everything down. I had to deal with telling people to not sit in my seat that was next to yours, which wasn’t a bother if they decided to leave. I just wanted to discuss our film and get things done but the inconveniences your friends and admirers bring slightly get on my nerves. 

I’ve never met a man who speaks concisely as much as you do. Maybe it’s because we’re at a coffee shop near our school and we don’t want to disturb anyone but you spoke low and soft. I’m just glad we’re getting somewhere and we see eye to eye, mostly because I’m easy to please. 

“By the way, we can make this our meeting place. I’ll give you my schedule so we can align our free time. I also wrote my number so you can contact me to meet up.” 

“Oh, thanks. Looks like you got everything planned out.” You took me by surprise. I mean, I was planning but you were a step ahead of me already. 

“I like to plan things out so we don’t miss our deadline. Besides, I think we have similar breaks. Which is why I insisted we partner up in the first place.” 

“Huh?” I ask. I’m so sure that this coffee shop wasn’t loud enough for me to mishear what you just said but I have to make sure. 

“I got the highest grade from our last exam. The prof gave me the advantage of choosing a partner I want to work with and obviously, I went for the person who has a similar schedule with mine so we don’t have to sweat about this project so much.” You say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” I respond, cutting the conversation short. It was freezing in the shop and I just wanted to start walking to get home. “Anyway, I think we discussed the plot well so maybe I can work on the script tonight. I’ll share the document with you and let you know. I’ll get go—“

“Do you want some coffee?” you ask. 

I was packing my things when you asked, “Oh, no thanks. I already had one today so…” 

“You sure? It’s my treat.” you insist. I kinda wanna bite your offer but I just want to get home and rest. I had math before meeting you, so having coffee wouldn’t be the best solution. 

“Seriously, I’m good. Thanks though. I’m just gonna head home. I’ll message you whenever.” 

I was rushing on my way to our class. I woke up late, haven’t brushed my hair, and I need caffeine to beat my throbbing headache. The door was still locked, so it seemed like I was one of the first few students to arrive even though I was 30 mins late. 

I sit down next to the door to catch my breath. Running four flights of stairs is definitely not a joke. I see someone coming up the stairs and you seem relaxed for someone who’s about 5 mins later than me. 

“Is it just you and me?” you ask. “I guess so? I thought I was gonna get reprimanded already,” I respond.  “Well, maybe we can take this time to work on our revisions,” you suggest, and I couldn’t even respond because my head started throbbing more so I had to close my eyes and wait for the pain to settle down. 

“Are you okay?” you ask as I embarrassingly try to open one eye to reassure you that I am. “I’ll be fine, just let me catch my breath.”  You hand me your water flask filled with cold water. I didn’t even hesitate to take it because I needed it. I still had to process the cold water trying to help fight the headache, but I could still feel you looking at me. You patiently waited for me to open my eyes before asking again if I was okay, and I nodded in response to assure you. “Shut up and don’t do this to me,”  I thought to myself.  I think I’m already pathetic enough to think that this whole group work was a test between me and my easily-impressed heart. My intentions are set: We film what we need to film, meet the deadline and pass this class, graduate, and I’ll only remember you whenever I feel like opening our future yearbook. I moved back a little to physically assert the distance I wanted, which was perfect timing since one of our blockmates came to our room to tell us that the prof wasn’t coming. I thought I could use this free cut to get more sleep, but who am I to reject your offer to go to our meeting place? Our…lol 

“You should sit down, I’ll order for the both of us. Just tell me what you want.” “Alright, I’ll just have a latte. How much is it?” “It’s on me, just take a seat,” you say firmly. I know damn well I’m not letting you pay but I did find us a seat and I try to settle down. This cafe is kind of growing on me, it’s so cozy even though it’s freezing in here. It wasn’t too long ‘till you settled down while we wait for our orders to come. It’d be nice if you stopped staring at me from time to time just because there’s nothing to talk about (except maybe, start discussing our film). “Let’s play a game,’ you say out of the blue. “Hmm?” “I bought this online, apparently it’s really popular these days.” You pulled out a box full of cards. We’re Not Really Strangers. Huh, that’s interesting. “This seems...fun. Okay, I’m down,” I say as I fidget the box. Who knows, we might get something out of this game. “You should go first,” you say. I pick out a card from the first level. I suddenly feel tense, why am I so tense?? “What about me is most strange or unfamiliar?” I read the card out loud. “Probably the way you keep shifting your eyes when you’re talking to someone,” you say without hesitation. That took me aback, to be honest. You could’ve let that thought marinate for a while. And it sounds like someone’s been really observant when talking to people. “I beg to differ, I don’t think I do that.” “You do that with me. You’re not even looking at me right now.” And why on earth would I want to do that? “Why do you sound like you’d kill someone for eye contact?” I hope that wasn’t too cold of a response. “I’m just not used to someone who doesn’t make eye contact with me when I’m having a conversation with them. That can come off as rude to other people, you know,” you say with such a soft voice. I kind of stare at your face for a while. You have soft and sharp features. Everything about you is so soft and sharp. Your deep and low voice, but you speak so gently as if we’re sharing secrets all the time. Your bread-shaped cheeks with your sharp nose that might send me into an eternal rest if I touch it. I hope I wasn’t staring for too long because now I find myself unable to find the right words to say something…or anything. Before I could even respond, the server came and gave us our drinks. You ordered pastries too. “You should eat something. I don’t think your body will take the caffeine lightly if you don’t eat something.” You gave me my share of the pastry and I could feel my cheeks starting to warm up. I need to get a hold of myself. 

“Can I see the bill? I’ll pay you right now.” I start rummaging through my bag, looking for my wallet. “You don’t have to pay for anything right now, it’s better that I treat you now than treat your hospital bill if you pass out on me.” I laughed at your remark and you smiled back at me. This is better than I thought, maybe everything will just be nice and lax between us. And this project, of course, is the only reason why we get to see each other this often.

“No but seriously though, I don’t remember taking any class other than this one with you in it,” I express my confusion because you kept pressing that I should remember your face well. 3 level one cards down and we already spent hours talking about our first impressions of each other. I can’t believe this game actually works. “We went to the same elementary school and we were classmates in 1st grade. I was the kid who always cried when my mom dropped me off.” I really couldn’t remember your face. I’m sure I would’ve remembered you because believe it or not, I liked talking to everyone when I was kid. “Did you have glasses back then?” I ask. “No, I didn’t,” you seemed nervous when you responded to me, I guess you do know me well… I reached for your glasses and asked, “Sorry, can I? I just need to see something.” You nodded with a hint of hesitation, but I proceeded to take your glasses off. Who would’ve thought that an accessory would make you unrecognizable? Maybe Clark Kent had a point after all. I remember how innocent you looked when you were a kid but seeing you now, with your grown face without these glasses? My god. I immediately put it back on your face. “You look better with your glasses on,” I teasingly say. You chuckled a bit, but you glared a little bit at my teasing. We stayed until the cafe closed and discussed what we needed to do thoroughly. You gently placed your hand on my head before you said goodbye and take care. It was swift and gentle, I tried to fight every single heartstring from beating so fast but that’s exactly how I knew I was fucked. There’s no use in fighting it. I really need a moment with God or the universe because I feel like the misfortunes in my life are getting out of hand. I heard from our mutual friend that they’ve seen you go to school and home with Jen from your block. I wasn’t even surprised to hear that. I mean of course you’d go on dates with someone else, I guess I’m more disappointed in myself for falling for kind gestures. Nevertheless, my feelings found comfort in staying stagnant. As long as I don’t revisit it, I don’t think it’ll budge. Not even an inch. 

“…Anyway, this shot looks fine to me. How about you? Is this okay?” I was spacing out when you asked me for my input. “Yeah, that looks fine.” “Okay, we can do more test shots tonight if you’re free.” “Yeah, sure. I’ll be there.” “Good. If we get home late, I can give you a ride home.” “Hmm? There’s no need to do that. I’ll just book a cab to go home.” If I wanted to die inside, I would’ve just eaten a poisoned apple or something. “Are you sure? It might be hard to book later since it’s Friday. I can just drop you off at the nearest station if you can’t stand my presence.” I close my eyes so you don’t see me roll them in annoyance. “Okay, I’ll think about it.” The rest of the day went by pretty fast. I met up with you at the lobby of the mall near the cafe and we drove to a city close by. There are tall buildings and views where you can see the skyline. I’d love to go back here alone, it looks peaceful. We shot more clips for b-rolls, some test shots here and there while we were each other’s test subjects. We’d laugh about how stupid we both look when we’re the ones being filmed. Most of our shots will be indoors, the outdoor shots are for the last few scenes of the film. “You have a good eye for filming. These shots look really good!” It feels nice to have that compliment come from you. Well, you ARE the film major between the two of us. “Thanks, I just do photography on the side but I’ve never tried film. So that compliment means a lot.” “You should do this more often,” you say. “Really? I don’t know, I mean it’s still a growing hobby for me. I can be good now but I might disappoint myself later and lose interest.” “Just do it without thinking about what happens afterward. Take the opportunity and just...do it. Besides, I can help you whenever you want to film something. I’m just one message away,” you say with a soft smile on your face. I gave myself a second to think about it. “You're right, I should just give it a try." I didn't notice that I was smiling a lot today. I'd be lying if I told myself that I was happy to be here and I'm just enjoying the views, taking photos, and filming.

Somehow your bright energy seeps through me and I allow it. Now I raise the question, how can someone be so familiar yet so distant all this time? I'm sure I'll know the answer when a few months pass by. But for now, I'll have to brave through these moments I have with you and see where the wind takes me.

Hopefully, it's not too far from you, again. part 2

[shadowbannedthehedgehog]

idk if yall remember cloud lore well enough to remember while online yr 1 uni we were assigned buddies which were yr 2 or 3 students from the french dept. n i actually had a um pretty ok rapport with mine while we were online. n i did tell him kind of early on i hv anxiety so sorry if i'm awkward bc he wld mssg me a lot just like yooooo n i wld like what do u want me to say whatever. but he was always really helpful n i tried to be nice to him n interact with him etc. so we didnt talk for the whole of yr 2. he went to france. yr 2 was my first yr back out physically. n now i'm in yr 3 he's back from france n he's in the yr 3 class to finish his yr 3. n i hvent spoken to him yet in person. 😐 i feel so stupid and so bad abt it but he's still vaguely? nice to me i mean in general i think it's just his personality but like omg one of my prof istg he like does not hear n worse yet when i speak n i reached to class late bc of the bus n i was just anxietying which made me stumble over my words n he was kind of near to me n well everyone was repeating what i said to sir to help him understand (which is why i say he doesnt hear more than it being a solely me speaking softly problem) n he my buddy was like directly to me tht's what you said right n i just wanted to die cldnt even look at him. ideky except yk the ✨anxiety✨ idk i kinda was in my mind looking forward to meeting him in person idk i was like wld've at least asked him how was france but well in my defence two factors impede this 1) my entire absence the first week n 2) he has a girlfriend they kind of couple who like akljflkas come in a pair all the time like so yh i'm sorry i can barely talk to you much lest u n ur gf at once afljdl;kdjs but anyways yeah my sister keeps asking have you talked to your buddy yet and i have to keep saying no and i feel so silly and stupid bc i am afklda;kjs dfcri

[inkofamethyst]

May 2, 2023

AYYYY I SOLVED THE MYSTERY BEFORE THEY DID :D  First time, House s3e2 :)))))  Medical mystery shows are a bit different from the typical whodunnit show because there’s a huge amount of knowledge that I simply do not possess and never intend to.  I know some basic bio and a bit of anatomy with a few fun medical facts thrown in, but I can’t ever in the slightest expect myself to deduce the culprit in any episode, unlike in Midsomer Murders or something where fewer of the clues require extensive, broad-ranging knowledge of very specific topics.  Regardless, I can’t stop myself from semi-actively thinking about solutions to medical mysteries, and it’s finally paid off (mostly thanks to my undergrad concentration in genetics).

I’m not very good at asserting myself.  I am very afraid of being wrong, even when there are no actual consequences.  This is.. not good.  Not at all.  I keep thinking back to when that expert dude was pestering engaging me when I was first presenting my research, and he asked me why I hadn’t included one particularly recent paper in my references.  I thought for sure I had scoured publications and had the most recent articles that mentioned my topic even in passing.  But I didn’t say that.  I could have, but I waited for this white-haired old dude to look up the paper and search for my keyword only for it to not show up anywhere.  Then I felt comfortable saying that I had only found xyz papers and that no one has touched this topic in years blah blah blah.  Everyone can be wrong, everyone.  But that doesn’t necessarily mean I should keep my mouth shut when I think I’m right.  It does the body good, to get used to being wrong sometimes (I’m still reeling from when I confidently asked a question in my first math lecture freshman year and it turns out my assumptions were wrong and the question didn’t make any sense (I really need to let that go)).

Today I’m thankful for my ulta cozy grad uni sweatshirt (likely the first of... three, probably) :)  I know that it’s going to be ~academically rigorous~ n all but I am looking forward to the aesthetic SO MUCH.  I mean, I look so good in this color.  The libraries, the cafes, the commanding a certain level of respect and admiration... UGH.  Literally can’t wait.

Also thankful that while I am technically in my second to last week of school,,,, two of my profs have straight up cancelled class for the last week.  Keep in mind, I only attend three actual classes twice a week, plus a discussion section.  So next week is literally just ballet on two mornings and that’ll be it lol.  No TAing, no more coursework for my major.  My major will sort of just end after I take my last two midterms (and presumably do well on them) and submit my final project for cell bio.

Plan is to go for a night on the town next week after the last day of classes with my photo-, dancer-, and cello-friends.  I’ve never been to a club before.  I did buy a top for the occasion :)  I’ve never even gone drinking before.  I don’t know how much to budget.  $50?  $100???  I’m not trying to go crazy or anything, but transportation, cover, drinks... it’s not cheap.

Gotta force myself to go to bed.  I managed to not take a nap today despite being wrecked by the sleepytired, and I’ve encountered a second wind which is screwing with me.  And it’s uncharacteristically chilly outside, so I can’t go for a promenade about the mall to tire myself out.  I need to be up at seven tomorrow oh my godddd.  Maybe the baritone drone of Cecil Gershwin Palmer can knock me out [edit, next day: night vale did the trick!].

[daxwritesstories]

College AU Part 27: The Less I Know The Better

Scene 1: Starring Role

(Scene title by MARINA)

INT. Theater - Afternoon

Everyone in the musical cast is sitting in the theater, except for Erik and Cyra. Jamie, Roman, Tony, and Sebastian are all standing around, talking.

Cyra runs into the room and rushes to sit down next to Devin.

CYRA: Hey, muscle man.

Devin snorts out a laugh.

CYRA: Do you forgive me yet?

DEVIN: You didn't apologize.

CYRA: You'll like this role. I know you will.

Devin sighs.

DEVIN: Yeah, we'll see... You look rough. Are you good?

CYRA: I didn't sleep.

DEVIN: Rough night?

Cyra shakes her head.

CYRA: Don't even get me started.

JAMIE: Everyone! If I could have your attention please.

Everyone looks up at the stage. Tony and Sebastian are standing together in the front center.

JAMIE: I'd like to introduce you all to two more professors who will be helping produce this musical. Voice prof Sebastian...

Sebastian waves.

JAMIE: ...and dance prof Tony.

Several people cheer for Tony.

CYRA: Yes Tony!

BELLA: Best prof!

CONNOR: That's my brother!

Tony laughs and makes a humble gesture with his hands.

TONY: You won't see me as much as Sebastian but I'm happy to support you all in any way I can.

SEBASTIAN: And I'm excited to work with all of you. The songs in Rocky Horror are less about having a good singing voice and more about putting character into it. I hope you'll all have fun with it.

TONY: The dance numbers in this musical are not complex, but I'm here to guide you through all of them regardless.

SEBASTIAN: Now, do any of you have questions for me or Tony?

Cyra puts her hand up but doesn't wait to be called on.

CYRA: How much of the floor show are we doing?

SEBASTIAN: Not all of it.

TONY: There will be no pool sequence and we're not doing the climbing stunt. It's too dangerous.

SEBASTIAN: We're actually going to be changing the number a bit so it's more of a rock n' roll thing. You'll understand when we get to it.

CYRA: Cool!

Bella raises her hand.

TONY: Yes, Bella?

BELLA: Will we be singing live? I know the audition sheet said live singing was preferred, but it was a little unclear.

Sebastian glances at Roman for a moment.

SEBASTIAN: We're not sure yet.

ROMAN: We probably won't be doing live music, so recorded vocal tracks might end up making more sense.

DEVIN: I can't sing.

SEBASTIAN: I'll teach you. It's not as hard as it seems.

CONNOR: You only have one song, Devin.

DEVIN: Yeah, and I have to sing it by myself. I don't wanna make a fool of myself.

Cyra laughs. Devin glares at her.

SEBASTIAN: You'll be fine. No one will look bad. We'll make sure of it.

TONY: Are there any other questions?

No one says anything.

TONY: Great! Okay, who doesn't know how to do the Time Warp?

PRINCE: I don't.

CELIA: I forgot.

TONY: Alright, everyone come up on stage. It's simple.

Everyone gets out of their seats. Roman hurries off the stage, approaching Cyra before she can get to the stairs.

ROMAN: Have you seen Erik today?

CYRA: No...

Cyra looks around.

CYRA: I guess he's the only one who isn't here.

ROMAN: He wasn't in class this morning either.

CYRA: Hm... Did you ask Rhett?

ROMAN: No.

CYRA: Rhett!

Rhett, who is about to walk up the stairs, stops and looks in Cyra's direction. He walks over to her.

RHETT: What's up?

CYRA: Where's Erik?

RHETT: Uh...

Rhett glances around and sighs.

CYRA: What? Did something happen?

RHETT: He doesn't wanna leave the dorm.

Rhett takes a step closer to Cyra and lowers his voice.

RHETT: I think he got beat up.

Cyra looks shocked.

CYRA: What?!

Scene 2: The Less I Know The Better

(Scene title by Tame Impala)

INT. Erik & Rhett's dorm - Afternoon

CYRA: What the fuck happened?

Erik is sitting on his bed. He has a black eye. Cyra is standing in front of him. He just glares at her.

CYRA: Erik.

ERIK: Why do you care? I just got into a fight.

CYRA: I care because you're my friend and I don't want bad things to happen to you.

Cyra sighs and sits down next to Erik.

CYRA: Who did you get in a fight with?

ERIK: It doesn't matter.

CYRA: Yes it does.

Erik frowns and roughly grabs Cyra's arm. He rolls up her sleeve, revealing a couple dark bruises near her elbow.

CYRA: Hey!

ERIK: I'll tell you who gave me this black eye if you tell me who gave you these.

Cyra yanks her arm away from Erik's grasp.

CYRA: No one gave me these. I just walk into stuff a lot.

ERIK (sarcastically): Yeah, and I just fell.

Cyra shoots a glare at Erik.

ERIK: Cyra, you're a trained dancer. You can do backflips. I seriously doubt you're that clumsy.

Erik grabs the bottom of Cyra's shirt and lifts it up, showing the burns on her stomach.

ERIK: I guess these were accidents too then?

Cyra rips her shirt away from Erik and pulls it back down.

CYRA: It's none of your business.

ERIK: Then what happened to me is none of your business either.

Erik stands up and walks over to the door. He opens it and looks at Cyra.

ERIK: Get out.

Cyra stares at Erik, a sad expression on her face. Then she stands up.

CYRA: Fine.

Cyra leaves the room. Erik watches her go.

Scene 3: I Need a Doctor

(Scene title by Martin Vide (sort of))

INT. Ace & Zayn's dorm - Night

Zayn is standing in the bathroom, looking at his wound in the mirror. Ace walks into the bathroom, holding a tube of cream.

ACE: Have you been putting this on?

Zayn sighs.

ZAYN: I put it on this morning.

ACE: Doctor said three times a day.

Zayn makes a disgusted face.

ZAYN: It hurts.

ACE: I know. Let me do it if you can't.

Zayn hesitates and Ace raises an eyebrow at him.

ACE: I'll be gentle.

ZAYN: Okay... Just get it over with.

Ace kneels in front of Zayn and takes the cap off of the tube. He squeezes the cream onto his fingers and brings his hand to Zayn's cut. Zayn inhales sharply when Ace touches it, making Ace hesitate.

ACE: Are you okay?

ZAYN: Ah, yeah. I'm fine.

Ace moves his fingers across the wound, spreading the cream over it. Zayn breathes unevenly, trying to endure the pain.

It's over quickly. Ace puts the cap back on the tube and sets it on the counter. He doesn't get up though.

ZAYN: Thanks.

ACE: Of course.

ZAYN: Did you sleep at all last night?

ACE: No.

Ace runs his fingers along the top of Zayn's pants.

ACE: Did you?

ZAYN: I think I did for a couple hours.

ACE: That's good.

Ace gives Zayn a look, making Zayn smile.

ZAYN: What?

Ace giggles and curls his fingers under the hem of Zayn's pants.

ACE: Nothing... I'm just looking at you.

Zayn laughs.

ZAYN: Don't tease me.

Ace bites his lip.

ACE: Hm... I think you like being teased though.

Zayn laughs again and Ace just smiles at him.

Scene 4: Everybody Talks

(Scene title by Neon Trees)

INT. Jayce & Leon's dorm - Night

Prince is in the room alone. They're sitting on Jayce bed and looking at their phone.

The door opens and Prince looks up. Leon walks in.

PRINCE: You're not Jayce.

Leon snickers.

LEON: Breaking into our dorm?

PRINCE: Jayce gave me a spare key.

Leon nods.

LEON: Yeah, I figured.

Leon sets his bag down on his bed and starts taking off his shoes. Prince watches him, thinking.

PRINCE: Jayce says you've been acting weird.

LEON: Yeah? How so?

PRINCE: He said you won't stop asking him about that guy he slept with.

Leon laughs and finishes taking off his shoes. He sits down on his bed, across from Prince.

LEON: I haven't asked that much.

Prince gives him a friendly smile.

PRINCE: It's okay to ask. Jayce just gets embarrassed about that stuff.

LEON: About the bi thing?

Prince shrugs.

PRINCE: Just about sex in general.

Leon nods.

LEON: Fair, fair...

PRINCE: He said you were asking about me too.

Leon looks shock and embarrassed.

LEON: Uh– I just–

PRINCE: It's okay. I don't mind.

LEON: I–

Leon sighs.

LEON: Are you sure? I don't wanna be rude. I've just never...

PRINCE: Met a trans person before? I know. I get it.

LEON: I feel like it's rude to ask.

PRINCE: Well... It depends on who you ask and how you ask it.

Leon doesn't respond, not sure of what to say.

PRINCE: If you wanna know what sex is like with a trans person, it's really not any different.

Leon nods.

LEON: I had a feeling...

The pair fall silent for a moment. Prince glances around with a look of mischief.

PRINCE: You know... The best way to learn is through experience.

Leon's eyes widen and he blushes.

LEON: Wha– What are you–

The door suddenly opens and Jayce walks in. Prince smiles to themself before greeting him.

PRINCE: What took you so long?

JAYCE: Sorry. I ran into Arabella and she wouldn't stop talking. Hi, Leon.

LEON: Hey...

PRINCE: Why didn't you just run like you usually do?

JAYCE: I tried to but she had an iron grip on my arm.

Prince laughs.

JAYCE: What were you guys doing?

PRINCE: Just chatting.

Jayce nods.

[bettercallwillow]

pairing: prof!remus lupin x fem!reader

summary: after slightly misbehaving in class, remus teaches you a lesson

warnings: dom!remus, kinda mean!remus, teacher x student, age gap (legal), degrading, a bit of praise, oral (f!recieving), penetration, creampie, everything is consensual!

word count: 1.5k

The day you set eyes on Professor Lupin, you had a thing for him. It was the first day of term and you were sat amongst your friends, chatting away about the things you wanted to do this term, when Dumbledore announced the new Defense teacher.

You took your eyes away from your friends and towards the top of the hall, your breath hitching when you saw him. He was beautiful. Everything about him, even the scars painting his face, was perfect.

You wanted him.

It was a nice day, the weather was clear for once and just about everyone was in a good mood. Apart from you. You couldn't exactly pinpoint why you were in such an annoyed state, but everything about today was just awful.

Everybody's head snapped towards you when you threw open the classroom door, some even jumping at the sudden noise. Professor Remus gave you a stern look with a hint of concern but nonetheless let you sit down in your seat.

You practically chucked your bag onto the floor beside you, putting down your books on the table with some force. Lupin huffed, looking up at you from his desk, "Miss Y/L/N, you wanna tell me why you're in such a foul mood?"

"M'fine," you replied, taking out your quill. Lupin shook his head, leaning back in his seat slightly, "Well of you're fine then you can surely go about the rest of this lesson without disturbing the class, hm?"

You nodded, stiffling a snarky response and tapping your foot against the floor in annoyance. Rolling his eyes, Lupin pushed himself out of his chair, walking over to the chalkboard on the left side of the room to begin his lesson.

Around an hour later, the class had come to an end. The sound of scraping chairs and shuffling paper filled the room, almost drowning out Lupin's voice, "I want that essay done by next week," he called, "Oh and Miss Y/L/N, could you stay after class?"

You flushed red, embrassed that you had actually been asked to stay after class. Surely your behaviour hadn't been that bad? You looked up at him, nodding, "Sure,"

Soon enough, the classroom was void of people apart from you and Lupin. He leant against his desk, folding his arms and looking down at you slightly, "You gonna tell me why you behaved like that today?" he asked, his tone stern.

Your voice was small, clearly intimidated by the man in front of you, "Like- like what?"

"Like such a fucking brat," he spat, his choice of words making you blush. You froze, had he really just called you a brat? Surely he wouldn't be speaking in that manner if he didn't mean that.

"Professor-" you stammered, your cunt beginning to throb. "C'mere," he motioned towards him, cutting you off. You obeyed, getting up from your seat and walking towards him. When you got quite close, Lupin wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into him.

You were startled and his hand rested at your chin, tilting your head up towards him, "You think I don't know you like me? All the times I catch you staring at m'buldge, squeezing your thighs together," he leaned in closer, his voice almost a whisper, "The wet patches you leave behind on the seats,"

"Lupin.."

"Remus,"

"Remus," you looked into his eyes with your doe ones, "Please, just fuck me,"

Remus grinned before slamming his lips against your own, spinning you around so you were pressed against his desk. His hands grabbed at your thighs, signalling for your to jump up onto the oak.

"So obedient," he breathed when you broke away from the kiss, "Such a good fucking slut," You moaned at his words, feeling more slick build up in your panties. God, you couldn't wait for his head to be between your thighs.

As if he read your mind, Remus knelt down, pushing open your legs. The way he manhandled you had you squirming, his hands gripping at your hips to keep you still, "Desperate little thing," he tutted, giving your thigh a light slap before hooking his fingers around the wasitline of your panties.

A shaky breath of content rolled of your lips when the cool air hit your now exposed cunt, mixing well with the heat that was radiating from you. "Fuckin' soaked already," Remus grinned, looking up at you, "You really are a whore, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir," you responded, "Just for you,"

"Let's keep it that way," he gruffed before leaning forward, running his tongue down your glistening slit. You hummed in pleasure, the feeling of him like heaven, "Taste so good, darling, fuck," he muttered before diving in, licking and sucking at your clit.

You cried out, throwing your head back, "Fuck, Remus," you moaned, bucking your hips into his face. Remus growled into your cunt, his hands wrapped around your thighs to keep you in place. His pace was amazing, swapping from licking at your bundle of nerves to teasting your entrance. He knew exactly what to do to make you go crazy.

"Just like that, oh my-" you mewled, nails scratching at the desk below you. You had never felt pleasure like this; sure you had been eaten out before, but never like this. Every flick of his tongue brought you closer and closer to your high.

When your thighs began to tremble and you approached your orgasm, Remus pulled away, making you whimper in disappointment. "None of that," he smirked, getting up from his knees, "Don't wanna be needy now, do we?'

You frowned but shook your head, agreeing with him, "S-sorry, professor,"

"Atta girl," Remus winked, his hands working at unbuckling his belt, "Y'ready for my cock now, angel?"

"I always have been," you responded, spreading your legs impossibly further. Remus chuckled, pulling down his trousers to his mid-thigh along with his boxers, allowing his cock to spring free. You gawked at his size, no fucking way. He had to be at least 8 inches, maybe even more- you had never taken anybody this big before.

"You sure it'll fit?" you asked, looking up at him with concern in your eyes. Remus nodded, tapping the head against your clit, "I'll make it fit, don't worry your little head about it,"

And just like that, he lined himself up at your entrance, making sure to coat the tip of his cock in your arousal before slowly pushing in. A whorish moan left your mouth at the intrusion, making Remus shush you, "Don't wanna- fuck- be caught now, do we?" he cooed, holding back his own moans.

You shook your head, holding your hand over your mouth to muffle your cries as Remus slowly pushed more of himself inside you, "Good girl, taking me so well," he groaned when he was fully inside you. The praise went straight to your head, and your cunt, and you clenched around him, forcing a moan from his lips, "Fuck, darling,"

After giving you a few moments to adjust to his size, he slowly dragged himself out before slamming back into you, his cock hitting your sweet spot perfectly. You whined as he set a strict pace, the sound of skin against skin and your muffled moans filling the room.

"Fuck it, I wanna hear you," Remus gruffed, hastily grabbing his wand and muttering a quick silencing spell. As soon as he uttered the incantation, you moved your hand, giving you the opportunity to cry out, "Remus, gods, you feel- feel so fucking good,"

"That's it, darling," he smirked, his hands grabbing at your hips so he could rut into you faster, "G'won, tell me how much of a whore you are for my cock,"

The way he talked to you could have made you cum alone, "Oh my- Remus, I love your cock so fucking much, love feeling you inside me-"

He cut you off with a sloppy kiss, it was messy, teeth clashing against eachother as his tongue pushed into your mouth, rubbing against yours. You pulled away, panting, "Fuck, I'm gonna- I'm gonna cum,"

"Go ahead, dove, cum all over my cock," he groaned, his thrusts becoming sloppy and out of rhythm as he approached his own orgasm, "Make sure you know who you belong to,"

With his words and his cock pounding in and out of you, you came. Hard. A loud string of moans rolled off your lips as you gushed around him, "Remus!"

The way you clenched around him as you came sent Remus over the edge and he stilled, burying into you up to the hilt as he released his load against your cervix, painting your walls white, "Oh my gods," he moaned, his forehead pressed against yours, "Feel so fucking good around m'cock, princess,"

After a few moments, he pulled out, his seed following and dripping down onto the floor below you both. He looked down, observing the way the white liquid gushed as your entrance pulsed uncontrollably, "Well isn't that a sight for sore eyes," he grinned, his eyes flicking back up to yours.

You chuckled, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for another kiss, "Let's definately do this again," you muttered against his lips.

"Definately,"

taglist: @dontjudgemyobsessionpls

[get-shiggy-with-it]

RESTORATION AND 18TH CENTURY LIT. - COLLEGE AU!TOMURA X READER

✧ pairing: college student!shigaraki x fem!reader | a little bit of shigadabi

✧ word count: 21.3k  | AO3 Mirror

✧ warnings: Shigaraki being an asshole, lowkey kinda hates women, fem reader only because he refers to her as female (derogatory) like once gender neutral pronouns for reader though the few times its used, Angst and Fluff and Smut Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, college au no quirks, dabi is a little shit, dirty talk, swearing, like so much, vaginal se, vaginal fingering, oral sex, virgin shigaraki, loss of virginity degradation, mentions of lactation kink, brief exhibitionism

✧ summary: He’d never sat this close to you before, but that didn’t stop you from annoying the shit out of him for the previous whole half semester and going since it was just now passing midterms. Long enough for him to have pegged you as a textbook try-hard, pick-me bitch.And now you were filling his corner of the room with the overpowering smell of freshly washed hair and demanding he do things for you. Fucking disgusting.

Or Tomura get's paired up with you for a big final project in some bullshit English class he needs to graduate and quickly discovers that he even though he kinda hates women, he hates you a little bit less. And also really wants to stick his dick in you.

✧ a/n: First off yes this is a repost. Second: Happy birthday to the best boy and happy birthday to this fic (and also this blog)! In celebration of all the occasions and because I didn’t have time for anything else, I’ve compiled the entire R18CL main series here in one place. It was the first real shigs fic I’ve written and still one of my favorite pieces I’ve ever done. I think you can tell how much my writing has improved just in this year from reading this, but I love it how it is, so enjoy~ And finally, it goes without saying, don’t fucking rec this anywhere else.

The door at the back of the room creaked open and jarred Tomura from his half-sleep state. He didn’t look at who’d bothered to slip into this fucking class late, and instead tried to let the prof’s inane droning on Timothy Whoever The Fuck’s 18th weirdo letter book lull him into day dreaming. 

He only made it about a quarter of the way back into his boredom induced coma until he was dragged unwillingly into wakefulness once more. 

“Sorry, could you plug this in for me?” 

Tomura jumped again when you leaned over to whisper to him, computer charger in one hand, gesturing to the outlet on the wall by his head. You’d left the typical courtesy seat empty between the two of you and he stared blankly at the way you leaned your weight on the vacant chair. 

He recognized you.

The classic, dumbass teacher's pet who was always front and center of the room, iced drink at the ready looking like you belonged on the set of some god awful college b movie. 

Well, almost always. You certainly had that loud ass drink, but you’d tucked yourself at the end of his row towards the back of the room and was clearly a bit embarrassed for bursting in almost 15 minutes late. 

Tomura swallowed hard as your shirt gaped in the front. It took an immense amount of control to not gaze outright into the swell of your chest. 

“You good?” you asked softly, head cocked like you were straight out of a fucking manga panel—tits on display with that stupid innocent, puzzled expression.  

“Uh yeah, sorry,” Tomura mumbled. 

You offered him this gross, clearly fake smile—because why the hell would you be grinning like that if it wasn’t just because you wanted something from him—as he threaded the cord behind his chair and plugged it in. 

“Thanks,” you replied and turned back towards the professor, typing away cause you actually take notes in this class. 

Of fucking course you did. 

Probably trying to impress everyone with how you typed practically every word the prof said. Tomura decidedly did not take notes, and didn’t really pay that much attention in general. Usually he just played some trashy phone game under the desk or dozed with his head against the cement wall. 

It had gotten to that portion of the semester when it was warmer outside but the buildings still had the heat cranked all the way up, especially here in the basement where the classroom was. That environment along with his usual hoodie/joggers combo created grade A napping conditions that Tomura took full advantage of. 

As a rule, he actually cared about school and he did relatively well. But this was just some dumbass liberal arts requirement course that had nothing to do with his actual major, so he was perfectly fine with coasting. Why his comp sci degree required him to take a fucking Restoration era English class, he had no clue. Apparently neither did his advisor other than that the ‘administration recommended it’ so their students would have a ‘well rounded learning experience.’ 

It was almost certainly just a cash grab to make him take more credits than was necessary to graduate, but whatever. He was here now. And so were you. Your presence was overwhelmingly clear, typing away and smelling like one of those insanely specific laundry detergent label scents—fucking rolling meadows and grandmother’s clean linen or something like that. 

He’d never sat this close to you before, but that didn’t stop you from annoying the shit out of him for the previous whole half semester and going since it was just now passing midterms. Long enough for him to have pegged you as a textbook try-hard, pick-me bitch. You contributed to discussion at every opportunity, turned in shit early, and debated other classmates regularly enough to disrupt his in-course sleep schedule. 

The way you dressed pissed him off too, with a particular style that was enough to stand out but not so over the top that it would cause disinterest from any potential mates. 

And now you were filling his corner of the room with the overpowering smell of freshly washed hair and demanding he do things for you. 

Fucking disgusting. 

“Tomura Shigaraki.”

He jumped a third time, attention directed from his lap to the front of the room where the prof stood, listing out names from the board. He heard your name next followed by Kai Chisaki. The list was projected on the board as well, grouping everyone into twos or threes with “Final Project Partners” listed in bold Helvetica font at the top. 

Only fucking English profs used Helvetica. 

He vaguely remembered mentions of a final presentation—one of like three grades in this class cause the prof was almost certainly a sadist. 

No, not almost—definitely. Otherwise he wouldn’t have stuck him with you and that weirdo Kai pre-med student who insisted on acting so elitist you’d think he already had his fucking M.D. 

One time he asked Tomura to move seats at the start of the semester because he looked “dirty” and Kai liked to sit in the back—which, fair enough, it wasn’t like Tomura showered as frequently as he probably should but what the fuck??  

With you rushing in late, chest out and panting every now and again from your apparent sprint across campus, Tomura was certain he’d be subjected to a whole 6 weeks of watching you try to mount that fucking Kai dude instead of actually working. 

This was going to be a nightmare. 

From the end of the table, he saw you shifting and turned to find that stupid fucking smile flashed his way once again. 

If you had a tail, he’d bet it would be wagging. 

“Hey, well that’s convenient,” you chuckled and plopped down directly next to him, sliding your noisy ass drink across the table with you and brushing against his thigh when you shifted your bag to the side. 

“Yeah,” he nodded.

It most certainly was not. 

But Tomura would never say that because—as his roommate put it so kindly—he was kinda a pussy. 

People made him nervous, they always had. That’s why he liked computers so much. Code made sense, there were clear rules and when something didn’t work out, he could fix it eventually, but you couldn’t see people’s codes. You had to fucking guess at shit and it made his anxiety skyrocket which the sides of his neck and finger tips suffered for. 

So he cowered like the fucking dog you probably thought he was instead and kept his eyes on the floor, letting you set up in silence. 

“Who was our third?” you asked, glancing around the room. “Sorry, I was busy making a shared drive and I came in  late so I missed that last bit.”

Why the hell did you feel the need to apologize all the goddamn time? Seriously, who would believe you were actually sorry for being irritating as hell. 

And god if he thought you were irritating. 

“Kai,” he grumbled simply as the man in question sauntered over to the table and fucking clorox wiped down the seat before sitting. 

Tomura watched your smile falter just a bit and grinned inwardly at the slip in your fake little persona. But you didn’t say anything more, just moved your chair back so the three of you were in a semi-circle and pulled up a few pdfs on your laptop. 

“Cool, so I was looking over the directions on the syllabus last week and I set up a little work delegation thing so we can distribute everything pretty evenly,” you jumped right in, tone matter of fact in the down-to-business manner he was used to hearing from you during class discussions. 

It was better than you so clearly forcing yourself to be overly polite, and he honestly couldn’t really care less if you wanted to take charge of this thing. You seemed kinda bossy, but he begrudgingly admitted that your suck up behavior did mean you sort of knew what you were talking about. He was just here to pass and you might actually make that a lot easier. 

It was okay as long as he was taking advantage of you, he told himself. And you would be too stupid to notice, so he could play your game and play pretend nice all the way to an A. 

That walking condescension on the other hand— 

“I’m not doing that,” Kai huffed through his ever-present mask. 

Tomura wasn’t actually sure he’d ever seen the bastards face without it. 

“What?” you laughed awkwardly. “Yes you are, you don’t really have much of a choice.” 

You stared at your classmate who simply stared right back with his own, equally confused expression. 

“Why do you look so surprised?” you asked after a moment of silence. 

You weren’t smiling anymore and your voice had dropped down about a fucking octave. At least you sounded more like a person and not some wannabe uwu gamer bitch.

“People don’t talk to me like that,” Kai looked at you down his nose, legs spread wide and elbow resting on his knees. 

Tomura could feel the pretentiousness wafting from him in waves, and waited with baited breath for you to get kicked off your pedestal. Just a bit though, he did need you around to do most of his work for this thing. 

But in a shocking turn of events, you just laughed dryly twice and turned back to your laptop screen, mumbling as you did. 

“Really? Well they should.” 

Tomura would have laughed too, but he didn’t feel like inflating your ego. Kai on the other hand looked a bit like you’d just spit on shoes and furrowed those stupid, plucked thin eyebrows at the back of your head. 

“So Tomura, you code right?” you asked, turning away from Kai completely to address him. “I just remember you saying you were in comp sci when we did introductions.” 

He was taken aback by the knowledge that he existed as a person in your head outside of this room for a moment and simply nodded—suddenly feeling far too hot in his black on black sweats and hoodie. 

God just talking to you made his skin burn. 

“Great, cause we’re allowed to chose the medium we present in and I was thinking of taking it in a more creative direction cause I’ve had this prof before and he eats that shit up,” you begin to ramble again, scrolling through a bulleted list, shifting the screen for him to see. 

“Right,” he murmured, still surprised you’d thought this far and not...actively hating what you’d brainstormed. 

Well, it was a bit juvenile and you clearly didn’t know what you were talking about but the concept wasn’t horrendous. He could work with that and it shouldn’t be too hard. It kinda seemed like you’d overestimated a bit with how challenging it would actually be and saddled yourself with most of the heavy lifting. That or you were just a control freak which was a little more believable. 

He wished you would stop looking at him over the edge of the screen. He could feel himself starting to sweat. Rivulets falling down the nape of his neck and racing across his bare chest under the sweatshirt. Tomura sorta regretted not wearing a shirt underneath but he knew that he wouldn’t have taken off the insulating layer even if that had been an option. 

It would just mean you had more drying, pale as fuck skin to look at and judge him for because he knew that’s what you were doing. Fucking vapid and shallow like everyone else. 

“It’s really rough so far, but I have it the gist outlined,” you indicated to another tab and then turned back to Kai who had been sitting silently glaring daggers into your back. “So, Kai, since you’re in STEM I figured you’d be okay with doing more of the preliminary research—”

“I don’t think so,” Kai interrupted, shaking his head and pushing off his knees to lean back in the cheap, plastic seat. “Look, it’ll be easier for all of us if you two just make it look pretty and I can handle the oral presentation.” 

You gaped and looked to Tomura with this pathetic fucking incredulous stare, like you thought he’d back you up. 

Which actually, now that he thought about it was probably a good idea—he did need you to remain somewhat cordial with him—but he certainly didn’t care enough to defend you in any way. Kai was a dick, sure, but he wasn’t gonna let you rope him into being your white knight or whatever. 

He settled for a similarly disgruntled downward twitch of his lips. The movement pulled at the cracking skin which stung as it tore open even more. Tomura felt the familiar crawling feeling on his neck and shifted in his seat to resist the urge to scratch. 

He couldn’t pinpoint why exactly you staring at him was so uncomfortable. He didn’t like you, he didn’t care about you and by extension didn’t give two shits what you thought of him, but anything he might have said shriveled on his tongue when you spoke or looked in his eyes too long. 

Tomura had never made a habit of talking to females and they certainly had never wanted anything to do with him either. 

Maybe he was fucking allergic or something. 

Whatever the case, you seemed to take his half frown as a sign of solidarity and leaned back in your own seat. 

“Okay, look,” you retorted. “If you’re seriously not gonna at least try to cooperate, then there is actually an option to do the project by yourself and I suggest you take it.” 

The look on your face was distinctly impolite. There was a sharpness to the set of your jaw that Tomura had never seen before, but it looked practiced enough that he could bet it was simply the snake that resided in every woman just waiting to come out. 

“Look sweetheart—” that masked jerk began, also for some fucking reason looking to Tomura for support. 

For someone who was very much used to blending into the background scenery, this was the most eye contact Tomura had ever made in a day. 

Except on the rare occasions his roommate had friends over and he had to make the dreaded trek from his room to reach the fridge. 

“Oh yeah I’m not doing that,” you closed your laptop sharply and rolled your eyes. “I get it, but I’m really just trying to graduate. I don’t think this is going to work out and you,” Tomura froze as you shifted your gaze to him once again, “seem okay, so Tomura and I can just work this out by ourselves and you can find a different group.” 

Kai scoffed behind the black layer of fabric covering his mouth and slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Whatever.” 

Tomura watched him saunter straight out the door as the room was filled with the shuffling of notebooks and zipping of backpacks. 

“God,” you huffed and turned back to him. 

His raw skin burned under the new wave of heat and accompanying moisture that slicked his skin when you scooted closer to him. That clean laundry and shampoo smell was suffocating from this proximity. 

Did you fucking bathe in the stuff? 

He was becoming increasingly aware of his less than pleasant aroma and the fact that you not scrunching your nose up in disgust just out of some stupid, ingrained need to appease him. 

“Well, that was...weird,” you chuckled in a way that was probably meant to break the tension. 

Unfortunately Tomura felt more like he was about to break out in hives if you came any closer so it really just ended up making the atmosphere ten times more awkward. At least for him. You, somehow, remained resolutely unaware. 

“Mhm,” he hummed in response and picked silently at the skin of his fingers. 

“Anyway, I have a meeting in a few but we can trade numbers and pick a time to meet up sometime tomorrow maybe?” you suggested, quickly saving the steadily degrading vibes of the conversation and pulled out your phone. 

He really hated the full body pulsation that rushed through him at the thought of getting a girls number. It made him fucking sick at himself for falling into your stupid trap to get him interested. Was your plan to just use him to get a good grade or whatever and then block his texts?

It wasn’t like Tomura didn’t know about his status as the class ‘freak.’ That one guy everyone whispers about and makes sure not to sit next to. And he knows you know, so why the hell else would you act so nice?

He wanted to say something scathing in return. That he could do the whole thing by himself too—which he definitely couldn’t but that was irrelevant—and that he didn’t need you bossing him around either. 

“Sure thing,” he said instead and took your offered phone all too eagerly, typing in his number and watching as you shot off a text back so he’d have yours. 

His phone buzzed against his thigh and he jumped a fourth time, but you seemed not to notice as you packed your bag and grabbed your basic ass drink. The ice clattered against the tumbler, dropping cool condensation against the searing skin of his hand. 

Tomura shivered as you waved over your shoulder and slipped out the door with another rush of students. 

He sat silently in the empty room for a moment, trying to process the last hour. He pinched himself idly, wondering if it had all been just a weird dream, but the results were inconclusive. A minute or two passed before he pulled out his phone to scroll through the list of reddit and discord notifs to find your text. 

Sent at 2:47 pm:

— pEopLe DoN’t TaLK tO mE liKE ThAt 

— not very plus ultra of him...smh

— anyway, library at 6 tomorrow ?

Tomura caved, digging his nails into the side of his neck and hissed at the pain, confirming the day's horrible reality. 

---

Tomura hadn’t stopped staring at his phone since he left the apartment. It was second nature by now—head down at a nearly ninety degree angle, hoodie pulled up to hide hair he hadn’t bothered to comb in weeks, and phone out, held just far enough away that he could see the pavement behind the screen. 

He’d found that people tended to naturally avoid him this way and he didn’t have to risk accidentally making eye contact. It was still a bit nerve wracking to venture into buildings he didn’t expressly have to for classes, so he was still hesitant to make the voyage from his apartment to the library.  But he’d made the mistake of mentioning plans to his roommate and the bastard wouldn’t leave him alone about it afterwards until he was practically shoved out with the door locked behind him. 

He was half tempted to make up some excuse last minute and go hide out at the only cafe on campus he could tolerate, but Tomura knew he was just delaying the inevitable. Biting the bullet now would help to not prolong his suffering. 

Your text thread glared up at him in stark white on blue as he pushed past a crowd of students by the library entrance and flashed his ID to the attendant. 

Group Project Bitch:

— hey I got us a room on the third floor, all the way in the back

—text me when you’re here I’ll wave you in, it’s kinda hard to find T-T

sounds good— 

He shot off a quick text to you that he was hoping on the elevator. The other two guys in the lift may have given him a dirty look for only going up to the third floor, but Tomura sure as hell wasn’t going to risk the physical exertion of stares when just the thought being stuck in a small room alone with you for god knows how long already had him sweating. 

When he stepped out, you were leaned against one of the 90s-green shelves, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. He panicked momentarily, thinking he’d have to get your attention cause just walking up without saying anything would be weird right? 

He wasn’t sure. 

He didn’t do shit like this. 

Thankfully, you looked up at the chime of the lift and waved him over. His red sneakers squeaked as they scuffed the linoleum floors and he already regretted choosing his tighter fitting pair of sweats. The tapered legs that hugged his ankles and thin calves rubbed against his skin and stung the raw patches. 

“Hey, thanks for coming,” you said softly and he nodded, following as you began to weave through the stacks. “Sorry it was short notice, graduation’s coming up so I'm swamped with meetings.”

“It’s fine, I didn’t have anything going on.” 

He cringed internally at the way his voice cracked, trying to keep the usual rasp to a minimum. His roommate said it was from the innumerable hours he spent shouting at his monitor or on discord, which was probably true but to you he was sure he just sounded like a fucking teenager. 

“Cool, I’ve been set up for awhile so feel free to move some stuff,” you talked a bit louder now that you’d both stepped into the study room and shut the door. 

Tomura looked around. You’d snagged one of the nicer ones at least, with the big monitors he could cast his screen onto and those comfy chairs he liked but could never beat anyone too on the lower floors. 

You were right, there was shit all over the big table at the center of the room. Notes and printed out readings with highlights galore and sticky notes littering the pages were scattered all over. What a show off. You probably tossed all this stuff out so he’d think you were actually intelligent or some shit. 

Kicking a pile off of the nearest plush armchair, Tomura took a seat and pulled his laptop out. There was a jack in the middle of the table and you plugged yours in to cast onto the big monitor. 

You made a fucking power point for him. 

This couldn’t be real. 

“So I know I ran some stuff by you in class but essentially I was thinking we make like a simple Twine type thing using the rhetorical argument Swift is making…” 

You started rambling again and Tomura almost immediately tuned you out. His eyes drifted between the rough outline you were flicking through on the board and the laptop you had your nose buried in. 

It was covered in stickers, pretty obviously stereotypical for someone as obsessed with being ‘cool’ as you clearly were. But as he scanned through the various old meme phrases and aesthetic shit, he caught a couple of game references he recognized and a panel cutout from one of his favorite manga. 

He almost fell into your trap for a moment, feeling a rush at the prospect of someone—much less a chick—being into his main hyperfixations. 

But it was quickly crushed under everything his years trolling subreddits had taught him. People like you didn’t actually have interests beyond the attention and dick it got them. Plus that manga was pretty popular anyway, you probably didn’t even read it, just thought the line was funny or made you sound quirky. That had to be why you felt the need to drop it in your first texts. 

“What do you think?” you asked, making good on your new habit of startling the hell out of him. 

Tomura blinked, gaze instinctively turning to you but the blatant way you stared made his mouth turn to sand paper, so he looked resolutely back at the color-coded bullet points on the screen. 

“Look’s fine,” he mumbled. 

The more he glanced over it, the more it actually did look fine. A bit more than fine, really, which pissed him off even more. The little choose-your-own debate style story was not a terrible way to make fucking Whatever Swift interesting and it kinda looked like you’d bothered to google some simple coding which gave him a better idea of what you were looking for. 

It was...good. 

And that so fucking annoying. 

Well, he wasn’t sure if annoying was the right word for it, but the proposal coupled with your apparent lack of disgust at working with him made his face hot and that only ever happened otherwise when his roommate left the dishes out for weeks or when some newb on his server fucked up their raids. 

Then, you had the audacity to plop down in the chair next to him and— 

“You can tell me to fuck off if you want,” you began, shuffling in the chair to cross your legs on the cushion, “but I was hoping you’d be willing to show me how you do some of the coding stuff? I tried on my own, but I have literally no clue what I’m doing.” 

He could smell you again, like the whole fucking health and beauty aisle at the grocery store. When he turned his head a bit to look at you around the curtain of his hair, you were crooked—back against the armrest and facing him. 

“Why do you want to know?” he asked, sounding a bit less rude than he would have liked to. 

You just fucking stared right at him though, didn’t wrinkle your nose at how greasy his roots were or how he was wearing the same hoodies as yesterday. 

“I’ve always been interested in it, but my program is kinda stressful and I don’t have much free time so I never learned,” you offered and for once Tomura found he didn’t feel his skin crawl under your unwavering gaze. 

The dry, cracked area around his eyes burned though as sweat beaded on his forehead and he quickly wiped at his face with a loose sweatshirt sleeve. The garment hung off his shoulders, bought a size too big that he never ended up growing into. 

“What’s your major?” 

He found the words slipped easily from him. It was the quintessential question you asked of anyone in college when you met, but he’d never been interested in the answer before. 

You babbled a bit about your specific area of study and your voice was surprisingly not as infuriating as he remembered it being before. It was softer, he thought, than when you were soapboxing in class about the sexist implications of old as fuck poetry—it had a less grating quality and was almost pleasing to the ear. 

Or Tomura would have said that if he thought you deserved the compliment. 

But, obviously you didn’t. 

So he didn’t. 

He just pretended to care about what you were saying and didn’t hang onto every word at all. Actually he was more enraptured in the way your lips moved when you talked. You used your hands a lot too, but his eyes were ensnared on the way your mouth quirked and dipped, at the occasional flash of your tongue between strong teeth. When he leaned in a bit, he could smell your breath too: fruity gum and the remnants of whatever you were always drinking in that loud as fuck cup. He wondered now what exactly it was, so he could buy it and get a better idea of what you mouth might taste—

Nope. 

No, see this was exactly what he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about. How were you doing this to him? What a fucking slut. 

Tomura steeled his nerves as you started explaining the extracurriculars you did on the side. 

“My roommate freshman year actually started a gaming club and so I’ve gotten more into that over the years,” you explained, pointing at the stickers on your laptop case. 

“Are you talking about The League?” 

“Yeah, I didn’t know if you’d heard of it,” you shrugged.  

He knew of the gaming club on campus. He’d thought about joining when he enrolled but the allure of anonymity online gaming provided was too strong. Plus his discord server didn’t have annoying weekly meetings. 

The thought of you, up late and illuminated by the blue light of a tv screen, tucked away in one of the basement rooms in the media building was...strange. It also prompted an array of new images—you in those fucking cat ear headsets, seated in his lap as he trashed you in Mario Kart which was even stranger. 

Tomura had to physically shake his head to dislodge the thought. 

“Uh, we should probably work on this right?” he cringed at the way his voice cracked compared to your own, smooth tone. 

You should narrate those fucking sleep time mediation things. His roommate used to hide wireless speakers in his room and blast those when Tomura stayed up too late. It was annoying as shit then, but if it was you talking, he probably wouldn’t have minded so much. 

Or no, no he would definitely mind. 

Yes. It would have been worse if anything. 

“Oh shit, you right. It’s been like two hours.” 

He glanced down at his laptop and saw that it had, indeed, been two hours since he got there. He’d willingly spoken to you for two goddamn hours. It felt like no time had passed at all, but the sun was definitely setting, the overhead fluorescent bulbs taking over as the main light source in the room. 

Weird. 

So you settled back in your chair, typing away like you always did, but the sound wasn’t nearly as frustrating as before. Occasionally, you’d glance over his shoulder and ask questions about what he was working on, but mostly the two of you settled into a comfortable silence. 

This pattern continued for the next few weeks. As the weather warmed, you began to show a bit more skin. He never worked up the nerve to comment on the thick expanse of bare thigh that tapered off nicely into your calf, or the curve of your arms not hidden behind knit sweaters—hell even your fucking shoulders were hard not to look at. 

Maybe all those high school dress codes weren’t actually so full of shit afterall. Cause he was definitely distracted by the way your neck swooped into the exposed skin of your shoulder and down your back on more than one occasion. 

Did all girls know that? Was it some kind of massive conspiracy to crumble the patriarchy or some crap to go flashing bare shoulders everywhere? 

Regardless if you really were trying to hypnotize him into liking you, Tomura stayed resolutely in his monochrome, long sleeved attire, and if you noticed the behavior you never said a word. 

Never said a word about his allergy ridden skin, peeling lips or scarred throat. Never commented on his terrible posture or said his eyes were creepy. Even when he’d occasionally toss a negative remark your way, you never retaliated maliciously. Just brushed him off with a jovial ‘don’t be a dick’ and a playful, but hard slap to his chest or the back of his head. 

The two of you always met in the same, secluded room on the third floor. You’d talk with him in class sometimes or shoot him texts about random bits of inspiration or a late night game memes, but for the most part, your conversations were confined to that room. He found he preferred the study room ‘you’ best. You weren’t as stiff. There was more of a solidity to you, like he’d seen when you told off that Kai bastard. 

It...grew on him. 

He was irrationally anxious that there would be a time when you couldn’t secure this particular room—with it’s big monitor and comfy chairs and less annoying ‘you’—but he’d been reassured after your third work session. 

Someone had knocked softly at the thick, wooden door and a head of wild, bright pink hair peaked around the crack. 

“Sup bro,” the intruder quipped, as they stepped fully into the room. 

“Hey, Spinner,” you mumbled back, looking up momentarily from the essay portion of your presentation before going back to typing. 

Spinner had seemed to notice him at that point and offered a small wave in his direction. “Oh hey, sorry, thought you were alone,” he said quickly. 

“Nah, this is Tomura,” you said, glancing up again and jerking your thumb in his direction. 

Tomura nodded and tugged at his hoodie strings to stop from scratching under the newcomer’s gaze. He’d gotten used to you, but other people still made him a bit nervous. 

“Nice to meet you,” Spinner had a nice smile, bright and flashy when he spoke. He leaned against the door and crossed his arms, looking around the room. “You got the nice one, huh. How’d you manage that?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” you half closed your laptop and stretched a bit. “Jin was working the front desk, so I’ve just been bribing him with vending machine snacks.” 

“He hasn’t gotten himself fired yet?” Spinner laughed incredulously, but not unkindly. 

“Surprisingly not, but he’s completely corrupt now,” you were picking at the cuticle of your thumb and Tomura fixated on the way the skin split off at the nail. Just like his. “A couple packs of chips and a Monster and I get the most bitchin’ study room whenever I want.” 

“Damn,” Spinner chuckled again and Tomura really wished that he’d leave already. He was beginning to feel himself fading into the upholstery as the conversation left him in the dust. The divergence of your attention away from him or the project was even more annoying that you were. “Well, are you coming to The League meeting tonight? We’re busting out a Smash tournament.” 

“That’s tonight?” you asked, eyes perking up but sliding subtly in Tomura’s direction. “Sorry, I think Tomura and I are gonna be working on this project for a while longer and I’m kinda burnt out. But next time, yeah?”

Spinner rolled his eyes but nodded and kicked off the wall. “That’s not very sexy of you,” he chided and waved a hand in parting. “Gonna work yourself directly into the fucking grave.” 

“Jokes on you, I welcome death.” 

You buried yourself in the screen again and Tomura actually felt a bit grateful for you ending the conversation before he got too painfully awkward. 

But Spinner stopped before he left, looking Tomura up and down from the frayed strings of his black hoodie to the tips of his worn red sneakers. 

“Nice to meet you, man,” he said with a wide grin. “Feel free to tag along next time if you want, we always need more players.” 

The door clicked softly shut behind him and Tomura relaxed back into the silence.

He did end up tagging along—though he spent most of the time hanging off your heels like a lost puppy—to the next meeting of your gaming club and the one after that. Frustratingly enough, he learned that your interests did also extend into skills as you almost bested him in a few rounds Smash. Your profile, lit only by the flashing screen lights, was even more striking outside of his imagined imitations. 

So much so that it found its way into his head late at night when he was too tired to log onto his server. So much so that it had his cock growing firm and tenting his grey sweats without even the visual aid of his go to porn clips. So much so that sometimes, he felt inclined to do something about the throbbing between his legs. So much so that he thought about the way you picked the skin by your fingers. How it looked like his. How your hand might feel like his but softer. Smoother around the edges. With your sweet voice whispering in his ear, making him whine and pant and spill white ropes of release onto his stomach. 

But it was only because you were hot. 

And you were practically begging for him to jack off to the thought of you with those outfits and liking all the shit he liked and noticing when he shrunk away from conversations or including him in them when he started to feel that awful sense of fading into the background. 

Yeah. 

Everybody jerks it sometimes to their group project partners if their ass is nice enough. 

Right?

---

Dabi’s mouth was wet and so fucking warm as he swallowed around Tomura’s dick. 

“Oh fuck…” he groaned as Dabi hummed around his length and did that thing where he flicked the ball of his tongue ring over Tomura’s slit. 

Bright blue eyes stared up through deceptively long lashes, smirking at the way Tomura drooled as he got his soul sucked out the tip of dick. The mattress underneath him creaked at the negligible weight of both their bodies. Dabi settled on his stomach between Tomura’s pale thighs leaving fingerprint bruises in soft flesh. 

They did this sometimes, though he wasn’t not quite sure when exactly it started. Dabi had been his randomly assigned roommate freshman year and he grew so used to living with him that the two of them had just silently, yet mutually agreed not to fuck something up that wasn’t broken. They both berated each other for their strange and somewhat disgusting habits—Dabi would say that Tomura was a gross shut in creep who needed a fucking shower and Tomura called Dabi out on his slutty pastimes and obsession with piercing the hell out of every available inch of skin. 

And sometimes they sucked each other off. 

It was overall not a terrible arrangement—Dabi got his fill of dick and Tomura could no longer be made fun of  for being completely inexperienced. Plus, as much as he was loathe to admit, Dabi was really fucking good at oral. Like, demonically good. He’d been going down on Tomura for so long now too that he’d learned all the things that had him spilling onto that pierced tongue in minutes. 

Tomura jerked from his thoughts when two, lube slicked fingers prodding at his ass. 

“Dabi, what the fuck are you—” he protested, wiggling his scrawny hips up the bed and inadvertently letting his cock slip out of the inviting heat between his roommate’s lips. 

He couldn’t see much other than the shaking mop of black hair and pale hands with chipped black nail polish digging into his legs and yanking him back. 

“Shut up freak,” Dabi slurred, words slick with spit and Tomura’s precum. Dabi said it tasted like battery acid, but it never stopped him from guzzling it like he did with cheap whiskey and cigarettes on the weekends. “I know you like it.” 

He did like it but he wasn’t about to contribute to the fucking manic grin Dabi was giving him as he circled the tight ring of muscle, slipping in a finger to the first knuckle. 

Tomura’s head flopped back on the pillows as he bit back a low moan, “Fuck off.” 

“If you say so,” Dabi shoved his finger in roughly, squeezing a second in behind it and letting Tomura bask in the burn of being stretched too quickly before ripping his hands away. 

“No!” Tomura wailed pretty fucking shamelessly and grabbed the retreating wrist, placing Dabi’s tatted hand back on his dick that throbbed and leaked painfully. 

“Dude, what’s gotten the fuck into you?” his roommate asked, smirking still, but pumping his cock loosely nonetheless. “Our walls are thin as hell, you know I can hear you jerkin it in here every night, and now you’re practically begging for me to suck you off. Usually I gotta come to you.” 

He was infuriatingly right again.

Tomura had indeed asked for him to do this, which was definitely out of character for him. Most of the time they ended up in this position, it was because Dabi spent hours hounding him about it or just fucking dropped to his knees and whipped Tomura’s cock out in the middle of a movie night or snuck into his room while Tomura was gaming and swallowed him whole just to laugh at the way his online friends reacted to the noises. 

He’s just been so pent up lately, and you insisting on fucking touching his arm or sitting on the floor between his feet at League meetings was really not helping it. 

“I don’t know,” Tomura lied, both to Dabi and himself in the hopes that the head of black hair would just go back to bobbing on his dick like he so desperately needed it to. 

“Bro, I have fucked with enough people to know when they’re wishing I was someone else,” Dabi scoffed and ran a blessedly hot tongue from base to tip and suckled softly at the blush pink head before pulling back with a wet pop. “So who is it?”

“I’m not fucking thinking about anyone,” Tomura hissed, fisting Dabi’s spiky, black locks and thrusting into his mouth till he felt the contractions of Dabi gagging around his length. “Usually you're jumping at the chance to get dick in your mouth, so why does it matter?”

Dabi pulled back, wiping the silvery string of spit leaking past his lips away and scowling as his fingers ghosted over Tomura’s balls and sank back into his pliant ass.

“Seriously creep, I’m five seconds away from ghosting and you can fuck your hand like the sad little bitch you are. So tell me their name or I’m walking right now.”

Tomura huffed as he felt Dabi’s long, rough fingers pulled from him again and the heat of his mouth growing farther away. 

“Ugh fine, it’s that bitch I’ve been working on the English thing with.” 

Dabi made a face like his brain was buffering. 

“Seriously?” he asked, mouth gaping in a way that had Tomura even more furious his dick wasn’t buried in it. 

“Yes!” he shouted and grabbed Dabi’s cheeks in both hands, sinking past his waiting lips and practically purring when he felt them close around the base as his long tongue massaged the shaft. “Oh god yes…” 

Dabi rolled his eyes, managing to look smug even with a cock stretching his lips taught against the piercings. He used to try and tease Tomura about how small his dick was, but it was hard to believe him. Especially with how he choked sometimes when Tomura got rough with him despite his boasts of lacking a gag reflex. Not to mention how he looked now, jaw probably aching with the stretch and loving every second of it. 

Tomura lazily bucked his hips up and whined high when the fingers in his ass curled and thrust against that fucking spot he hadn’t known was there until Dabi found it for him. 

The pleased sound he made tapered off into a growl though, when his roommate with questionable benefits pulled off again to run his slutty fucking mouth. 

“Tell me about it,” he mumbled, kitten licking at Tomura’s cock and running the ball of his piercing through the slit again. Tomura gulped when he pulled it back into his mouth to swallow the bead of precum he’d collected. “I’ve seen your fucking paramour around before, pretty serious about school though. And Kinda out of your league too, not gonna lie. So, what would you do if your cute little partner was here instead?” 

Tomura bristled at the insult but couldn’t keep his pissed off look when Dabi went back to sucking his cock like a pro and curling those fucking fingers against his prostate. When he did speak, he blushed hard at the way his voice cracked and sounded like he was crying. 

“I don’t fucking—holy shit—know,” he gasped and Dabi hummed both to egg him on and to get a whole new wave of precum gushing out of Tomura’s dick. 

“C’mon man,” Dabi groaned, and Tomura distinctly heard the sound of a pants zipper and felt Dabi’s hips canting against the sheets. 

That fucking masochistic whore. He would get off to Tomura dirty talking about someone else while he sucked his dick. 

He considered stopping the whole thing right there, but then Dabi was sinking a third finger into his ass and thrusting hard while he hallowed his cheeks around Tomura’s cock and sucked— 

“Tits!” Tomura cried and covered his burning, red cheeks with his hands. “I want to put my fucking face in them and taste them in my mouth. Sometimes I can see the outline of their nipples when we’re working and the air conditioning comes on and I want to suck on them so fucking bad I can’t think about anything else the whole night.”

Once he got started, Tomura found the words just spilled from him like a dam had burst. Dabi, the depraved bastard, groaned loud and ground his pierced dick harder against the mattress as he continued to deep throat Tomura’s cock and fuck his ass at the perfect angle. 

“Sometimes when they drag me to their stupid club I lose the rounds cause I—oh god, oh fuck—just imagine them in my lap, sitting on my cock and fucking writhing and squeezing me while we face off. Such a fucking—Dabi more!—stereotypical try-hard, bitch but I want to be inside them so fucking bad,” he felt actual tears stinging the raw corners of his eyes when Dabi sped up on his dick. 

Tomura scrapped his nails against Dabi’s scalp, holding on for dear life as his breathing became even more ragged than usual. His friend’s cruelty streak reared its ugly head as Dabi sensed the tensing of Tomura’s balls and the clench of his tight ass and slowed down a fraction, keeping him teetering on the edge of an explosively pleasurable release.  

“Fucking asshole,” he growled, but didn’t dare try to fuck Dabi’s face lest he make good on his threat to leave Tomura high and dry. “I just—shit, ah, don’t stop—they talk to me sometimes and I just wanna suck their tongue into my mouth so they shut up and I need to hear them fucking falling apart for me or using that stupid, stuck up teacher voice on me and fucking my ass—Dabi Fuck—is that what you wanted to hear?”   

Dabi, because he got off on being a little shit, gave him one last delicious swallow before pulling back and fisting Tomura’s sopping wet cock. The fingers had stopped thrusting and were now pressed hard against his prostate, sending shocks through his body and making him twitch violently as his blood rushed with endorphins. He never stopped grinding his own dick against Tomura’s cotton sheets the whole time. 

“You got it bad huh, don’t ya creep,” he mused, letting a fat glob of spit fall from his lips and keep his palm slick. “That’s the most I’ve ever heard you talk about fucking anything, much less another actual person.” 

“No I fucking don’t, “ Tomura writhed against the pillows, giving in to the undeniable urge to simultaneously fuck up into Dabi’s hand and ride his fingers. 

“Who knew you were such a desperate whore, falling for the first person to show you a modicum of attention,” Dabi jeered and squeezed the tip of his dick hard, listening to Tomura let out a choked sob. “I’m actually kinda proud of you, bro. My little neckbeard baby’s growing up.” 

Dabi cooed at Tomura, sinking sharp teeth deep into the meat of his thigh and sucking a bruise into the flesh. 

“You’re the one—nghh—getting off on it,” Tomura clapped back but didn’t bother denying it again. 

There was a sense of dread growing in his gut alongside the mounting pleasure of his orgasm that Dabi was currently holding hostage. Dabi may have had  a dickish personality just as massive as the actual dick that was currently painting Tomura’s comforter in stains, but he knew him. 

And he did, admittedly have much more experience with these types of things than Tomura. 

“Fuck yeah I am,” Dabi grunted. “Last time I let you return the favor you bit my fucking cock. I gotta get off somehow.” 

“Don’t say rude shit to me and I won’t bite you.” 

“Watch it, Tomura,” Dabi huffed and nipped at his thigh again. “You should be thanking me for my services.” 

“Not if you’re gonna keep running your mouth instead of sucking me off,” he tried to sound intimidating but he was well and truly wrecked and couldn’t find the energy to give his words an edge. 

“You should ask them out,” Dabi continued, ignoring Tomura’s failed attempts at banter. “Bring ‘em over or some shit. Maybe then if I lock down that blonde piece of ass I’ve been talking to, we’ll both have much more interesting things to go down on.” 

“Your whore ass is the one always jumping me, don’t act like it’s a fucking chore,” Tomura groaned as Dabi started licking at his cock again, pressing sloppy, half kisses on the tip as he jerked it in his fist. 

“Not my fault I get bored sometimes,” he replied and closed his eyes as Tomura clenched particularly hard around Dabi’s relentless fingers. “But seriously, you should go for it. I’d kill to find out if you’re just as bad at eating pussy as you are sucking dick.” 

“Fuck y—” Tomura started to say when Dabi reared up till they were chest to chest and their foreheads knocked together. 

“I fucking will if you don’t shut up, creep, and I think it’d be so much better if you handed your fucking virginity to that pretty little partner bitch instead,” he said and stunned Tomura into silence when he licked into his mouth. 

Dabi had kissed him before, but Tomura could count the number of occasions on one hand and almost all had been when his punk ass roommate was drunk as hell and in his feels about some tortured past. But Dabi’s eyes were bright and lucid now, blinking down at Tomura as he dragged their tongues together, flooding his mouth with the faint taste of cigarettes and jizz. 

Their cocks brushed together too, the stimulation making Tomura whine into Dabi’s lips, who dropped a merciful hand down, taking them both in his fist and began pumping. 

He didn’t stop as he pulled back, grinning down at Tomura like a fucking maniac—all shitty tattoos and silver piercings. The little barbels that stuck through Dabi’s nipples brushed against his own and made him moan at the cool metal and hot skin on his sensitive chest. Tomura was fucking sensitive everywhere, as Dabi had helped him discover, probably from a lifetime of being touched more by cheap sweatshirts than human hands. 

“Now,” Dabi grunted as he thrust loosely against Tomura’s cock and his own fist before pulling away to settle back between his legs. “Shut up and cum down my throat—gotta give your virgin ass a refresher on mind shattering orgasms, so you know if that bitch is any good or not.”

Tomura’s tongue was halfway around a witty comeback when Dabi swallowed him to the hilt once again and started working his ass even harder. He really fucked hoped the neighbors were not home to hear him get his shit rocked at 2pm on a fucking Tuesday, cause Dabi might have been flunking out of his classes but he’d get a goddamn a plus for sucking dick. 

The hand on his thigh, spreading him open, migrated to his hip so that Tomura could snap his legs shut hard around Dabi’s ring littered ears as he guided Tomura to grind down on his hand. The pressure in his gut built up exponentially higher now that Dabi wasn’t trying to hold him on the edge of climax. It took an embarrassingly short amount of time for him to acquiesce to Dabi’s request, as he tightened up in a full body clench before gripping Dabi’s hair and spilling rope after rope of hot, sticky release straight onto his roommate’s tongue. 

Dabi, the fucking slut, made a show of swallowing every drop that spilled from Tomura’s abused cock, milking his prostate the whole time and only letting Tomura slip from his mouth when he was soft and finally spent. 

The fingers in his ass remained though, still for the most part and slowly dipping in and out every so often. Tomura whimpered and clenched but was somewhat thankful for the remaining feeling of fullness. 

“So, did you really mean all that?” Dabi asked with his signature smirk. “You really want your group project partner to cockwarm you and fuck your tight little ass?”

“Fuck off,” Tomura scowled and smacked Dabi hard across the face with an errant pillow. 

Dabi yanked it from his grasp and tossed his ammunition onto the floor. “Hey, it’s not actually too bad in here,” he wiggled his fingers for emphasis which elicited an embarrassingly high gasp from Tomura, “give ‘em my number if you need a reference for asshole tightness.” 

“Get the fuck out of my ass and my room,” Tomura kicked at Dabi’s back as it shook with laughter that lacked it’s usual sneering bite. 

“What? Saving the cuddles for your new S/O?” he shot back and nuzzled his cum and spit covered face into Tomura’s neck. 

With their chests pressed together, Tomura could feel the cooling, sticky remnants of Dabi’s own  release coating his stomach. He squirmed against the feeling and pushed at the offending chest until his friend flopped down onto the scant space left between the mattress and the wall. 

“Ew,” Tomura ran a finger through the mess Dabi had left smeared on him. “I’m taking a fucking shower.” 

“God, finally!” Dabi exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air and producing a cigarette from god knows where. He let the paper rest between his lips unlit. “I should have thought about getting you fucked out on the reg earlier, creep, if it’ll stop you smelling like ass.” 

Tomura launched the discarded pillow which hit it’s mark with a dull thump. 

“You better be fucking gone when I get back,” he hissed and stumbled naked, on shaking legs into the hall and to their shared bathroom. 

Dabi’s cackling followed him until the door shut and the lock clicked behind him. Tomura turned the water on quickly, letting steam cloud the mirror before he jumped under the spray. The only products on the shelves were Dabi’s for the most part with the exception of a store brand bar of soap and some 3 in one shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. 

Tomura new he should clean himself more often, but his skin was so fucking raw all the time it hurt to do, so he mostly avoided it unless the smell got really unbearable—or Dabi was painting him in jizz whenever the opportunity presented itself. 

He tried to get in and out as quickly as possible so he didn’t have the opportunity to think too hard about the admission his fuck buddy roommate had pulled from him mid blow job. Because if he did, in his post nut, clingy state, he’d most certainly imagine you were with him, tits pressed against his back and your soft, insistent tongue dipping past his lips, tasting like fruit gum and expensive cafe drinks instead of nicotine and cum. 

And he really couldn’t handle that, cause Dabi was right, he had something fucking bad for you and the thought of another rejection loomed large. 

When he did towel himself off and shuffle, still naked back into his bedroom Dabi was nowhere to be seen. Tomura’s phone however, was left sitting right next to the jizz stain on his sheets. He frowned at the open balcony door where Dabi was no doubt smoking and snatched the device before tumbling onto the pillows. 

He powered it on and scrolled through his notifs before one caught his eyes. You and Dabi were really the only people that ever texted him, but the contact name above this one had changed. 

bitch (endearing)

— hey, starting an impromptu round of Smash soon if you’re interested <3

The stupid text heart made his chest throb and he stared at Dabi’s new nickname for you, not even noticing the fucking grin that tugged at his cheeks. 

He bit his lip to stop the twitching when it pulled too hard at the chapped skin and scrambled for his clothes before shooting a quick confirmation text back. Tomura opted for his only pair of black jeans this time instead of sweats and the least stained sweatshirt he owned. 

Dabi peaked around the corner when he heard the clink of Tomura’s keys. The bastard was smoking in just a pair of underwear that left half his ass on display for all the whole fucking street. He smirked, quirking his eyebrows and bringing his hands up to slip his index finger through the circle of his middle and thumb on the other hand in a silent, vulgar gesture. 

“Screw off,” Tomura shouted over his shoulder and made for the door. 

“Wrap it before you tap it, bro!” Dabi called after him, cut off by the slamming door. 

Tomura took the stairs two at a time, pulling out his phone and tucking the hood over his damp hair, this time to hide the growing smile playing at his lips. 

---

Your project was almost complete. 

In some ways, it sort of felt like the end of an era. To Tomura, who was, by nature, a creature of habit, it was doubly strange to imagine no longer spending hours a few days each week locked away in your little study room with you bugging him to teach you simple html and him not-so-discreetly sniffing your hair. 

He still hadn’t asked you out or whatever he’d been trying to do, much to Dabi’s chagrin. And because of this, Tomura was consistently plagued with the feeling of time running out. 

You were supposed to meet today for probably the last time seeing as the presentation was coming up at the end of the week. He knew it was now or never at this point. If he didn’t fucking say something now, he never would and then he’d have to live with the same his roommate wouldn’t let him live down. 

So instead of heading directly to the library after class, Tomura took the old route back to his apartment and shot you a quick text—praying to the fucking boner gods, as Dabi called them, that you’d take the bait. 

hey would you mind putting the finish touches on shit at my place?— 

there’s some parts i gotta do from my desktop— 

It wasn’t completely a lie. It was nicer working from his pc setup, but before he wouldn’t have let you come anywhere fucking near there. Not until he’d finally accepted that you’d wormed your way into his brain somehow and he couldn’t live another day not knowing what your tongue tasted like. 

bitch (endearing) 

—no problem

—what’s your address?

Tomura’s heart fucking pounded mercilessly against the bony prison of his ribs. It wasn’t like he was a stranger to some good old fashioned anxiety, but he’d never felt a strange stirring in his stomach quite like this. Like he might puke, but in a good way. 

He quickly sent back his street and apartment number, and waited on the corner for you to text back that you’d be there in an hour before he rushed inside. 

“What the hell are you doing, creep?!” Dabi snapped at him when he burst through the door and yeeted his backpack onto the kitchen table. 

Tomura didn’t answer, just made a beeline for the bathroom and slammed the door. He doused himself in record time, unbothered by the hot water causing red, patchy flare ups to bloom over his skin. He was almost disgusted with himself for putting in this much effort for someone like you. Someone being definitely kind of a slut if the way you dressed was a good indicator. But he just kept thinking about the way your hair or skin smelled so goddamn good when you leaned in close and he wanted you to be obsessed with him in the same way. Wanted you to want to bury your face in his neck and breath him in. 

When he stumbled out into the hall moments later, towel drying his hair roughly, Dabi was taking a shot over the sink. 

He looked at Tomura like hell had frozen over. 

“Two showers in like a month?” he mused, sucking his teeth as the alcohol slid down his throat. “What’s the occasion? The fucking, second coming of Christ?”

“Well the bitch is coming over so…”

“Oh, that is a fucking miracle,” Dabi whistled and knocked back a second shot. 

Tomura glared, stepping into his room and tossing his towel aside to tug on his nicest pair of black joggers and t-shirt that gapped a bit at the front, showing off a large expanse of his chest. It made him a bit nervous even just looking at his reflection but you definitely stared the few times he’d taken off his hoodie while you were working, so the risk seemed worth the reward. 

“Yeah, well you’re gonna have to piss off for the night,” Tomura shouted into the kitchen as Dabi sauntered over to lean against his doorframe. 

“You know, I conveniently do have a dick appointment with my own bitch, but now I don’t want to go.”

His tone was teasing, eyes hooded and clearly enjoying how flustered Tomura was already before you’d even gotten here. Tomura moved to snatch another pillow and do battle but Dabi raised his hands up quickly in defeat. 

“Oh no, no, I just fucking did my hair for this Keigo asshole you are not gonna ruin it with that petty shit,” he shot back and disappeared somewhere into his own room. “I’ll be out of your greasy ass hair don’t worry.” 

Tomura seethed and bit back of reply of his hair for once not being greasy as hell, but the multiple cum stains—both his and his nasty fucking roommates—marring the comforter caught his eye. 

“Ugh,” he mumbled and balled the whole thing up, shoving it under the bed and spreading out one of his merch blankets from that manga you both liked. 

Hopefully you wouldn’t think that was too cringey, but he had definitely seen your room plastered with merch in the background of your social media profiles which he totally did not stalk at all and maybe jerk off to on occasion.

The rest of his room was quickly cleared by a combination of shoving random crap into his closet and filling up their recycling bin to the brim with empty energy drink cans. He tackled the kitchen next which wasn’t as hard as he’d expected. Neither he nor Dabi cooked all that frequently, so the dishes weren’t an issue and the vague, lingering smell of whatever the fuck Dabi had been smoking early was cleared out a bit by leaving the balcony door ajar. 

He checked the time on his phone obsessively, about ready to pound on Dabi’s door and throw him out on the step when the man in question emerged on his own—black platform boots donned with his ass hugging ripped jeans and loose tank top. He had on fucking eyeliner.

God and he thought Tomura was being desperate. 

“What? Wishing you’d locked this down first?” Dabi sneered, grabbing his jacket from the rack and shoulder checking Tomura on his way to the door. 

“I—” he stammered for a second, bristling as Dabi towered over him a bit in those fucking boots. “No, asshole, just leave before they get here.”

But at the exact moment that Dabi rolled his eyes and flung open the door, Tomura’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Looking up in mingled horror and embarrassment, he watched the door hit the wall and reveal you, a little more casually dressed than usual looking stunned as Dabi grinned down at you with pierced lips. 

“Hi, I’m-” you started but Tomura’s live-in nightmare cut you off. 

“Oh I know who you are, dollface,” Dabi wiggled his fucking eyebrows at you, clearly playing up the dramatics as much as possible to a degree even Tomura didn’t think he could pull off. “Name’s Dabi—” 

“Uh, yeah and he was just leaving,” Tomura hissed and placed his shoulder firmly in the center of his roommate’s back, launching him onto the welcome mat as you side-stepped through the door. 

“Yeah, see ya later creep,” he fucking winked as the door slammed shut in his face. 

Tomura’s cheeks burned in the following silence which was only broken by your quiet chuckle. He noticed you did that a lot. Laughed at things without even thinking about whether it would sound weird. 

“He seems like a lot,” you mumbled and glanced around at the living room/kitchen/foyer of his tiny apartment. 

“Yeah…” 

He thought he might feel the same sort of disturbance he usually did when Dabi brought his dates home but you seemed to fit easily into the space, unobtrusive but bright against the dingy walls. 

“So, should we get to it?” you asked with a wry smile, spinning to face him and silhouetted by the sun set filtering in past the balcony. 

He may not have felt the usual discomfort of intruders in his space, but his hands shook where he clutched at his thighs nonetheless. And just like always, if you noticed the bunched up fabric and the not so slight tremor in his bony arms, you didn’t say a thing about it. 

You looked so good propped up on his bed, back against the wall and legs dangling off the sides as the now strangely comforting sound of your furious typing filled his room. It had been a few hours now, and Dabi had been true to his work, seemingly gone until tomorrow morning. The room was lit only by your screens and his small desk lamp that lit up your legs like a stage spot light. 

His mind fogged over more than once with the fantasy of laying in between them. 

“I just shared the final bit of script,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence. 

The notification pinged at the top of his screen and he hummed in acknowledgement, plugging in your last pieces of text and saving the program. 

And just like that. 

It was over. 

“I think we’re done,” Tomura whispered. 

He didn’t really mean to say it so softly but it felt strange to talk at full volume so he just rasped out the words, knowing you wouldn’t care how shitty his voice sounded. 

There was a creak and soft footsteps behind him as you shuffled off the bed and over to his desk, hands resting way too close to his shoulders than necessary while you leaned over his chair to look at the finished product. 

It was still a little rough around the edges but Tomura found himself feeling a little swell of satisfaction now that it was complete. All things considered, you’d come up with a pretty damn good concept and he liked knowing he played a role in helping it come to fruition. 

The piece you picked was weird as shit. Some political satire about eating babies, lots of juxtaposition about the private life versus the public self and some bullshit rants on the nature of humanity blah blah blah. 

It actually reminded him of you a little bit, now that he thought about it and used your position as an excuse to stare intently at your eyes scanning the screen. Not the eating babies thing, but the whole private self stuff. In the half semester he’d spent locked away with you in quiet rooms and noisy, dimly lit basements, he could see such a stark contrast between the you he’d known from class all those weeks ago and the you currently sighing in relief over his shoulder. 

Softer, more real—not so Stacy, bimbo, pick me slut like he’d always imagined you to be. 

“Damn, we did it my guy,” you nodded, clearly impressed with yourself and him as well, which had Tomura’s chest puffing out just a bit under the attention. “I could fucking kiss you, I thought we’d never get it done.” 

You turned to him, eyes closed in a half laugh but Tomura was so far from laughing. Cause you were really, really fucking close and he could smell you again and you’d been chewing that fucking gum cause it was hot on your breath and he knew, he really did, that you were kidding, that tis was just a thing people say when they’re relieved but he couldn’t help the weird, deer in the headlights stare that his face froze in. 

Blinking, you raised your eyebrows at him questioningly when he didn’t make some crude comment about your chest brushing against his arm or shrug you off like he might have before. 

And then you got this knowing, little mischievous look that reminds him far too much of Dabi for a split second before you pressed your face just an inch closer. 

His eyes flicked down instinctively to your lips and his face burned when realized there was no way you didn’t see the way he looked at you. Shockingly, despite the churning in his gut and the shaking in his legs, Tomura leaned forward just a bit too, working up just enough scant courage to maybe close the gap, but then you started laughing? 

It bubbled up quietly in your chest, more of a giggle than anything else. 

You were laughing and shaking your head and his stomach fucking dropped to the ground and his face was on fire cause you were laughing and that meant he’d been fucking played like a goddamn fiddle but— 

But then you gave him this faint smile and you weren't laughing anymore, because you were kissing him. 

You were fucking kissing him. 

Which, while yes he had set out to have this be the end goal of the night, he hadn’t actually believed it would ever happen. He’d never felt it in his bones, like he was supposed to. 

And holy shit your lips were so soft??

So soft and smooth with no cool, sharp metal poking or pulling at the splits on his. It was like fucking crack, or what he imagined crack might be like with the way your mouth just glided against his. It was so easy to follow you, which was good cause he didn’t have a goddamn clue what he was doing for the most part. But you made it feel simple, and you even ran your tongue over the little scar that bisected his lips in this painfully adorable way that had Tomura pitching a tent in his pants like lightning. 

God but when you pulled back and just enough to look him in the eye— 

It was like every one of those cutesy, shojo manga suddenly made sense. The panels where the main character’s look at each other and flowers bloom off the fucking page while they stare with those dark, hungry eyes— 

Yeah. 

Yeah he got it now. 

And he was gonna ride that wave while he had it. So Tomura steeled himself and surged forward, grabbing both your arms and smashing his face much less gracefully against yours. He stood and you straightened with him, that same half giggle slipping out in the gaps where your lips parted on his as he clacked your teeth together and pulled back at the jarring sting. 

“Eager are we?” you have that stupid smile on your face again but he honestly didn’t care anymore if it was an act or if your face really just looked like that with no fucking ulterior motive.  

“Shut up,” he muttered, trying to catch your lips again and you mercifully let him. 

And Tomura nearly fucking came in his pants when your licked into his mouth and oh fucking god he really could taste the gum and that loud ass shit you were always drinking. Dabi was right, this was a fucking miracle. Did other people always taste this good or was it just you? 

He responded enthusiastically to say the least, sucking your tongue into his mouth and letting out a choked little noise when you licked at the back of his teeth. The movement of your legs, pulling him back towards the bed went mostly unnoticed until he felt himself tipping forward, landing with a thump on top of you as you both tumbled onto his mattress. 

Tomura’s lips wondered boldly down your throat, smelling the soap or lotion or whatever the hell made you so fucking baby smooth compared to him and he actually growled into your nape when you laughed again. 

“God, what the fuck is so funny?” he sounded muffled from where he was tonguing at the fleshy joining of your neck and shoulder. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you pressed your lips against the peeling crown of his head and that alone made up for the interruption, “I’m just basking in the glory of being right.” 

“About?” Tomura nipped at your skin once before lifting his chin to rest on your sternum. 

“I just always thought you were sorta into me, but it was hard to tell cause you’re so quiet about that sorta thing.” 

“....oh,” he didn’t really have an argument for that so he didn’t try to fight you. 

“Did you think I didn’t notice all the convenient excuses to touch me or like the fact that you’re mean as shit to everyone else but me?“ you asked not unkindly as you stroked a hand through his hair, frizzy from being left to air dry. “I also got the vibes you thought I was kinda a slut anyway and it wasn’t super clear if that was a turn on or not.” 

He cringed a bit at the blatant way you acknowledged all ruder inner monologues about your character. 

“Well, I did a bit initially,” Tomura glanced off to the side, suddenly finding the chipping paint much more fascinating. God he really wanted to get back to the good stuff. “But I don’t now…”

“Oh no,” you cupped his face, running a thumb against the cracked skin on his cheeks and didn’t cringe when the drying skin flaked onto your shirt, “that was a pretty astute assumption.” 

“Uh, what?”

He felt his draw drop and you dipped your thumb past his front row of teeth, towing with the pooling saliva. 

“All the better for you though,” you continued dragging his chest against yours so he could feel your nipples through his shirt, “cause that just means I know how to show you a good time, and I get the feeling you’ve never had that happen before.” 

You punctuated your words with roll of your hips against the fucking iron rod in his pants. The noise that left Tomura was inhuman. He thought back to the day you got partnered with him. How he thought it would be a fucking nightmare and Tomura wanted to let the record show that he officially retracted that statement. This was in no uncertain terms, actually a wet dream come true and he was sure Dabi would never fucking believe  him unless he walked through the door right now. 

“That works,” he stuttered around the finger in his mouth and you reared up to wrap your legs around his waist. 

Your lips found his again and he hummed in approval only cut off as you rolled so he was laying back and looking up. When you pulled away, he shivered at the way you raked your nails over his chest. 

“So, you gonna tell me how much of a disgusting whore you think I am?”

---

“I don’t—”

He couldn't finish the sentence, not when you were grinding down on him like that. How the hell did you even know how to move your hips in those little circles? Was there some Being a Massive Slut for Dummies book he was missing out on or?

“C’mon, Tomura, we’ve been through this,” you sighed and leaned down to such a trail of sloppy kisses from his jaw to his ear, biting down on the soft flesh, “I know you’ve been thinking so much nasty shit about me, the least you can do is let me hear it.” 

Those hands on his chest were moving again, curling into the hem of his t-shirt and tugging until it was over his head and tossed aside on the floor. On an embarrassing instinct, Tomura’s hands shot up to cover himself, only stopped when you leaned onto your haunches and tugged off your own. 

“Shit,” Tomura whispered. 

You weren’t wearing anything underneath. 

He drank in the sight of those cute fucking tits he’d only ever caught glimpses of through those low cut tops you always wore. You grinned down at him, both hands coming up to play with your chest, fingers pinching and rolling the pretty buds. Tomura felt drool slip from the corner of his mouth. 

“Is that all you got?”

He wasn’t completely in control of his body as it catapulted off the bed to smash his face between your squished up tits, but neither of you were complaining if the sounds that followed were any indication. You hummed happily as he pressed his cheeks to the warm, soft flesh and his lips closed around your nipple, sucking and laving his tongue over the pebbled skin. 

“You really wanted everyone to see these, huh?” he meant the words to have more bite but it was hard with your fucking boob in his mouth. 

And he wasn’t looking to stop suckling at you anytime soon so….

“They’re nice tits, what can I say,” you shot back and he couldn’t wait to have you fucked so stupid all those witty one-liners would die on your tongue. 

You fucking tasted so good. He hadn’t ever thought that tits would have a fucking taste but it was like some odd combination of skin and spit and it was addictive. 

“Got a whole fucking eye full that first time you talked to me in class,” he growled, sinking his teeth in hard enough to leave a mark around your nipple. “Fucking parading them around every time you leaned over. Thought you were so fucking desperate for attention.” 

If you really wanted to know all the vile, gross shit he thought on the daily then who was he to deny you that pleasure. 

Cause you were definitely feeling some type of way about it based on the way your fingers threaded through his hair and held him to your chest as he tongued and bit at the skin. 

“Think I’m just a stupid attention whore, is that it?” you moaned when he switched breasts, palm kneading at the one he’d abandoned. 

“I think you’re a useless slut who’ll do anything to get a guy to fucking look your way,” Tomura gasped and sunk his teeth in again. 

A shiver ran through him at the whine leaving your lips. 

He did that. 

He needed to do more of that immediately. 

“You like it when I call you a fucking slut?” 

Tomura didn’t know what came over him in that moment—what weird spirit of horny confidence possessed his body—but suddenly, with a surge of motion, his hand left your chest and latched onto the smooth column of your throat. The move had actually been quite graceful until he tried to flip your positions and got his legs tangled with yours, resulting in more of a...sexy pile than the smooth transition of power he was going for. 

You didn’t seem to mind though. 

You never did.

Tomura guessed if he was going to admit something nice about you, then it would be that at least you were consistent. 

“I do like it when you call me that,” you breathed into his ear, hands under his arms to haul him back over top of you and replace the hand at your throat with a smirk, “and you love that it’s true.”  

Fuck. 

He really did, now that he thought about it. All those message boards always talked about finding virgins who you could mold to your dick just like they were meant to be, but…he was so fucking anxious at the best of times, having those eyes that pissed him off and knew it made this so much more fun. 

There was probably a more eloquent word than that, and you would probably more than willing to supply it, but the goal was to shut you up and he wasn’t gonna be okay with just coasting this time. 

“God, you need to learn how to shut the fuck up,” he spat and subsequently yelped as you leaned forward, licking a wet trail up his chest before latching onto one of his nipples. 

The flushed, pink skin disappeared into the heat of your mouth, leaving his dick twitching violently in his pants that had grown too tight and damp for comfort. The languid motion of your tongue over the rapidly pebbling flesh and the goldilocks perfect way in which you nipped at him was enough to corroborate all your claims of experience. With the constant, electric spark pleasure running from his chest to his pants, Tomura found formulating sentences a little challenging, so he just said the first thing that came to mind. 

“Why don’t we give you something even better to with that fucking whore mouth, hm?”

It was cliche as hell, stolen straight from one of the admittedly plentiful pornos he’d watched in his day, but you just grinned and popped off his nipple, nodded frantically at the innuendo. 

Those clever little fingers that seemed to type without ever stopping dropped to the waistband of his sweats and tugged them down his thighs. He kicked a bit awkwardly to get them off his ankles but you were already yanking the elastic of his boxers. You smiled up at him through your lashes as you tucked the fabric just under his balls and let your eyes wander slowly from his splotchy red chest to the patch of hair just at the base of his dick. 

If he hadn’t known better, he might have thought you were drooling. 

Tomura felt a bit more in his element here, having had some actual frame of reference—as his asshole roommate was so generous to provide—so he didn’t waste any time. Falling onto his back, he squirmed up the sheets until his head was resting on a pillow and you were crawling between his thighs. God and you and you had your ass up too, wiggling it back and forth like you were wagging your tail at just the thought of getting his cock in your mouth. 

Well, since you were so eager, Tomura decided to jump right in. You seemed to like things a bit rough anyway, so he reached out, burying a hand roughly in your hair and plunging in. 

The cute and kinda disgusting choking gasp you let out was addictive. 

And now he fucking knew Dabi was lying about his dick being small, cause you had a big fucking mouth to talk all that shit and it was absolutely stuffed full. Your lips were stretched obscenely not even halfway down his shaft and your eyes were already pricked with tears at the edges. The fucking feel of your mouth was like how he imagine silk might feel, if it was soaked and scorching. Your throat constricted around him as you gagged and oh it was fucking cock sucking heaven he was in. 

Tomura was almost tempted to grab his phone and snap a— 

Actually, that was a fucking great idea.  

His free hand fumbled for his pants, closing around his phone and unlocking it while you hummed and pulled back, bobbing your head twice before sinking back down, Your eyes flew open when the camera flash lit up the dark corner of his room. He could feel you trying to move away, to snap at him for taking his little keepsake but he quickly fisted your hair and bucked his hips up to keep you firmly on his dick. 

“Oh no, you were so eager to suck me off, you’re gonna finish the fucking job before you breathe again,” he panted, holding the sides of your face and fucking your mouth in earnest. 

He’d found it easy to simply follow the instinctive rhythm of his hips, constantly seeking out the wet heat source. Your eyes rolled back in your goddamn as his length slid past your lips over and over again 

Holy shit it felt so good. 

And it felt even better when he could see how much you loved it. 

How much you loved his filthy fucking almost virgin cock shoved down your throat and he finally felt the vulgar dam in his mind break. 

“I think about you all the time,” he gasped, keening high when you ran your tongue over his slit on ever upstroke, just how he liked it. “I lay here at night and fuck my hand and think about sinking into your tight fucking cunt. I wanna fill you up so bad, it’s the only thing on my mind whenever I talk to you.” 

The only thing stopping him from cumming straight down your throat in that moment was sheer horny force of will. 

“When you mouth off in class, all I hear is you just begging for someone to bend you over and fuck that cocky fucking arrogance right out of you,” below him, you reached a hand up, pinching hard at his nipple and humming at the squeal he made. “Fuck, and I want eat your pussy while you’re up there presenting this shit, so I can watch you try and keep it together so know one else knows what a fucking whore you are for me. Such a fucking slut for me.” 

Something was washing over him, some weird, intense revelation of something that perhaps he’d always known but just needed the motivation of a fucking earth shattering blowjob to work out of him—that he wanted you. Really wanted you. Felt entitled to you. He’d spent so much mental energy obsessing over it, that really, no one else fucking deserved to touch you but him. 

No one else would want you this much. 

No one else would want him this much.

Your hands had found their way to his thighs and they were rubbing sweet little circles into the soft skin. 

“You’d love that wouldn’t you?” his voice was wrecked, even more than usual, from the near constant string of high pitched whining “You’d love to have me fucking ruin you, make you cum all over my tongue in front of everyone. Let them fucking know who does that shit to you.” 

You managed a nod, even with his cock buried deepdeepdeep in your throat. And Tomura was fucking twitching at the thought. The muscles in his legs jumped under your touch. A slimy mix of spit and precum was gushing down his length, slipping over his balls and slicking his ass. It was sloppy and the room was so full of the wet slap of his hips against your mouth. 

It was so much, too much, oh shit, shit he didn’t want to cum like this— 

“Wait, wait!” he cried, back arching with the agony of leaving the plush paradise between your lips. “Please—I wanna cum in you.” 

You looked up at him, head hanging from his grip in your hair, with your jaw slack and dripping and nodded. He felt as though his ribs were lined with magnets that pulled him into your outstretched arms, kneeling as he pressed his mouth frantically to yours, uncaring of the mess of the faint taste of bitter precum. 

There was something frantic in the air, like a switch had been flipped. The need to feel you, to be connected at every point— to get just a little bit more of what he’d earned—grew stronger with every passing second. 

His lips were rough and raw and stung when you licked them but that only made it sweeter. You tongued at his teeth and sucked him into your mouth like he was warm food after months without. It was needy. Needy and ragged because you needed him. 

You needed him. 

What a fucking thought that was. 

Your pants were quickly discarded along with his boxers, and for the first time in his life, Tomura didn’t care about all the exposed skin. He didn’t think about all the unsightly patches of irritation or scaring, because you never had. Not once had you ever stared or commented and you weren’t starting now. Your hands smoothed over every inch of him, just as desperate like he always knew you would be.   

Because you were so— 

Perfect. 

Fucking disgusting. 

Tomura let you fall back onto the mattress and whimpered at the feeling of your thighs hitched around his waist. He made the mistake of letting his eyes leave your mouth to glance down and oh, oh he was enraptured. 

Dabi was right, he’d never actually seen a pussy in real life and holy shit. 

His fingers gravitated immediately to your lips, fucking soaked, soaked in arousal that had smeared on your thighs. 

“You get this fucking hot just from my cock in your mouth?” he asked, grinning as he collected some of the slick on his fingers and brought them curiously to his mouth. 

Delicious. 

“Yes—fuck—yes!” you whined and pulled him closer with your thighs. 

“You want me to fuck you that bad?” his fingers ghosted over where he thought your clit might be and was rewarded when you moaned low as he brushed over a raised little bud. “Does this nasty little slut want me that fucking bad?”

“Please Tomura…” his name on your tongue was better than any crazy ass party drug Dabi ever brought home, “you have no fucking idea how long I’ve been wanting you so fucking deep in me—”

Your words cut off with a sob as he ran his fingers down, searching for your entrance and sinking in hard when he found it. And it was so nice in there. So fucking hot. 

“What are you?” he asked, thrusting his fingers in and out, trying to remember how Dabi did it to him and what felt good.

He plunged them deep and curled up towards your belly and you sobbed, “A fucking slut!” 

God he was so glad no one else was here to hear that. 

This was just for him. 

“And who’s fucking slut are you?” 

He really could help himself, he just wanted to hear it so fucking bad. 

“Yours,” you whined and rolled your hips down so his thumb caught on your clit and. “I’m your fucking slut!” 

“Shit,” he rasped and ripped his fingers from you. 

He wasn’t entirely conscious of his movements. There was just one, very loud voice, screaming in his head to bury his cock in that perfect fucking heat and suddenly his was gripping himself and pushing in and— 

“Ahh, fucking god,” Tomura whimpered, body going limp as his tip was sheathed fully inside you. 

His forehead dropped down to rest against yours, arms like half cooked pasta on either side of your head, failing to hold him up. You brought your arms up, sliding fingers through his hair and down his back as your ankles locked right above his ass to urge him forward. 

Tomura’s cock sunk in inch by inch until he bottomed out with a groan. His mouth moved even when the rest of him couldn’t

“So tight…” he mumbled, head slipping into the crook of your neck and sucking lightly at the skin, feeling the comfort of it in his mouth. “Didn’t think it’d be this tight.” 

“Are you trying to insult me or were you just a virgin?” you huffed out, but there was a laugh bubbling just behind the words. 

He weakly held up to fingers to indicate the second, dropping them immediately to clutch at the sheets when you clamped down on his cock, nestled sweetly against your cervix. 

“Wait really?” you asked, hands skimming up his back to grip his cheeks. 

Tomura tried to hide himself in your shoulder, because the fucking dopey ass smile on his face would surely feed your ego and he didn’t need you knowing that your pussy had him fucking higher than a goddamn kite. 

If only his bones hadn’t suddenly taken on all the physical properties of jello. 

“I’ve fucked around before,” he said, which was technically true, “just never...like this.” 

He didn’t even need to move—which, well, wasn’t entirely true he was burning with the urge to drive himself frantically into your dripping cunt—but he was so blissed out from just the soft, warm, tight hug of your walls around his cock that pulsed precum with ever clench, was enough. 

What he wouldn’t give to have this all the time. Have you constantly sitting on his cock, keeping him warm and hard and cumming inside you. 

At the reminder of why exactly he’d set out to do this, his body regained a bit of it’s former solidity. 

“Oh,” you began, voice strained and hips shaking with the effort of not rocking back on his dick. “Well, you feel fucking amazing—”

Tomura cut you off with an experimental thrust. He pulled all the way back, watching as his tip just nearly popped out of your cute fucking hole and then snapped in again. You were a fucking mess above him, gripping at the pillows and then at his arms, dragging red scratches down the pale, fragile skin there.

It only spurred him on. 

“You like that? Like my huge fucking cock in you?” he growled, flopping down so he could feel your nipples brush against his while he railed into you. 

As much as you apparently enjoyed hearing all the filth that spewed from him, he really liked having a receptacle for it all. It had been hidden inside him for so long, the release was only made sweeter with the addition of your slutty fucking pussy clenching at every word. 

“So fucking big, Tomura—”

You rocked up to slip your tongue into his mouth again, sucking softly at his rough lower lip and drinking down all the less than dominant cries that poured from him as his release grew again. He wasn’t really sure how to get you off, but you seemed to understand the intentions behind his hand wandering to nudge at the space he was driving his cock into. 

Those soft fingers held his and guided them up to that nub he’d found before and moved his hand in little, rhythmic circles that had you fucking sobbing into his mouth. 

Real tears streaked down your face as you moaned into him, “Oh fuck, yes Tomura, baby, just like that…!”

And for once, he had absolutely no qualms with doing exactly what you said. He wanted—needed—to know what it would feel like for you to cream all over his dick. Wanted to see the stupid fucking face you would make as he ripped you apart on his definitely massive length. 

You were rocked back into ever thrust, drinking in the sound of slapping skin, mouth permanently attached to his—tongues locked together.   

The taste of fruit gum mixed with salty cum and the smell of sweat and sex and cleanlaundryshampoo was fucking everywhere. It was intoxicating and heady and all he had ever needed. 

Really, you weren’t so bad when you were crying on his cock.

And you were fucking crying, screaming for him—his name, calling him ‘baby’ in a way that had his heart stuttering uncomfortably in his throat and babbling about how good, how fucking perfect he felt inside. 

“C’mon,” he grunted, “c’mon, I wanna see my fucking slut cum for me, all over my cock.” 

And for once, you actually followed an order. 

His fingers on your clit never gave up and he could fucking feel the orgasm wash over you. Your cunt spasmed and clamped hard like a vice, tighter than anything he ever could have imagined. And you choked out his name, so desperate:

“Tomura, fuck yes baby!”

God your face was so good, all scrunched up and then relaxing into a blissful, panting, open-mouth grin.  

It was sort of beautiful. 

But he wasn’t gonna fucking say that. 

“Good fucking slut,” he said instead, and arched his chest into yours so he could feel the swell of your pretty tits against his chest. 

And he almost fucking lost it right there but he needed more, needed to feel full too. The clenching of your pussy was so unmatched by any sensation but he guessed Dabi always called him a greedy whore for a reason. 

His hand grabbed at yours—hips only letting up when he couldn’t actively get his dick out of you as you came—and brought it roughly to his lips. Tomura was still slick, covered in spit and sweat but he sucked two of your fingers into his mouth anyway. His tongue delved between them as you watched with wide eyes as he spat onto them and whined.

“I need—oh shit—inside, inside...fuck…” 

He could fucking get his tongue to make words but he dragged your hand to his ass and prayed you’d get the hint. Prayed you’d fill him up too. 

And you certainly delivered. 

His hips started up their unforgiving rhythm again now that you’d rode out your release, slipping even more easily into your pussy with all the slick spilling out of you. God that would be his cum soon—his cum dripping out onto your thighs. Your feet dropped to the bed and Tomura grabbed your waist for leverage. 

Your clever little finger circled his hole, wrist bent from the awkward angle below him but working nonetheless. His spit and precum made less than ideal lube but he welcomed the burn of you entering him. A second one joined behind the first and it was rough going for a moment until he was able to rock back fully, finding a certain bend of the knee and half thrust that had him simultaneously grinding into you and fucking himself on your fingers. 

And then you managed to get deep enough to brush against that fucking spot, that magic fucking spot that had him seeing stars and screaming your name—not slut, not bitch, not some other fucking cruelty—your name and spilling rope after rope of hot cum against your walls. 

Your eyes did that thing where they rolled halfway up and crossed like this was some fucking hentai and you weren’t knuckles deep in his ass while he came inside you. 

Tomura went completely limp then, boneless like a cheap chicken wing and collapsed onto your chest, whimpering when your fingers left him empty but comforted by the rhythmic clenching of your cunt, warming his cock and keeping his cum safe inside. 

“So good,” you whispered into his hair, soft palms smoothing over his back in slow circles. “Felt so good, Tomura. You were so good.” 

He shivered in your arms, lulled by the feeling of your breasts under him and breathing in the mixture of soap and sex that radiated from your skin. Everything about it was strange, but in that wonderful kind of way that new games sometimes were. A tingling at the prospect of a new adventure, a new world, and a new journey to embark on. 

You pressed your lips to his sweat slicked forehead and didn’t turn away in disgust. 

No, instead you just held him on his cum soaked sheets and slept. 

---

Tomura woke about an hour later, dick finally soft and tangled in a knot of limbs with you on his bed. You’d stretched and let him kiss you without asking, accepting his tongue on yours just as easily as you had before. 

After detangling yourself from him, you left to take a shower and Tomura found that he couldn’t bare the notion of being apart from you for more than twenty minutes now even more than he couldn’t fucking stand showering, so he’d joined you anyway. 

You didn’t talk much and neither did he, but it was that same comfortable silence you’d formed in your little study room hideout. He let you drag him under the spray just long enough to wash most of the jizz and spit from his thighs before he stepped back to lean on the tile and watch as you rinsed yourself. 

Only once did you mention the rough, scaly skin on his neck and face. Your hand was gentle, roving over the cracks and asking him if he’d tried any soap for sensitive skin. That yours was like that too and you’d let him borrow some to try out. He blushed at the implication of seeing you again after this. 

It was well past midnight when you toweled off and dried him as well. He lent you one of his few clean t-shirts and you wore it without any underwear. Tomura shameless stared at your bare ass when you bent over to strip the ruined comforter from his bed. 

He thought about burying himself in you again, and because he hasn’t dressed yet—and you don’t push him away when he presses against you—he does. And you moan for him again when he fucks you from behind, just as rough but it all comes easier the second time around. 

You told Tomura, later—when you were both exhausted again and stained with release—he was kinda a natural and something about the praise really got to him. 

“You’d fucking know,” he snipped at you, curled on his side with his face in your tits. 

This was his new favorite position, he’d decided and he snickered at the thought of planting his face right in your chest while you were both in class. He’d pay money to see the horrified look on your prim fucking face. 

“Yes I would,” you hummed into his hairline, mouthing softly at the baby curls around his crown. “So, when are you gonna take me out?”

Tomura felt the loading circle of death spinning in his brain for a moment. Like a 404 error had occurred somewhere in amongst his neural pathways. 

“I thought you said you were a slut?” he asked and almost immediately wished he could quit the game, even if it meant he had to replay all the scenes before this moment. 

But you didn’t pull away. 

You really never do.

He thought idly that you both must have some weirdo bug making you enjoy all the disgusting bits of the other. 

“Well yeah, but that doesn’t mean you can’t take me on a date if that’s something you’d like,” you chuckled and he felt your chest rise with it and the breath on his forehead. 

He nestled his face deeper into your tits, “yeahsurefinewhatever.”

The lips pressed to his head smiled but you didn’t say anything again for a long time. Not until both of you were drifting off again, falling into the trap of shared body heat and the odd human craving of skin against skin. 

“Your freaky roommate isn’t going to walk in right?”

Tomura grumbled, mouthing at your nipple and suckling softly, “no, you’re mine now, he can’t have either of us.” 

You signed contentedly for a moment, moaning lightly as he swiped his tongue over your sensitive skin before the words caught up to you. 

“Wait, what?”

“Nothing, go to sleep.” 

You didn’t push it any farther, or remove Tomura from his sucking at your tits. It was quite possibly the most peaceful night of sleep he’d ever gotten, which only ensured the fact that you would never be allowed to sleep anywhere else. 

This was your responsibility now, after all, and you fucking loved responsibility so he didn’t see any problems. 

Shockingly, Tomura did let you leave the next morning to grab some things from home and change clothes. He watched you walk down the sidewalk from his window and only meandered back into the kitchen when you turned a corner out of sight and the front door slammed open. 

Dabi was plopped on the couch when he ventured out, shirtless and absolutely covered in hickeys. Tomura would have commented on it, but he knew he didn’t look much better and didn't want to invite the comparison. 

“What the hell got into you, creep?” he asked incredulously, leering from the cushions, looking him up and down. 

“I got into bitch (endearing),” he cupped his hands to form parenthesis in the air and grabbed a Monster from the fridge. 

Dabi gaped, pushing himself up and not so subtly limping over to cage him against the counter, “No you fucking did not.”

“Did so,” he shot back, knocking his shoulder roughly into Dabi’s chest so he could stalk back into his room. “Looks more like someone got into you.” 

You’d put him in such a weirdly pleasant mood, he really didn’t want to give that up, but Dabi was present, the bitch. 

“We got into each other,” Dabi huffed, flopping down on Tomura’s bed and ruining your scent on his sheets, “No fucking way you had the balls dude.” 

Impulsively—in part because he really needed to ego boost of proving Dabi wrong and to convince himself as well that last night (and this morning) had really happened—Tomura whipped out his phone, flashing that pretty picture of you choking on his dick right into that smug bastards face. 

The fucking grin only grew wider. 

“I’ll be fucking damned, creep,” he stood from the bed to get a closer look, but Tomura locked the screen quickly and shoved it back in his pocket. “How much did you have to pay her?”

“I don’t know what you have to do to get some,” Tomura scoffed, “but mine was free.” 

Dabi looked like he had something smart to say back to that but Tomura didn’t want to hear it. 

“Get out,” he called over his shoulder as he took Dabi’s place on his bed, inhaling the little wisps of you left over on the cotton. God he was never gonna wash these. 

“Aw, don’t wanna give me all the details?” 

He peaked up at Dabi, leaned against his doorframe. 

“No, I have to get dressed,” he paused before the next words that left his mouth, hiding his face in the pillow so Dabi wouldn’t see the furious red of blood rushing to his cheeks. “I have a date later.” 

---

“Stop fucking squirming,” you leaned forward to bite at Tomura’s lips as he shifted under you.

Your hands were gathering his hair and pulling it in twists to the side, tying the strands away from his face. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but your legs wrapped around his waist as he sat in his desk chair, cock soaked and deliciously warm in your pussy was harder to ignore. Especially when you clamped down on him every time he moved while you worked.

“Then get off my dick,” he snapped, leaning back in the chair for better leverage as he snapped his hips up. You looked straight out of those hentai memes, eyes almost crossing when he pushed you down to meet his thrust. “Fucking greedy slut.”

“Excuse-ah,” this time it was you bouncing on his length unprompted, “me, but I wasn’t the one with my cock out begging cause it was so cold.”

Your tone was entirely too even for his liking, and Tomura frowned as he dug his hands into your hips and made you grind into his lap. He really was dating such a fucking whore.

“Well, if you hadn’t fucking insisted we go to this dumbass party, then I could have fucked you hours ago,” he knew he was pouting, but you’d started meeting every roll of his hips halfway, using your thighs now to start up a slow rhythm. “Maybe don’t take so long picking an outfit next time.”

“I was picking yours asshole,” you caught his lip between your teeth again and sucked.

Joke was on you though, the more you tried to fucking tease him, the deeper he was gonna fuck you.

How d’you like that, bitch?

“What—don’t you dare fucking stop—was wrong with my outfit?”

He could feel spit pooling under his tongue. Your fucking pussy always did this to him, made his mouth water and this thighs shake while you rode him in earnest now, moaning into his ear as he made sure you felt him in your fucking guts.

God, he was never gonna get over that—the sounds you made. The sounds he pulled from you.

“Tomura, baby,” every word was punctuated with a gasp, one of his thumbs drawing those little circles on your clit that he figured out pretty quick made you cry. “I love you—and the easy dick access sweatpants provide—dearly, but your ass looks so fucking good in these jeans.”

Something weird always happened to his chest when you said stupid, cheesy shit like that. He knew that was thing fucking normies said all the time, and he used to gag whenever he heard people in the halls professing their feelings to each other. But whenever you did it, Tomura’s lips just instinctively fought to turn up at the edges and his lungs suddenly forgot what air felt like in favor of dedicating ever braincell in his body to memorizing whatever dumb as hell, sweet thing you said.

“Why does—mm yes fuck...” he stared entranced at his lap where your slutty goddamn pussy swallowed him up and pulsed around his cock with every tight circle drawn on your clit. “Why does it matter how my ass looks?”

You paused while he fought with the neckline of your top so your tits bounced free and he could suck at your nipples. And holy shit, you could call him a baby all you wanted, but he’d never get tired of the fucking taste feel smell of your chest filling his mouth and pressed so nice against his face.

Shit, he’d fucking live in your tits if he could. Suckle at you endlessly until you poured sweet fucking milk onto his waiting tongue.

Cause you told him one time that was a thing that could happen. Swatted his head away when he pawed at you for too long cause apparently if he sucked hard enough all the time—

“Listen, if your cute little boyfriend had the tightest ass on the fucking planet, wouldn’t you want to show that off to all your friends.”

His face lit up. Tomura could feel whatever blood left not pumping through this dick, rush to his cheeks and he buried his face more resolutely in your tits so as not to give you the satisfaction of flustering him.

You fucking cooed at him every time and squished his cheeks up, calling him your baby boy.

Fucking disgusting.

But damn if he didn’t love it.

“Whatever,” he groaned, picking up his pace and drinking down the delicious little whimpers you let out every time his cock met you coming down on his lap. “Shut the fuck up, and take it like a good fucking whore.”

“My fucking pleasure,” you grunted before losing all semblance of attempted hairstyling entirely, letting out a long, low moan as he pummeled that pretty pussy and sped up on your clit.

Tomura would absolutely never admit to it, but fucking you always had him feeling so fucking needy. The second your lips or your cunt were swallowing him up it was like a dam broke and every selfish request just poured out of him.

“Wanna cum,” he mumbled into your breast, whining as your walls fluttered and pulsed.

He knew what that meant now. Tomura was what you called ‘quick on the uptake’ and honed in fast on what it felt like when you started to lose it.

“Yeah? Does my pretty boy want me to make him feel good?”

God fuck yeah.

He couldn’t quite bring himself to say it out loud but, yes. Tomura was your pretty, baby boy and he needed he sweet fucking bitch to make him bust so deep inside you.

He was about to reach his peak too, teetering on the edge when the pounding started.

And not the fun kind. Not the bend you over his bed and rail you till you couldn’t fucking walk.

No, no, no.

This was balled fist slamming against his door and Dabi’s grating, smoky voice shouting from the hall.

“Could you fornicate later freaks?!” he called through the door. “You’re gonna be fucking late.”

Tomura’s orgasm hurtled to a painful halt and you groaned again—well growled was probably a more appropriate term for the snarl you let out into the crook of his neck.

“Why the hell does it matter to you?!” Tomura shouted back, the force of his voice shifting the angle of his cock. The minute stimulation felt so good he kept up the slow grinding motion.

You groaned again—decidedly much sweeter—and sucked a cheeky fucking mark right on the side of his neck.

“What are you fucking doing?” he hissed to you, but it was Dabi’s voice who answered.

Along with the click of his knob turning.

“Well, it sounded like you were having a hard time getting your bitch off, so I was gonna offer—“

Dabi stopped, taking the split second before the controller Tomura chucked at his head connected to stare fixedly at your bare ass seated on Tomura’s thighs.

“Yes, my bitch, so get the fuck out!” he yelled, coming out a little choked at the end as your slutty self kept grinding on his cock.

“Yeah, and he’s doing a great job,” you mused, languidly raising your head from his shoulder and kissing up his jawline, completely unfazed entirely by the new audience.

Tomura’s brain was ping ponging so hard between rage, cheek burning embarrassment, and being the most turned on he’d ever been in his life.

The things you fucking did to him.

“If you say so sweetheart,” Dabi, also completely unperturbed by watching you grind on his roommates dick, leaned against the doorframe like you all were chatting about the fucking mayoral election.

“I do,” you lifted your hips then, showing off one full bounce that had both Dabi and Tomura’s eyes rolling.

Though the latter was much more annoyed than Tomura could hope to be.

“Fucking show off,” his roommate muttered.

“Isn’t your boyfriend waiting in the kitchen?” you huffed and glared over your shoulder at Dabi in his platform boots and mesh top.

He scowled and flipped the two of you off with chipped, black nails and sauntered back down the hall calling, “not my boyfriend,” as he went.

He left the door wide open.

Tomura almost yelled for him to come back and close it, but you took the silence as an opportunity to start riding him full force and even though you were the one bouncing in his lap, he had to grip your waist and hold on for the ride.

Fucking bitch.

Tomura’s fucking bitch.

You held his hand as you walked across campus to the media building in the budding Spring evening. And that was almost as bad as you saying all those pointless, nice things to him.

Cause people looked, like they watched you linking fingers with that creepy guy in their classes or from the dining hall, and you walked swinging his hand in yours the whole way like it didn’t fucking matter.

Didn’t even occur to you that everyone on campus would know now that the hot chick they saw walking around was with him.

But all those imaginary eyes seemed to melt away as you dragged him behind you, down the old path you both used to take everyday after working in the library. Along the worn concrete sidewalk to the ‘secret door’ in the alley that was perpetually propped open with a copy of the Manifesto, taking two flights of stairs down to the basement and following the soft blue glow to the unofficial layer of The League.

You didn’t let go of his hand even after your both walked through the door.

Tomura recognized most of the people there as friends you introduced him to. You’d met them all through classes or through other friends, forming a close knit group of everyone who knew everyone which was apparent from the way they all cheered when you walked in.

He suddenly was reminded why he never came to shit like this. Not that people were scrambling to invite Tomura Shigaraki to their parties, but his skin itched even when the eyes never focused on him.

Across the room Spinner, the other co-leader of the club, who he knew the best out of everyone, waved at him, and Tomura nodded back. His eyes quickly picked Dabi out of the crowd, leaning off in the corner with a red cup in hand, forehead pushed up against his blond boyfriend’s. Keigo was apparently a reluctant member of the other gaming club on campus—cause of course there was a demand for fucking two—the president of which knew Spinner and who, of course, knew you, which led to Tomura’s asshole, sometimes voyeur roommate being invited along.

Fucking social circles were so needlessly complicated.

Tomura vaguely recognized the other blond guy in the room—Jin was his name? Maybe?—enough to pick his wild, sandy hair out of the crowd, tucked off to the side of the table laden with shitty vending machine snacks. He had his arm slung around someone Tomura had never met before, talking with another short blond girl he didn’t know and Jin’s roommate, Magne. He patted himself on the back for remembering two out of the four names. He also remembered Jin worked at the library, though he hated it, and had been tangentially responsible for hooking the two of you up in that study room, your study room.

Tomura nodded at Jin too as he saw the two of you walk in and enthusiastically shouted some greetings and only one profanity. A new record for him.

Someone else Tomura hadn’t been introduced to shouted from the floor by the gaming set up as Spinner punched the air in triumph in the glow of the victory screen.

“I’m gonna grab us some drinks,” you whispered to him, and he let go of your hand reluctantly, watching as you stopped, doling out hugs to everyone—excluding Dabi—as you went.

He looked around, cast adrift without you to hold him to the dock of social interaction.

It was clear he’d have to find a backup person to cling to for the remainder of the night if you were just gonna fucking abandon him for your friends.

Though Tomura did his best to not be all that salty about it. The residual anger melted a little bit as he watched Magne bear hug you off the floor so hard your back popped. It was only when he felt a hand on his shaking shoulder that Tomura realized he’d been laughing at the spectacle.

Spinner flashed him a toothy smile, arms crossed and watching intently as you pretended to gasp in a breath when Magne finally dropped you from her massive arms.

“Hey man,” he said, wild hair the color of those weird unicorn drinks from that cafe you liked sticking up on end. “How’s it going?”

Tomura shrugged, unsure how to respond without you to fill in the unmediated gaps in conversation.

“Fine, I guess.”

Spinner was not who he would have chosen to hang with all night. Yeah, he knew him the best, but Tomura sorta got the vibes your roommate lowkey hated his fucking guts. And while no one would say he was the master at interpersonal relationships, Tomura could fucking tell when someone didn’t like him. Most of his life till now had been spent in a constant state of snide side eyes and fake politeness.

Maybe that’s why he used to find you so fucking off putting.

But you were different now. He knew you meant all that bullshit. Spinner just wasn’t as good at pretending as he thought he was.

“Nice,” Spinner acted as though he didn’t notice the edge in Tomura’s tone. Or he was just fucking stupid. “I’m glad you guys actually came tonight, I haven’t seen you in awhile.”

He chuckled a bit to soften the blow of that last part, rubbing his neck and smiling sheepishly. Tomura didn’t return the gesture.

“Yeah,” he said simply, kicking at the scuffed linoleum with his sneakers.

He very much wished that you hadn’t tied his hair back so he could hide his face away from Spinner’s stare.

“Listen bro,” that pink head ducked down to catch Tomura’s eye, looking a little bit more guilty now than before. “I know I’ve been kind of a dick lately—and I already talked with them,” he gestured to you, currently pouring some awful, glittery concoction into Jin’s mouth as the smaller blond girl clapped beside you. “But I was just sort of ‘going through it’ for awhile and, well it doesn’t fucking matter, anyway sorry for being such an asshole...”

Tomura’s mouth got dry like it did whenever you hugged him in public or said you liked his eyes. The words drifted around in his head, spitting back error codes as they swirled.

He honestly couldn’t recall a time anyone had ever apologized to him. And he never knew what to say in normal conversation, much less fucking this. Spinner kept looking at him expectantly, but as the silence dragged on, Tomura watched his face falter just a bit.

And that made him feel even worse.

Fuck.

What would you say? Something nice??

“Don’t worry about it,” he blurted—which really was your catchphrase, but he was sure you wouldn’t mind him borrowing it.

“Thanks bro,” Spinner grinned again, this eyes closed, thin lipped thing that made Tomura feel hot just looking into the glow of it. “We’re cool yeah?”

He couldn’t see you, but he could feel that disgusting, proud stare you got every time he elected to order both your drinks when you went out or asked for extra ketchup on his own.

“Whatever, yeah,” Tomura scratched absently at his throat and Spinner jerked his head over to the gaming setup. The Smash music was drifting softly out of twin speakers.

“Wanna play a round?” he asked.

Tomura glanced quickly over at you, now watching as Jin attempted to juggle some of the small snack bags and Magne tossed more flying chips into the mix.

Yeah, you’d probably be awhile.

“...sure.”

It was halfway through the round—in which Tomura was goddamn slaughtering Spinner’s Kirby—that you finally wandered back over to him, two red cups in hand and a few bags of stolen Chex mix.

You set them both down on the small coffee table—also ‘donated’ from the theater department—and plopped next to him on the couch. Spinner growled from the floor, the other club president—The Commission apparently, who the fuck was coming up with these names?—sat kneeled behind him, hands on his shoulders and shouting words of encouragement.

The adrenaline of the fight rushing through him increased exponentially when you gripped his bicep and added your voice to the din.

“Fuck yeah, baby! Kick his fucking ass!”

“Oh wow,” Spinner yelled back. “Now I see where your fucking loyalties lie.”

“Has nothing to do with loyalty,” you laughed. “I just want to see you eat shit for once.”

“Should have come to the big tournament then!” The Commission president chuckled too, looking over their shoulder with a grin.

“Damn, now I’m really sorry I missed it,” you swung your legs up onto the cushions only to tuck them up under yourself as you stared down at the couch. “Ew what the hell is this stain?”

The Commission president was suddenly very much not looking back at you anymore, Tomura noticed. Spinner, at your comment, choked on his fucking spit, not quite dodging Tomura fast enough and tumbling straight off the map.

As Tomura’s character flashed first on the screen you cheered and gripped his face, landing a quick, wet smack of a kiss straight to his fucking lips. Spinner and his friend groaned in unison and there was a chorus of friendly disgust from everyone else gathered around watching.

He could care less.

The air felt strangely alive, people’s gazes flitting over him as though he were part of the scenery. But in a good way this time. Not the purposeful overlooking of his existence, not as though he were an accessory to the room, but a crucial part of it. Like there might be an empty space they would notice if he wasn’t occupying it.

Like he belonged attached to your hand or your hip or just on his own, playing games and drinking shitty juice and laughing at whatever weird as fuck thing Jin shouted at unprompted, random intervals.

Everyone remained gathered by the monitor as you selected your character to face off against him in the next round.

“I’m gonna...” you growled, coming in with an impressive attack and backing out of range, a move signature of yours, “suck your fucking dick!”

“I’m gonna fucking suck yours first, bitch,” he retorted and Magne offered up a kind “hell yeah” in support.

Her large fist came into view over his shoulder, which he found himself bumping against his own without a second thought.

The music filled his ears, the shouting voices no longer suffocating, but adding to the thrum in his chest—the same beat that had his lips pulled up in a smile which ached in his cheeks, but it didn’t matter.

The burn in the cracking skin around his lips and eyes was inconsequential. His face bare of the usual curtains of hair was turned up towards the screen in full display.

He watched you, silhouetted in the blue like of the monitor, saw the figures of your friends gather close around him, engulfing him like an ameba, adding Tomura in as another cell to this new organism.

He breathed.

And felt alive.