#and now my heads fucked up because i keep trying to avoid disaster by over explaining myself to him

[arrow-guy]

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[wife-of-all-dilfs]

bad idea, right? | f. odair

masterlist

summary: after receiving a late-night call from your ex-boyfriend, finnick odair, you can’t help but agree to meet with him. what happens when you mix a sound-proof train car and an ex you haven’t seen in months?

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: rough-ish smut, a teensy bit of angry sex, swearing, unprotected sex (zon’t zo that), kinda ooc finnick, choking,

notes: based on 'bad idea, right?' by olivia rodrigo. i lost the person who sent the request so sorry this took so long to come out!! i don’t know if i like how this is written, but smut is smut so… enjoy :)

word count: 4.6k

Neon beams of light pulsed in time with the heavy bass blasting throughout your unnecessarily large home in the Victor’s Village. District Two. Masonry. Big houses.

Two shots of tequila and some other very unnatural concoctions were soaking deep into your brain. Everything was swaying—the room, the people, even you. Your small group of friends danced by your side, keeping together to avoid the creeps that might have entered your home. Although, to you, entertaining a stranger that night did not sound like such a terrible idea.

You felt lonely. Undeniably and pathetically lonely. The alcohol only enhanced your emotions and libido, leading you to search the room for anyone who interested you enough to take them upstairs. But there was no one, because in reality there was only one person you really wanted, and he was no longer yours. He hadn’t been for months.

Replacements had come and gone, but they never stuck. None of them made you feel the way he did.

“Excuse me!” an exasperated voice yelled. “Would you please get out of my way?!”

To your right, your housekeeper, bless her poor deafened soul, was pushing through a crowd of intoxicated partygoers and heading straight for you.

“Claudia!” you shouted over the music, tugging down your short black slip dress out of respect for her modesty.

The elderly woman stopped in front of you, her disapproval of the vibrant scene clear as day. You always paid her double in exchange for putting up with the chaos whenever you threw a house party, which was almost every weekend.

She hovered close to your ear. “There is someone on the phone for you!”

“Did you get a name?!”

After she shook her head, you escorted her through the thick crowd of dancers, into a quieter room and thanked her before beelining for the landline.

With a heavy sigh, you brought the corded phone to your ear and said, “Whoever this is, you better make it quick. I’m not nearly as intoxicated as I need to be and in dire need of another shot.”

Over the scratchy static, you could hear a quiet chuckle—a sound you had spent months trying to forget, along with the person attached to it. How many drinks did you have again? The alcohol must have messed with your mind because this could not be real.

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” the caller said, his voice low and amused.

Everything you had longed to forget came rushing to the surface at an overwhelming pace. Wisps of hair the colour of a dying fire. Eyes resembling the sea. Arms that once acted as a life jacket. A dangerous mouth that had explored every inch of your body.

No. It couldn’t be—

“Finnick.”

********

Stupid. This was so fucking stupid. You were attempting to sneak out of your own party. A good old Irish Goodbye in your own house. With luck, you would make it out the front door without being caught by your friends, or worse, Claudia. Now that would be scary.

Water flushed through your system, a weak attempt you made at sobering yourself up because meeting up with your ex while drunk was a recipe for disaster. Then again, so was meeting up with your ex in the first place. Nothing will happen, you thought to yourself, we are just going to talk.

A thought even more unbelievable than thinking you would be able to be able to escape the watchful eyes of your friends.

Your high-heeled foot had just crossed the front door when someone called your name. “Damn,” you muttered, turning back around.

Valeria, your closest yet heavily intoxicated friend strutted over to you, her feet wobbling every few steps. “You sneaky little minx,” she slurred. “Someone said they saw you on the phone. It was him, wasn’t it? He asked you to go see him.”

“Just as friends. No, not even. As acquaintances.”

“Oh, my sweet, sweet silly friend.” She grabbed you by the shoulders. “We both know you aren’t that foolish.”

You looked away because you knew damn well that she was right.

“Look, I get it,” she continued. “Your hot, he’s hot.” You smiled. “You both have a history. I just want to make sure you know all the outcomes of what you're about to do. I’ll be here for you if things do get messy but expect a well-versed speech of me saying ‘I told you so’ afterwards.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Val,” you laughed, prying her hands off your shoulders. “I really do appreciate your concern, but I promise all we’re going to do is talk.”

“Alright, but if things go south, call me. Immediately!” she called a little too loudly as you took subtle steps away from the front door and onto the street. “Have fun with your innocent little ‘talk’!”

“Thanks, mum!”

You waved goodbye as you walked down the street, body buzzing with exhilaration and apprehension. Finnick had told you his train stopped in the district’s station for the night. He and his new victor were travelling throughout Panem for the Victory Tour and were currently in District Two. You didn’t know much about his tribute, only that they were a she. The thought of Finnick spending all his time with another girl had that green-eyed monster inside you writhing.

Enough to make you agree to meet with him after midnight while moderately drunk and slightly horny. What a fantastic plan.

District Two’s train station was a short distance from the Victor’s Village, but it was long enough to cause you to remove your heels. You finally reached the train, barefoot and with the wind softly blowing your hair. Finnick had specified a particular door to knock on so as not to alert the peacekeepers residing within the train. So, you knocked. And then you waited.

Your heart was pounding; your hands were trembling. Not long after, a dark figure appeared behind the door’s tinted window. With a click, the door opened and revealed a shirtless smirking Finnick Odair.

Oh, fuck me.

He was even more gorgeous than the last time you saw him. His crossed arms bulged with thick muscles as he leaned against the doorframe, gaze shamelessly roaming over your scarcely dressed appearance before settling on your face. The amusement in his expression was ever-present and ever-growing.

“Finnick,” you greeted.

“Y/N.”

He extended his hand, inviting you inside the train and hesitantly, you accepted. Sparks of electricity travelled up your arm, starting from where his and your hand connected. Some things never changed.

Empty silence welcomed your presence as you entered the train car. Patterned silver vases of white roses were placed atop every available surface. Meticulously crafted chandeliers lit up the room with a golden haze. To your left was an arrangement of black leather couches surrounding a small silver table; further down the car was a rectangular mahogany dining table decorated with fruit and unlit candles.

Somehow a single train car was more luxurious than your entire house.

“Is every one asleep?” you asked, running your fingertips along the pure gold that lined the couches.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes following your movements. “Every room on this train is sound-proof, so...”

You nodded, unsure of how else to reply. Conversations usually ran smoothly between you and Finnick. They were effortless. But that was when you were together. Four months must have passed now since you last spoke.

“Are you and what’s-his-name still together?” he asked.

“No,” you said bluntly. “I broke up with him last month.”

“My sincerest condolences.” His sympathetic tone was as transparent as glass. Sarcasm always was his favourite pastime. “Guess he just couldn’t satisfy your needs.”

Turning around to face him, you leaned against the couch’s arm, jaw clenched and eyes glowering with agitation. “Is there any specific reason why you called me here?”

He raised a glass of rich amber liquid to his lips. “Can’t two old friends just reconnect?”

“Old friends,” you scoffed. “That’s what you call it. From what I remember, the last time we saw each other, we were having goodbye sex in your bed. And in the kitchen and the lounge and on the balcony.”

Something sincere overshadowed his teasing nature, revealing itself in the tension in his facial muscles and the glassy haze that clouded his eyes. Reminiscence. “It didn’t have to be goodbye,” he spoke softly whilst holding your gaze.

You blinked. There was a short pause and only the quiet hum of the lights sounded in the room. You were the one to end the relationship, not the other way around much to your friends’ disbelief. Over and over, you had been asked the same question: why on earth would you break up with Finnick Odair?

Well, behind closed doors, he was incredible. He was loving, affectionate, and thoughtful. He would collect seashells for you that he found on the beach whenever he went fishing, leave hand-written poetry and heartfelt love letters whenever he left for the Capitol, and mother of fucking Christ was the sex just downright extraordinary.

But as previously stated, it was all behind closed doors.

Finnick never wanted to be seen together in public and on the off chance you were, he would practically neglect your existence. Only your most trusted friends and Finnick’s family knew about your relationship. No one else. Eventually, the secretiveness created a deep void inside you that not even the sweetest love letters and seashells could fill. You couldn’t remain with someone who seemed ashamed to be with you in public.

So, with a heavy heart, you said goodbye.

In fear of becoming too emotional, you disregarded his weighted words and crossed your arms. “So,” you began, “how’s the Tour been so far? You must be pretty ecstatic one of your tributes actually won.”

He bounced back fairly quickly. “I suppose it’s always nice to watch someone you trained live for a change,” he said, placing his drink on a nearby table. “Plus, she’s got a lot of charisma. A natural with the speeches and interviews, so I don’t need to do too much coaching.”

And there it was again—that green-eyed monster. “Charisma, huh?” You just couldn’t help yourself. “Is she pretty too?”

Finnick tilted his head, visibly surprised by your blatant jealousy. “She just turned sixteen,” he stated with a small smirk tugging at his lips. Well, no one told you that bit of information. Awkward. “Careful, Y/N. You sounded a little jealous there.”

You pushed off the chair, heading back toward the door you entered through. Maybe this was a bad idea. “Alright, I’m leaving now.”

Just as you turned the handle, a set of rushed footsteps thudded behind you. The door opened a mere crack, sending in a cold draft that caused your body to shudder.

“Wait, just—” A swift hand came over your shoulder and pushed the door shut, eliciting a startled gasp from your lips. You could feel Finnick towering over you, the warmth of his skin spreading onto your cold back and his breaths fanning down against the bareness of your shoulder. He was so close. “I just needed to see you before I leave tomorrow morning.”

Slowly, you turned around, coming face-to-face with the man you shouldn’t have loved. His burning gaze was a stark contrast to the icy metal door your back was pressed against. Tension pulsated in the small space between you and him. The intense attraction that had first brought you two together came rushing forth; trying to fight such a magnetic force was impossible. You needed connection—touch.

This night would not end with just a simple innocent chat, you knew that now.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. “You needed to see me?” you asked. “Finnick, if you want me to stay, don’t beat around the bush. Tell me what you really want.”

Silence. He continued staring at you and you could see a scheme forming behind his mesmerising green eyes. Then the scheme was unfolding. He leaned down to your level, to your lips, his half-lidded eyes never leaving your mouth as he just barely allowed his lips to brush yours. On instinct, you tilted your head upwards.

“I want you,” he whispered.

You didn’t waste a second to respond. “Then take me.”

He was quicker than a bullet train. Finnick’s lips caught your own and were burning with fiery desire, evident in his haste to wrap you up in his arms and practically merge your body with his. Flames licked just beneath your skin, setting your nerves alight with passion and lust. You burned together in an inferno fuelled by each other’s touch.

Logically, this was wrong. Finnick was your ex-boyfriend and for good reason. But as your hands clung to every inch of him that they possibly could, as his tongue and yours danced fluidly with one another, and as your body buzzed with pure adrenaline, you were willing to abandon all your morals in exchange for five more minutes in his embrace.

A moan travelled from your mouth to his own as you felt him bite your lower lip. You could already feel that familiar throbbing sensation between your thighs and the wetness that exposed how much you craved him. You knew he felt the same. His sweatpants left little to the imagination.

Your hand slipped between your connected bodies, travelling down Finnick’s firm stomach, gliding over his small trail of hair and finally into his pants. Your fingers curled around his cock which already leaked with precum. He was just as desperate as you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound sending tingles down your spine.

You left his lips to press a wet kiss to his neck. “I wonder how many times you pretended your hand was my own,” you purred, leaving another kiss on his clavicle. “How many times you tried to recreate the warmth you only feel when you're inside me.”

His mouth hung open, letting out quiet uneven breaths as you stroked his length, your pace so quick that he already felt an overwhelming urge to release into your soft unrelenting hand. The sound of your voice, so sexy and lustful, combined with your swift pressured movements had his stomach tensing and contracting with a devastating build-up of pleasure.

“Too many times,” he admitted in a strained voice.

You sucked on the warm pulsing skin of his neck, this time receiving a groan that buzzed on your lips. His hands grabbed at your hips for support, roughly kneading the softness and satin in his large palms.

“This dress—fuck!” his voice broke as another hand slipped into his pants, cupping his balls as the other twisted with each stroke of his cock. “Sweetheart,” he chuckled breathlessly. “You look like a fucking siren.”

Your soft lips pecked at his toned chest before pulling away and looking up at him through your lashes. Euphoric delirium was prominent in his eyes. “You should’ve seen everyone staring at my party,” you said. “I wish you saw how badly the men wanted to fuck me right there on the dancefloor; how they undressed me with their eyes. Maybe then you would understand the mistake you made by never showing me off.”

Aggravation blazed in his aroused eyes which only made you so much hornier. Before you could pump another stroke, Finnick had ripped your hands from his pants and spun you around, pinning your body against the wall with his own, his hard cock pushing against the plush of your ass.

“I do understand,” he growled into your ear.

He abruptly started sucking hard kisses onto the side of your neck which had you gasping for air and tilting your head to allow him further access. One of his hands cupped your breast, massaging it with rough fingers and pinching your peaked nipples between his fingertips. His other hand travelled around your hip, wandering beneath your revealing dress and slipping into your lace panties.

You cried out when two fingers plunged into your soaking hole without warning.

“Know what I wish?” he asked, fingers curling in and out of you at such a rapid pace that the wet noises could be heard throughout the entire room. Blissful tears threatened to spill down your face. “I wish those guys could see how you looked right now with my fingers fucking you.” The hand on your breast moved to your throat, applying enough pressure on your carotid to make your head pound with dizziness. “I wish they knew you only enjoy being fucked by me.”

Your walls squeezed around his fingers, pulling him even further inside. Your untouched breasts were squashed against the train door and the fabric of your dress rubbed against your sensitive nipples. Finnick’s cock twitched against you and his hand was constricting the blood flow to your head. Yeah. Nobody else could make you feel better than this.

Finnick plunged his fingers inside again with a hard thrust which forced a broken moan from your lips. “Isn’t that right?”

The heel of his palm dug into your clit and your entire body was overcome with pins and needles; your knees buckled and hit the metal door. That would definitely bruise. You hoped it would—you wanted a reminder of this night.

“Yes!” you gasped. “Finnick, only you. Only you.”

“That’s right.”

Your moans started to rise in pitch, signalling the orgasm which was rapidly closing in. But right before you could come, Finnick’s fingers slipped out of you and out of your now-drenched panties. Your orgasm began to fade due to the lack of friction until it disappeared completely, leaving you feeling frustrated and neglected.

Turning back around with a flushed face, you witnessed Finnick sucking your juices off his fingers with a pop. His grin was conniving, self-satisfied with his actions which proved how desperately you wanted him to fuck you. That smug bastard. You would give anything to wipe the amusement off his beautiful fucking face.

And, well, you did.

“Fuck you!” you exclaimed, shoving him backwards.

“Fuck me?” He raised an eyebrow, smirk twitching at his lips. “I already know you want to.”

With a frustrated cry, you shoved him again, but this time he caught you in his arms and fervidly crushed his lips to yours. You squirmed and writhed and resisted but eventually melted into his embrace when you remembered you wanted this. You wanted this so badly.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as both your bodies continuously curved into one another, neither of you being able to remain still for more than a few seconds. The taste of brandy and you were on Finnick’s tongue as it swirled around your mouth; the flavours, which were polar opposites, sweet and savoury, mixed together to create something utterly carnal.

With the knowledge that this was probably a one-time thing, your kisses became bruising and frantic. Finnick alternated between kissing your lips, your neck, your jaw, and any place he could possibly reach. You hung onto every sound he made, every hot breath he took.

The two of you stumbled around the train car, lips never leaving one another, hands grabbing at every inch of flesh they could reach. You bumped into walls and multiple glass ornaments and laughed together when Finnick just barely caught one before it shattered on the floor.

Eventually, you ended up down the opposite end of the train car. Your back hit something hard and you gasped in surprise. The dining table. Finnick gave a quick glance at the table before pressing another kiss to your lips, this time a little more tenderly.

“Turn around,” he said, and you did.

You immediately felt him press himself against your behind. You stared ahead, chest heaving and swollen lips tingling, waiting for any more commands. His hand walked around your thigh, over the mound of your pussy, and then grazed up your stomach. He left a trail of warm tingles between your breasts before continuing upward to move your hair from your shoulder where he placed another warm gentle kiss.

Finally, he splayed his hand flat between your shoulder blades and pushed, bending you over the table until your torso lay flat on the cold wooden surface. Finnick hiked your dress up to your hips and crouched down, caressing your outer thighs before sliding your panties down to your ankles.

The air hit your bare skin and you exhaled a shaky breath as you anticipated his next movements. As he rose to his feet, he trailed kisses up your leg, ending with a soft bite to your ass which earned him a small giggle.

You could hear him tug down his sweatpants which hit the floor with a muffled thud. Your breaths continued to shake with nerves, coming out in soft pants. Finnick held onto your hip with one hand and held himself in the other. No words were spoken. Both of you wanted this—needed this.

Next thing you knew, your panting breaths had stopped altogether. Finnick’s cock had slid between your folds, filling you up in one single movement, and you both released a relieved moan in sync. Your hands pressed against the tabletop as your body began to rock with his thrusts. You weren’t going to make love or whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ears. No. This was pure unadulterated fucking.

Finnick started off fast; neither of you had the patience for a slow build-up. You didn’t even bother caring about the fact that he wasn’t wearing a condom. His hand had lowered to your mid back and the other gripped your hip as your warmth swallowed him over and over.

“Oh god,” you gasped.

The sensations that overtook your body were eagerly welcomed. You had tried to replicate the sex Finnick gave with other men after your relationship ended, but none seemed to compare even the slightest. You weren’t sure how a single human being could provide the sensations of nirvana, how one could master the skills of bringing another person to such an incredible high, but Finnick could. He always could.

It was only at this point that you realised how badly your body had been in withdrawal from his touch. The feeling of him inside you was like a drug. Addicting. Definitely not healthy.

You had tried fingering yourself to replicate his cock, but it was a pathetic attempt. Finnick could hit a deep spot inside you that no one else could like it was some secret forbidden location that only he held the key to. He made your body feel full. Stuffed. Complete. In a way that made you feel like you were going to burst into an explosion of white heavenly light.

Your nails scratched at the wood as he continued to pound into you, cock gliding against the ripples of your inner walls. There wasn’t a single inch of space left inside you. He fit like your pussy was where he belonged.

“Always feel so fucking good,” he muttered between thrusts.

His pleasure was always vocal, voiced with heavy breaths, grunts, and groans. Sometimes he even whimpered, especially when you edged him. He didn’t mind you being more dominant at times, but right now was not one of those moments. Being bent over and fucked into a table was not in any way, shape, or form you being dominant. This was Finnick being in control and it felt incredible.

“Finnick,” you said. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop!”

In response he grabbed your other hip and pulled you back into him, burying himself even deeper inside you with each thrust which had you crying out his name again. He hunched over your body, hips still pounding behind you, and sucked harsh kisses on your shoulder. He left behind red and deep purple marks on your shoulder, moving to your neck, and then grazed your earlobe with his teeth.

He returned a hand to your throat, forcing the both of you into a standing position. His fingers squeezed, reducing the blood flow into your brain which enhanced the explosion building up inside you.

“Harder!” you cried.

Both his cock and his hand increased their vigour. Stars were sparkling in your vision. You were almost completely sober now, yet you felt entirely drunk. Drunk on Finnick. He reached his free hand between your legs and your body fell back into his, only remaining upright from his support.

His fingers rubbed side-to-side on your clit, so hard and fast that his hand almost blurred in motion. Your moans rose an octave as your stomach began to tighten. A fire burned within your muscles, so pleasurably excruciating that you thought they would liquefy inside you. Your pussy clenched around Finnick’s cock, walls fluttering with each of his pounding thrusts.

“Come, sweetheart,” he purred into your ear. You could hear how much he struggled to contain his moans as he talked. “Come on, I know you're close. I can feel you.”

You nodded mindlessly and curled your arm backwards around his neck, in need of something to cling to. As the feeling inside your stomach intensified, your eyes squeezed shut and your hold around his neck tightened until you were almost choking him. With every ounce of strength that he had inside him, Finnick increased his pace until he fit multiple mind-destroying thrusts into each second that passed.

He was almost animalistic with his pounding and unrestrained groans of pleasure. And you were so close, so, so close to falling over the edge. His hand was constricted around your throat; the other assaulted your clit, and his cock was mercilessly hitting that swollen spot inside you. Any second and—

“I’m go—I’m gonna come!”

A potent cocktail of pleasure, ecstasy, and release washed through your body, unravelling the tension inside your stomach and exiting through your stuffed hole. Your juices coated Finnick’s cock with warmth as you repeated his name over and over.

You could feel him twitching inside you, spilling himself onto your clenching walls whilst bending you over to senselessly fuck you into the table. His moans were so loud, so fucking attractive, but may God have mercy on both of you if the room wasn’t actually soundproof.

Neither of you could stop. You came an immeasurable number of times; your hands left marks on Finnick’s body as he did on yours, and every surface in the room had been tainted with your sin. You clung onto one another, desperately prolonging your night together that would most likely be the last. Ever.

*********

“Don’t leave again.”

Your fingers stilled as you strapped on your high heels. You glanced up at Finnick—who now had his sweatpants back on—from the gold-lined leather chair you sat in.

“Finnick…” you sighed.

“Please,” he said. Crouching down in front of you, he gently took your hand into his own. His face, which previously reflected nothing but pleasure, now looked at you with pained desperation. “I’ll explain everything to you. Why I was always in the Capitol. Why it was too dangerous for us to be seen together in public. All of it.”

The mention of danger took you aback. You had thought he never wanted to be seen together because he was embarrassed, not because it was… dangerous. Brows furrowed together, your eyes flickered between his, searching for any hint of deception, anything that might reveal malicious intentions. But when had Finnick ever been malicious towards you? Never. All you found in his eyes was sincerity.

“I can’t lose you again,” he whispered, lowering his head.

After a few seconds of contemplation, you realised there wasn’t a chance in hell you were going to walk out on him again. Life would mean nothing without Finnick beside you.

Your fingers sat under his chin, lifting his head to meet your gaze. The two of you exchanged a look of vulnerability, signifying an era of newfound understanding and reconnection.

You whispered in response. “You’ve got me, Finn.” 

tags: @tayrae515

[nocturne-pisces]

Hurricane

Jason Todd x Reader

Mostly like PG-13.

Allusions to heavy abuse.

You think you must have been starved as a child.

It’s the only way that he could leave you this hungry, this hollow. You tell yourself that it isn’t normal to want someone like this. You tell yourself that it isn’t healthy to want someone so much that it twists your ribs around themselves, makes you fold in on yourself because if you don’t the wind will catch and carry you off. 

You’re so empty you hear the breeze whistle in your throat, half drunk with a beer bottle in your fist blowing across the opening like a whistle and your whole body is warm. You don’t know if that’s the alcohol or the fact that he’s sitting across from you. 

“What’s up with you?” 

Jason levels you with a stare, clacks his beer bottle against yours in some mockery of playfulness even though you’ve barely said a word to him all night. 

You try to shove it off now, try to swallow down your feelings as the sensation of the bile crawling up the back of your throat burns at your resolve. 

“Huh? I’m fine–”

“You’re a shit liar, kid.” 

You hate that he calls you that. Kids are innocent, pure; the first time Jason met you he’d had to pry you off of some man while you were trying to cut his fingers off for feeling you up. Jason told that man if he ever caught him doing some shit like that again he’d take a whole hand. Fucking greaseball nodded because Jason was more than a full head taller than him and held him off the ground by his stupid fucking stained shirt. 

You’ve always hated that you didn’t scare people like that, you think maybe if you did you could have avoided some hurt. 

You roll your eyes, because you are a shit liar and Jason knows better than anyone when you’re keeping things from him. Because he’s the only person you’ve let this close in longer than you probably have the functional front lobe to remember. Concussions are a bitch like that.

“I think I’m just gonna go home,” you offer, knocking back the rest of your beer before your ribcage gets so brittle that it collapses and he sneezes on the dust. 

“Alright then, magic man, keep your secrets.” 

“You’re obnoxious.”

“And you’re keeping shit from me. I thought we agreed not to do that with this whole sidekick thing–”

“I’m not a fucking sidekick.” Venom drips from your teeth, a snake backed into a corner with nowhere to go but forward viciously.

“And this is what I’m talking about! Any other day you’d just punch me and tell me to get my shit in check but today you look like you’re ready to slit my throat.” 

“It’s not off the table,” you murmur, more to the ceiling than to him, right before the last of your beer slides down into your echoing gullet. 

“What is going on with you?” 

“Just some personal shit, Jason. Don’t worry about it.” You try to give it finality, but Jason can’t even die on someone else’s terms so he doesn’t let this go either. 

“What, like your period?” 

You don’t even try to stop your hand when your fingers close around the beer bottle and throw it at his head. He ducks and it shatters on the wall behind him, shards of glass raining down around his chair. You know how that feels. 

The bartender’s voice is booming from the other end of the bar. 

“You two. Out.” 

He’s bigger than both of you combined and you don’t feel like arguing anymore so you wave your hand as you dismiss yourself, leaving Jason to pay for the abhorrently cheap beer. 

It’s humid in Gotham, suffocating your every breath with smog and uncertainty. Maybe you should just find a place in Metropolis, start over again, but you’re so fucking tired of running. Everyone you have ever met, everyone that has ever left you has taken their pound of flesh. You feel like nothing but bones, knocking together like chutes on a bamboo wind chime before a hurricane. 

Jason is your hurricane. Your natural disaster of righteous salvation and you didn’t bring your arm floaties. 

You want to drown in him, want to inhale him and choke—

Even if it kills you. He’s never even had a girlfriend that you know of and how fucking idiotic would it be to ask Alfred if Jason’s available, how stupid to ask Dick if Jason’s interested in you.

You peel yourself out of your jeans, your bra, shove your arms through the most comfortable oversized t-shirt you can find and flop onto your back in the middle of your living room. 

The ceiling in your apartment holds no more answers than the ceiling at the bar and again you have to swallow back that hollowed out feeling. At some point your eyes slid closed and you slumbered listening to the breeze in the auditorium of your chest. 

—-

Everything is warm when you wake up, heat radiates from behind you and from the arm slung over your middle. 

But that can’t be right, this isn’t where you fell asleep. 

You don’t wait to ask questions, pivoting your body and swinging at whatever is behind you. Someone yelps in pain, your fist connecting with something face adjacent before it’s caught and held fast. Your knees come up to join the struggle and one heavy leg drapes across your hips to still you. 

“Goddamnit, will you fucking chill out?”

“Jason?” 

Just as you say it your eyes adjust to the light, make out the red bat on his chest, make out the shock of silver that grows in the front. 

“Yeah, me, shithead.” 

“Why are you in my bed?!” You struggle against his hold, it only gets tighter. 

“I came to check on you after patrol and you were like sad girl passed out in the floor.” 

“So you decided I needed a cuddle?!” 

“I mean, that’s probably not such a bad idea given your fucking attitude—“

“Jason!” 

“No! I mean, I didn’t mean to. I tucked you in and just wanted to stay long enough to make sure you were okay and then I fell asleep.” 

He lets go of you, lets you get as far away from him as you can without falling off of the bed. He looks like you shot him with his own gun. 

“I’m sorry. I uh- I crossed a line coming here-“ 

“No, wait,” you stop him, reach for him as he moves to get up. 

“I don’t understand where I lost you-“ 

You don’t let him finish. You rush him,  connect your mouth to his because you don’t know how else to explain it. He doesn’t react immediately, and you wish that the floor would open up and swallow you whole but it doesn’t. 

You pull back, sit up and on your haunches and stare at his dumbfounded face. There’s only a second of silence between you before a hand strikes out lightning fast, thunder clapping against your sternum as you’re jerked forward. 

One hand cradles your head, allowing you no room to escape from the kiss suffocating you like the most beautiful Gotham smog. Wisp of smoke soft, signal of something lit aflame. The other presses into your back, calloused and unforgiving, like he’ll float away if he doesn’t hold on. You want to pull him closer but you can’t, your electrons are already crashing together. 

You tug at the buckles on his chest kevlar, fingers pinch and twist until they come loose and fall into a heap on the floor. His shirt goes too, the silver of sinew in his autopsy scar catching the moonlight. You’re struck dumb like staring into the eye of his hurricane and seeing the beauty in the pattern of his destruction. Like pitching yourself into a volcano for the warmth. 

Because he is beautiful; 

and he is broken. 

And those two things are intertwined and that is something you understand in your marrow. 

You press your lips to the point where the three lines meet right over his heart. His breath catches the same way it does when he’s on the unfortunate end of a knife, but you know there aren’t words you can tell him that will soothe that ache. 

So you show him your own. 

Bodies roll and he lets out a huffed breath when his back hits the mattress. 

A handful of raised tally marks, gnarled and stretched over time, one for every reason your father decided that he hated you that night. You didn’t plan on living after that, you’ve kind of been wingin’ it ever since. Jason’s thumb brushes over the cluster of violence on your stomach, looks from it to your face and understands the exchange. 

Your scars and his, all the things that have happened to you. 

He happened to you too. 

And you can spew adjectives about every natural disaster that has a name and still never aptly describe how much you love his chaos. 

And that's okay too.

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Thoughts on Anakin being with someone else that also has bpd?

Disaster Zone: domestic violence, abuse

He would both love and hate that his partner was clingy. He wouldn’t feel abandoned or worried they’d leave. He would feel suffocated. He would feel like they have ulterior motives because there’s no way someone could love as big as he can love.

He would be paranoid that it’s all a sinister plot to destroy him, break his heart and ruin his image.

He’d try to be rational. He’d try to appreciate that you’re practically glued to his hip. He’d shove down the feeling of being trapped and recategorize it as a bear hug of love (that keeps getting tighter and tighter until you’ll squeeze his head off). He’d attempt to be understanding, after all who better to understand your behaviors? He’s the BPD king.

He’s so conflicted because all he’s ever wanted was to be loved deeply, cherished, held close to someone’s heart. But now that he’s actually got that? He misses being horrifically lonely. He misses the drama of fighting for love. It doesn’t feel real because he doesn’t have to work for it.

He’d start to have episodes over little things to avoid the bigger issue.

You’re chewing too loud?

‘Can you shut your goddamn mouth? God that’s disgusting.’ He’d say as he shoves your plate away from you.

You’re wearing something that he used to love seeing you in, but now it just reminds him of before. Before he started to doubt you.

‘You still have that?’ He scoffs. ‘No I don’t like it, it makes you look fat. Take it off, go change. I’m not going out with you looking like that.’

You promised him spaghetti but realized too late that you only have bow-tie pasta?

He walked into the kitchen, sliding an arm around your waist to hug you while you stand at the stove.

‘What’s that? That’s not what I asked for.’ He said annoyedly.

‘We didn’t have the right noodles Ani.’ You’d snap back.

‘You could’ve called me. I drove right past the dollar store.’ He released your waist and moved you away from the stove with a careless shove.

‘It’s still pasta! I didn’t think it’d be a big deal!’ You scowled, crossing your arms, your face heating up as your sadness bubbles into anger. ‘What the fuck is your problem lately?’

‘Well it is a big deal because it’s NOT WHAT I FUCKING ASKED FOR!’ He turned around holding up the wooden spoon you had been using to stir with. ‘You never listen to me. How hard is it to listen? What do I have to do, huh?’ He jerked toward you like he was going to bring the spoon down across your face.

‘Go on, I’ll finish this.’ He growled, lowering the spoon and turning around to finish up dinner.

As you walked away you thought you heard: ‘stupid bitch.’ Muttered under his breath.

You asked him what he was doing?

Anakin had just gotten home an hour ago, took a shower, changed into some sweatpants sans tshirt and he had his half empty cigarette pack in his hand, rhythmically tapping the pack against the counter top while he search the junk drawer for a lighter.

‘What’re you doing?’ you asked with a laugh.

‘What’s it look like?’ He grumbled. ‘Someone keeps moving my shit around.’ He turned to shoot a quick glare over his shoulder at you.

‘What? I never touch your smokes.’ You scoffed, a puzzled look on your face. ‘Did you check your work jacket?’

‘Did I check- yes! Yes I fucking checked it, I’m not an idiot.’ He snapped, finally finding a spare lighter, he turned on his heel and pointed it toward you. ‘Go find it. I know you moved it, it’s cause you don’t like when I smoke inside isn’t it?’

‘No!’ You stood up and went over to his work jacket and fished around in the pockets, finding it almost immediately you held it up and shook it at him. ‘I don’t care that you smoke inside! Jesus, here!’ You tossed it at him.

‘You did that on purpose!’ He caught the lighter as it smacked his chest. ‘You just wanted to make me feel stupid.’ He sneered, turning around to go out to the back deck to smoke instead of sitting in his recliner.

You returned to your spot on the couch and mumbled something he didn’t quite catch.

‘You back talking me?’ He snorted, whipping his arm out to the side to chuck the extra lighter at the back of your head.

He’d be so happy initially, then all those feelings and insecurities would eat him up inside until it was a blow up so massive that the cops get called by the neighbors.

You slipped into bed for the night next to Anakin, he scooted over to let you have your extra room to sprawl out in. He’d already turned on the show you two had been watched recently so he laid the remote on his chest and slipped his arm under your head to get comfy.

You on the other hand, couldn’t get comfortable. It was hot, the fan was on but wasn’t on the right setting. The blankets were too hot so you kicked them off, but it left your feet cold. Anakin laughed at your struggle to get cozy and you smacked his arm lightly, playfully. But he didn’t seem to think it was funny. His laughter died down and his jaw clenched tightly.

Finally you’d settled down and Anakin had begun to drift off to sleep, when you shifted again, pulling yourself against his chest and nuzzling against him.

‘Jesus.’ He scoffed, pushing you off of him, he stood up and yanked his pillow out from underneath your head.

‘What’s wrong? Where are you going?’ You asked, concern and confusion lacing your tone.

‘Shut up.’ He grumbled as he walked to the bedroom door.

‘Wh- did you just tell me to-‘

‘Yeah I did.’ He snapped, his hand on the bedroom door. ‘So shut your damn mouth. I don’t want to hear it. You’re grating on my last nerve.’

‘What? Why? What did I do?’ Your rapid fire questions only serving to cause yourself panic and pour lighter fluid on his flame of anger.

‘Everything!’ He yelled, ‘everything! Everything you do pisses me off! Just shut the hell up and leave me alone!’

‘I’m sick of you! Never a moment of peace! You’re always hanging off me like some sad little bitch baby.’ He snarled, ‘so damn clingy! I can’t even go sleep on the couch without it being a goddamn interrogation!’

He whipped the bedroom door open and stormed out with you following close behind him, you grabbed the pillow and tore it out of his hand.

‘You’re not sleeping on the couch! Just talk to me! Tell me what-‘

You couldn’t finish your sentence before he swung around and connected his knuckles to your cheek, a sickening *thunk* rang out as the shock out what he’d just done settled in.

Pls don’t hate me for this, I know that no one wants to think of Ani as being abusive, I also know that some people will be offended that I’ve used BPD in correlation with domestic violence. But to be perfectly clear!!! I have BPD and I 100% believe that this and worse would happen in an Ani x BPD reader situation.

[blorbologist]

Cat's Cradle, Chapter 14

Ch1 ... Ch13

The kittens, now old enough to go without food for a little more time, are somehow even more of a torment on Percy’s nerves than they were before. 

“Vex!” he calls, shrill. “We have fugitives!”

“They’ve started learning to walk, Percy,” she tosses back. From the kitchen, given how she echoes. “Of course they’ve escaped. They can’t get far.”

“Velcro was in the middle of the floor!”

He does not have to hear her sigh to know she makes it. He assumes she pads down the hall, slips over the babygate silent as ever, because she appears in the doorway. Finds him sitting on the floor with his convict in his lap, the tiny blue tom wiggling viciously as he tries to resume his grand exploration of the room. 

Percy, in turn, is greeted with Vex in an apron. Which is half of why he avoided cooking with her to instead give the kittens supper, because good gods is it a cute look on her. The kiss the chef reads like an invitation, or an instruction manual. A recipe for disaster. 

“We’ll need a box,” he declares around the lump in his throat, plopping Velcro back in the basket. Or trying to - the kitten clings, wailing in outrage, until Percival relents and lets it sit in the crook of his leg. Corralled, for now. 

“Or a playpen,” Vex muses, tapping the spatula to her lips. Her eyes flit to something, not Percy but past him, and she grins. “I’ll leave you to figure that out yourself. I’m sure you can manage, my clever man.”

She leaves him fumbling long enough for Velcro and Spanner to stumble out and mewl in surprise at how cool the floor is. 

--

With a soft playpen set up, Percy feels a lot better about leaving the kittens unsupervised, even if only for short bursts. 

Such as an impromptu brunch with friends. It is a rare stroke of luck, for time off to line up so adeptly. Perhaps easier, without Vax’ildan’s graveyard shifts leaving him dead tired all day or Keyleth’s numerous projects tripping her up. Emptier, too.

“Okay,” Scanlan is saying, sipping loudly on a mimosa. “But you’re sure it’s alright? Kaylie says she hasn’t seen your truck at the workshop in, like, a week.”

“You have your daughter spying on him? Creepy.” Grog makes a show of scoffing, shoveling pancakes into his mouth. Despite the attention on him, he makes to swipe the french toast off Pike’s plate before she dissarms him with her own fork. 

“No - she’s just invested, alright? Won’t stop talking about that shitty day.” Scanlan shivers. “Not that I blame her - I’d be pretty fucked up, too.”

Pike hums in agreement. “Is the cat doing okay? You said her name was…?”

“Curio.” Percy takes a bracing sip of his coffee. “Recovering well from the surgery, seems eager to get out of her crate and stretch her legs. Those she has left, at least. I worry she will ruin the stitching if given that freedom, however.”

“Oy, here’s a thought-” “Manners.” Scanlan rolls his eyes, finishes chewing and swallows before continuing: ”Why don’t we stop by? I mean, you and Vex won’t shut up about these guys, and I don’t know about you guys but I could use some cute in my life. And chicks dig kitten pics.”

Percy hesitates.

So far, these kittens have been theirs. Vex’ahlia and Percival’s little charges, in their own little world. Sure, they had brought them to the vet, and Kaylie’s keen eye had saved Curio’s life. They certainly shared more than enough pictures and videos for all their friends to know many kittens by name. 

But there is something about inviting others into this little nest that has a part of him bristling.

Grog tilts his head. “I’d like to,” he admits. “Wouldn’t it be good for them to, like, meet more people? Help them get more specialized.”

“Socialized, Grog.” Pike pats his knee. 

Percy nudges Vex, who has been slipping into a food coma. She’s so exhausted it pains him to see. “Vex’ahlia, dear, what do you think?”

She stifles a yawn against her hand. “I don’t mind either way,” she admits. “If you guys do come over, though, keep it down - I think I’ll be having a nap, if that’s alright.”

Even the goliath of a man, all tattoos and muscle, seems to read the reluctance in Percy’s gaze. “I’ll be gentle with them,” he promises. “I can be real gentle with the little things.”

Percy sighs. Smiles. “That’s true, yes.” 

--

“When we said little, I didn’t think - woah,” Grog breathes, eyes blown wide and enraptured by every little hair on the kittens’ heads. He and Pike are both on their knees peering into the playpen. Bleary from their nap, the litter is content to wiggle and chirp. Even the one in Scanlan’s hands is well-behaved.

“Hah! Look - he’s spitting at me.”

Or perhaps not, but that’s a perfectly reasonable reaction to Scanlan. 

“She,” Percy corrects with a glance. 

“Ohh, I like them spicy.” He only evades getting an elbow in the gut when Pike stops herself, clearly remembering the precious cargo he holds. 

Having Scanlan for scale really puts into perspective just how small these kittens are - even in his hands they’re fragile, even without a tremor beneath them they wobble. Percy’s heart lurches in his chest when they move - but no, Scanlan’s just sitting more comfortably, with his back to the bed. 

He offers a finger from his free hand for greeting. The verdict is ‘disgusting, I hate it’ until he scratches under that impossibly small chin. “What a cutie patootie. What’s her name?” asks Scanlan.

Pike, peering now over his shoulder, glances between Percy and the kitten. “That’s Bauble, right?” She beams when he nods, pleased they remembered. 

“You can hold one, if you’d like,” Percy offers as Scanlan declares, “I’m gonna get Kaylie a kitten.”

“No - no, you’re not.” He swallows his snappy tone - half the kittens are sleeping, and so is Vex. “You can’t just give someone a lifelong commitment.”

Grog giggles - all head turn to find he’s stuck his hand in the playpen, where a curious Ratchet is clumsily batting at it while Screwdriver watches wide-eyed and hopelessly confused. 

“Ain’t that what happened to you?” says Grog. “With Kaylie?”

Scanlan rolls his eyes. “I was joking. Wasn’t I?” He rubs his nose into Bauble’s fur. “Oh, wow, she smells like cuteness! And kind of milky?”

Percy relaxes a little as Pike leans over to get a good sniff of kittendown too, scooting into Scanlan’s side for a better angle to coo and cuddle. 

That does bring up a thought he’s completely neglected up to date. The kittens are… goodness, not quite two weeks? Two more months and they’ll be old enough to adopt out. How in the hells is he going to find enough homes - good homes - for six kittens? And Curio, too. If matching a half-dozen cute, playful little cats will be a challenge, how will they possibly get someone willing to take on a disabled, probably traumatized adult cat? 

He can practically feel his blood pressure spike. Percy carefully leans over the edge of the playpen to pluck Screwdriver (still watching Grog’s hand with something like awe) and settle her in his lap. His hands are shaking, but so is she, so it’s fine. 

(What if they choose wrong? What if the owners can’t care for the needs of the shaky kittens? Gods, Screwdriver wobbles so much - what if she falls, what if they let her outside, what if -)

“Oop, gotta tinkle.” Percy’s hand jerks up to see Grog stand and dust off his hands. He coos when Ratched stumbles after him, mewling. “Aww, I’ll be back. Where’s the bathroom Percy?”

“It’s to the right, Buddies,” Pike says, delicately running her fingers from Bauble’s head to her little pointy tail. Scanlan’s eyes are on her, not the kitten, and he looks quite like the cat that got the cream.

“Thanks, Pikey!”

Screwdriver mimics his glance up at Grog, which - yeah, sweetheart, he is very big, hm? Percy makes sure to lavish her with extra pets for her bravery. There’s nothing to be scared of, it’s Grog. 

And then Percy remembers, and scrambles to his feet, clutching her to his chest.

“Wait! Don’t go in the-”

He hears the bars of Curio’s crate rattle from here and breaches the doorway just in time to see Grog sheepishly shut the door behind him.

“Guess I’ll hold it in,” he says.

[tragedygroupie]

say yes to heaven

i am in the office of the head priest of my parent’s parish and all i want to do is kiss him.

when he approached me, alone in the pews, i should’ve known better. this will only end in disaster.

but when he stood above me, kind blue eyes wide with concern, my resolve leaked out of my body.

i find myself in his office, sitting across from him at his desk, as those damn blue eyes gazed serenely upon me.

“what’s bothering you love?”

i only come to church because i’m in love with the priest.

“i just have been having a lot of difficulty with my faith right now,” i start slowly.

he nods, sympathetic.

“i see. anything in particular?”

my body wants to shut down. this is all too much. i can’t tell him the only reason i even bother with this whole sham is because i love the sound of his voice. but i’m too tired to make anything up. exhaustion overwhelms my body and soul, as i struggle to articulate a spiritual battle i’ve been fighting since i was 12.

“it’s just hard to believe in god when you’ve been hurt so many times.” i say, pointedly avoiding eye contact.

“that’s a pretty normal feeling.” he responds.

i look up at him.

“really?”

he smiles.

“yeah really. if you’ve been hurt your whole life, god’s love feels pretty foreign.”

i nod.

“but god does love you. you are one of his children, immaculately and wonderfully made.”

i feel something like hope stir in my chest. i get up, and walk over to one of his bookshelves, studying his many titles.

“i just find it hard to believe when the world is so full of pain. it’s hard for me to keep having faith when people keep… when i keep getting hurt. sometimes it feels like god hates me and i don’t know what i did wrong,” i start, and he’s over to me quickly.

his hands cup my face, his compassionate eyes looking down into my tearful ones.

“how do you keep on believing when god can be so cruel?” i whisper.

“because when i look at you, i see someone who could’ve only been made by something divine.”

i look up at him, a tear running down my cheek.

his thumb gently swipes it away.

“i think i love you.” i whisper quietly.

he just smiles at me, holding my face in his hands.

“i love you too.”

i shake my head.

“no, i mean, i love you-“ i start before his mouth crashes into mine.

shock spreads through my limbs, before quickly being replaced with hunger. his hands roam my body and i feel him press me into the bookshelf. he tugs on my hair and i moan, allowing him to slip his tongue into my mouth. he tugs the straps of my dress down, revealing my chest.

i swear his eyes go a shade darker when he unhooks my bra and my breasts spill out from over my dress. his tongue starts swirling over my nipple and i moan, before slapping a hand over my mouth.

“don’t have to worry about noise, no one’s here” he mumbles as he slides his hand up my thigh.

when he hooks his fingers in my panties and looks up at me questioningly, i shakily take my hand away from my mouth.

he grins before he kisses me.

“good girl,” he says before he slides a finger inside me.

i whine and hide my head in his chest as he starts pumping, his thumb methodically brushing my clit.

“so fucking pretty,” he murmurs, chuckling when i clench him.

“i’ve thought about you ever since you first came to church… you always looked so beautiful…” he continues, adding a second finger.

“did you ever… think you’d be doing this?” i pant, trying to keep up.

he smiles.

“i don’t think i could’ve ever dreamed of this.”

i start feeling pressure in my tummy, and i immediately start babbling.

“i’m gonna, i’m gonna-“

“let go for me sweetheart.”

he fingers me through my orgasm, till i’m quivering in his arms and my legs are still shaking.

“you did so well… you’re so good for me baby, such a good girl,” he says, brushing my hair behind my ear.

when he pats my thighs, i automatically wrap my legs around his waist and he chuckles.

“you’re so well behaved” he laughs and i hide my face in his neck.

“i just wanna please you,” i whisper.

he sits me down on top of his desk and kisses my forehead.

“you’re doing a great job,” he responds.

when he enters me it burns, the stretch unlike anything i’ve ever felt. he lets me adjust, waiting for me to give the okay for him to move. when i nod, he slowly rocks his hips into me. as the burn gives way to this intoxicating ache he starts to go faster, grunts and groans filling the room. one of his hands interlocks with mine, while the other one darts between us to start rubbing circles on my clit.

i start feeling heat pool in my tummy, and as he kisses me i feel myself let go.

it only takes a few more thrusts for him to join me.

when he pulled out, cum started leaking from between my thighs, as he took two fingers and pushed it back inside me.

“i think i just found religion.”

[neo-shitty]

heartbreak girl — y.ji

prompt. #22 — listening to them while they vent for 🤎 anon (and i apologize that this is so late, advance happy valentine’s day)

description. introducing yang jeongin: resident best friend, never the boyfriend. | track #8 of the youngblood playlist 

pairing. yang jeongin x female reader

genre. fluff, slight angst, slight pining, bestfriends!au, high school!au 

warnings. swearing, mentions and consumption of chocolate/food

word count. 1.4k

notes. finally wrote for jeongin, just in time for his birthday too! happy innie day :> | taglist: @lixesque @dominonation @sanccharine @lixiesbabyhands @jensrose @rae-blogging @cavaree @pastelsicheng​ @onlysolane​ @koroleva-rezni​ 

Jeongin’s refusal to hand over the box of chocolates must have been your last straw.

The circumstances leading to your outburst were nothing out of the ordinary. You would come up to Jeongin asking for anything (spare pens, candies, a box of chocolate today) and he’d say no just to see how long your patience would hold. But the air was different today, charged in static as the clouds formed. It took a total of (1) one ‘no’ to tip you over the edge, groaning in frustration as you stomped back to your seat. For the past half hour, you were hunched over your desk with your face tucked behind an impenetrable wall of arms, ignoring even the sharp violent ringing of the lunch bell.

Jeongin was happy to tick off one of the monumental goals off his list. Only he wasn’t as proud as he imagined he would be and the surge of guilt he felt as you walked away wasn’t even close to rewarding. In pride’s place was his conscience, like a guardian angel perched on his shoulder to remind him he crossed a line today.

It wasn’t entirely his fault really, but what he did was just the cherry to top everything off—the perfect finish to your dessert disaster that was the month of (supposed) love, February. The past two weeks haven’t been kind to you and you spent every night you were remotely free rambling over the phone about the streamline of problems that never ended. There were back to back examinations, mounds of homework, part-time child tutoring sessions, and the threat of the school’s monthly evaluations that could kick you out of the program if you slacked off. Balancing the overload had been your best asset, notorious for keeping cool as the rest of the student body was set ablaze and still managing to rank higher than regular load students.

Naturally, Jeongin suspected there was another factor. It took an effort to trick you into slipping up but only half of him thought it was worth it. Because the tornado that left a wreck in its wake was completely avoidable—a pathetic boy problem. The guy you were seeing since the beginning of the year called it quits, and as if his timing couldn’t get any impeccable, he decided to do so a week before Valentine’s. Who the fuck does that?

“_____,” Jeongin plucked his backpack off his desk, throwing the strap over his shoulder as he made his way to the other side of the room where you sat unmoving. “I’m leaving for lunch, you coming?”

No response. Not even a shift.

Jeongin sucked in a breath, trying his best to keep his hunger-borne irritation at bay. “_____!” More demanding now than earlier. “Get up and stop moping around! I hate seeing you like this!” 

You snapped your head up staring straight at him with the marks of a good nap imprinted on your cheek. “No one’s asking you to stay here and look at me, dumb ass,” you spat. “Go eat if you want to, I’m staying here. All those couples would make me lose my appetite.”

You curled back into your shell, blocking out his presence like you always did when you wanted to be ‘left alone’ but not really. So be it. Instead of walking away, he wrenched a chair out of the desk in front of you—spinning it around so he could sit facing you. He slumped down on the seat, propped his elbows on your desk and fished out his phone. It had been decided, the rest of his lunch break would be spent here.

He didn’t know why he was staying despite the audible protests of his stomach. Somehow, whenever it came to you, the inconvenience never ruled out his desire to stick by your side. Because that was what best friends were for, right? To have someone stick by your side through thick and thin, through the smartest calls and the worst mistakes.

It was almost first instinct for him to come to your aid now, even when he sucked at giving it. He never knew what advice to give, never knew the right words to say to make you stop crying. But he knew you preferred company rather than being left alone, and silent company over those who tried to let you talk about it more. And after the worst was over, you needed a buddy to trash talk the heartbreaker to.

You raised your head now, the side of your face pressed against your arms as you gazed out the window. “I just don’t know where I went wrong this time.”

Jeongin was silent at first. Then he opened his mouth to speak, “There’s nothing wrong with you. Just your poor taste in lovers, that’s all.” His phone chimed, the chair creaked, wind blew in from outside. A piece of your wall of arms broke away to deliver a strike to his arm. “Ouch, _____. All I’m saying is there are better people out there, you just happen to have a wonky radar.”

“Better people,” you scoffed.

Like me, idiot. 

The answer came too loud and Jeongin worried he actually said them out loud. But you kept your eyes on the view and his mouth was still shut. His fingers were still tapping away in a hopeless endeavor to recover the few seconds he was distracted. His avatar was low and quite cornered. 

He struck his cheek and hoped it appeared like he was just disappointed over the game. And why did he even think he was the more suitable partner? Just because he stuck around the longest? Maybe, the thought tugged deep in the back of his guilty thoughts. He lost count of all the times he had to catch you, keep your head up whenever it seemed to drop. He knew your weirdest quirks and it wouldn’t be an understatement to say he knew you better than most people did—the perfect candidate for your perfect partner. The only problem was he wasn’t what you wanted, not even close to the type of boys you got involved with, and somehow that voids everything else. Fuck it, he tells himself. Forget it.

But it’s hard to forget when he had seen it happen more times than you deserved to. Once would’ve been fine, just to say heartbreak like that happened to everyone. But to see it happen two more times? With the bags beneath your eyes darkening, your eyes bloodshot from crying, and your cheek stained with tear streaks? He couldn’t stand it.

“Why are you staring at me like that, Yang Jeongin?” He didn’t even notice he was looking at you until he found you looking right back. “You like me, don’t you?” Even with your eyes still puffy, you manage a smirk—your face a mismatch between what you feel and what you want the world to see.

Jeongin made a face. “It’s because you’re drooling.”

You sit up in alarm, rushing to wipe your mouth clean with the back of your palm. Jeongin was already up and moving away before you realized he was only tricking you. 

“Yang Jeongin!” 

His name sounded better when you said it, even with a pen flying straight toward him. You missed, but he had his own version of backfire as he tossed something right back at you. Your poor hand and eye coordination made it slip off your outstretched hands, landing on your desk in stuntman fashion—rolling until it stopped. It’s a box of chocolates, the box of chocolates. 

“So I just needed to cry so I could have it?” you asked, but Jeongin doesn’t answer. He’s halfway across the room again with his back turned. He could only put up with his stomach growling for so long.

“I thought you were giving this to someone!” Yeah, you. But you never asked who it was for specifically, he didn’t feel a need to mention it.

“Are you going to buy another one for them?” You’ve lightened up, he could hear it in the way your tone rises. Cheerful, bouncy, happy, just like how he always wanted you to be. His job was done. There was no need for another box. It’s already right where it needs to be.

“Thanks! Love you!” And he knows you didn’t mean it in the way he wanted it to. So he doesn’t bring himself to answer, afraid to slip up after coming that close. He slid the classroom door back shut and he stood out in the hallway, half his heart bare on his sleeve. 

So much for Valentine’s Day.

When he turned to gaze back inside the classroom, you were looking at him. You waved, smiling from ear to ear, muttering another thank you as you shoved a chocolate in your mouth, oblivious to his feelings as you always had been.

© neo-shitty, 2022

[mercy-burning]

Honeybee

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: While attending Seraphina's wedding, Y/N discovers that her crush on her best friend’s older brother hasn’t gone away after all these years. Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Strong language, alcohol consumption, fingering, penetrative/protected sex Word Count: 5.7k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: I know I promised a oneshot over the weekend, but I’m a messy, inconsistent bitch, so you get it a day late 😅🥰

———

Looking back, I was starting to wonder if Seraphina only got engaged and asked me to be her maid of honor just to witness my slow descent into a heaping puddle of lovesick mush.

Truly, it was pathetic.

Yeah, yeah, she was getting married because she loved her fiancé and whatever, obviously, but she was also using it as an excuse to try and get me to admit my feelings for her older brother. Feelings, I might add, that only surfaced when I was a middle schooler and went away once he went off to college.

Sure, I'd thought about him on occasion when he was inevitably brought up around Sera's house throughout the years, but that was it. I'd hardly say I was hard-core in love with him. And I was totally prepared to see him for the first time since our high school graduation.

At least, I thought I was.

And Seraphina—the little shit—knew it, too. The smirk on her face the moment we were all in the same room for the first time in ten years made me want to run and hide more than her brother's figure, right in front of me and hotter than ever.

I was mad. Not at Sera as much, because really there was nothing she could do about the fact that he was her brother, but I was mad at myself. Because how in the hell had it stood to reason that a man I actively didn't think about for a whole decade had this much of an effect on me after all this time?

Honestly? I blame the FBI.

If he'd done literally anything else with his life I probably could have made it. Well, not by much if we're being honest, but come on...

Where he'd been a bit nerdy and reserved as I knew him, the man in front of me had clearly changed. Not just physically, though that was also a pleasant surprise. He looked like he'd been through some shit... And he carried himself taller. There was a new air of confidence that perched on his shoulder and helped him along as he talked with old friends and family members at his sister's rehearsal dinner.

Spencer Reid was older and more experienced this time around, and somehow even more goddamn delicious...

I was a total wreck. And it was about to get a whole lot worse.

He was coming this way. Right for me. He'd noticed me staring at him all night, because I couldn't keep my shit together, and now I was absolutely doomed.

Guess it was a good thing I'd practically grown up with him and knew how to act outwardly.

Still, the moment he was up close and flashing me that little smile of his, I felt the pit of my stomach scream out loud, sending shockwaves through my bloodstream.

"Hey, Honeybee. It's been a while."

Fuck. That fucking nickname...

"Spencer... It has."

When we hugged briefly, I tried as hard as I could not to inhale his scent, knowing that not only was that pathetic and embarrassing, but also I'd never stop smelling it otherwise. I did take note, though, of how strong he was now. He wasn't a bodybuilder of any kind, but he was certainly less bony and more defined.

I had to hold back a whine as I felt him let go of me, because I didn't want to leave his warm embrace but also because I didn't think I could stand to look at his face anymore without losing any and all semblance of my cool.

Still, I let him release me, and even then he didn't go far. We only stood inches apart, and my whole body was practically numb at the proximity. It also didn't help that I had to tilt my head up to see his face— It made me feel extremely submissive, and I could already feel myself starting to shrink.

Whether he was amused at that or just at me in general, the feeling I got was the same.

"Sera tells me you've been busy..." He paused, seemingly searching for the right word, though I could tell he already had it on the tip of his tongue. "Modeling?"

I closed my eyes with a sigh. "It was one job for some obscure European magazine, no one in the country's probably ever heard of it... It's not that big of a deal."

Spencer huffed a laugh. "You sound embarrassed..."

How was I supposed to respond to that? If I lied and told him I wasn't embarrassed, he'd figure it out, and if I told him the truth? I'd still be screwed. Honestly, my best bet was changing the subject.

Though, maybe it wasn't— When I asked him about his travels for work, he ignored it and responded with, "Ah, so you are embarrassed."

"N— I am not!"

"You changed the subject so fast I barely had time to blink... There's nothing to be ashamed of, Honeybee, I don't know why you'd—"

"Look, dude, I'm not ashamed, and I'm certainly not changing the subject. We were on the subject of jobs. So there."

I was aware of how childish I sounded, but I stood my ground nonetheless. And thankfully Spencer seemed to let it go, though not without amplifying that amused sparkle in his eye.

"Okay... Well, I've got some more people to see, but, uh... I'll see you around. Maybe you can show me some of your work."

He didn't even give me time to protest. Though if he had, I was sure I wouldn't have been able to get any words out what with that goddamned face he had, twisted and sculpted into all these beautiful ways that were designed specifically to make me a blubbering hot mess.

I could only gather the courage to nod in response, though he'd turned his back and walked away by the time I got it out.

———

All things considered, I'd managed to avoid him for the majority of the wedding festivities. I focused all my energy on being happy to see my best friend get married, and likewise it seemed that Spencer was inclined to do the same.

He walked his sister down the aisle, and seeing them both so happy truly made my heart sing. To think I'd known them since we were all kids more or less, and now they were both successful, beautiful human beings... It warmed me to my core, and despite the other flames that stung my insides at seeing Spencer in his tux, thing were going swimmingly.

That being said, we were just about two hours into the reception, and there was absolutely nothing stopping me from begging Seraphina to put me out of my misery.

Except maybe pints upon pints of alcohol.

In hindsight, that may not have been a good idea, though. Because as much as the open bar had it benefits, it also hated me. It was mostly my fault, because I was stupid enough to forget that I get frisky when I'm drunk, but that didn't stop me from blaming the bartender for continuing to serve me.

I wasn't quite at the point of all-out inebriation, but I was definitely toeing the line between tipsy flirting and total disaster.

And when Spencer came over to ask me to dance, I knew I was doomed.

I didn't find myself caring about what he was saying, only the fact that he was there, in front of me, putting his hands on me and breathing in the same air that I was putting out. My entire body buzzed, and while I would have panicked otherwise, my tipsy brain welcomed the tingle and made me a bit bolder.

"You enjoying yourself tonight?" he asked, like he couldn't already tell that I was having the time of my life.

"No way. You suck at dancing." The joke rolled off my tongue with ease, a product of years spent teasing him for countless things.

And just like all those times before, he rolled his eyes and then immediately flashed an affectionate smile all the same.

I should have stopped there, maybe tried to do something a bit more romantic like teach him how to dance... Placing his hands and fixing his posture, taking the time to gracefully have an excuse for exploring his body with my hands...

But romance took a backseat when I pressed myself in even closer to him and hummed just under his jawline. "Mmm, but I bet you're good at other things..."

I felt his hands grip my waist just a little tighter, and his throat visibly twitched. "How much have you had to drink, Honeybee?"

"Spencer," I whined, pressing my face into his neck. "Don't tell me you're turning me down, please..."

I could tell by the way he was touching me, his hands wavering and undecided, and the way his heartbeat thrummed loudly and quickly against my own that he wanted nothing more than to entertain my desires.

The thought made me quiver and press further into him. I kissed his jawline tenderly, silently begging him to whisk me away and finally make me his, but it broke my heart a little to feel him peel away from me.

When he looked into my eyes though, I swore the gleam in his own is what put me back together. It could have been the liquor swimming around in my body that made me feel lightheaded, but when Spencer lifted my chin with his fingers and looked me over, I knew that wasn't it. It was wholeheartedly, without a doubt, him.

"Tell you what... You get sobered up by the end of the night, and maybe I'll come find you."

I wanted to nod, but his gentle grip on my chin held me steady—At least until he glided his fingertips down my throat and over my shoulder. Then I downright slumped forward with a whine and a weak nod that seemed to make him smile.

"Thank you for the dance," he said earnestly, leaning forward to press the lightest of kisses to my temple.

Just like that he was gone, and I wanted him back almost immediately.

———

And so the night dragged on, and the longer I sobered up the more it dawned on me what the fuck just happened— What the fuck was going to happen, too, if I played my cards right.

It didn't help that I could practically feel Spencer's eyes on me the whole time. Probably to make sure I really wasn't drinking anymore, a fact that only made this feel more real.

On top of it all, I was starting to lose count of the amount of men here who were trying to buy me drinks. Even if the one man I really wanted tonight hadn't given me a deal, I still wouldn't have accepted them, if only for the pathetic fact that I would have been trying to catch his attention instead.

So much for trying to convince myself I wasn't in love with him...

Was that really what it was? It had to be, right?

Either way, I was determined to find out, and that meant declining every flirtatious offer to drink and dance.

Unfortunately, Seraphina seemed to notice, even on the one day in her entire life she shouldn't have been thinking about anyone but herself. "You're not having fun," she pouted, plopping down next to me and handing me a shot. "Have fun."

I laughed and set the tiny glass down on the table. "I am having fun, I'm just... tired. And being hungover tomorrow does not sound fun."

"Mmm," she responded, visibly suspicious.

I didn't really know what to say to her to convince her not to be though, so I grabbed her hand and smiled. "You're having fun though, right? 'Cause I will not hesitate to kick someone's ass if you're not."

With a bellowing laugh mildly tainted with the smell of champagne, Seraphina squeezed my hand and leaned in close. "I'm having the best time. I couldn't be happier."

"Well, good. You deserve it."

After a small moment of silent shared smiles, my best friend glanced over elsewhere and then back to me with that look in her eye that kind of scared me.

And her words were even scarier... "So, you talk to Spencer at all tonight?"

"Uh— Yeah... Briefly."

"Mhmm... Y'know, I saw you two dancing together earlier. You seemed reeeally close..."

There I was, getting defensive in front of a Reid sibling for the second time that night. And just like before, I was awful at being subtle. "Sera, stop it! It was just a dance..."

"Bullshit! He had his hands all over you, and he had that gross-ass, dreamy-ass look in his eye! He so wants to sleep with you!"

"Sera!" I gently shoved her and tried not to smile at the goofy smile she had plastered on her face.

"Am I wrong?"

"I... I don't..."

"Ha! I'm not wrong!"

The defeated look in my eye did nothing to disconfirm her story.

"So, what's stopping you from letting him?"

I went wide-eyed. "Se—You... You seriously would... You're okay with this? It doesn't... gross you out?"

There were a lot of things I could have seen Seraphina do in that moment, but pinching and yelling at me were not any of them. "Y/N! You idiot! I've been trying to get you two together for years! If I knew all it took was me getting married, I would have accepted Theo Decker's proposal..."

"Wa— In fifth grade? Sera, that wasn't—"

"I know, but you get what I mean! You two are so painfully attracted to each other, it physically hurts me. It's actually disgusting, but if it means there's a chance that you might get to be my sister? I say go for it."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You... You really mean that?"

"What, you think I'd joke about that?"

Everything that she conveyed to me within the look in her eyes, her words, and the squeezing of her hand over mine told me she was sincere.

"I love you, you know," I told her just as sincerely.

Her smile was as radiant as ever, but the teasing tone in her voice was enough to make me scowl again. "Right back at'cha, Honeybee. Just do me a favor and don't tell me any details. I don't wanna know."

I stuck my tongue out at her, followed by a short shove. "Oh, and as soon as you get back from your honeymoon? I'm kicking your ass for telling him about that nude shoot I did for that magazine..."

She only grinned. "Why? I think I did you a favor..."

I rolled my eyes at her, but in the end, I guess she was right.

———

I shouldn't have been pacing. Really, it was pretty fucking embarrassing the way I walked in circles around my hotel room, waiting for a knock at the door or a text message on my phone, or something to let me know that Spencer had really meant what he said and was on his way to come find me.

I didn't have a single drink after we danced, and I swear to God, if he made me go through this entire night all nervous without the liquor to calm me down, for nothing? I was going to kill him tomorrow.

Later today... Whatever.

The point? I was well and truly ready to feel him taking up my personal space, and I was going to feel like a real idiot if I waited around and prepped and everything, only for him not to show. The funny thing was, it was almost two in the morning, and I would have stayed up until the sun rose for him.

Thank God he had the decency to save me the trouble.

A short two-rap knock on the door made me jump, but I ran at it full-speed, flinging the large wooden panel open and letting its momentum blow cool wind over my body. And I needed it, too.

Because standing right in front of me was Spencer Reid in all his semi-exhausted glory. His outfit was loosened, buttons undone and bowtie untied, hanging limp around his neck. His hair sat wild atop his head and a thin layer of sweat coated his skin. Maybe that last part sounded gross, but looking at him? It was anything but.

Especially when he flashed me that damned smirk. "Someone's eager..."

I tried not to sound as dumbfounded by his presence as I felt. "Well, you made me a good offer I couldn't refuse. Excuse me for being excited."

"And here I thought all this time you hated me, Honeybee..."

"That would be easier, wouldn't it?"

His grin transformed into a full-on beaming smile then, and it only made my skin feel warmer and my heart beat faster. I returned his smile with my own, so genuinely happy to see him again after all this time, and with the brightest show of happiness I'd ever seen.

Turns out, smiling like a lovesick idiot was all I was capable of.

"Are you... gonna let me in?"

The low suggestive tone in his voice had me springing into action, stepping back and allowing him the space to come in. And though he had plenty of room, Spencer still decided to brush his body over mine as he passed. His eyes bore into my own as he gently kicked the door shut and enveloped us in a dimness that came from cheap hotel lighting.

Still, I was unable to speak, and hardly able to even breathe, with each passing second.

And then, his hands were on my waist, pulling me to him with a softness that matched the whisper in his throat as he said, "C'mere..." Looking up at him then, his fingers burning holes through the thin fabric of my dress while he looked back down me, eyes swimming in tender desire... It almost didn't even feel real.

And it certainly didn't feel real when he leaned in, one of his hands coming up to touch my face while the other pressed me firmly against him.

The moment his lips touched mine, I was gone. I positively melted into him, so much so that it felt like I was just becoming a part of him entirely, losing myself in the moment and unwilling to let it go.

Even when he sighed against my lips and parted his own to kiss me deeper, I just followed suit and let him take the lead. We moved together as one, fluidly and with as much eagerness was possible. I'd wanted to get a taste of him for so long, and he obviously felt the same way, what with the thorough and precise exploring his tongue did with my own. It shot warmth throughout my whole being, and my legs threatened to buckle underneath me from how weak they felt.

Spencer seemed to understand what was happening to me, because as soon as I'd thought it, he was just as quick to literally sweep me off my feet, scooping me up bridal style and carrying me over to the large bed in the middle of the room.

"I know we're at a wedding and all, but geez," I laughed, watching as he laid me down gently and crawled over my body. "A little much?"

He only rolled his eyes. "Well, excuse me for trying to be romantic..."

"Mmm, I think you're just being an overachiever. As per usual."

That remark earned me a pinning of my wrists above my head, and the fire that erupted in my very core at my current position only cemented that this was very real.

Spencer grinned, his hips coming down to roll over mine teasingly. He spoke nice and slowly, his voice slicing through my soul like smooth butter. "Oh, Honeybee, I'll show you an overachiever..."

Once again I was rendered speechless. Not like I expected to be talking his ear off or anything, but words genuinely escaped me.

Luckily, Spencer didn't seem to mind. In fact, he knew exactly what to do next, and it made me even hungrier for him than ever before.

He captured my lips in another dizzying kiss, his hands still flexing over my wrists to keep them steady. I moaned softly and writhed against him, and though I would have liked to say that it was a conscious choice to coax him to give me more, really it was just me being unable to handle the fact that this was actually happening.

Actually, if not for the overwhelming and familiar scent of him, I would have thought I was only imagining it.

But alas, here he was in all his floral peppermint glory, grinding his hips down into mine and kissing me like I'd never been kissed before, driving me mad with each adept movement.

Thankfully he seemed to get as lost in the moment as I was, because he loosened my wrists in his grip, and I broke free, flying my hands in between us and down to his belt.

His lips pulled away from mine with a soft smack, a smile forming smugly upon them. "Have you no patience?"

As my fingers fumbled with the metal and leather, I pressed my nose to his and quickly pecked his mouth. "I thought we already established that I have no patience the moment I opened the door..."

"Fair... But still..."

Spencer grabbed my hands again, moving them to my sides and then hiking my dress up slowly. His skin was hot against my own, and it took everything I had not to break down begging for him.

And then he spoke again, his lips barely grazing mine as he did. "Teasing you is so much fun..."

I couldn't really explain what sound escaped me then, but it reminded me of a disgruntled animal, erupting from my throat and getting muffled the moment I took my hands and brought his face to mine. I kissed him fervently as his hands matched the intense nature of my affections— With every soft groan I gave him, he returned it with an inch higher up my leg, until eventually he was toying with the hem of my underwear.

Unable to take it anymore, I gave in and mumbled the most desperate plea I could think of. (Like I had to think that hard...)

"Spencer, please..."

I half expected him to tease me again, but this time I felt him tremble over my body. His fingers slipped under the satin of my underwear and he sighed into my mouth. "God, how could I ever say no to you..."

No sooner had the words left his mouth did he spread me apart with his fingertips, getting a feel for me and a broken sigh falling from his tongue and onto my own. I captured it and kissed him with as much precision as I could while under the influence of his hands working wonders.

Truly, his hands hand a magic of their own that should have been considered as an eighth Wonder of the World. They flexed in all the right places, splitting me open and caressing the most sensitive parts of me, simultaneously breaking me apart and putting me back together...

God, and those was only his hands...

The thought of what else he had waiting for me made me cry out into his mouth, though I'm sure it also had to do with the fact that his fingers were curling expertly inside me and summoning an orgasm that I knew would satisfy us both.

I almost cried out again when his lips left mine, but then they travelled to my neck and paid it the most glorious attention. The alternation of his fingers and his tongue on different spots of my body had me in shambles, and it took no longer than a few seconds to snap.

"Fuck, that's my girl," Spencer grumbled into my neck, helping me through my orgasm. "That's it, honey..."

What I wouldn't have given to hear him talk to me like that until the end of time... His words, their tone and praise seeping into my skin and bringing my soul to life... Coupled with his soft hands and his even softer breath fanning over my neck, I was just about ready to ask him to keep talking to me, to say my name and never stop.

He pulled away though, removing his hand from my lower half and bringing it up to his mouth, and I had the feeling my request wouldn't be a problem.

Spencer's eyes rolled back and his tongue gathered my arousal off his long, well-endowed fingers. And though I could hear his groan well and clear, I felt it more than anything. It reverberated through my body and brought me more to life in a way I never thought imaginable.

No one had ever made me feel that way with one single sound, and that's how I knew.

I thought I knew it from the start—from when we were growing up—that I wanted to be near him forever. But It was always just a silly dream, something I was never quite able to reach, and as I got older and we rarely saw each other, it got harder to even imagine anymore.

Now I didn't have to imagine.

Spencer Reid was right in front of me, touching me, tasting me, verbally praising me with sounds I'd only ever dreamed of...

I wanted him to have his moment, because I was positive he'd wanted this just as much as I did, but this sappy sort of revelation I was having made it nearly impossible to not be utterly wrapped up in him, and I wanted more.

So I wiggled and adjusted myself underneath him before grabbing his hand and placing it over my heart. His eyes widened softly at the sight of me, and I knew then that he was taking the time to memorize my face, and the image of his hand resting at my chest, right where my heart was encased beneath bones, flesh, and fabric.

"I could look at you forever," he whispered then.

I would have been ashamed to admit that I whimpered when he said it, but the way he looked at me afterwards made me feel the exact opposite.

He smiled, using his other hand to come up and touch my face. "You want it bad, don't you, Honeybee?"

I didn't even argue with him this time. My head nodded and my hands reached out to pull him closer. "I want you... More than I've ever wanted anything."

Before he leaned down to kiss me, I could have swore he looked like he was going to shed a tear. The duality of him, his ability to be all teasing and cocky one second and then reduced to a lovesick mess at just a few words from me the next, made my heart sing.

And it kept singing, a sweet, steady melody as Spencer kissed me and touched me like he meant it.

Only this time, he didn't pause or tease me with theatrics. He went straight for the kill, fetching a condom from his pants pocket and then sliding the material down, all while keeping me trapped under his embrace. I welcomed it naturally, humming happily into his neck and jawline and anywhere I could reach as he got us both fully undressed and situated, until finally he had the condom on and his hands rested nicely on either side of my head.

"Promise not to sting me?"

I laughed, draping my arms over his shoulders and flashing him a wink. "Mmm, only if you promise to give it to me good..."

"Deal."

He slowly pushed into me then, and the stretch was far more satisfying than his fingers, though I was in no position to complain either way. If he was even half as skilled with his hips as he was with his hands (which I had no doubts about whatsoever), then neither of us had anything to worry about.

It didn't take long for us to find our rhythm, but I didn't have time to think about that. I was so consumed with just the feeling of him being everywhere that technicalities didn't matter.

That being said, the technicalities were really fucking good.

His hips snapped into mine with sharp precision, and I felt it deep within my bones. My cunt clung around him willingly and accordingly, as did my legs, which hooked over his waist as I dug my heels into his ass.

Meanwhile Spencer grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head again, this time interlocking our fingers and then leaning down to kiss me deeply. It was met with my undying welcome, of course, but with the way he was fucking me, deep and with a devotion that nearly exploded my heart, I couldn't help but whine out for more.

His name was all I could manage.

"What do you want, Honeybee?" he cooed, holding himself deep inside me and grinding his hips in small circles that made it harder to breathe.

"M—More... I..."

"Can you be more specific?"

How he could be such a cocky little shit in this moment I wasn't sure, and it frustrated me to no end. He knew damn well what I wanted, and I knew just the thing that would make him give it to me.

I have him the biggest pout I could, also whining out the most pathetic, "More," in my arsenal. And with a roll of my hips up into his, I gasped out at how deep he got, and whined out again.

"Spoiled brat," Spencer grunted in defeat, retreating only to slam into me at full force.

My small gasps and cries turned into full-blown howls of searing pleasure as he fucked me then. My head tipped back and my back arched slightly, exposing my neck and chest to him, and he took it as an invitation to lean down and put his mouth anywhere he could reach. I was sure there would be small nicks and bruises littered over my skin the next morning, and just thinking of everyone seeing them, seeing Spencer's mark on me, made it harder to prolong the inevitable.

I came with a shout, flexing my hands into his as my body tensed then relaxed, over and over while he whispered praises into my skin. He followed soon after, shoving his face into my neck and muffling the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard as he came.

By then his hands had loosened, so I snuck my own away from his and brought them over to hug him close. One hand knotted into his hair while the other grazed over his back. The thin sheen of sweat forming over his skin once again was more enticing than it probably sounded, but I loved it all the same. I felt him relax and bring his arms down to rest at my sides, his fingertips dancing lightly over my skin and giving me goosebumps.

Then out of nowhere, he said something that confused and mildly panicked me. "I thought you said you wouldn't sting me..."

I pulled away to try and look at his face, loosening my grip on his body. "A—Am I hurting you? I'm sorry..."

He laughed though, peppering tiny kisses up my neck until he got to my jaw. "You're not hurting me, Honeybee... You've just... stung my heart, that's all."

"I... Is that a bad thing?"

"It's a strange thing..."

He looked at me like I was the one thing on the planet he adored, but his words sounded different.

I raised an eyebrow. "You're not helping me understand..."

With another laugh, Spencer Kissed my cheek and rolled off of me, settling for laying on his side and turning me to face him. "Do you remember how I gave you your nickname?"

Despite my confusion about all of this, I entertained him with a huffed laugh. "Yeah, I spilled honey all over my shorts without realizing it, and I had ants all over me in a matter of minutes. I was terrified."

"I was highly amused."

I shoved him. "Yeah, dork, I know you were! You and Seraphina both thought it was the funniest thing on the planet, and then your mom had to come out and spray me down with a hose before I came back in the house."

Spencer barked a laugh, and I wanted to punch it right out of his mouth.

"Tell me again why this is relevant to our current situation?" I reminded him with and sigh, already over his antics.

Thankfully he seemed to take pity on me; He reached a hand out and played with a strand of my hair, smiling even brighter than when I opened the door for him. "That's when I started to feel it. You were just... so cute all angry at me and Sera for laughing, and it... It changed everything."

"You know, that would be more romantic if I hadn't been covered in bugs," I responded with a laugh.

"It's true! And it confused the hell out of me, because how was I supposed to cope with the fact that I actually had a crush on my little sister's best friend like some stupid cliché? You were always so feisty after that, too, and it certainly didn't help... And when I graduated and went off to college, I thought... I thought there was no chance you would ever be able to break the heart you'd managed to steal."

He swiped his thumb gently over my bottom lip and smiled, his eyes going all tear-y again. It sent butterflies through my whole body.

"I would never even dream of breaking your heart, Spencer..."

Our foreheads pressed together then, and the unwavering adoration in his voice when he spoke made me forget all prior confusion and minor embarrassment over re-living our origins.

All that mattered was that he was here, holding me in his arms and making me feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

"I know you won't, Honeybee."

———

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[diedbutterflies69]

Will you stay?- Bang Chan imagine.

Contains: friends to lovers au. , Divorce, smut, fluff, blindfolding, oral sex, explicit sexual stuff etc . Minors don't interact.

Never once on your life, you thought you could get your shit together and laugh genuinely at the worst in world. falling out of love is worse but it's even more worse if it's your it's not you who fell out of love. Married at 22 and the honeymoon phase hardly lasted for a year and by the age of 26 got yourself labelled as a woman who sabotaged her own marriage in thirst of money. Your ex husband was bitter about your success even before you got married. He thought as a woman, you just did bare minimum and got yourself a high positioned rank by sleeping with one of the rich rags. You tried hard enough to hold on to that rotten red string , but he had the scissors and just cut you off. You weren't willing to sacrifice your career just because of his Immature mindset, yes you loved him, but can't a women love her own hard achieved success more? That's the question you wished to ask everyone who pointed there fingers at you. After divorce you didn't feel pain just numbness. Your self-hatred coming more stronger than ever, even hating the job, you tried Saving since years, getting life on track seemed impossible and at the end just quitted. Moved out of the city just to move back to your home town, the root of your real pain. It wasn't really a town but rather a more flashy city, expensive shits which you were unable to afford in childhood but now it wasn't any big deal. Earth is round and sometimes precious people find you all by themselves. Your highschool friend, the only friend you had throughout your lifetime because of your anti social tactics.

Bang Chan, the social butterfly who almost knew every single student in whole school, he was the hottest guy you ever saw in your life and also the kindest. You had crush on him even before you both were friends, he was your senior,used to help you with those shitty math sums, crack jokes every now and then and scolded you whenever you procrastinated. He came to congratulate you even on your graduation day, even though there were many more students whom he met you were still glad atleast someone bought you a beautiful bouquet of tulips and bellflower. The last time you saw him was before you moved out in search of cheap collages without informing him, as you thought you were just one of many friends he had and won't ever notice someone like you existed.

But god, how much wrong you were.

You met Chan after almost 9 years in convince store and his reaction was almost priceless , like finding treasure. He was now more handsome, beautiful and god-like even after all this years his style of dressing didn't Changed much, he still looked like Kim Kardashian at 2021 met Gala. nevertheless his smile still had those healing properties with his Cresent moon eyes. He was absolutely stunning.

The first sentence he spoke after confirming your identity was 'I missed you' and then tons of lectures and questions . Knowing how narrow-minded you were he gasped dramatically. Cheesiest ways of saying how could I forget my best friend and so on. That day was probably the best day of your life and maybe even the day after years you really smiled. You both exchanged numbers and addresses and his home was just 10 minutes away from yours. Destiny indeed.

Now it's been over 7 months since you met Chan again and he never made you felt like you were just one of his 109 friends. Chan made you feel special, after knowing what kind of disaster you faced he was even more supporting of you, you both used to spend weekend together watching variety of shows and movies going to stargazing, best friend goals. After many years you knew even if Chan had many people to confide with he never really did. He was alone, just a night owl obsessed with work. You were happy. And he was happy too. Being just friends was enough for you, but not for him . He was slowly trying to find courage to confess his love to you. He liked you fuck from highschool days. He found you once randomly staring at him across the room and when you suddenly disappeared all his fantasies were scattered, he knew your dreams and was willing to help you with your every step. knowing how messed up your household was from your neighbours he felt guilty for not being able to give you happiness. He loved you, but was helded by his own insecurities.

Not anymore though, he wasn't the same coward who just stared at the love of his life from distance. Being the extra human he was, he bought you one of the most expensive restaurant of the whole country, man was loaded. After driving for almost 5 hours you both finally reached there .

Now a nervous Chan sitting infront of you. You being oblivious to the fact that he has a beautiful diamond ring and a confession to make. Chan handed you the menu card and every single dish had an extraordinary name, without much thought you placed the order.

"atleast tell me now, why are we here?" You asked the man infront of you who was behaving extra weird today, he looked sick and was occassionally asking you random questions.

"No reason, I was in mood for long drives and... You know have a nice meal" Chan said fidgeting with his fingers he was acting like a flustered high school guy it was clearly indicating that he was lying but you didn't really care, Chan was weird sometimes.

"Sounds fake, but okay. By the way you aren't sick right?" You asked Chan out of pure concern as he was sweating profusely even in an cold AC room.

"I am fine, just feeling a little hot. Don't worry", Chan said it was more like he was convincing himself that he was fine and shouldn't worry. He wasn't a teenager but a human with responsibilities who once again fell for someone out of his league, he used to think that and he still sees you as a literal goddess. While he was lost deep in his thoughts, the waiter came with food , and this was his opportunity to shoot his arrow. You both started eating and talked like being in paradise.

"did you liked anyone in highschool?", Chan asked you out of blue making you almost choke on food. The only person whom you liked throughout your highschool days was the guy sitting infront of you and you didn't really remembered much guys and the best answer was probably saying a lie with little truth.

"no one lol", you answered trying to sound chilled but since highschool crush topic was out you weren't able to keep your curiosity with yourself.

"What about you, liked someone?", You asked trying to sound nonchalant and not desperate and bitter.

This was the Exactly the conversation that Chan planned in his mind. And here started his way to either heaven or pit of rejection.

"I loved someone", Chan said and you this time you really choked from the depth of your heart, you thought Chan was anti romantic type of guy as he never talked about of his female friends with you or bragged about his non existent dating life. Trying again to not sound jealous or bitter you spoke again.

" Who was that lucky bit-- I mean girl yes girl? Who was she?", You asked, almost letting out the bitch loudly. You weren't sure but you saw Chan smiling cheekily, he was really getting old acting weird more and more everyday.

"Well... Someone from our school",Chan said and you swear you didn't made a disgusting face showing pure jealousy. The best human in your life and your first ever crush had crush on somebody, you didn't knew why you were feeling so fucking bitter but you weren't able to handle the curiosity anymore.

"Tell me her damn name", you asked Chan in a frustrating tone not being able to keep jealousy to yourself.

"Why you being angry", Chan asked followed by his small laugh.

"I am angry, just the food was a little spicy you answer me now, her name?", You answered Chan with your defenses up and still sticking with your previous question.

Chan in response got a little serious now,you thought he was being childish now, he wasn't a kid who was given a dare to name out his crush yet he was acting like one.

"You won't leave me right, I mean after I answer your question?", Chan asked you and you didn't knew what to say in response you were now a little sus about him.

"fine don't answer, keep secrets", you said and continued eating. The next thing Chan said made you now choke and die on food.

"I loved you and I still love you" Chan said looking down at the table head hanging down like his teenage self just confessed he watched porn infront of his parents. You were shocked, frozen and the your heartbeat 10x faster, you didn't knew how to react and tried to find humor in this extraordinary situation.

"Chan, you kidding right?", You asked Chan with a nervous smile on your face. Chan looked up at you , his eyes trying to find yours but you avoided the eye contact.

"I am serious, I liked you from HighSchool times, I saw you for the first time in library when you were looking at me, I swear you were so beautiful and even now after all this years after seeing you I can't, I can't help but fall for you all over again, sorry"

Chan confessed, his voice filled with sincerity and vulnerability his sentences were scattered here and there and incomplete explanation but still you understood everything he really poured his heart to you, you felt like crying even if you both weren't such stupid cowards back then, then today you won't have turned out a divorced women and Chan a guy who grew out lonely even if he had a world for him.

"What should I say Chan?", You asked Chan you were sounding like a girl whose bf told her to breakup even if the situation was exact opposite. Even if you love Chan , you didn't think about him reciprocating same feelings back to you. You were beyond insecure with your love emotions. One thing was sure you won't be able to love Chan without being a bundle on him. Your emotion Baggage was too big and you didn't want Chan to get his heart too with your stupid emotions.

"I love you and I will be really really good to you. Please try staying with me I will try really hard to earn space in your heart, please?" His confession was like literally begging. You weren't able to believe if he was real or not, if it was a dream that will end as soon as cruel morning comes, this felt like fantasy. Chan was a amazing man, he had everything money ,honour ,beauty a nice heart. He was like a character written by women so perfect so delicate yet strong, and he loves you this fact was enough for to lose your mind. but you thought you were a taint to his beauty, you were a character full of inferior complexes and a person too easy to dislike thats what illusion you made about yourself. A random extra in her own story.

"I will pay the bill, let's talk later", you said and walked away immediately to pay the bill leaving a clueless and disheartened human behind. Chan was able to see how you stopped yourself from saying love you too and throwing yourself in his arms. He wasn't same from HighSchool a guy who gets overwhelmed by his own emotions and gets unable to see others. He knew you had atleast a small space for him in your heart and to make a big room for himself he had to throw out all your insecurities and self hatred. He followed you like a lost puppy and he wanted to pay for food but you already did and now you were already out of restaurant searching for his car to get back.

Chan sitted beside you, without doing anything silence and awkward air surrounding you both.

"start the car", you said breaking down the silence, you were extremely worthless and trash as you made the only one person whom you love feel like nothing.

"Just answer me, will you try dating me please", Chan said his voice again passing draggers into your heart. Trying to form any logical explanation you spoke again.

"I am not looking for relationship right now, see Chan you are amazing, but I can't make you happy now and did you forgot that I am divorced, please understand" you said expressing your real insecurities and fear, fear of not being able to keep a man happy.

"you don't want relationship because you divorced that fucking trash of a man?", Chan asked he was getting frustrated you thought but he just wanted to make you happy and not deny what your heart wants.

"my mind isn't stable, I might just irritate you everytime with my mood, you will will get tired of me and leave me -- I don't want to be alone again I will die if you leave me", you confessed tears threatening to fall out of your eyes there wasn't any doubt that you loved Chan he filled the void in you in just months made you happy but you didn't wanted to just take and take and give nothing in return. Chan's hand found yours interlocking your fingers with so much delicateness that you might cry.

"you think so low of me, just stay by my side I will make you so happy that you will hardly get time to think about your past, trust me", Chan said his fingers slightly lifting your chin up to look into your eyes, you looked in his eyes filled with so much care and this was your last straw before breaking down in his arms.

"I love you, I love you so fuckin much, you were my first love my only friend, my everything, please-- please love me", you confessed tightening your arms around Chan, his scent making you feel safe and like home, his one caressing your hair and other wiping away the tears. Even though the scene was more like a dramatic clique scene whatever emotions you both felt was unexplainable.

"So you my girlfriend now hmm?"Chan asked you for first time in night his voice containing pure happiness and excitement.

"I have a sexy boyfriend", you said smiling from ear to ear against Chan's chest. The label boyfriend making your heart flutter, you didn't knew happiness like this can even exist.

"My love", Chan said his voice sweeter than honey, suddenly the night was more starry."now can we go home?" You asked Chan finally breaking the hug, reality hitted you now Home was 3- 4 hours away.

"I made a reservation in hotel, we gonna spend night there", Chan casually said making your heart jump out of your chest.

"pervert, you planned everything seriously", you said dramatically and giving him a playful digusting look.

"I booked two rooms", Chan said now starting the engine making you feel embarrassed. "Who is pervert now~" Chan said in air teasing you more.

The rest of the ride you both talked about anything and everything. Confessing how you used to find ways to always be in each others vision etc. Both of you finding a new thirsty side of each other. Nothing felt uncomfortable, it was happiness those inhumane laughs crazy tricks you both used to pull everything was heaven. After some time you both reached infront of a gaint hotel , it looked expensive af but regardless Chan knew how to waste money and you were tired of lecturing him about savings.

"let's go", Chan said removing your seatbelt and getting out of car to open the door for ya. He was being so cheesy gentleman and you were enjoying every minute.

"room 42 and 43" Chan said to the receptionist and she handed two keys to him. Thanking her then getting on elevator, you were a little disappointed that you weren't sharing room with Chan, yes you were pervert and total simp for Chan, he was too hot and your sexual drive was getting higher each passing second. The elevator doors opened and you got off. Chan handed you the room key and softly kissed your forehead, both you wished it was your lips.

"if you want anything, just knock okay?" Chan said in his lovely tone, I want you you internally screamed, nevertheless you gave him a nod and got inside that expensive room .

Starring at the ceiling while lying on the bed your mind was full of Chan, you knew he wasn't probably sleeping and was wasting time in watching random shit on internet and you were hungry, hungry for Chan, it wasn't your fault that Chan was so hot. Trying to fall asleep and fidgeting here to there you finally decided to knock on Chan's room door. A danger zone. You noticed how the door flunged open in less than few seconds.

"Hi" you said scratching back of your head and trying to think what next to say.

"Hi..?"Chan said being confused.

"there is cockroach in my room, let me stay with you" you said a clear white lie. Taking impulsive action were never good for you.Chan sighed before opening the door fully and signalling you to come. This was your happiest day ever.

"whY you lying", Chan asked you as you plopped yourself on sofa besides bed. He asked the sentence in a sarcastic way.

"Do you you wanna kiss me?", You asked Chan with a straight serious face catching him off-guard, you didn't wanted to waste more time, you wanted to do everything with Chan, yes fucking on first day of dating was a little too early but you fantasized about this gorgeous man since ages, in your eyes he looked total dom but his reaction to your question was making you doubt your thoughts.

"Are you sure", Chan asked you clearing his throat.

"Are you virgin?"you asked Chan, he was being too nervous.

"Obviously not"Chan answered you in duh tone, rolling his eyes. And it was getting awkward.

"The cockroach must have gone by now I should go, bye", you blabbered and got up ready to leave, you were about to open the door but Chan grabbed your hand and before you knew anything his hands were on your cheeks cupping them softly and his lips so close to yours, Chan's eyes were looking straight in your orbs , your heartbeat stronger than ever.

"Can I?", Chan asked your consent his thumb softly brushing against your lower lip. This man had totally made you insane, something stirred inside you. Chan was perfect he was everything you wished. You gave him a small nod and slowly his lips touched against yours, you wanted to cry, his lips felt so good, he didn't rushed his movements everything was happening in slow motion, he holded you with such a vulnerability like he was afraid that you will go, your hand reached his head, fingers moving through his soft locks. You felt his tongue inside your mouth , you felt a electricity run down your body when the kiss deepened.

We kiss again. The next kiss is the kind that breaks open the sky. It steals my breath and gives it back. It shows me that every other kiss I’ve had in my life has been wrong.

Breaking the kiss Reluctantly in need of air, Chan rested his forehead against yours. He was hot almost like burning, sweating.

"Why are you so nervous, Chan?", You asked Chan hugging him tightly clinging like the last leaf to the tree.

"I am scared, I just love you", He said engulfing you in his arms. And you Finally felt, what real love feels like.

"Love you too", you replied softly.

"Do you wanna continue..?"Chan asked you his tone little less scared.

"Off course", you said looking at him with smile, something inside you told it was okay to let out your freaky side infront of Chan. Chan smiled back and suddenly turned you around , the large bed infront of you.

"Lie down there",Chan whispered in your ears , his low register sending shivers down your spine. This was exactly how you pictured Chan to be, your inner submissive almost died. You followed Chan's word and laid on your back on the bed, now you were feeling like a virgin. His eyes roaming through the room in search of something.

"Are you okay with being blindfolded?", Chan asked you as he came back with the tie he wore today and was rolling it slightly in his palms, and you swear you never saw a man so hot in your entire life. Getting blindfolded was one of your unfulfilled kinks.

"ye- yes", you replied your tone filled with thrill and excitement. Chan came back to you standing near you, his hand softly cupped your cheeks , before bringing the tie to use it in sinistrous way tonight. The cloth felt strange to your eyes, his cologne smell hitting you and Chan caught your shy smile, His heart felt so fluffy. Tieing a comfortable knot Chan sat on bed near your waist. His hands slowly crept near your stomach leaving a direct lingering touch on the sensitive skin, eventually going upwards while giving a little squeeze to add stimulation, his hands reached your boobs, you didn't wore bra, and he wasn't surprised maybe your nipples perked up enough to get noticed, his middle and index finger Rolling your sensitive bundle of nerves, the blindfold making his every touch more intense, your breath was heavy you let out a suprised moan when Chan gropped your right boob in an erotic way, this sole action increasing your wetness down there you were getting impatient. You moaned his name a little loudly when his lips came in contact with your sensitive neck, sucking in a painful way, inorder to leave a hickey.

"Should I touch you here", Chan asked you as his hand reached to your area where you needed him to the most, hands going directly inside your panties ,but not touching he was a teaser.

"yes please", you moaned almost breathlessly too tired of intense foreplay. You just wanted Chan to rip off your clothes and fuck you till sunrise. Getting satisfaction with your answer Chan finally removed every clothing of your lower body, leaving you completely bare, all at his mercy. His finger moved up and down on your opening , the wetness making Chan easily slip his one finger deep inside you.

" my baby is so wet, because of who?", Chan asked you as his finger was moving slowly inside of you and thumb rubbing circles on the bundle of nerves.

"because of.. you", you admitted without any hesitation trying to grind yourself on his hand, begging for more.

"Good", Chan said and without saying anything he added another finger inside you moving a little faster inside your cunt, rubbing your walls with a little pressure, scissoring them inside you painfully and making way for a third finger too and by then you were a complete moaning mess, his fingers were pleasure yet torture the blindfold making your senses weak. Mind full of whatever Cham was giving you. Your legs were shaking sign of your orgasm approaching you, by one hand Chan holded your thighs tightly to their place fingers now moving more faster to make you reach the peak of pleasure.

"Chan.. I--I-I-- wanna cum please", you moaned your little squeaks and begs almost making Chan's cock cum right inside boxers. With some final thrust of his fingers, you cummed the hardest you could imagine, squeaky sounds coming as Chan was fingering you through your orgasm, you almost crying from overstimulation. Moaning his name like a chant.

"you did well",Chan praised you finally removing his fingers from you leaving you empty, but it won't have last wrong. Chan removed your blindfold , the bright lights hurting your eyes, you adjusted your vision and the image of Chan sucking his wet fingers coated with your liquid came directly in front of your eyes. Letting out a helpless whine.

Chan plopped himself on knees on either side of your thighs, finally letting his cock out, leaking with precum, and he was big, thick , you didn't thought he could get even hotter.

"Ready baby?", Chan asked you as he fully undressed himself as well as removing your top, your mind hazey . The scene which you pictured since highschool finally happening.

"yes", you replied Chan, he came down to kiss you passionately and slowly entering inside you. You moaned painfully, tears pulling your vision, it was a painful pleasure. Chan kissed away your tears and hand interlocking with yours after finally being fully inside you he started to move at slow pace.

"you feel so good Chan", almost screaming from pleasure, your whines were fuel to Chan's ego and he increased the pace. Body slapping sound filling the room, his groans were most sexy thing you ever heard. Again and again his tip hitting your deepest spots.

"I am close", you moaned out breathlessly, pleasure becaming too much to handle .you released around his cock, reaching the peak second time at night.

After giving a few more thrusts Chan cummed at your stomach, he was still sane enough to not curse you with kids while being lost in pleasure."I love you", he said as he settled beside you hugging you tightly. This was heaven.

"love you too", you said , your voice a little hoarse.

"by the way I forgot that I bought a ring to propose you", Chan said, realisation hitting him, that he forgot to say the long ass paragraph that he was supposed to say while sitting on one knee. You smiled at his guilty face.

"don't worry, propose me after having shower", you said heart filled with pure joy and happiness . Happiness of knowing that You love someone who will always love you back.

[palbabor-writes]

Practicum

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT/18+ only, unbalanced/unhealthy relationships, student/teacher sex, tw.dubcon, tw.sub/dom dynamics, brat taming, fingering, masturbation, a table is pretty roughed up in this, so pls hold a brief moment of silence for it    

Words: 12,857

“So, you just want me to read from the book?”

“Yes.”

“And...answer questions?”

“That’s what I said,” Shigaraki smirks, already reaching toward his bookshelf, tugging the heavy Intro to Biology text out and shifting it into his large hands.

You bite at your lip again and pass your gaze from his amused expression to the bland cover of the textbook, debating your next move, trying to walk yourself through all the ups and downs. It’s too simple; too easy. It’s not like him. He’s got something else in mind, why else would he fucking look like that? It’s not a bad look. No, it’s a look that makes your stomach flip and head spin.

“Stop being so suspicious,” Shigaraki scolds, drawing your wandering attention back to him. “I don’t bite, that is, unless you want me to.”

Notes: the title was selected because it’s got the word cum in it. ahhh, the things that crack me up. anyhow. 

this is part of the BNHA Degeneracy server’s 9 to 5 collaboration! i had a ton of fun participating in this and thank you guys for making this so freaking awesome! special shoutout & thanks to @albinoburrito​ & @kugutsuu​ for their beta edits! this was a departure from what i usually write about and i appreciate all of your notes and help!  

Practicum prac·ti·cum /ˈpraktəkəm/ noun a practical section of a course of study

It’s your senior year, they said. Live a little, they advised. Stop and take a breather, you’re practically home free! Take some easier classes. Focus on what’s in front of you, it’ll be over before you know it! On and on and on. 

Spring semester is almost here. You’ve applied for graduation, the cap and gown ordered, and you have a shiny class ring sitting on your pinky. It’s in the bag. Just breeze through four more classes and you’re out. Well, it would be an easy shot, if you hadn’t put off this one class. 

It always popped up, so it’s not like you could plead ignorance. Your advisor warned you, each quarterly meeting, that you needed to get it out of the way. Take it seriously, he cautioned, clacking out his notes, typing down that you’d failed to heed his sage advice, again. If you wait too long, you’re not going to get the professor that you want.

That was the other problem. You’re a procrastination superstar. If there was some kinda award for putting off assignments, you’d have won it ten times over. You liked the heart pounding race to the deadline, the sleepy boasts that you’d tackled the project within hours of its due date. 

It’s a stupid habit. Every semester you promise yourself that you’ll do better. You won’t wait, you’ll tackle things one assignment at a time and turn them before the hard cut off at 11:59 pm. Who the fuck did you think you were kidding? Certainly not your friends, or your advisor. He could read you like a book. Hell, he’d even sent warnings. 

‘Don’t forget about the deadline for senior registration!’

‘You don’t want to be on a waitlist. You especially don’t want to take one of the harder professors. These are freshman level classes, they’re designed to flunk undergrads. Don’t forget (Y/N), chew them up and spit them out tactics are employed.’ 

But you had. You’d set an alarm on your phone, then neglected to give it a title, so you’d only chuckled and smacked the chirping into silence that morning, snoozing the all important deadline away. 

Fuck. 

Most of the classes for biology are wait-listed. No, scratch that, all the classes for Intro to Genetic Biology are wait-listed. You opt into the waitlist for all of them, just in case, and a week later your phone alerts you that one has an open seat. Actually, it has several open seats, too many open seats to be natural. However, you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, so for now, you’re enrolled in BIO 1208: Principles of Cell and Organismal Physiology - For Non-Science majors. 

Perfect.

Yeah, no. You’d looked up the professor, since the whole open seat thing was still giving you the heebie-jeebies, and your heart dropped. You’ve heard of him, most of the student body has. His classes are notoriously small. Not because the university limited them, or planned for smaller class sizes. No, his classes are tiny because he is infamous for failing students. 

Most, when they realize they’re scheduled for his bio classes, frantically drop, taking the withdrawal and praying for better luck next semester. Others, brave souls who think they can come out unscathed, attempt to grit their teeth and push through. But, by midterms, they’re war torn and haggard, shaking their heads and praying for a ‘C’, at best. Fewer still, pass.

This pedagogy isn’t a sign of good teaching; quite the opposite, in fact. You don’t want your student body failing. Yet, year after year, Professor Tomura Shigaraki keeps teaching the same Intro to Bio class. It boggles the mind, but you’ve never had to worry about it. Well, until now. 

When you’d received the notification that you’re enrolled in the B section and spied the name Shigaraki under the professor listing, you’d scarfed down your suddenly flavorless lunch and dashed up the steps to the student advising hall, praying there was some way you could wiggle your way out of this growing disaster.

“I’m pretty sure I told you to take it earlier and to take it in the fall when there are more freshman level classes available. I swear I said that to you. And, AND, I even sent you emails, several times if my sent inbox is to be believed, to NOT forget when senior registration ends.” 

Your advisor is peeved. You don’t blame him. He’s right, this is your fault, but there’s gotta be some kinda loophole. Something, fuck, anything, that can pull you from this mess. 

“I know, I know! I’m so sorry. You’re right. But, I mean, can’t I just hold off for another week? See if the waitlist clears?”

The man that you’ve known for four years, that’s seen you progress from freshman to senior, steeples his long fingers and purses his lips, likely debating on a tactful scolding, or a firm rebuttal. He takes a deep breath and you can’t help but sink into the soft cushioning of the chair, your nose wrinkled and brow furrowed, mentally preparing yourself for the worst.

“Do you know how many students we require to take BIO 1208?”

“No,” you gulp, nibbling on your lower lip nervously. 

“Over 7,000. Do you want to hear the statistics that would need to shake out in your favor for you to miraculously avoid taking this specific class? Nothing is going to open for you, it is this class, or no class.”

You sigh, and your advisor nods, pushing his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose. “Well then, I suggest you brush up on your study skills. Find a classmate that you can compare notes with, join a study group, go to the student union and ask for a tutor. I would hate to see you back here for the summer semester. You’re scheduled to walk the stage this spring and you’ve worked hard for this, so don’t fuck it up, okay?”

You’ve attended this university for four years, but the first day of term always gives you the jitters. It doesn’t matter that you know your way around, or that you know ten professors by name, and bump into several friends on the way to your next building, you’re always buried in your phone, checking and double checking the next class’ room number. 

Despite all that caution, you’re lost.

In your defense, it’s your first time stepping foot in the Graduate & Research building and the whole concrete block is a fucking maze. There must be a basement because the numbers don’t match up with the floors and they seem to jumble further every time you round a corner. Like what the hell? How can this next room be GR 3.03.05 when this is clearly only the second floor and GR 2.03.11 was right down that other hallway?

Exasperated, you lean against the nearest wall and tug your phone out again. Shit. Class started ten minutes ago. 

Part of you wants to call it a day, end the search here and try again on Wednesday. Maybe take a few extra minutes to scout out the building next time and have some idea of where you’re going before the start of class. 

Ugh, why is this so stressful? 

It’s the first day of classes. Surely Professor Shigaraki won’t mind if you’re a few minutes late; besides, if you’re lost, others must be too. 

You tuck your phone back into your pocket and resume the hunt. Two hallway turns later, you find your mark.

Your hand pauses beside the heavy wood, and you take a steadying breath. Again, why are you so nervous? Just go in and take a seat, it’s easy, stop freaking out over nothing. 

The door groans open, hinges protesting the sharp push, and you stumble into a darkened room. The low glow of the projector doesn’t help your blurry vision. Ah, shit, it’s one of those older rooms, so it’s built like a bad movie theater. Oh well, better get to a seat before he spots you. 

Swiftly, you make your way toward the raised steps of the aisle and the second row of chairs, plopping into the first one you reach that’s empty. You’re too busy fiddling with the zipper of your backpack to notice that the speaker has stopped his rasping preamble, but as you pull your laptop out the ominous weight of that heavy silence hits you and you toss a hooded stare toward the front of the lecture hall. 

Immediately, your eyes land on the professor’s and you feel a low shiver shake up your spine. 

He’s watching you. 

The gleam of the overhead projector makes his red eyes flash, and he openly scowls at your gaping expression, his lips curling into a dark sneer.

“Well, thank you for joining us, Miss…?”

He’s waiting for your response and you squeak out your last name, mindlessly rubbing your moistening palms against your thin skirt. 

“Ah, Ms. (L/N). Now that you’ve graced the class with your belated presence, may I continue?”

“Uh,” you gasp out, your mouth dry, tongue sticking to your teeth, “I’m sorry. I got–”

“I didn’t ask for an explanation, or in your case, an excuse. Or are you now attempting to disrupt this class purposefully?”

“Wha– I-I’m–” your words stumble to a halt, voice failing under the intense glare that he’s giving you. “No,” you finish lamely, ducking your head, nails digging into your sweaty palms. 

“Thank you. Do me a favor, stay after class.” His voice is gravel, threatening and low. You don’t like the edge in his tone. It makes your skin prickle and your knees knock. He sounds like the kind of guy that you don’t want to run into in a dark alleyway, or a classroom, for that matter. Even so, it’s not your fault, and despite your feelings of unease, you can’t tamp down your need to protest his unreasonableness. 

“But, professor, I didn’t mean to–”

“If I need to repeat my insistence for silence, I’ll make things easier on both of us and fail you now.”

Stunned and fuming, you bite your tongue and lean back into your chair, crossing your arms and blinking back mounting tears of frustration. Great, just great. It’s the first fucking day of class and it looks like you’re already on his shit list. And for what? For being late on fucking syllabus day! What an ass. 

You look over at him as you defiantly finish setting up your computer, hoping each pull of a zipper or screen reboot will grate under his stuck up skin. He’s not inordinately tall, or old. In fact, he looks like he might only be in early 30s. He has long white hair that’s pulled back into a low ponytail and, from what you can make out in the dim lighting, some kinda skin condition on his forehead. That, or he’s prematurely wrinkled, and let’s be honest, if he’s gone through life with that big of a stick up his ass, he deserves each and every pull on that mottled skin of his. 

You linger in your seat when class is over, lips pulled into a thin line and legs crossed. Finally, when the last student has left the room, professor Shigaraki flips a switch beside his elevated podium, filling the lecture hall with a sharp, fluorescent light. He pauses by his raised computer system and clicks off the overhead projector, blanketing the massive room in an uncomfortable silence. 

“Since you missed the part of class where I go over the syllabus, I’ll give you a brief rundown. Under no circumstances will I tolerate tardiness. If you do it once more I’ll mark you absent and three absences knock you down a full letter grade.”

Glumly, you cross your arms and peer up at him, finally able to get a good look at his face. Your first observation was correct. His skin is sharper around his forehead, but his wavy white hair does a pretty decent job of covering up the imperfections. He has two scars: one nicks across his right eye and the other splits down his rough lips, parting the skin and granting him an even more foreboding appearance than his already gruff demeanor does. He’s dressed in a dark pair of jeans and he’s wearing a low slung v neck shirt. It’s a brilliant red and it brings out that otherworldly glint of his red eyes. Shit, you think bitterly, while he’s not conventionally handsome, he’s not exactly hard on the eyes either. 

You shake your head against these unproductive musings and curtly snap out a clipped, ok.

“What was that?” Shigaraki scoffs, tilting his head at your sullen figure. “Speak up.”

“I said,” you bristle, eyes narrowing and chin lifting, “Okay, I apologize for interrupting your lecture, it won’t happen again. But, in my defense, if I’m allowed to do that in this class, I’ve never been in this building before, and it’s not like–”

“You’re a senior, right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Then you’ve had four years to figure out the layout of this university. The excuse of ‘being lost,’ isn’t an option for you. You know the buildings and you’re fully capable of turning up early to sort out the rooms.”

You let out a long sigh and look away, mumbling vague protests. This guy is ridiculous. You’re not a science major and it’s not your job to know the ins and outs of each building. How fucking stupid. Who does he think he–

“Speak up. I won’t ask you again.”

You bite your lip and look back at him but he’s moved in that distracted moment, silently stepping down from his raised platform and is now leaning over the first row of chairs, looming over you. You can’t help your sudden flinch as you sink further into your chair, away from him.

“If you’re gonna complain, Ms. (L/N), I’d much rather hear it. Don’t you think It’s rude for you to mutter under your breath about me? You don’t see me doing that to you.”

“Fine,” you blurt out, turning away from his insistent, and all too close, gaze. “I was saying that I’m not a science major. I get that I’m a senior, but you can’t seriously expect me to know every nook and cranny of this campus.”

“No, but I can ask for you to be a little more thoughtful. I put time and effort into my lessons and I won’t have you undermining them by bouncing in here with those legs and that flouncy little skirt.”

You’re about to counter his little haughty speech on politeness when you finally process that final comment he’d breathed out. Flabbergasted, you raise your head back to his, but he’s already moving away, snatching up his shoulder bag and waving you a curt goodbye as he presses open the squeaky door. “Next class is at 10 am sharp, so be on time Ms. (L/N).”

You’re still slumped in your seat when the door glides shut again, your eyes wide and jaw no doubt comically unhinged. 

Wait. Did…did he really just say that?

Obviously, for the next class, you’re early. You’re so early that you’re the first one in the lecture hall. You select a seat toward the back and fiddle with your computer, checking your messages, adjusting your brightness, replying to old emails, anything to keep your head down and attention occupied. 

The door opens and, despite your best efforts, your head flies up, expectant and tense, ready to meet those red eyes of his head on, to show him you’re here and he better… oh. It’s not him. It’s two chattering freshmen. One of them gives you a quick smile, but they both quickly take their seats, a few rows over, and continue their soft conversation, leaving you to fall back onto your earlier distraction tactics. You twiddle with your phone and shoot off a few texts, change your wallpaper, accidentally close an app you meant to leave open, and then the lecture hall door reopens.

He steps in slowly, completely ignoring you and the other scattered students, opting to sort out a few papers and set up his login on the school computer. The minutes tick by and you can’t seem to jerk your eyes away from him, suddenly fascinated by his languid movements. He looks more relaxed than he did on Monday, looser and fluid, completely in his element. True to his word, at ten am on the dot he begins class. 

Professor Shigaraki has an interesting voice. It’s low, calculated, bordering on a rasp. It’s one of those tones that makes you want to lean forward and listen up, even though he’s only discussing cellular biology. Which isn’t exactly the sexiest topic for that shockingly dulcet timbre of his. 

Wait. Sexy? 

Your pen falters against your notebook, and your eyes drift up to his frame. He’s switched the lights off again and the shine of the overhead projector is the only illumination in the hall. His white hair gleams in the dim lighting and his long hands animatedly illustrate his points, elegant fingers opening and closing, gesticulating about the intricate nature of the human genome. You’re so focused on watching his movements that your elbow partner has to push the slip of paper onto your collapsible desktop. You blink at the sheet, your pen nearly clattering from your hand, and you twist to peer at the unfamiliar student beside you. 

“It’s the attendance sheet and, um, I think you’re the last one,” they whisper, careful to lean away after they finish their explanation, not wanting to draw professor Shigaraki’s ire. You maneuver the paper under your pen and scribble down your name, biting your lip and silently berating yourself for your poor selection in seating. Great, now you’ll have to take the paper down to him after class. What if he talks with you again? Shit. 

At 11:25, class ends. You collect your things and plod down the steps, the attendance sheet clutched between your fingers. He’s just snapping the projector light off when you reach his podium. 

“I, uhh, have the attendance. You want me to just leave it here, or…”

“I’ll take it,” his hand is extended toward you and those red eyes are fixed on you now. It’s not the same disgruntled stare he’d given you on Monday. No, this look is a little more curious. Again, you’re taken aback by your reaction to him. He’s not even saying anything, just patiently waiting for you to deposit the sheet into his open palm, but there’s something about him that’s making your heart race. 

Maybe it’s those eyes of his. 

They are an unusual color and they have a strange intensity to them. Right as they narrow, the vermillion shining under the sharp lights; you press the paper to him and he pulls it from you, studying the names that are listed. 

You want to say something. Maybe toss him a quick, friendly, goodbye. Or apologize for the other day? Ugh. What can you even say? ‘Gosh, so glad I was on time today! All that fascinating information about the genetic code! So glad to be here!’ No, that sounds stupid and a little patronizing. Besides, why do you want to talk with him at all? He’s an ass, remember?

“Did you need something?”

His question snaps you out of your stupor and you numbly shake your head at him, already lowering your gaze, but his exhaled chuckle makes you pause, your fingers curling around your backpack straps.  

“I know I upset you the other day, but I appreciate you taking the effort to correct your mistake.” 

“Oh,” you breathe, your eyes finding their way back to his. “Yeah, well, like you said, I’m a senior. Gotta take responsibility for myself someday.”

“Ah,” he smirks, that long scar on his lip quirking upward. “Seems like you’ve got some determination after all. You might be more interesting than I gave you credit for.”

“God,” you scoff, popping out a hip and crossing your arms at the bemused leer on his face. “Just come right out and say you think I’m a bad student, why don’t you?”

“Don’t worry,” he amends, tucking the attendance sheet into his shoulder bag and snapping the clasps closed. “There’s plenty of time for you to end up right back at square one with me.”

He’s already halfway out the door by the time you right yourself from the shock of his last comment and you follow him, a string of low curses falling from your lips. 

The spring semester always flies by, and before you realize it, a full month has bled away. You’ve kept that same seat in Shigaraki’s class and at the end of each session you head down to his little platform, attendance sheet outstretched. Each day of class has a different ebb and flow. Sometimes he chats with you and it’s gotten easier to talk with him, both of your eyes holding and lingering, lips raised into calculating smiles. Sometimes it almost feels like he’s flirting with you. Other days he only spares you a curt nod, his white hair curtaining his expression from your curious gaze. You’re not bothered by these silences, not when you’ve got your secret weapon. 

The days that you like best, the ones that you plan, sorting through your closet until you’ve found the perfect choice, are the days when you wear one of your skirts. You’d even gone on some skirt shopping sprees as of late. On those days he doesn’t just make some sort of fleeting eye contact with you, no, on those days he stares. 

At first, you’d tested out your theory, staggering your outfits, careful to not screw up your suspicions with a hasty miscalculation, but as they say, the third time’s the charm. How did he expect you not to notice? He never bothers to hide those sharp ogles and recently you’ve made a point of dramatically gathering your things when you wear these cute little ensembles, bopping down the steps so his eyes have to work to follow the line of your hips and the long paths of your bare legs. One rainy afternoon you’d worn over the knee stockings, that came to an abrupt halt over the plush skin of your upper thigh, under your mini skirt and he’d practically leapt over the podium to grab the sheet from you, his eyes hooded and dark, almost wild.

“Test, on Friday,” he warns, eyes finally rising to meet your bemused expression. “Don’t stay out too late tonight.”

“What makes you say that?” you ask, brushing at a rogue fold in your skirt, luring him back to your legs. 

He scoffs at you, that jagged scar arching into a smirk. “Humph. You’re dressed up. Most of the students just wear the sweats, or pjs, and call it a day.” 

“I like to put a little effort in all that I do,” you retort, grinning up at his vermillion stare. 

“Yes, so I’ve noticed. You certainly look the part…and you’re keeping up with the workload of this course.”

“Ahhh,” you crow, clapping your hands excitedly. “Are you saying I might get an ‘A’ in this class? Be the first time someone’s done that in a while, from what I’ve heard around campus.”

Shigaraki sneers and tuts out an inaudible reply, leaning a little closer to you, making you inadvertently fall back a step. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Awe,” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m doing ok on all the quizzes and the classwork.”

“So far,” he taunts, his pearlescent hair falling over his broad shoulder.

“Tch. Don’t be like that. I’ve been studying.”

“Sometimes it takes more than that.”

“Oh?” you smile, raising your chin. “What else should I be doing, professor?”

“We’ll know that after Friday, won’t we?”

God. 

You’d felt so confident when you’d turned in your test and that stupid, horrible, sexy little quirk of his lip scar that he sends you, when you’d handed him your papers, carries you on some strange, half aroused cloud all weekend. Maybe, just maybe, this class won’t be so bad after all.

The tests are handed back the following Friday, passed from row to row so everyone can fish out their papers and marked Scantrons. Yours, since you still occupy that final seat on the back row, is the last. Biting back a grin, you flip it over, so ready to see that A, that grade that you worked so fucking hard for, that… wait.

The gross flash of red across the top of your paper leaves you reeling, your breath catching against the back of your throat. It’s not a terrible grade, well, it wouldn’t be, but there are only three tests in this class, so it’s going to plummet you down to a B. One more fuck up will leave you with a C, or worse, an automatic failing grade. 

No. No, no, no, no. 

You can’t afford a bad grade, you honestly can’t even let yourself slip to a B. Your fucking cap and gown have just come in and with them that cord that you can wear around your neck at graduation. The one that marks you as honors cum laude. Fuck. You’re already pulling one B, in one of your other classes, because you’ve been focusing so much time and effort on this one. Another B will strip that cord from you, leaving you barren, with a less than ideal GPA. 

God fucking damn it.

You glare up at Shigaraki, who’s busy taking the rest of the class through a review of genetic mutations, but you can’t hear him anymore, too incensed, too overwhelmed to even care about what he’s saying. The test crumples under your fingertips, the paper shaking in your hands, and you seethe, your teeth biting your lower lip to pieces. 

It’s not fair. You’d paid attention. You’ve taken all the notes. Read all the chapters. Drilled and studied till your eyes had drooped, heavy with exhaustion. You’ve done it all right. Plus, he’d been so fucking flirty, so open with you. You’ve never chatted with a professor this way, never gone out of your way to wear clothes they like, that make them watch you, their eyes hungry pinpricks as you walk to them, mindful of the luscious sway of your hips. 

No. Fuck him. Fuck this class.

Before your elbow classmate can leave, you ask for them to hand in the attendance sheet. You barely hear their response, too busy slamming your laptop into your backpack. As you storm past the podium, you can feel his eyes on you. The distant sensation of his gaze makes your flesh prickle, but you ignore your involuntary reaction and shove your way out the door. 

“(Y/N), you can’t switch classes this late. It’s almost midterms. Besides, I don’t think anything has opened up and if you’re going to drop it, you’ve gotta get the signature of the professor,” your advisor tells you, blinking at your stony expression over his thick glasses. “I don’t get it. Why do you want to drop it? Your grades are alright and it’s just one test. You can always try–”

“Gimme the paperwork.”

Shigaraki’s office is on the top floor of the research building, tucked away down another winding and weaving hallway that once again requires your careful inspection to navigate. When you finally hit the right set of doors, you slowly make your way forward, counting the numbers up as you pass. His door is wide open, a yawning cavern that’s filled with the distant light of a lamp. You brush a hand down your skirt, smoothing away any wrinkles and steadying your nerves. 

You’d tossed on the skirt this morning, before you’d gotten the grade, and you hadn’t thought to go home and change, too consumed by that simmering rage bubbling within you. And now, like this fucking class, this skirt felt like a mistake, something stupid and vapid that you wished you had time to change out of. He’d told you he liked your attire, liked that you put effort into your outfits. At the time, you’d been so thrilled and excited that he’d complimented you, but now you wish you were confronting him in baggy jeans or lazy sweats, anything that would turn that avid gaze of his away from you. 

Lost in thought, you waver beside his open door, nibbling on your lips and tugging at your clothes. It’s now or never. No point in putting it off. What’s the worst that can happen? What can he do now? Or, a darker side of you whispers, what do you want him to do to you? What? That’s a stupid thought, you scold yourself, lifting a hand to the wall and rapping against the beige paint, announcing your presence. 

When the sound fades away, swallowed up by the empty and darkened hallway, you poke your head around the corner, searching for him. His head is tilted quizzically, and he blinks twice when he spots you, that all too familiar smirk lifting his lips. 

“Ah, Ms. (L/N), what can I do for you?”

His voice is softer than usual and your name sounds like honey, his tone resting on the syllables and consonants for a beat, almost as if he’s savoring their lift, their sound. You can’t help but swallow heavily at his appraisal. Suddenly this may be a terrible idea. 

Ugh. Get a grip (Y/N). 

“I-I need you to sign this withdrawal paperwork,” you finally reply, digging in your bag and tugging out the thin leaflet, holding it out to him. He’s silent after your demand, meditatively threading his fingers and peering up at you, his red eyes bright. 

“Step inside and shut the door behind you,” he instructs, his gaze never falling from yours. Despite the simplicity of his request, you can’t help but bristle at his imperious tone. Why does he always have to sound like that? Like he’s seconds away from taking control of the situation, or of you? He’s always one stupid step ahead, and no doubt he’s going to try and talk you down. Or, he’ll sign it and say that he always knew you were a screw up, someone who only did things halfway, who could never match up to his lofty expectations. Humph, the sooner you’re outta here and out of his class, the better. So, you obey, closing the door and petulantly flopping into the unsteady chair that sits in front of his low desk. 

He maintains that uneasy quiet, his red eyes whisking over your disgruntled face, waiting, watching. Unable to take this strange standoff, you push the university paperwork toward him, sliding it as close as you dare to his bent elbows. “I would like to withdraw from your class,” you repeat, lips setting into a thin line. 

“Why?” he asks, cocking his head so his loose white hair falls a little further down his rough brow. 

“Something came up.”

“Hmm, I can try to work with a new schedule, if it’s your job, or home life,” he counters, eyes narrowing as he sharpens his observations of your brittle expression. 

“It’s not that,” you smart, crossing your arms. Great, he’s going to make this difficult. 

“Then I suggest you tell me what’s on your mind,” Shigaraki replies, mirroring your movements and leaning back in his chair. 

“I don’t think this class is working out for me.”

He exhales a soft laugh at your lie, and you watch that tiny mole at the edge of his chin lift in his quiet mirth. “This is a freshman level course and you’re a senior. You’re in my class because it’s likely the last pre-rec that you need to take before you graduate.”

“Um, yeah. But–”

“And now, you’re wanting to drop it because of one poor grade.”

You grind your teeth and fix him with a stark glower. “I–”

“There will be two other tests. If you read your syllabus, you’d know this.”

“I read the syllabus. Your tests are worth a stupid amount of points and it only takes one of them to tank my grade.”

“Frankly, you did better than most of the class. You only need to work on practical application. I said that the written portion would be a major component of the exam. I also provided you with a review and a rubric. So I’m not sure–”

“Your grade drops me to a ‘B’, and that ‘B’ pulls me from the honors list. And… well… I thought that…”

“Oh? What did you think?” he presses, his voice suddenly dropping to that lower octave it had drifted into when he said your last name. 

“I thought I’d get a better grade,” you spit out, turning your head and biting at your lip again. 

“Why?” he counters simply. His obtuseness is making your blood boil.

“What do you mean, why?” It takes all of your will to not slip a ‘jackass’ into that question. 

“It’s not a hard thing to answer. I graded you fairly and according to my rubric. Why exactly do you feel you merit a different grade than the one you earned?”

You fall into a frustrated silence. You can hear your heart pounding against your ribs and you want to scream at him, to leap over his desk and shake him until his teeth fucking rattle. Your shoulders are rising and lowering disjointedly and his vermillion eyes are honed in on your face, shifting over your pinched expression with a distant interest. You can feel tears pricking at your eyes and you hastily rub a fist over them, brushing away any rogue drops of moisture.

“How can you ask me that? You think I didn’t notice you staring at my legs? Or that you always had something to say to me when I was wearing a skirt? What was I supposed to think, huh? I fucking thought shit like that was gonna help, ok? God, I’m so stupid. I can’t… fuck.” 

Shigaraki arches forward when you finish, a deep sigh leaching through his parted lips. His teeth snap together when you look up at him, your eyes gaining back some of that earlier defiance, and he gives you a quick grin, clearly pleased by your shift in attitude and pushes your paper aside, fixing you with a dark look. “Here’s a thought, since you feel you’re so different, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you a chance to make up the score.”

“I don’t care about the score anymore. I wanna drop your class,” you snap, but it’s a halfhearted barb. Something has changed in his demeanor. He’s dropped the concerned professor act and is leaning so close you can hear his steady intakes of air. He’s only a few inches away; if you want, you could touch him.

“I doubt you want to attend a class in the summer. Besides, they won’t let you walk if you haven’t finished your freshman level courses. And you can’t tell me you don’t want to graduate, to earn that cord that lets you into the honor cum laude. So stop pouting and hear me out. I think you’ll like what I have in mind.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever like anything about you,” your voice is sharper than you mean it to be, but the challenge makes Shigaraki smile. As it crosses his cracked lips, it pulls that scar up and it makes those eyes of his glow. He looks like the cat that’s got the cream and you’re not sure how to respond, so you cross your legs and wait for him to make the next move. 

“You sure about that? Well, I’ll have to change your tune then, won’t I? But that can wait, lemme tell you what my requirements are. I’ve got a copy of the textbook in here. I’ll have you review some of the major concepts, you’ll read the passages aloud so I’m sure you’re on the right track, you’ll hand the book back to me, and then I’ll verbally quiz you over the material. If you answer them correctly, I’ll bump you to an ‘A’ on your test.”

You have to actively work to keep your mouth closed. “So, you just want me to read from the book?”

“Yes.”

“And… answer questions?”

“That’s what I said,” Shigaraki smirks, already reaching toward his bookshelf, tugging the heavy Intro to Biology text out and shifting it into his large hands. 

You bite at your lip again and pass your gaze from his amused expression to the bland cover of the textbook, debating your next move, trying to walk yourself through all the ups and downs. It’s too simple; too easy. It’s not like him. He’s got something else in mind, why else would he fucking look like that? It’s not a bad look. No, it’s a look that makes your stomach flip and head spin. 

“Stop being so suspicious,” Shigaraki scolds, drawing your wandering attention back to him. “I don’t bite, that is, unless you want me to.”

Your eyes boggle and you have to clench your thighs tighter, your stomach churning, you feel light-headed and you can feel your core fluttering with your sudden arousal. “Wh-what did you just say?”

“Stop gaping at me like that, you’ll make me blush. Now come on.”

Your jaw snaps closed and you shake your head, trying to clear your mind from your whirling emotions. He takes this reaction as a surrender and stands, stepping toward a marred table that rests a little ways away from his desk. He licks his thumb pad and flips through a few pages before finally settling on an appealing section. Once he places it on the table, he twists back to you and crooks a finger your way. “Come here,” he orders, his voice deep and languid. Obediently, you rise on unsteady feet, hands tugging at the length of your skirt, careful to keep it pressed down as you walk toward him. 

He makes space for you to stand in front of the book and shifts back, one hand resting on the table, propping him close to your bent figure. You look up at him, but he only nods his head toward the table, a wicked smile curling the corners of his lips. Blink a few times but finally, the words clear and you can see the block of text that’s in front of you. It’s passages on DNA encodes and RNA proteins, hefty stuff, things that you had to make flash cards for. This isn’t going to be easy. If anything, he’s picked some of the harder concepts, the ones that take steady knowledge in the foundations. Flustered, you look back to him, but he’s moved. He’s leaning against the wide window beside the table, a dark mark against the glass.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, a laugh bubbling in his tone.

“There’s no way…” you stammer, shaking your head at him. 

“Want me to throw a curve in?”

“I should ask what kinda curve, but knowing you, it’s likely gonna be something terrible.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he rumbles, stepping away from the window and leaning close to your stiff form. “It just takes an open mind and some enthusiasm on your part.”

“Enthusiasm?” you question, trying your best to withstand his closeness. You can feel the heat radiating off of his broad shoulder and if you tilt a little nearer, you could graze against him, or feel his breath on your skin. 

“You’re right,” he amends, his forearm contacting your side. You startle at the touch, a gasp falling from your lips, but you don’t pull away and you can’t stop staring up at him, your eyes wide. “Obedience is a better word. From here on out, whatever I tell you to do, I expect you to obey it, although it’s not exactly, ah, school approved.”

“You want me to suck you off or something?” you sneer, hoping to stumble him off his guard, even if it’s only for an instant. Too bad he’s always one step ahead. 

“Don’t be vulgar. Think outside of the box, (Y/N). Do you think I’m going to go for something so short sighted when I could have you bending to my will? Obeying every little demand that I make? I’d much rather see if that skin of yours tastes as good as it looks, then simply have you on your knees. No, I want you to fucking scream for me while I stuff you full of my cock. But first, you need to put in some work. You should know that by now.”

Oxygen is suddenly very hard to come by and you can feel your mind hazing over as you stammer up at him, your mind flitting from word to word disjointedly. Shigaraki grants you a wolfish grin, and he dips his lips beside your ear, whispering over those tiny hairs that rest against your tender skin. “I’ll make this part easy. Nod and I’ll give you the first set of instructions.” 

What did he say? Nod? What happens when you nod? Fuck, why are you letting him do this? Is your grade really worth it? Are you that desperate that… that… 

Shigaraki is whispering other promises over you as you war with yourself, speaking his words gently, slowly, his breath hot as it fans over your neck. It’s like you’ve fallen under some kinda spell and before you realize it, your traitorous head is bobbing up and down, letting him know you want him to keep going.

“Perfect,” he sighs, his lips grazing over the shell of your ear, jerking a shiver from you. “Now, lean forward and put your hands against the table.” 

You do as he says, but he’s not satisfied with your positioning, his fingers wrapping around your wrists and yanking you forward, jutting your ass out and pressing your chest down, maneuvering you until your nose is right above the pages of the textbook. “There we go,” he rasps, pulling away so he can admire your splayed form. “Hmm, your legs are too close together. Spread them.” Knees trembling, you obey, gasping when he runs a palm against the curve of your thighs.

“You’ve got such nice legs (Y/N), so let’s put them on display, shall we?” His fingers search against the top of your skirt and they still when he reaches his prize: the zipper. When he pulls it down, you let out a sharp squeak of protestation but he silences you with a swift pinch to your side. 

“Now, now, don’t be like that. You nodded, remember? Besides, you could have left when I told you I’d give you a curve but you couldn’t help yourself could you? You want me to keep going and to do that, I need you to take this skirt off. No, don’t move. I’ll get rid of it for you. Why don’t you focus on the task at hand, hmm? Aren’t you supposed to be reading for me?”

You arch away from his fingers and he chuckles at your impudence, one large hand hooking under your chin and pulling you toward his face. His red eyes blaze as they find yours, the dark pupils threatening to swallow up that deep vermillion. “Let’s start with the second paragraph. If you do well, I might grant you a reprieve.” 

Jerking your face from his grip, you twist back to the text, trying, and failing, to ignore his inquisitive fingers, unable to resist sighing as he works one up your inner thigh. He pauses when no words fall from your lips and you grumble out a few low curses before acquiescing to his silent demand. 

“The flow of genetic information in cells from DNA to mRNA to protein is described by the Central Dogma, which states that genes specify the sequence of mRNAs, which specify the sequence of proteins. The decoding of one molecule… the… the… molecule… by spec-specific…”

He’s slipped your skirt down over the swell of your ass, but he’s taking his time, flexing out the front of the material and dipping his fingers over the bump of your lower stomach, kneading into the delicate flesh that’s stretched out for him. You can’t help the twitch of your spine and you involuntarily wiggle, palms slipping forward, dragging you further along the tabletop. Shigaraki chuckles above you, running his rough lips over the back of your neck.

“You’re so sensitive. I’ve barely touched you.” 

He circles his hands back to your skirt and edges it along, lowering it sharply on one side and then giving the same treatment to the other. You’re doing your best to keep up with your stammering readings, but it’s difficult when he keeps sighing and running his long nails across your newly bared skin. Finally, he works the skirt down and it thumps against your bare ankles; the fabric tickling your skin. 

Meanwhile, his other fingers skitter against the elastic band of your rapidly dampening panties. Once he hooks the lace under his hand, he yanks them along your legs, trailing them sinfully slowly, ensuring that they glide down the billow of your thighs. His teeth nip at your ear when you stumble to a halt in your recitation and your hands tense over the grains of wood beneath them, your nails pinching into your palms. “If you stop, I stop,” he warns, his head bumping against yours, his sharp nose pressing against your pulse.

“You’re not exactly making this easy,” you grumble, doing your best to ignore his renewed pets and strokes. 

“Stop complaining,” he smirks, leaning away from your head to peer at your newly exposed flesh. “You better pay attention to what you’re reading or you’re not going to pass the questions I’ll be asking you.”

“Yeah, yeah, ow!” you squawk, whipping your head around to glare up at him. He fucking pinched you again! This time, he’d slipped his hand between your spread legs and tweaked your inner thigh, painfully. 

“Read,” he repeats, running those guilty fingers upward, lingering beside the heat of your cunt, careful to not get too close. When you start on the next sentence, one of his hands tugs up the fabric of your shirt, snaking upward until he’s thumbing against the wire of your bra. Once again, you falter to a halt and exhale a wavering breath. 

Goddamn it. This review is no review. You’ll be lucky if you can even recall what a cell is if he keeps this up. You hear his ominous intake of air and quickly resume your recitation, mumbling something about RNA and mRNA differences. 

Wait. Didn’t you just…  

“Looks like you’re having trouble listening to me. I told you to read aloud, not to repeat the same passages over and over.”

“Hey, at least I’ll have a firm grasp on those. You should ask me something about that s-section… ah–”

The hand that was resting under the cup of your bra has made its way underneath the lightly padded material, and his thumb and index fingers have trapped your peaked nipple between them. As soon as your snarky comment left your mouth, he’d twisted the bud, squeezing it until it throbbed. 

“Pay attention,” he commands, shoving your bra upward, freeing the globes of your breasts and cupping both of his broad hands under them. Your abused nipple stings and the mixture of sharp pain and jarring arousal goes right through you, stoking that coil that pulsed within your core, and sending a tacky flush of your essence down your spread thighs.

The next few words are a struggle. The text keeps blurring and your breaths are coming in fast and heavy. Shigaraki is still feeling you up, keeping his lips close to your ears, rasping sharp commands to you and dealing out lightning fast rounds of pinches and squeezes each time you falter. 

“I–I can’t… I don’t even know what I’m reading anymore,” you bemoan, your hips pressing against the edge of the table, legs trembling as you attempt to keep them apart. He’s deliberately ignoring your throbbing clit and a desperate edge is creeping into your voice. 

“Are you always this whiny? Fine. I’ll give you a moment to read without any distractions.”

Thank God.

True to his word, he slips away from your back and you’re left shivering against his sudden absence. Despite your quaking, you’re determined to make the most of this chance and you quickly read out the paragraphs that are on the second page. As you ramble down to the last bit of text, you realize you can’t hear him anymore and when you finish the last sentence; you start to really wonder where he’s drifted off to. A tense silence follows your completion of the material and you arch up on the tips of your toes, jutting your ass out and stretching the stiffened muscles of your lower back. 

“Didn’t say you could stop reading, and judging from all of your complaints, I don’t think you got some of those earlier concepts, so I’d suggest doing a quick review,” he taunts, the sudden rasp of his voice startling a low gasp from your lips. 

He’s close; somewhere behind you and to the left from the sound of it. You try to twist around, your chest lifting from the table, and when he notices, his hands return, creating a rough pressure against your neck as he forces your body back down. His weight plasters you to the surface, scraping your partially exposed stomach and tender breasts over the nicked wood. Shigaraki is merciless in his swift correction, his breath puffing out angrily behind you. “Didn’t say you could move, either.”

Stunned, you freeze. Your arms are arched awkwardly, but he keeps his weight against you, flattening your breasts and forcing your back to arch into an awkward bend. Fuck, you think, how are you supposed to stay like this? Your legs are already aching and if he shifts away again, he’s likely going to expect you to maintain this absurd pose.  

“Yes,” he groans, his voice catching against the word, “Good girl. Now, stay just like that.”

Damn it.

“Go on, read the first part again,” he instructs. 

“The entire genetic content of a cell is known as its genome and the study of genomes is gen-genomics. In eukaryotic cells, but… but not in p-prokaryotes, DNA forms a complex with histone proteins… with histone proteins… sub-substance… of…”

His teeth have latched onto your neck, and he’s sucking bruises into your tender skin. He’s still pinning you to the table, but his hands are widening their explorations. He’s started dragging a fingernail across the puffy folds of your cunt, teasing against the dripping and swollen flesh, chuckling when you buck against his hold. 

“You always seem to lose it when you get to cellular modulations.”  

“I–I–It’s not… I can’t help that you keep…” you whimper, your fingers curling under your palms, head shaking back and forth. You can’t think. He’s not being fucking fair, and you can’t even string your goddamn words together. Shit. “Y-you’re not being fair,” you accuse, falling on the only thing that keeps running through your mind, your splayed feet shifting uncomfortably under you.

“Not fair? Not once did I say fairness would come into this arrangement,” he lifts himself off of your back and leans beside you, one arm planted beside your crooked elbow. His fingers trace over the curve of your ass, cupping at the thickest part of you and squeezing. 

“But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get a little satisfaction out of this arrangement. I bet you look good when you cum. And you’ve been working so hard to get my attention these last few months. So careful to do what I tell you. Looking at me with those big eyes of yours, all wide eyed every time I catch you looking at me. And don’t even get me started on your lips. You’re lucky I didn’t fucking bend you over after class, especially when you started wearing all of those cute little skirts for me. Ahhh, don’t moan like that, I won’t be able to help myself if you do. Let’s see how you’re doing, shall we?” 

Without warning, he slips his longest digit into your cunt, groaning loudly when he’s sucked into your welcoming heat. Your pussy, hungry for any kind of scrap, ripples around his intrusion, clamping and pulling, desperate for more. 

“Fuck,” he groans, his weight falling against your shoulder. “You’re soaking.” His elegant digit pushes deeper and you roll your hips under him, urging him closer, sighing when he sinks to the last knuckle. As he pulls his finger back, he adds another, swiftly v-ing the two before curving them together as they slip back out, dragging a steady line of pleasure from your quivering cunt. Shigaraki whispers another round of awed praise against your ear, his voice dark and breathless. 

A third digit is added on another trip out, and it creates a ragged sensation within you. It’s close to what you like, but he’s stretching you too far and it’s starting to hurt. He either needs to speed up, or give you a little more pressure. If you can hump your clit against the edge of the table, maybe it’ll give you the friction that you need. When you mindlessly buck your hips, your thighs threatening to lose that spread, he stops, holding his fingers inside you, laughing as you agitatedly try to shift him back into his earlier rhythm.

“So eager. I’d say you’re ready for my questions.”

“W-what?” you gasp, wholly focused on making him restart the push and pull of his fingers inside you. 

“I’ll start you off with something easy. What’s the cell membrane?”

“W-what? The cell… ah–” 

“Answer me. Now,” he grunts, leaning forward, re-steadying you as his fingers pull outward, dragging against your sensitive folds and schlicking through your arousal lewdly, loudly. You moan and your eyes roll back, completely ignoring his demand as you fall into the haze of pleasure that comes after his movements. 

His free hand travels up your neck and he tangles his fingers into the tendrils of your hair, yanking and jerking at the strands, demanding your attention.  

“I said, answer me.”

“Shigaraki–I–fuck. I can’t even… ugh… think right now!”

“Do you want the grade, or not?” he questions, his voice tense. “Answer correctly and I’ll give you what you want.” 

“I–I don’t think I can,” you whine, pressing your hips back as he thrusts his fingers forward again, curving them upward, searching for the spongy pad of nerves that rest against the front of your pelvis. 

“Oh? What happened to wanting that A? What about your graduation? You gonna let me fuck up your entire college career? I can do it, you know. I’ve done it to so many simpering freshmen. I fail kids left and right and you’re no different, (Y/N). 

The university lets me ahh–there it is! God, you’re so fucking wet. 

Where was I? The university can’t say no to me; they let me do what I want. I bring in too much money, too many tempting grants, and that’s all they really care about. So what’s it gonna be? Let me see that you can answer this basic crap and I’ll pass you. Or would you like for me to tie you down and force it outta you another way?”

He’s picked up the pace of his fingers as he rambles over you and a swift press against that newly discovered spot inside you has you falling to pieces in his hands, popping up onto your tiptoes and rutting yourself against the surface of the table. “O-ok, God, ok! Just–fucking repeat the goddamn question,” you pant, head slumping forward, forcing his fingers to tighten against your hair to hold you upright. 

“What is the cell membrane?” 

You wince your eyes closed, trying to rack your brain to focus on something other than the heavy pressure of the three fingers that are teasing their way across your dribbling pussy. He’s moving his presses with a lackadaisical, inconsistent rhythm now and it’s hard to fucking think. You can’t tell if his next thrust will be hard, or soft, or so rough that it’s bordering on that bittersweet line of pain. 

You shake your head, doing your best to ignore the mounting pressure that he’s building inside you and the ache of your neck and legs. Finally, after another sharp tap against that secret bunch of nerves at the front of your cunt, you latch onto a vague remembrance. 

“It… it’s a double layer of–of phospholipids that make a boundary between the cell and t-the surrounding… ugh… it controls the passage of materials.”

“Very good. Elaborate on the cellular wall.”

He’s unrelenting in his domineering treatment, twisting and frigging his fingers each time your breath hitches, and your arousal is leaking down your legs, making your skin stick and pull. It’s too much, you can’t! How can he even ask this? Words are falling from your lips incoherently, and all too soon you’re gasping out his name rather than reciting the answer. 

“Cellular–oh, fuck, Shi–Shigaraki–Please, keep–don’t stop! S-Shigaraki, God that… feels… ah–keep going!”

He ignores your request and pulls his fingers away, robbing you of that sweet pressure that he’s so carefully mounted within you. 

“I’ll count that one as incorrect. Your ‘A’ is swiftly becoming an ‘A’ minus, (Y/N)” he snarls, his teeth gritted, hands falling to the swell of your hips, wet fingers digging into your soft skin. 

“What? No! You didn’t give me enough… e-enough time! How can–can you expect me to answer that qui-quickly!”

“Let’s try another.” 

It hurts. That ache that he’s drawn out of you is starting to sting and throb and he’s being such a dick about it! You twist and grind under him, and he traps your disobedient hips against the rough siding of the table.

“I don’t–” you protest weakly, your legs trembling and chest heaving under his weight.  

“Do you want this? Wouldn’t you like to pass this class? To graduate with honors?” he growls, leaning closer, his hands braced against you, his fingers no doubt leaving bruises on the supple crest of your hips. 

“You’re such an ass! Yes! Fuck, please! I–I want it so fucking bad!” you cry out, your voice drifting into a sob as you croak out the last plea.

“Then answer another question. What’s diffusion?”

“D-diffu-diffusion is the process by which molecules move from an a-area of… of… fuck- of high concentration, to low concentration. Shigaraki!”

“I should count that as another miss, but you got the major concept correct.” He removes his fingers from your waist and yanks your ass toward him, keeping your overeager hips away from the fleeting relief of the sturdy table. “Pop your legs together,” he commands, one hand wrapping around your arched throat, squeezing until you obey. His other hand drops to that thatch of curls that rest between your quivering thighs and he gathers up your gossamer strands, rubbing against your clit for one hazy instant, sending a flash of spots across your vision.

“Mmm, now that’s a pretty sight. Good girl, don’t move,” he reminds you and you want to scream at him. Right before you can spit some frustrated vitriol out, he’s releasing your neck, his hands dropping from your skin and letting you fall back to the uneven surface below. Just before your chin contacts the wood, his hand is back in your hair, tugging you upward, holding you a few inches above the table. The sharp pain makes your scalp tingle and you unconsciously rut against the tempting heat that’s now plastered to your ass. He’s hard. You can feel the stiff bulge of his cock straining against the front of his dark jeans, pressing into the cleft of your posterior. 

“T-that’ can’t be comfortable,” you pant, twisting your head so you can look up at him from the curve of your shoulder.

“Oh? You worried about my cock?” he asks, his red eyes flashing down at you challengingly. You don’t bother giving him a verbal response, opting instead to grind your ass up, catching against the jut of his length, earning yourself a low groan. His lips curl when you repeat the motion and you realize you love watching that smug face of his drift into a look of tense pleasure. It makes his scar on his lip flush and those red eyes of his fall to a lazy half mast. He spies your arched brow and pleased grin and pushes himself off of you, leaving you alone and open on the table.   

“Keep pushing your luck. I’m more than happy to drop you back to a B.”

“What?” you scoff, teeth clinking together as you clench your jaw. “I didn’t move!”

“No, but you’re trying to take control of this and we can’t have that can we?” Shigaraki sneers. “Now, how shall I punish you?”

“P-punish me?” you stammer, a chill racing down your spine. 

“Ah, I know. This’ll really piss you off,” he twists from your strained gaze and walks back toward his desk. What? What the fuck does he mean? You can’t see him from this angle, not with the way your legs are stretched and back is lowered, but it doesn’t stop you from trying, your chin lifting upwards as you do your best to keep him in focus. 

Ugh. It’s no use. He’s slipped past your field of vision. 

Hearing is likely your best bet, so you shift your forehead back to the table and listen, straining your ears to pick up any morsel. Something opens and closes and you catch the sound of the wheels of his chair as they shift, squeaking across the floor, and the groaning of the springs when his weight is applied to the cheap leather. 

Okay, so he’s in his chair. Is he just gonna look at you? That’s not… wait… 

There’s a faint clicking sound. 

It’s both familiar and unfamiliar to your ears, but once the teeth slide over the last pull, you realize. It’s a zipper. 

Oh fuck. Is he going to jerk himself off? With a gasp, your head whips back around. He’s still positioned himself away from you, and you can only just make out the sounds that are accompanying the undoubted rise and fall of his fist. All you can see is a tiny sliver of his body, but you catch sight of the coiling muscles on his neck and you notice that his head is dipped forward, pearl white hair settling across the cut of his collarbone. The one red eye that meets yours is blazing and hungry, it makes every hair on the back of your neck stand up.  

God, he’s staring at you, watching you, getting himself off as you’re half naked and bent over a desk in his office, fully subjugating yourself to his whims and fancies for the sake of your grade. 

Damn it, (Y/N). This should not be a fucking turn on. You should be disgusted, but the flush of slick that drips down your thigh says otherwise. 

He lets out a choked moan, picking up the pace of his hand, letting you hear the click and slip of his palm as it strokes up and down his cock. A shiver echoes up your spine and your hips seem to have a mind of their own, grinding your clenched thighs over the dip of the table, easing the clenching pulsations that your cunt is shuddering through you.

“Look at you, so desperate for my touch that you’re humping the fucking table. Such a dirty girl, and so disobedient. You’ve only answered a few of my questions correctly and yet your slutty little mouth and body keep pushing at me. Making me put you in your place. Let me ask you something, why should I go out of my way to fix your grade when you can’t even prove to me you understand the simplest concepts? 

Ah, here’s a thought. What if I told you I’ll wave the other requirements; no more readings, no more quizzes, but I won’t let you cum? What if I just get myself off? You’re putting on a such a good show for me! Why should I bother with seeing that you’re satisfied when that table seems to do the job for you? Sound good? Or would you like for me to come back over there and make you cum?”

“I–I don’t… I don’t want…” You can’t get the words out, your tongue feels leaden between your lips and you can’t think of anything but the steady itch that’s spreading from your clit. 

“Speak up,” Shigaraki demands, slowing his jerking fingers. The chair he’s sitting in groans as he leans forward, and his eyes wide as they take in the delicious sight that’s propped before him. “You don’t want to cum? Is that it? You’d like for me to get myself off and leave you there?”

“No!” you cry out, your fingers digging into the scuffed wood of the table. “I-I want you to make me cum.”

There’s a sharp clatter and you jump at the abrupt noise. It must be the chair you think, your heart pounding against your chest, waiting for Shigaraki’s next move. He only lets a few seconds drift by before he presses himself back to you. He leans his broad chest over your back, the front of his legs pushing against the back of yours. His exposed length is wedged firmly against the cleft of your ass and its tempting hardness makes you squirm under him, but he’s propelling you forward, pinning you against the rough wood, and you can only flail uselessly under his control. His lips skim over your neck and he bites into your skin, sucking and licking bruises as he inches closer to your pulse.  

You say his name pitifully, wantonly, and he lets out a shaky gasp. Something about your tone has shifted something within him and you can feel his cock swelling, dripping a rope of wet pre-cum down your shaking leg. 

He leans away, removing his sticky hardness from your ass. “Seems your priorities have shifted. You’re a little preoccupied right now, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice gravel scraping against your overwhelmed senses. You let out a weak moan and he snaps into action, his fingers pushing under your flattened stomach and tugging against the fabric that he finds. He yanks you upward, pulling your shirt up as he goes. His palms dip under your half lifted bra, and he cups at your breasts, massaging the rounded bulbs and plucking at your peaked nipples. Your head lolls back, and he sucks at your earlobe again, his breath warm and rasping as it passes by. 

“Hold still,” he commands. 

It’s not an easy position, this stretched upward arch that he’s forced you into, but it’s worth it when you feel his cock pushing between your tensed legs. He doesn’t thrust into you, opting to run his weeping tip against your slippery folds, pressing until his bulbous head is twitching against your pulsing clit. 

Goddamn it, you think as he stills, his lips smacking open-mouthed kisses over your shoulder, it’s not enough. You wiggle your hips back and forth and he abruptly exerts a firm pressure against your windpipe, leaving you sputtering and gasping. “What’s wrong? Not happy with this? Do you think you deserve something more? Do you think you’ve earned that?” He shoves you back against the surface of the table, his broad chest following the plane of your back, trapping you under his heavy form. 

You’d replied, you know you must have, but you can’t hear yourself anymore, your attention attuned to the warm length that’s pressed against your shuddering folds. You’d likely thrown in a please for good measure because Shigaraki rewards you with a quick peck to your shivering neck and his thumb, swirling it around your clit, creating a cresting ache that leaves you mumbling incoherently, a thin line of drool slipping from your parted lips. As he keeps that faint osculation up, your fingernails scrape over the wood of the table, your feet lifting you onto your toes, curving your back, and shoving your leaking pussy into his open palm. 

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” Shigaraki says, a breathy desperation lingering around the edges of his rasping voice. “But it’s just not enough, right?” 

You nod, licking up some of the excess saliva that’s built under your heavy tongue and crane your head back at him. His eyes are the first thing you see. They’re wild, ravenous and glinting with a roughness that makes you whisper out a soft whine. Fuck. It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re not supposed to want him this badly. Goddamn it. Now that he’s caught your gaze, he won’t let you look away, and he presses himself closer, his cock twitching and warm, the tip rubbing back and forth, keeping time with his circling thumb.

“You gonna fuck me, or not?” you finally ask, unsticking your lips and smirking up at his hardened face. 

“Tch. Don’t rush me,” he grumbles, removing his hand and teasing cock from your cunt, watching as your body convulses under him, your pussy quivering against the excess stimulation that he’s wrought over you. Your thighs burn, aching to break free from his control, to rub against that throb, that tingling that keeps shuddering outward.

“One more question,” he tells you, lifting his dripping thumb to his lips and sucking off the traces of your arousal. The sight of him licking his pink tongue over his gleaming knuckles almost makes you lose your balance, your arms shaking precariously under you. 

“A-another? Come on,” you pout, your eyes following the curve of his wicked lips, watching as his scar quirks upward, amused by your useless defiance. 

“Make you a deal, answer it correctly and I’ll give you my cock. Sound fair?”

“Ugh, whatever, just hurry up,” you snap, so impatient and turned on that you can hardly think. 

The tip of his cock presses against your sopping entrance, pushing forward just enough to part your dripping folds but stopping before he clears that first, tight ring of flesh. The promise of his dribbling tip makes you lose any semblance of self-control. You thrash under him, but he traps your disobedient hips against the rough siding of the table.

“No! Don’t stop! Come on Sh-Shigaraki–Don’t be such a fucking–ah–” 

“Do you want this? Do you want my cock?” he growls, leaning over you, his fingers squeezing down, no doubt leaving bruises in the supple crest of your hips. 

“Yes! Fuck, please! I–I want it so fucking bad!” you cry out, your voice drifting into a sob as you croak out the last plea.

“Then you better answer. What are cytosines?”

“They… they’re n-nitrogenous base… fuck… base that pair… that pair with guanine during D-DNA replication… I–please, please, Shigaraki! Fuck me! I want your cock! Fuck me, fuck me!”

Thankfully, he either takes pity on you, or can’t control himself anymore, his hips surging forward, gliding his thick length into your cunt and snarling at the mind numbing heat that waits for him. He keeps driving upward until he bottoms out, sharp hipbones grinding against the plushness of your ass. 

He’s not gentle with you, no he’s animalistic and raw, his thrusts papping into you with a terrifying strength. You would have liked something slower, something that lets you enjoy each imperfection and dip that raced along his cock, but this, oh, this is an exception because this is perfect. It’s not what you want, but it is what you need. 

The heavy fullness that he’s stuffing you with leaves you breathless, but you somehow manage to gasp out a string of nonsensical praises each time he drives back into you, overwrought by his roughness. 

This coupling isn’t kind, isn’t right, and is not healthy, for either of you. No, not with the way he’s using your shivering body, distracted with slacking that euphoric thrum that’s making his cock pulse and swell inside you.

But fuck it feels good and you can’t help but tremble with delight. These intoxicating thrusts of his ram him up against something that’s buried deep inside you, and each time he hits it another star of bright pleasure races through you. The familiar coiling of release is steadily mounting with each rapid fire rut he gives you and if he could just, ah, there’s something that’s… no, fuck, it’s, it’s not going to work. It feels good, but it’s missing one vital ingredient, one thing that he’s neglected to pay attention to, to notice. 

Your clit needs to be tweaked and rolled, and right now it’s pulsing away against the table, beating a sad tattoo into the grainy wood. Oh well, you think, head fuzzy, lost in the euphoria of his powerful cants, grinding your ass into his hips as he digs into another teeth chattering thrust. He’ll likely finish soon, and you’ll probably need to get yourself off later. It’s not something new, and it’s not like he’s going to care enough to focus on that, on you. This whole thing has been about control, so there’s likely no room for your own pleasure.

“What’s wrong,” he gasps out, his fingers lifting from your hips to curl beside your turned head. 

“What? N-nothing–I–” you pant, eyes rolling back as he hits that spongy patch of nerves again. 

“Tch. Hold on,” he interrupts, his voice rasping and breathy. He pulls himself out of you with a grunt and yanks you upward, hauling you onto the tabletop and flipping you on your back, bending your stiffened legs and bracing your knees against his lean forearms. 

He holds you apart, spreading you open with his powerful hands. You can see him properly now, and the sight makes your breath catch against the back of your throat. Fuck, he looks good. 

His long white hair is draped across his bare shoulders and his eyes are blazing pits of hunger, devouring the sight of you with those red irises. His jaw is clenched, and he glares down at you from his imperious height, his nostrils flaring as he drags in a quick intake of air. To your shock, he gives you a little time to acclimate to this new position, opting to languidly step forward, letting his slippery cock head press and tease at the dip of your opening. But right when you think he’ll move again, he stops, his eyes roving over the lines of your face. 

His sudden stillness makes you peer quizzically up at him and you scoot closer, your feet lifting from the table. The movement snaps him out of his stupor and he grabs your ankles, roughly pinning you back down.

“Keep still,” he snarls through clenched teeth, that scar of his lifting. 

You nod mutely and he rewards your unquestioning obedience with another powerful thrust, sinking his swollen cock back into your waiting cunt. He lets out a sharp groan and grabs at your hips, jerking you forward, already drifting back into that all-consuming rhythm he’d started earlier. His ruts are a little slower from this angle but, in no time at all, that familiar ache pools in your core, stoking and building at an alarming rate. The driving force of his hips soon has you blinking back spots and distant stars, and this time he adds the all important pressure of his thumb, circling the finger pad over your clit and dragging a broken moan from your quivering lips. 

“So that’s what you needed. You close?” he grits out, his lips set in a curled scowl. He’s lost some of that early control, his hips stuttering as they connect with yours, his power lessening, cooling, as he looks for your release. 

“I–I think–oh fuck, do that again. Yes! Just–ah!”

He angles your hips upward and gives your clit another quick oscillation, pressing down until you’re gasping. “There you go. That felt good. You’re getting tighter,” he laughs, looming over you, shoving your heaving chest downward as he jerks your hips into him, forcing your body to do most of the motion, making your shoulder blades scrape across the uneven wood. “Cum for me. Fucking cum on my cock, (Y/N). Cum and I’ll give you your A, I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want.”

Your spine arches as you break around him, your cunt greedily pulling him deeper, slipping him past the barrier of your tender cervix and earning you a weak shout of praise from Shigaraki. Seconds later, he’s pulsing and twitching against your walls, the warm pooling of his cum filling you up and spilling down your spread thighs. 

His head drops to your shoulder and the rough skin of his forehead sticks to your sweat dampened flesh. For a long moment you’re both still, each of you struggling to catch your breath, luxuriating in the tingling sensation of release. 

“I fucking hate you, you know,” you gasp out, your arms circling his back, fingertips etching vague patterns over his neck and shoulders. 

“Ha,” he snorts, “I’ll have to remember that. Don’t worry (Y/N), I’ll pay you back for that little remark next time.”

“Oh? Next time?” you chuckle, moaning as he twists out of your hold and pulls his softening length out of you. 

“I’ll fail you on every assignment if you try to keep away,” he threatens, his eyes falling to the gaping mess that he’s left behind. You cross your legs, denying him the satisfaction of leering at your dripping pussy. 

“Fine. But next time, fuck me on something softer than a damn table.”

tags: @spicy-skull​, @xwildskullx​, @yixxes​, @ghstmthr​, @rekoii​, @diaouranask​, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love​, @libiraki​ <--- i’m coming for you. you’re gonna have to read for this, lady. so, uh, i’m officially noneconing you here. 

notes: you made it! this thing is a monster & i’m so sorry i can never stfu

[sollucets]

no exit

Not long into their mutual captivity, Avior and his unintended guest try to make some progress on their escape.

pre-canon pre-relationship avior/starlight, t, 3200 words.

Then the tide crashes back in. The recoil forces them two steps back, and with Avior right behind them they tumble into him, ejected unceremoniously from the void. He barely moves as their back presses against his chest, easily catching them by the shoulders. Despite the way their head is spinning, despite everything they’ve just learned and all the new questions it brings, for a moment all they can think of is the way his fingers are digging into their skin.

read it on ao3, or full fic under the cut. 💜

The ground in the Dreamwalker's hellscape is jagged rocks all the way across this circle, but the pattern repeats sometimes in the seams between levels, marking the spots where the illusion warps. Here, in front of one of the black voids that mark the holes in the Meridian, the texture looks almost unreal.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel real, though, the grit digging into the lone human resident’s legs where they're sitting. Avior sits next to them in his usual straight-backed posture, towering over them with a disapproving expression. For him, though, ‘disapproving’ is neutral. All of his moods have to be qualified with “considering that he’s trapped in an eternal Hell”, so they can afford to have pity on him. This is Avior in something close to a good mood. After all, they’re doing something.

For the last few days-or-nights, they’ve been focusing their joint efforts entirely on attempting to magically understand these void gaps in the Meridian, and Avior has said he thinks they’re making some progress. It had been a whole ordeal to find a void in a location they could actually reach. Even then, they’d had to spend what was probably at least a week on recording its behaviors and trying to figure out whether it would be safe to interact with it. 

They are, for the record, in favor of just going for it at this point, but Avior had given them his most poisonous expression the only time they’d mentioned it. And the truth is that they can’t actively disagree with him, because he’s right. It is dangerous to rush this escape when the forces in question are so unquestionably cosmic. If it messes up the one promising avenue of inquiry they have, they’ll be worse than fucked. Avior isn’t being obstructive. He’s just careful. He wants to go home too. They know that, now.

They sneak another glance over at him and find him looking back, dark eyes unreadable. “You’re prepared, then?” 

“As much as I really can be under the circumstances. To be clear, no touching?” 

“I still think that your headstrong insistence on throwing yourself at obstacles is short-sighted and ill-informed, yes,” Avior says. Ah, especially verbose. He’s irritated they brought it up again. 

Most of the time they try to avoid intentionally antagonizing him. They’re finally past that now, after something like a month of wary circling and distrust and half-truths. But it’s difficult to avoid annoying someone as highly-strung as Avior, and it’s also sometimes fun to do, so they tilt their head at him. “Isn’t everything we’re doing ill-informed?” 

Avior rolls his eyes, a treat, and slants a sidelong glare down at them. “Technicalities aren’t going to save you from my point. Yes, we barely have any information. No, that doesn’t make it fine to run in without at least attempting to be conscious of the possible consequences. That’s why we’re doing it this way in the first place. Try to keep up.” 

“Rude,” they answer, without any real heat. Without that initial distrust, it’s hard not to spend this long with only one other person and not get to know them at least a little. They know he’s just worried. 

He’s probably right to be. The last time they’d tried any substantial magic had been an unmitigated disaster. Although they’d finally come to a tentative understanding, it had been slow going on actually working together. They’d disagreed constantly about methods and conclusions and theories, words sharpened by a long lonely month away from home. He’d again and again told them to be careful, to be measured, if in harsher tones, and they’d ignored it, homesick and furious and desperate to do something, to change anything at all, even themself.

They’d stormed out of the little room they were sort of sharing, gone right up to the edge of the hellscape, and tried to burst out. They burned out nearly every last drop of their magic, battering against the boundaries of the realm until they were shaking too violently to stand. Avior had found them, curled in the fetal position on the rocks and barely able to think past the pounding of their head, and in the probably-weeks since they haven’t been able to forget the way his face had twisted in fear when they couldn’t speak to answer his questions. (They haven’t been able to forget the cooling rush of his magic across their skin or the careful grip of his hands, either. He hasn’t come so close to them again, and sometimes they feel his touch like a phantom on their skin.)

It had been on the long trip back from the lowest level that Avior finally admitted, in the quietest voice they’ve ever heard him use, that he didn’t think he could influence the voids on his own. And now here they are. Tiptoeing carefully around the edges of the Meridian, ready to essentially just poke at it with magic. For all their pretensions to studying it, they hadn’t gotten much in the way of answers from just observing. They’ve thought through every possible avenue a hundred times, considered every angle. They just don’t have enough information.

Poking at it will probably be safe. Avior has tried many a time, and nothing happens to him when he magically interacts with the void. That’s actually the problem — that he doesn’t get a reaction at all. They should, of course. Reaching through the Meridian is how they get magic in the first place. Moreover, standing close to it doesn’t have any effect except for… well. They can feel it, almost a physical pressure against their core. 

Avior hadn’t deigned to grace them with a reply earlier, instead choosing to spend another long moment staring at the void. It continues to look black and voidy. He sighs. “I’ll be reaching out at the same time, and should anything happen, you withdraw and tell me right away. Clear?” 

They nod, and shift to stand with a grunt. Avior follows, unfolding in a long sinuous movement, and they both approach the void. In consideration to him, they stop just before it’s in arm’s reach. It hangs there, unmoving, as it has ever since they found it, a strange black mark against the shifting red sky. 

They close their eyes and let their awareness expand out. Magic in the hellscape is an exercise in focus. All their life, the threads connecting them to magic have always reached in one direction, away from their plane and through the Meridian out into the universe. They know intimately where their magic is supposed to be, an internal compass written on their soul since developing their powers. But here, the Meridian is everywhere. All around them, in every direction, enveloping and smothering. Their threads stretch out every which way, dizzying in disorder, and it’s harder than it’s ever been to gather them and pull strength from their tether. 

But they can. The void is right there in front of them, loud in their awareness, and Avior is at their side. When they’re calling on their powers like this, it’s easy to find him. Avior’s magic, his being, feels like a contained sun, burning steady and red and undiminished within a shell of careful control. Sometimes they think it must be nearly shining out from under his skin. They’ve grown used to its warmth, close as they often are. Now, it helps anchor them in place.

Steadied by his presence, they reach down the threads and pull from the magical plane (Aria, it’s Aria and it’s his home). Psychokinesis is all about intent, they faintly remember a teacher saying, and they intend to go home.

They push that magic at the void, and for a moment they feel — odd. It feels like trying to touch a wall of radio static. It’s not entirely unpleasant, just strange, but after a long moment, their stomach lurches in a dizzying twist of nausea and without their conscious input they stumble slightly, knees suddenly weak and magic slipping out of their grasp.

Avior lurches sideways to stand at their side, hands hovering just inches away from their shoulders as if to catch them. They don’t have much trouble righting themself, but for a moment they wish they had. This close, they almost think they can feel the heat of his skin.

“Are you alright?” he asks, tone urgent. “What happened? What did you feel?”

“Avior,” they say. “I’m fine. Thanks. I think… somehow I used too much magic. Already.”

His brow furrows, his intense gaze darting all over their face, checking. “You should sit down for a moment, then.”

“I’m fine. I—” Their mind is racing faster than their stomach can churn. Avior drops his hands, staring at them with his head tilted just slightly as they continue. “That shouldn’t have been enough to do this. I know my limits. Did anything weird happen to you?” 

“No, but—” 

“Of course not, because you interact with the Meridian all the time, don’t you? You don’t have any attachment, so you can jump back and forth. But for me, this is… it’s like tying my threads in a knot.” As they speak, they watch Avior’s expression go still. Much like his neutral disapproval, his ‘thinking’ face is very nearly completely blank, all of his energy focused on listening and considering, absorbed in their every word. “My magic starts outside the Meridian, then loops through it and back to me. And after all that, I’m still trying to put it back in. No wonder it’s all messed up.” 

“It makes sense,” Avior agrees, although he doesn’t sound enthused about it. “My magic is internal, after all.”

They bite their lip, considering. “And you didn’t feel any pushback at all? No negative effects from touching it?” 

“No,” he answers. “But, as you’ve just established, I wouldn’t have. There aren’t any additional barriers; I have no threads to tangle.”

“Did you feel… anything? Anything new at all? Could you influence it?”

Avior looks down and away from them. His tone is neutral when he answers, but his hair falling into his eyes obscures his expression. “No, I couldn’t. With more time, maybe. I— I don’t know.”

They get how bad it hurts to admit that. Neither of them really know anything, and people like them aren’t the type to just put up with that if it can possibly be avoided. There are a hundred more questions to ask, a hundred more things to figure out… and the only way to answer any of them is hanging in the air, only feet away. It’s well and good to be careful, to be cautious. They don’t begrudge him that. They want so desperately to have the luxury of a plan for them to dissect. But the information they’d need to even begin making that plan isn't coming how they’re doing it. There’s a simple solution, and an ever-growing list of useless alternatives. 

It’s an easy choice. They take two steps toward the void and shove their hand in before Avior can stop them.

Touching the Meridian is like dipping their hand into a pool of ice water, cold all the way up their arm. That static from before is directly against their skin now, a tingling numbness that extends nearly into their core. It’s — not bad. It feels almost energizing, like a shot of caffeine. There’s no real texture under their hand, just a yielding nothingness. They push a little farther, the void up to their elbow. 

Avior is right behind them now. They can feel his warmth against their back, a sharp contrast to the cold embrace of the Meridian. He’s talking a mile a minute, voice sharp and pitched up in fear, but they can’t take their focus away from the spot where their arm disappears long enough to answer him. They have a mission. 

They focus once more, gather up those threads. It’s as easy as a thought this time, with such an obvious waypoint to direct them through the Meridian. Like a needle through cloth, they slip past, gather their magic, and push. 

And for one glorious second, the barrier gives. They can feel it, moving under their command. It’s a monumental effort for so little effect, like holding back the tide, but it moves. It opens. 

Then the tide crashes back in. The recoil forces them two steps back, and with Avior right behind them they tumble into him, ejected unceremoniously from the void. He barely moves as their back presses against his chest, easily catching them by the shoulders. Despite the way their head is spinning, despite everything they’ve just learned and all the new questions it brings, for a moment all they can think of is the way his fingers are digging into their skin.

“And what exactly do you think you were doing?” he snaps, a high note of panic in his voice. “Other than the precise thing you repeatedly agreed not to do?” He doesn’t give them any time to answer before adding, “Are you alright?” 

Whirling in his hold, they look right up into his eyes, a frantic smile spreading across their face. “Avior, it worked.” 

He stares back at them, hands still loosely gripping their shoulders. “It… did?” 

“Not completely. I couldn’t, I can’t get out. But it worked. I had to cut the knot, don’t you get it? If the Meridian was in the way, I just had to bypass it. And it worked. I felt it move. If I can get through it to get magic, if I can move it, surely I can get out? I have to be able to. I just need time. Time, and to study it more.” They hear their words starting to bubble out over each other, jockeying for position in their stream of consciousness. “I have to feel it more. I didn’t really know how it was, the way it — isn’t. You understand. Right?” 

Avior stares down at them for a moment longer, silent. He still looks half-panicked, dark eyes wide and shining with the light of far-off hellfire. He hasn’t let go yet. 

“Avior?” they ask, softer. 

“You opened a gap,” he says slowly, as if confirming. 

They nod. Is he upset about it? 

“I told you not to.” His expression has gone flat again, but he doesn’t look away this time. “I wasn’t sure what physically interacting with the Meridian would do to you. The primary reason rifting is impossible for humans is that it’s very literally impossible for you to exist in Aria. The laws of reality are too different. But… there could be other reasons. I don’t know of any recorded evidence of humans touching the Meridian. I didn’t know what would happen. I was — paranoid, and obstinate, and unnecessarily harsh, and I told you over and over not to do the thing that gave us our first actual progress.” 

They can feel their face falling, fully out of their control. “You weren’t wrong,” they say, and in a moment of combined daring and want, they put one of their hands over his on their shoulder. “It’s not a zero-sum game. You had reason to worry, and I didn’t know entirely what would happen. I made a judgment call. ”

Avior’s gaze snaps to their hands immediately, his expression going unfocused for the briefest of seconds. “But you did think it was — foolish.” The last word comes out harsh. “And you were right.” 

Tightening their fingers around his hand is both a gesture of comfort and a selfish desire. “We were looking for more information without touching it. We got that, and I used it to make my decision. What kind of partner would I be in this impossible escape attempt if I didn’t listen to you when you’re not even wrong?”

He sighs, and with no small amount of bitterness says, “A successful one, apparently.” Tugging his hands away from their shoulders, he goes to sit on the ground again. They barely repress the urge to reach after him, clinging instead to the fading warmth of his touch, and follow. In the tense silence, they’re cruelly aware of the sick feeling of strain in their core. If they were home, they’d make some tea and put on a heating pad. Maybe curl up somewhere comfortable and take a nap. For just a moment, that lack of normality burns worse than the magical exhaustion.

“Look,” they say softly, shifting gingerly back down onto the rocky ground across from him. Avior isn’t actively avoiding their gaze, but he’s also not meeting it. “I know I don’t have a good track record with this. But I swear I want to get out as much as you do, and now we both know we need me if we’re going to do that. It’s normal if you’re worried about losing your way out. I’m not going to fuck it up for you, I promise.” 

“That’s not what I’m—” he starts, snapping his head up, then stops again. They clamp their mouth shut on their questions and wait, for his sake. Avior swallows, staring at them with an expression they think they recognize, and speaks in the softest voice they’ve ever heard him use. “It’s true that we need you well if we’re ever to leave. But… I need you well, too. I— I don’t want anything to happen to you.” 

The questions go out of their head all at once, leaving them sitting there in silence. Avior just keeps looking at them with that expression, his eyes so soft behind the red reflection of their own little hell. They think it might be that same knowledge that guttered in their chest that first time he touched them, when he pulled them so gently away from their own failure. They only have each other.

“Oh,” they say, eventually, bereft of other thoughts. It hangs heavy in the air between them. “Thank you.” 

“What are you thanking me for?” he asks in a wry tone. 

“Caring.”

Avior doesn’t seem to have an answer for that, his gaze leaving theirs again. But they’ve made their point. They can feel an understanding settling over their shoulders and making its way into their heart. There will be time to work out the rest, stuck here together for however long it will be. They give him an out. “What is it like for you? The Meridian, I mean. You pass through it all the time.” 

“Like… a halfway point between existences,” he says, slowly. “It’s quite literally the transition stage between my physical form and my astral form when I rift. I’m not sure I have the words to accurately describe it.” 

“You, without words?” They snicker at his disapproving expression. “Honestly, I’m not sure I have any either. I’ll work on it,” they add. “That way, when we get out, we can put down what happened, and then there will be recorded evidence.” 

“‘When’?” asks Avior, raising a single eyebrow.

“Yeah. When.” They offer him a smile. “It would be incredibly hypocritical if I wasn’t careful about my wording, you know.”

“It would be indeed,” he murmurs, and to their shock, he smiles back. It transforms his stern face, makes his eyes crinkle at the corners just that slightest bit. Their heart stutters in their chest.

“I suppose you’ll just have to look forward to it, then.”

[kiridarling]

𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐁𝐎.

thank you so much to @daisy-bakugo for letting me participate in her vice city collab! i had a blast writing this piece, and i’m terribly sorry this is so long that was a mistake (and congrats on 2k!!) also, the phattest of thank you’s to @eijishimas for brainstorming/beta-ing :) you saved me ☺🤲🏼

katsuki bakugou and eijirou kirishima | f!reader, time travel sex, guns, prostitute/stripper idrk!reader, tw!blood (non-descriptive), dacryphilia, squirting, spit roasting, d-penn, shower sex, multiple rounds. minors dni!

— 5k words (yikes)

"Say, Sweetheart. You wanna get outta here?"

Las Vegas, Nevada. April 15th, Year 3036.

"You ready?"

Mina shoots you a look through the golden-lit mirror, wiggling her eyebrows. You roll your eyes and finish dusting the powder off your cheeks before rising to your feet and tugging at the belt of your silk robe. "My answer's the same every night."

Vice City. A strip club and casino in Las Vegas, Nevada, where opposites collide—the poor and the rich, the beautiful and the ugly, the smart and the stupid. There's no judgment because here, they're all degenerates looking for a good time, and you're just a pretty face with a good body.

As your silk robe hits the floor, it's kicked to the side with a heel, and you saunter through the beaded entrance to your private room and into the vibrating club. Giving your bodyguard a solid pat on the shoulder as you watch the sea of bodies shake, you complete the ritual.

"No creeps?" You demand more than request. He nods curtly.

"No creeps."

You give him a cute little smile and let your hand linger for a little longer than necessary before stepping into the neon red chaos of the strip club. Because what do the rich and the poor have in common?

They're all addicts.

Surprisingly, humanity doesn’t kill the planet.

Mother Nature's still standing strong—though the sun is a bit swollen—and space exploration solved that overpopulation issue. Bill Gates taught us all how to avoid a climate disaster and Tesla put Ford out of business. Humanity is much bigger than earth now; we're no longer people of the planet, but an intergalactic species that still eat Costco pizza rolls for dinner but killed Cable along with cars with wheels. Costco still exists—Starbucks doesn't.

Still no aliens, though.

"See something you like, Cutie?"

In your defense, he's been standing over here with his friends for ages—almost like they're casing the damn place—but those ruby red eyes kept floating your way regardless, and you'd rather bag it with someone your age before you're requested by another seventy-year-old. The redhead blinks like he's shocked you came over here in the first place—like he didn't watch you sashay yourself to the other side of the club just for him. You suppose the name fits. Cutie.

He looks at you with a strangely giddy look on his face before he's licking his lips and swallowing, eyes flickering to the blondie to his right.

"I'll be back in like, twenty minutes, man."

The blond gives him an exasperated look and groans—his other two friends don't notice. "Eiji—"

"Twenty minutes!" The redhead yells over the music as you not-so-subtly pull him away. Your regular GILF looks your way, and you suppress the queasy feeling in knowing that at least you'll be able to fuck someone from your decade.

"You got a wallet, Cutie?" You purr as you two approach the back room. The redhead winks, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the fattest black leather wallet you've seen in a long time.

"Don't go anywhere without it," he says, but falters when your bodyguard holds his hand out with a request for fifty bucks. "I—whoa dude, why am I paying you?"

"Because that's how it goes. The young lady gets her share," your bodyguard clarifies. The redhead looks at you for what seems to be for confirmation. You nod.

"Alright," he resigns with a shrug, stuffing a fifty into your bodyguard's sweaty hand. The man grunts but clears some of the beads guarding the entrance to your private room anyways, giving you two enough space to go inside.

"No door? That seems a little...exposing," the redhead snorts to himself before he's holding his hand out, despite the fact that you’re already nestling comfortably in his lap. "Eijirou, by the way."

You take his hand apprehensively, and he snorts at your confused frown. Eijirou's big—painfully so, and you feel small sat upon his thick thighs because you are in comparison—and he has to curve his back a bit so you're at eye-level. "What? No one's introduced themselves to you before?"

You shake your head, "Usually they just throw me onto the bed and get right to it."

Eijirou rolls his eyes at that, and you don't realize he's guiding your hips into a smooth roll until the harsh fabric of his jeans brushes against you in the best way. He moves you in time with the music vibrating the walls, "I guess that makes me more of a gentleman, then."

His lips hover over yours and yet he never advances, doesn't move to kiss you on the lips, nothing—it nearly has you buzzing. So does the hand he pins you to his lap with. "Are you going to kiss me or what?"

"What's your name, Sweetheart," he asks lowly. You give it to him, and he grins.

"Y/N,” Eijirou tries on his lips before he confirms it with a nod. "A pretty name for a pretty girl."

"Aren't you the flatterer," you purr, coiling your arms around your neck. His hand finds your ass and you're almost positive he's going to close the gap between you two until he says:

"Who were you runnin' from, Y/N?”

Years in the business help build a mask and you wear yours well, with that cute little smile as you cock your head to the side and ask, "I'm afraid I'm not following."

"Oh, I think you are," he says, looking you dead in the eyes. The gravity in his face doesn't falter. "Who was it."

As he stares into your soul, your own eyes avert to the sheets. "What's it to you?"

"It's nothing to me, really," he shrugs off his jacket and places it on the bed next to him before returning to his initial position—or perhaps, closer. "But I happen to find you real cute, and cute things deserve to feel safe, no?"

"In case you haven't checked, this isn't a very safe place," you scoff, removing your arms from his neck to cross them over your chest. "And I don't appreciate idiots like you trying to save someone like me just 'cause you wanna get your dick wet more than once."

Eijirou raises an eyebrow but he never stalls, "Oh? This happens often then?"

"I—" you falter, "...No."

"C'mon, Sweetheart," Eijirou tugs you by the waist and you have to press your hands to his chest to keep him from falling forwards. "You don't wanna stay in this place, do you?"

"It's my job," you defend with a huff. The redhead shrugs.

"Sure, but don't you want a little adventure? A little excitement in your life?"

"Like there isn't enough excitement right here?" You snort. Eijirou teeters his head back and forth, though the daring look never fades.

"But something tells me you're bored," he says with a near sarcastic face, clicking his tongue. "Something tells me you find the idea of something new exciting."

You open your mouth to respond but he keeps you from doing so, finally pressing his lips to yours. You nearly squeal in surprise but somehow, you find yourself kissing back with a passion you've never kissed another client with before—and maybe, just maybe, the idea of something new doesn't sound too bad.

Eijirou pulls away with a cocky grin like he knew you'd like it. Like he knew that'd be the catalyst for your response to what he says next, and maybe, he's not as much of an idiot as you thought.

And maybe you’re more of an idiot than you thought.

"Say, Sweetheart. You wanna get outta here?"

"Yes," you breathe, like an idiot, because you were wholly and utterly unprepared for what happens next.

Eijirou gives you the cutest smile, before reaching into his jacket and pulling out a gun.

He sees your expression change and lifts both hands, pointing the black pistol towards the ceiling, "I—hey wait, you're gonna be fine, okay? I won't shoot you."

You cower and he pouts. Apparently, this wasn't the reaction he was expecting at all.

"I swear! I'm mentally stable, see?" He flips it sideways with a grin, "the safety's on."

You hate it that his comment makes you trust him. Slightly.

"C'mon," Eijirou smiles, reaching his gunless hand out for you to take. You do, albeit reluctantly. "I won't do anything too stupid. Just...shake things up a bit."

Shake things up a bit, Eijirou says, and yet the first thing he does is when you two exit the room is press the pistol to your bodyguard’s head.

"Eijirou," you hiss. Luckily no one in the club has noticed, yet, but you doubt their ignorance will last for long.

"I'm gonna need my fifty back, buddy," Eijirou pats the man on the back, and it's strange—you've always thought your bodyguard to be a big guy, but he looks rather petite next to the redhead. Your bodyguard reaches for his walkie-talkie, but Eijirou tuts, tapping his hand away with the tip of his gun.

"Hey dude, I'm not gonna shoot you. See? The safety's on," He repeats, flashing the barrel. Your bodyguard's eyes widen, and so do yours.

The safety isn't on.

"So, that fifty," Eijirou purrs, and your bodyguard stuffs the bill into his chest with a grumble. Eijirou hums, satisfied, and gives the crumpled bill to you without a second glance, too busy nodding to his friend on the other side of the strip club. A noirette from across the way nods back.

Pop-pop!

It's fucking chaos, as anyone would expect when blindly firing into a crowded club. Eijirou keeps a tight hold on your hand as he and his other three boys storm towards the pit bosses working the casinos with guns a-blazing, demanding they fill their pillowcases like a bunch of C-class thugs.

What the fuck did you get yourself into.

"This is not what I meant by excitement," you hiss through grit teeth as a terrified pit boss fills Eijirou's bag like he's a greedy kid with an attitude on Halloween, while your co-workers cower under the bar and pool tables. Eijirou sticks his tongue your way.

"This isn't the exciting part, Little Miss Excitement."

It's the steady sound of sirens that has your eyes widening, and the fact that you're positive they're getting louder. You catch sight of your bodyguard on his walkie-talkie, big body cowering behind the smallest trashcan, and turn back just in time to see Eijirou squint as he aims and shoots bullseye.

"That is."

The police have lost sight of two vehicles carrying the four armed men who robbed Vice City Casino and Club tonight at roughly 2:53 am. Witnesses say they came in a group of four but left with an exotic dancer named—

The moment the blondie from the club sees you walk through the door, he’s tossing the stack of bills in his hand with a sigh.

"Katsuki, Y/N. Y/N, Katsuki."

Katsuki looks nothing but happy, and refuses to acknowledge your presence as he crosses his arms.

"Ei. What the hell did we say about witnesses."

"Um," the redhead rubs his lips together before wearily looking at you, and you hike his jacket further up your shoulder. At least he was decent enough to give you that. She's an exception?"

"Not a fuckin' thing," the blond grunts, turning to you to flash a tight smile. "Goodbye."

"I—wait," Eijirou skates until he's stood over the ash-blond, with a hand on his shoulder and the other braced against the table. Speaking in a quieter voice, he says, "C'mon man. The poor thing was practically begging to get outta there."

The ash-blond does nothing but sigh before shoving a palm into a pile of money to push himself into the kitchen—and subsequently further away from you.

"She's gonna call the cops," Katsuki grunts wearily from the island, eyes narrowed. Eijirou follows.

"She's not gonna call the cops, dude," the redhead scoffs at the outlandish idea. "You heard the radio! At this point, she's as deep in it as we are."

As they continue to go back and forth over the island, you let your eyes wander. It’s a penthouse, and rather homely, with near egg yolk lighting, high walls, and big windows. You can't help but think about how you're in a strangely expensive part of the city before remembering this evening's events. No wonder they can afford such a nice place.

You find yourself smiling at a particular corner with a frustrating amount of photos stuffed on a little glass table, one that contains a selfie of the two housemates in high school uniforms. There's a ring sat in front of it, one that glints gold when you hold it up to your face, and if you squint you can see little flecks of green in the red of the ruby. It looks scarily close to an engagement ring.

"Hey, what's this?"

Both of their eyes rocket from the conversation to see you slip the delicate thing onto your ring finger.

"Don't touch it!" Eijirou tenses before realizing it's much too late for that. "Er—at least don't twist the top."

"The...top?" You ask, lifting your hand until it's at eye level.

"Yeah like, the jewel thingy," the redhead gestures to the ruby—and you can't stop thinking about how it's almost the same color as his hair. Waddling into the kitchen with your eye still trained on the thing, you ask:

"What is it?"

"A time-travel device," the ash-blond grunts. Eyes still full of suspicion, he watches you and the redhead interact over the island with arms crossed over his chest and reclining against the sink. You frown.

"Aren't those usually...bigger?" Because even though it's 3036, time-travel is still fairly new (space exploration took a long time, okay) and all the machines you've seen are at least the size of a shower. And yet, this one can sit on your pinky.

"Kats has been working on some stuff," Eijirou beams and it edges on proud; you notice the ash-blond near blushes with a huff as you hop to sit on the marble counter.

"'S nothin'."

You stare at the thing in faint amazement, and Katsuki kicks off the sink to near the island. Lifting an eyebrow, you say, "You know you could get rich off something like this? Instead of robbing strip clubs for a living.”

The ash-blond scoffs, and you wonder if someone else has told him that before. "If I gave that to the public, I have no fuckin' clue what they'd do with that shit."

And you shrug, supposing he's right—time-travel devices are hard to get your hands on, and that's for a reason. If everyone starts jumping around in the time-space continuum, fucking with shit, the world will promptly and utterly collapse. Sounds fun, doesn't it?

"It doesn't work with a big time range," Katsuki defends with a shrug, sliding his forearms on the counter. "The most it can do is a few hours"

"Not that it makes this any less cool," Eijirou says with a slight bounce. "I personally think it's really fun to play with."

Katsuki rolls his eyes. "That's 'cause you use it to fuck."

You nearly choke.

"I—what?"

"W-Well, okay," Eijirou chuckles sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "But also other stuff! Like when I'm really hungry, I might go to the future and take some of my fries. Future me's fries, that is."

"Or you'll try to take future-me’s goddamn burger," Katsuki growls. You flip the ring over like there's anything left to see.

"How often do you use it?"

"Nightly," Katsuki answers for him. Your eyebrows lift. Oh wow.

"It—it's not nightly," Eijirou defends weakly, huffing and puffing. "Weekly maybe, but—"

"Almost every night," Katsuki sums for him, giving you a little grin. You snort back before your eyes drop to the ring again.

"Uh oh," the redhead almost gasps, fingers thrumming on the island on either side of your being, "She's thinkin' about it."

"I'm not thinking about it," you huff, though your eyes never leave the ring. It's an...interesting prospect.

"Oh, you're totally thinking about it," Katsuki grunts, and you struggle to find where his enthusiasm came from. What happened to goodbye?

"C'mon," Eijirou tempts with a casual toss of the head. He touches your shoulder—Katsuki touches the other. "See what happens."

"What if—" you stare at the ring with pursed lips, fingers grabbing the ruby. "What if it's random? Or if we're not where we expect to be in a few hours or something."

Eijirou shrugs. "It's always a gamble, but that's where the fun is, no?"

You look down at the thing with a sigh. You suppose.

In one quick move, you twist the gem and screw your eyes shut. At first, you feel nothing, but then there's a sudden head rush, and you can easily see how someone can get addicted to this.

You hear a faint sound, one that could be excused as a rush of wind past your ears, before you feel your knees against a hard surface and your body in a different position.

"Oh, I like this much better."

You open to your eyes to a much different sight than you closed them to.

Katsuki and Eijirou look gargantuan when you’re on your knees, your back flush against the refrigerator and eyes watering due to the cock nestled halfway down your throat. You choke in surprise from the sensation, hands rushing to keep Katsuki from cutting your oxygen supply off for good as Eijirou stands impatient, cock hard in his hand and drooling for attention.

"F-Fuck," the ash-blond wheezes, seemingly just as taken aback from the position as you are. "Your mouth is fuckin' heaven."

"C'mon Sweetheart, don't ignore me now," EIjirou purrs, chuckling as the head of his cock hits your cheek with a wet slap. "At least give me a little something."

You grab his cock harder than you would've out of slight indignance, grinning around the other when it makes him hiss; Eijirou joins Katsuki in resting a hand on the fridge door for purchase.

You weren't the best at Vice City for nothing, after all.

"Shit, loosen that grip a little, will ya?" Eijirou wheezes—you don't listen, and his chest shudders when you seem to only move faster.

"'M too fuckin' close, where's that ring," Katsuki blabbers more than he grunts, and you lift your hand just in time for him to twist the jewel again, sending you three rocketing into the past.

You cough and splutter atop the kitchen island, chest heaving as you finally get the air Katsuki's cock allows. The head rush definitely doesn't help, and you find yourself getting dizzy enough to grab for someone's hand.

"Breathe, Princess," Katsuki says, and Eijirou lifts your hand to his chest so yours can rise and fall with his.

"So that's," you wheeze once you're able to get some semblance of a breath back. "That's time travel sex, huh?"

"Yeah," Eijirou says, a little breathless himself. "Addictive, right?"

"A little," you giggle, and find yourself looking for the ring again. Katsuki snorts.

"What, you wanna go back or somethin'?"

You flush red, eyes darting to the walls guilty, "A little bi—wah!"

There's a rush and the room morphs again. You would’ve fallen headfirst into a set of white sheets if it weren’t for the fact that you’re sat on Eijirou’s face.

"Hello beautiful~" the redhead singsongs from below, and you can't help but notice your bra is MIA as Katsuki takes a seat behind

you to run his hands up your sides to put the underside of your breasts.

"Pervert," you snort, though you figure you’re just as bad as he is with two of Eijirou's fingers deep in your pussy and Katsuki's hand on your clit. The redhead's leaving hickey after hickey on your inner thighs and you just try your damnest to not fall.

"Only for you," Eijirou winks cheekily, scissoring his fingers, and your hips stutter against his face when he slides his tongue in between.

"Fuckin' love the sounds you make," Katsuki grunts, before his other hand finds your neck and tightens. "And fuck you're so goddamn wet—you love this, don't you?"

You keen with a nod (and suppress the urge to say no shit, Sherlock), and Katsuki's pinching your clit between his two fingers, licking a fat stripe up your neck and chuckling when you shiver.

"What, your clients don't make you feel this good, Sweetheart?" Eijirou practically moans into your cunt, eyebrows folding when you thread your fingers through his hair and yank. "Bet that fifty was worth it, wasn't it?"

"Y-Yeah I—" you whimper, unable to get a sentence past your shuddering chest. "Guys, I'm gonna—"

The bedroom melts back into the kitchen, you're back in Eijirou’s jacket and not sat on his face. Your thighs and neck are hickey-less and yet, you're still so fucking horny.

"I hate you," you seethe, almost immediately, and Eijirou's grin is so wide it bends his eyes.

"Awe, you love me," he giggles and your frown only deepens as you reach for the ring—Katsuki snatches it out of arms way with a tut.

"Ah ah Princess, don't be greedy now," he purrs, but you couldn't give a shit about being greedy, and it shows in the way you quickly grab for it again. Katsuki passes the ring to Eijirou and it easily becomes a game of monkey in the middle.

"Give it—"

"I don't think so, Sweetheart," Eijirou says, pressing a big hand to your face to keep you from going any further. With a smirk, the redhead twists the ring, and suddenly you're full of him on the kitchen counter.

"Fuck baby, you're so tight," he curses behind grit teeth, sweat practically dripping off his shoulders in rivulets as he pushes your face into the kitchen island so hard it's numb. So are your knees. "You're so pretty like this—shit—"

You barely have the room to whimper, let alone answer, and you find Katsuki perched on the opposite counter, weeping cock in hand. The redhead chuckles as you struggle to take all of him, hips squirming as he aims for places you've never been able to hit on your own. "I'd stick your tongue back in your mouth if I were you, Sweetheart. The money’s a little dirty, don't you think?"

And that's when you realize your knees are elevated upon two stacks of green, possibly some of what Katsuki had been counting earlier, and a twenty swims in a pool of drool under your cheek.

"Oh, but I don't think you care," Eijirou grunts, shoving your face deeper into the marble countertop as his hips speed up. "Dirty fuckin' girl. Bet you'd do anything for a fifty."

"I wanna fuck her," Katsuki rushes as if his mouth moves before he can speak. Eijirou wheezes a laugh.

"What, I can't enjoy this?"

"No,” the ash-blond grunts.

"Hmm..." Eijirou debates, though his hips never stop as he gives Katsuki a look and goes, "How about no?"

Katsuki growls at that, and you find your fingers clumsily twisting the ruby on the ring that sits on Eijirou's finger, sending the three of you flinging further into the future.

"Fuck!"

"This isn't the future I was referring to, but I'm not complainin'," Katsuki grunts with a feral grin. You nearly slip due to all the water in the shower and you're positive that you see the sunrise through the window paint Eijirou's skin gold.

"I gotcha, Sweetheart," Eijirou soothes, rubbing a hand up and down your arms while your nails dig into his shoulders, the red lines jagged from how roughly Katsuki fucks you from behind. "Fuck—you're doing so good for us, taking him so well."

You whimper and Katsuki lands a heavy slap on your ass—heavy to the point where you nearly knocks both you and the redhead into the tile behind him. Eijirou's calloused hands find your clit fairly easily, and that's enough to almost send you over the edge, pussy fluttering around Katsuki's cock.

"She's gonna cum," Katsuki grunts. "Can fuckin' feel it."

"Uh oh," the redhead singsongs, turning to you with a grin. "Were you trying to be slick, Sweetheart?”

Though it's difficult, you lift your head, eyes swimming in unshed tears as you choke, "I—n-no, it's jus—"

You're in the bedroom again—this time your back comes in contact with a dresser, metal rattling from the weight Eijirou slams you into it with. The redhead supports you both with two feet planted into the floor and a hand around your waist, grunting into your ear with an exhaustion that implies you've got to be at this for hours.

"Ei-Eiji—"

"I know, Sweetheart," the redhead coos breathlessly, licking up the sweat that runs down your neck. "Just a few more times, okay? Hold on for just a little longer."

You sob, head thunking against the wall as you realize you have no idea where Katsuki is. Though it's only a fleeting thought because before you know it, Eijirou's dropping you to your feet, bending you in half, and railing you into the wall.

"Goddamn," he grunts, sharp teeth digging into his bottom lip, "this is—this is the best lay I've had in a fat second."

You pant a laugh, hands pressing into the wall to steady yourself, "Good—good to know the fifty bucks was worth it."

"Oh baby, it was more than worth it," Eijirou hikes your leg up as high as it'll go for a deeper angle and he gets it, his growl melting into a semi-chuckle as you squeal, thighs jumping.

"Fuck Ei!" You scream, and he's tugging your hair to straighten your back out.

"You like it rough, Sweetheart?" He pants into your ear, grabbing your neck for a better grip. You nod as much as you can.

"Y-Yeah—I—" Eijirou drops you until you're stood at a perfect 90-degree angle, "I need—need'ta cum, p-please—"

"Twist the ring, Sweetheart," He pants, resting his hand on the wall next to yours. It still glints gold on his fourth finger in the moonlight, "Get us there together, yeah?"

You don't have to be told twice.

"Mph!"

"Fuck!”

Your knees dig into a mattress again as Katsuki fills your mouth. With his cock down your throat and Eijirou's buried deep in your cunt, there isn't much you can do but take both of them at the same time—though you're positive that's what they intended.

"Shit, me too." Eijirou wheezes a chuckle as his hips piston into you, his sweaty chest sticking to your back while he reaches between your thighs to rub your clit. That’s enough to send you flailing over the edge, moan muffled by Katsuki’s slowly softening cock. Then, with a devilish grin (and before the redhead can cum) Katsuki reaches for the ring on Eijirou’s finger and twists it.

“You asshole,” Eijirou groans, and suddenly you three are back in the shower, with Katsuki’s hips battering into yours as the redhead supports your weight from below. Katsuki chuckles before his grip tightens and he’s filling you with another load.

“C’mon Princess,” Katsuki grunts, reaching for your clit. “Come for us again.”

You choke again before you’re digging your head into Eijirou’s muscled chest with a moan, shaking from the aftershocks Katsuki continues to fuck you through them.

Until the room morphs, and you’re face down on the kitchen counter.

“Fucking finally,” Eijirou wheezes with a bitter chuckle, casually flipping Katsuki the middle finger as he's sat on the opposing counter. “Fuck, you're shaking baby, you gonna cum with me? Yeah?“

Eijirou batters into your cervix and that's the catalyst for your third orgasm. You squeeze so tight you think you may have knocked the wind out of the redhead when his chest crashes into your back, and you open your eyes just in time to see the kitchen melt into the bedroom again—in a time you all have yet to visit.

Your legs are thrown over Katsuki’s shoulders as he pushes your back deeper into Eijirou’s chest, both of their cocks filling you so much and so well it brings tears to your eyes. As your thighs quiver with an impending orgasm, Katsuki’s the first to fall off the edge, eyebrows furrowing as his nails dig into the meat of your thighs.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, voice fucked hoarse and lips bit pink. Eijirou nibbles into your shoulder with a gasp as his sweaty hand finds your clit again, neither of their hips ever stopping.

“Cum for us one more time, Sweetheart,” he pants into your neck before adding another hickey to the collection. Your chest shudders.

“I—I can’t—“

“Oh yes you fuckin’ can,” Katsuki growls, and you squeal as he tweaks a nipple. “I know you got one more in there. Give it.”

Your legs kick against his chest with a curse as you orgasm for the final time—this one much wetter than the last.

“Holy shit,” Eijirou nearly laughs, looking at where the three of you are connected. “Did you just squirt?”

“I—“ your face blends red when you see the absolute and utter mess that sits in Katsuki’s lap, before looking away with a determination to never see it again. “...Maybe.”

“Clean up?” Eijirou asks, eyes flickering to the ash-blond. Katsuki shrugs.

“Nah.”

A rush of wind and you’re sat on the kitchen counter. Eijirou’s jacket protects you from getting goosebumps due to a drop in temperature and though you do shiver, you find your body much more unscathed than it was.

“Hi,” Eijirou chuckles a little breathlessly.

“Hi,” you giggle back, a little nervous but in the best way. “So um...we do all of that tonight?”

“I guess so,” the redhead says a bit cheekily, raising an eyebrow. And then, with a wink, “Probably more.”

You stare at the ring on his hand in awe. Whoa.

"I fuck—fine, we can keep her, Shitty Hair," Katsuki grumbles from his spot near the kitchen sink, and despite the sour look on his face, you can't find a hint of it in his voice. Figures.

"Told you he'd say yes," Eijirou beams with a thumbs up.

"Can we...go do that stuff now?" You ask, albeit a bit hesitantly because...well, usually people are asking to have sex with you. Is this how they feel?

"Of course we can, Sweetheart," the redhead beams, before taking the ring off to place it onto the counter. "It was all a part of the future, after all."

[1-800-gaygentsofshield]

five more minutes | n.r.

summary: Soulmates cursed to never be together, each life always longing for a love that they've never met..or so they think.

warnings: temporary character deaths, reincarnation?, violence, self-sacrifice, angst with a happy ending, implied sexual content, language

based off of Billie Eilish's cover of "the end of the fucking world" originally produced by Rob Dickinson

one life is based on the film “underwater” by William Eubank

word count: 8,344

---- = separate life

/ = a skip in time, same life

Your chest is heaving as you pry open the door to the last safe house in the city, everything turning to hell ever since the “End of the World” started happening. Smoldering flakes of ash were falling from the sky and the bombs were getting set off every few minutes, absolute mayhem engulfing the world around you. This safe house was located on the city's outskirts, technically not disaster-proof but far away enough to be human-proof from the rest of the world.

You belong to one of the major power families that run your district, your father and mother getting killed earlier this morning because of it. The y/l/n's have always been feuding with the other families in control, everyone always hungry for power and willing to do anything to let their family have it.

Stepping inside the house, your boots creak on the wood, the door slowly closing behind you. Your gun feels heavy on your waist as you cautiously take a few steps forward, listening for any signs that someone else might be in the safe house with you.

You hear another creek of the floorboards and in one swift motion, you pull out your gun, keeping your finger resting on the trigger. You move quietly to the kitchen where the noise came from, arm raised and aimed forward. Almost simultaneously, both of you sidestep and see each other, the corners of your lips twitching up as you see Natalia in all her glory. "Y/n." Natasha greets curtly and you nod your head, both of you aiming guns at one another. "Natalia." You say in the same tone before the ground shakes, rattling the house. "Running away like always?" Nat taunts and your eyes quickly scan over her features, taking in the disheveled and tired look on her face.

"You were here first." You comment and she rolls her eyes, adjusting the grip on her gun. "I'm gonna have to kill you now, huh?" She says and you quirk an eyebrow, still on edge as you watch her body language. "Do you really want to kill me? Or does your family just want to?" You ask and her eyebrows furrow, you not wanting to deal with this stupid family feud while the world is ending around you. When the redhead doesn't answer, you shake your head, a breathy laugh escaping your lips as you look at Natalia. "What happened to us, Nat? We used to be so close." You say and Nat sighs, glancing down at her gun before making eye contact with you. "Family happened Y/n. Families got greedy for power and we got dragged into it. A Romanova couldn't be associated with a y/l/n, could it?" She says and you purse your lips together, eyebrows furrowing slightly as you make a decision.

"I don't want to spend my last few moments on earth fighting you, Talia." You say as you slowly lower your gun, Natasha's shoulders relaxing slightly at the action. "What are you saying, Y/n?" Nat asks and you look at your childhood best friend with a certain desperation in your eyes. "I'm asking you to put our family feuds aside, just this once." You pause briefly before speaking. "I don't want to be alone when the world ends." You say softly and Nat contemplates your offer, only taking a few moments to make up her mind. Natalia nods her head and slowly puts the gun down, giving you a soft "okay" as she looks at you. You nod your head and echo her statement, whispering a soft "okay." before holstering your gun.

/

You’re sitting on the front porch as you watch the world around you fall apart, sipping on some old beer you found in the fridge. The soft opening of the front door causes your head to turn, seeing Natalia step onto the porch with a cigarette in hand.

You’ve been listening to the radio for the past hour, hearing the news cover the chaos as you sit there with the wind blowing in your face.

Natalia doesn't say anything as slowly moves to sit down beside you, wordlessly offering you a hit of her cigarette. You shake your head and hold up your beer in a similar fashion, Nat shaking her head as well. The rustling of the grass and the crackling radio are the only things heard as you both look forward, Nat placing the cigarette between her lips and you taking a swig of your beer.

Tentatively, you place your head on Natalia's shoulder, trying to see how the other woman would react. You feel Nat tense up at your action and you internally panic, thinking that you stepped over a line. Sure, you could've done that when you both were little..but now you're all grown up, times have changed. You're about to pull away when Nat wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to her as she relaxes. There are no words exchanged as you lean into her side, Nat taking one last drag of her cigarette before tossing it on the ground. Crushing the nub with her boot, she makes sure it's exterminated, not wanting to start a fire (not like it matters though). You both sit there in a comfortable silence afterward, the radio droning on and on about how horrible the world is.

After a while, you decide to break the silence, still keeping your head on Nat's shoulder. "I love you, Talia." You say softly, feeling the warmth radiating off of the other woman. "What did you say?" She asks and your head turns slightly to look at her, trying to read her expression. "I love you, Talia." You repeat, lowering your head back down to her shoulder once you've made eye contact. "Always have, always will." You finish and wait for Natalia's response, wanting to see if she pulls away or not. Nat is quiet for a second before you feel her arm tightening around your waist, her head turning to kiss your temple softly. "I love you too, Y/n." She whispers, closing her eyes as she leaves her lips there. "I'm sorry that we drifted apart." Nat mumbles against your skin and you place your hand on her knee, rubbing your thumb in a small circle. "I'm sorry too." You say, planes flying overhead. "I've never hated you, you know. I just didn't want to disappoint my parents." Nat says and you nod your head, looking up at her and smiling softly. "I know Nat. I know." You say, bringing your hand up and gently brushing your fingertips along her jawline. Natalia leans into the touch and looks down at you, watching the way you look at her with such care that she hasn't seen in a while.

Your fingertips move down and you run your thumb over Nat's bottom lip, glancing into her eyes one more time before leaning up. You kiss Natalia delicately as she kisses back, eyes fluttering closed as her free hand cups your jaw.

Are you kissing her because it's the end of the world, or are you kissing her because you've been in love with your best friend ever since you were five? Either way, you're kissing her and my god her lips are soft.

You both pull away gently as you look at each other, sadness and regret in both of your eyes. Besides you, the radio continues to. crackle out the news.

...nuclear warhead..five minutes..seek shelter immediately..

Your breath catches in your throat and your heart rate speeds up, panic filling your chest as Natalia simply reaches over and shuts the radio off. “Shh hey, it’s gonna be okay.” Nat whispers as she pulls you closer to her chest. “I don’t want to die Talia.” You whisper as you cling onto the redhead, head burying into her neck and arms wrapping around her torso. “Five more minutes.” Nat repeats the phrase on the radio and you nod your head, taking in her scent. “Five more minutes.” You echo her as she hugs you tighter, both of you knowing that there isn’t enough time to escape. You’ve spent your whole lives avoiding and hating each other, so why continue doing it now.

“I wish we had more time.” You whisper and she nods her head, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Maybe in another life.” She whispers and you can only nod, sighing softly before leaning in to kiss her again.

And for those five minutes, Natalia just holds you, placing gentle kisses on your crown and repeating how much she loves you over and over again. “I’ll find you in the next life, and if not in that then in the next one after.” Nat promises and you nod your head, knowing your five minutes are about to be up. “I love you Talia.” You whisper as you close your eyes, holding onto her as tight as you possibly can. “I love you too, Y/n.” Nat whispers before resting her head on top of yours, closing her eyes as the warhead hits and a bright light surrounds the two of you.

----

"Car crash, 24 year old female, 35 year old male, falling in and out of consciousness." The radio dispatch lists off the information as the ambulance arrives at the scene, Natasha immediately jumping out of the back along with Steve. "I've got the girl, get the other car." Natasha orders and Steve nods his head, both paramedics heading separate ways. Natasha's eyes scan the scene as she sees a red car completely flipped upside down, running her way over there as she sees a bloody hand reaching out. "Please..help.." Nat hears a soft whimper as she drops down onto her knees, looking inside the car to try and assess the damage. Nat barely reacts as she sees you trapped by your seatbelt, trying to calm your breathing as blood pools on the roof of the car. "Hi my name is Natasha, I'm a paramedic and I'm here to help you." Nat introduces herself and you try and look at her, hands shaking as you grip at your cut. "Can you tell me what your name is darling?" She continues as she immediately gets to work, the car door already being ripped off in the crash. "I-I'm Y/n. Y/l/n..Y/f/n (your full name)." You say shakily, Natasha looking at your injuries. "Okay, Y/n. I'm gonna get you out of here, I just need you to keep on talking. Can you do that for me?" She asks and you nod your head, starting to talk about whatever comes to mind. "I- uhm I was born in (your home state or country), moved away from my mom and dad as soon as I could." You laugh softly at the statement before you wince, feeling Natasha put pressure on your wound. "Fuck." You hiss out and Nat whispers a soft "Sorry" before continuing. She shouldn't need to apologize, she was doing her job after all, but she had an odd desire to comfort you even when you were kinda bleeding out"It's okay.." You say before continuing, your vision focusing and unfocusing. "Uhm..I have a dog and my brother is gonna graduate in a few weeks. And I'm so fucking proud of him, I never told him how proud of him I was but I'm so fucking proud of him." You ramble and you don't notice Nat's eyes widen, seeing that if she moves you you'll bleed out within a minute. "An-And I've never found love, just fucking douchebags that I wasted my life on and now I'm gonna die without finding my person and I don't wanna die Nat..I don't wanna die." You choke out as you close your eyes, wanting this nightmare to be over already as a wave of deja vu washes over Natasha. "Hey okay look at me, look at me Y/n." Nat says as she gently cups your cheek, watching as your eyes slowly open. "Keep your eyes on me, okay? You've gotta stay conscious. You think you can do that for me?" She asks and you lean into her touch, mumbling something incomprehensible. "Can you repeat that for me, baby?" Nat asks and your head lolls down a bit, feeling lightheaded as Natasha tries to keep you awake. "Mmhm..should be easy..you're very pretty." You mumble out and Nat smiles softly, ready to get you out of the car. "Okay, my partner and I are going to move you but I want you to keep your eyes on me, don't look anywhere else." She says as Steve comes over to the two of you, already taking care of the male in the other car. "Severe lacerations to her torso and blunt force trauma to her temple. Seatbelt's keeping her in place." Nat gives Steve a brief rundown and he nods his head, lowering the stretcher onto the ground as Nat secures your neck in place. "Just to be safe." She says and you hum softly, their words muffled as they move in slow motion. "Okay we're going to move you on one..two..three.." Almost as if they were in synch, Steve and Nat get you out of the vehicle, Steve getting you secured onto the stretcher while Nat tries to keep you from bleeding out. "Start talking Y/n, I need to hear you talking." Natasha says as your blood soaks through the gauze, pooling under her gloved hands. Incomprehensible mumbles fall past your lips as you try and stay conscious, your entire body feeling numb to the pain. A soft whimper of discomfort is the last thing that you say before you fall quiet, Nat looking at you concerned. "Come on baby you

need to keep on talking." Natasha encourages you gently before nodding at Steve, both of them working quickly to get you into the ambulance. "Tell my parents that I love them..and tell my shithead of a boyfriend to go to hell." You manage to get out and Nat laughs softly, helping Steve lift the stretcher into the ambulance. "Who else do you want me to tell?" She asks once she hops into the back of the ambulance with you, Steve shutting the doors and telling the driver to step on it. "Tell my brother that I'm proud of him..and tell the other driver that I don't blame him.." You start to list as the lights start to get too bright, causing you to squint to try and look at Natasha. You swallow dryly as you can feel the life draining out of you, causing you to hold your hand up to the redheaded paramedic. "Nat, can you do something for me?" You ask weakly and she nods her head, Steve taking over putting pressure on your wound. "Yeah, what is it darling?" Nat asks softly as she changes out her gloves, swapping them for a new pair before leaning down to look at you. "Can you- Can you take my ring?" You ask and confusion floods her face, Nat looking down at the simple band on your pointer finger. "I dont-" She starts but you shake your head, wincing at the pain that it caused you. "Please..I- It might just be the blood loss talking but I feel like I've met you..probably in another life or something like that." You say and wait for her reaction, seeing her stare at you for a few beats. "I know, it's crazy but-" You start but she shakes her head, grabbing onto your hand and squeezing it lightly. "No I get it. You aren't crazy." She says softly and you smile meekly at that, slowly taking off your ring and putting it in her hand. "Then keep it." You whisper and she nods her head, looking at the ring in her gloved hand. "Okay." She says and you smile, finally feeling whole for once in your life despite all the blood you've lost. The fight finally leaves your body as your eyes close, your hand falling limp against the stretcher.

"Shit she's coding." Steve hisses out and Nat's head snaps upwards, shoving the ring into her pocket as she jumps into action. Steve immediately starts compressions as Nat works on your breathing, securing the mask on your face as she pumps the bag. Steve barks out orders over the radio as Nat stands by your head, eyebrows furrowed as she watches you.

"Come on Y/n stay with me, just five more minutes to the hospital." Nat says under her breath as the ambulance races through traffic.

"Hold on for five more minutes." She continues as Steve does his compressions, trying to manually restart your heart.

"Please..just five more minutes." Nat whispers under her breath as another PMD puts a defibrillator on your chest, trying to check for a shockable pulse.

After a trail of CPR, advanced airway, and cardiotonic drugs, Steve finally makes the call.

"Call it." He says to Natasha and she shakes her head, not giving up that hope that you could still be resuscitated. "She's gone." Steve states and Nat shakes her head once again, looking at your still form. "No Steve we can't-" "Tasha she's gone. You have to call it." He says sternly and it shuts Nat up, sighing as she looks at her watch. "Time of death, 9:52 pm." She says as the other PMD covers up your body with a sheet, only a few minutes later the ambulance pulling up into the hospital.

/

Nat sits in the back of the open ambulance as she watches the hospital staff go by, Steve coming to sit by her. "You alright?" He asks and Nat nods her head, blinking back tears as she looks at your ring. "Yeah..Yeah I'm fine." She says before closing her hand, turning her head to look at Steve. "But she was right, I really feel like I've met her before." Nat says and Steve nods his head, putting a reassuring hand on her back. "Maybe in another life."

----

"The drill is working smoothly sir." You report to the Capitan over the intercoms, the screens showing an all-clear in front of you. "Thank you, sailor." His voice crackles over the coms and you nod your head, pressing back the button to send a reply. "Of course, sir." You say before standing up straight, checking the pressure regulation and structural integrity one last time.

It's a must to make sure everything is working smoothly down here, after all, one mistake and the entire drill could be crushed seven miles below the surface of the ocean. "Hey, sailor." Natasha's arms wrap around your waist as she hugs you from behind, moving your ponytail aside to kiss the back of your neck. "Hi baby." You say as you lean back into her touch, eyes closing as you feel Nat's lips on your neck. "Capitan gave you the all-clear?" She asks and you nod your heads, humming at the warmth of your girlfriend's embrace.

It's lonely working on a research/drilling facility seven miles down and being isolated for months at a time, but with Natasha here, it makes things a tad bit easier.

You turn in her arms before cupping the sides of her neck, kissing the redhead softly. "Free for the rest of the day." You say and Nat smiles into the kiss, pulling you closer to her by your hips. When you both pull away, she brushes her lips over yours gently. "You wanna.?" Natasha's sentence trails off with a grin and you smile at her, your fingers hooking onto her dog tags and pulling her closer. "Mm..dirty Tasha." You laugh as you tease the kiss, kissing her softly only a few times. "I don't hear you complaining." Nat grins and you only roll your eyes, glancing at the clock before looking back at your girlfriend. "Then what are you waiting for?" You ask and Nat squeezes your waist, pulling back to grab your hand and lead you to the sleeping quarters.

/

You pull on your Navy-issued shirt as Nat laces up her boots, both of your faces flush from fucking for the past hour. "You messed up my hair." You say to Nat as you try and fix it in the mirror, seeing your slightly swollen lips and hickeys on your neck. "You wanted me to pull it." Nat shrugs and you purse your lips together, tugging your hair back into a semi-neat ponytail. "Yeah but not that hard." You mumble and Nat comes up behind you, both of you locking eyes in the mirror. "What did you say again? Oh Nat fuck me harder..mm tug my hair, oh!" Nat mimics your moans and you shove her lightly, trying to hide the smile on your face as you act mock offended. "I do not sound like that." You say and Natasha only smiles, fixing her belt and tucking her shirt into her pants. "Whatever you say, darling." She hums before kissing your cheek, pulling out your dog tags from under your shirt. You're about to pull her in for a proper kiss when the alarms suddenly go off in the base, a loud AI announcing the warning.

Warning sructural integrity compromised, immediate evacuation advised.

"Fuck." "Shit." Both of you curse under your breath as you swing the door to the barracks open, seeing the rest of the crew rush past you. "Come on we've got to get to the escape pods." Natasha says as she grabs onto your hand, running through the crowd as loud crunches and bangs echo throughout the drill.

"They're closing off this part of the drill!" Someone yells and it makes your heart race even faster in your chest, knowing as soon as someone closes that safety hatch you're all dead.

Nat and you push through people in the crowd, water starting to pool at your feet. It's only a matter of time before this section of the drill immediately collapses, making people literally trample over one another to try and get to safety.

"Come on, come on!" Clint calls as he stands by the safety hatch, watching the people behind you get sucked up in the pressure vacuum. "Close the door! Close it!" Steve yells at Clint as he watches the base collapse, you and Nat jumping over fallen debris and dodging electrical wires. "Go, just go!" Nat pushes you in front of her as you both sprint towards the hatch, Clint pressing the button to slowly close it. Your heart is racing a million miles per minute as you see the exit in sight, Natasha pushing you forward to get through first. There's barely enough space for you to fit through, grabbing Natasha's arm and pulling her in just in the nick of time.

The heavy metal door closes just in time, the rest of the drill getting torn out into the marina trench. Your chest is heaving as you hold on to Natasha, immediately scrambling up to check on your girlfriend. You cup her face as you watch her laugh up at you, hair soaked and face a bit cut but still alive. Your worry quickly changes into anger as you shove Nat in the arm, eyebrows furrowing. "Don't you ever do that again you fucking bastard!" You seethe, taking a few deep breathes before engulfing Natasha in a hug. "Fuck..I thought I'd lost you." You mumble as you feel Nat's arms wrap around you, not caring about Steve or Clint standing to the side. "What? I'm always going to put you first Y/n." Nat says softly before you pull back, now straddling Nat's lap. "Just don't do that self-sacrificing shit on me, okay? That was terrifying." You say and she nods her head, wiping away some of the wet hair that stuck to your face.

Clint clears his throat and you both look at him, you slowly getting up and helping Natasha up as well. "So, what do we do next?" He asks and everyone looks at each other, Steve speaking up first. "Let's find a way out of this death trap."

/

Clint paces as you all sit in the escape pod bay, you trying to get the only remaining one working.

"Are you done yet?" He asks for the third time in five minutes and you sigh, looking at him from over your shoulder with an annoyed glare.

"I'm a Navy engineer, not a wizard, stop rushing me." You say before turning back to the pod, trying to salvage what is left of the broken device.

When the four of you arrived at the escape pods, all of them have been deployed except one, you immediately jumping in and trying to fix it. It's been about ten minutes and your hope is dwindling by the second, finally dropping your makeshift tools and running a hand over your face. "Hey it's okay, we'll find another way out." Nat says softly as she crouches down next to you, rubbing your back in a small circles as she sees how distraught you are.

"Let's make our way over to the control base, see if we can make contact with the surface." Steve breaks the silence and you all turn to face him, everyone nodding their head as you and Tasha stand up.

/

You all meet up with Wanda, Tony, and Vison in the control base, all three of them having unsuccessful attempts to contact the surface. While the rest of the team is discussing the next plan of action, you're by the computer reviewing the readings on the ocean floor, finding the exact time when the drill collapsed. You know it wasn't your fault, you checked all the stats earlier and the base was perfectly fine, so what set it off? Eyes bouncing along the screen, you see that the ocean censors picked up a quake exactly fifteen seconds before the base started collapsing, an odd sensation filling your chest as you realize that no one could have prevented it.

"Y/n, did you hear us?" Steve asks and your head snaps towards the group, Nat looking over at you with a concerned look in her eyes. "Pardon?" You ask and Steve explains Tony's plan, saying that they could use the pressurized suits to try and walk to the next drilling facility to use the escape pods there. "But the nearest facility is more than few a miles from here, and besides, we have no clue what we'll find on the ocean's floor." You say and Tony nods his head, sighing as he sees the map.

These suits haven't gone more than a few yards from the base, specifically being made for drill repairs and short expeditions to fix the service towers.

"Well it's the only option that we have, other than that we can just stay here and wait for the drill to collapse ontop of us." Tony says and you contemplate it for a moment, glancing over at Nat before nodding. "Okay, what other choice do we have?'

/

You’re all suiting up when you see that Natasha’s helmet is sitting on one of the benches, the redhead herself slipping on her suit not too far away. Walking over to the helmet, you decide that there’s no harm in checking it out, reasoning that you should be more safe than sorry in a situation like this. Your heart almost stops when you see a small crack in the glass, knowing that once she goes underwater she’s as good as dead when the pressure hits. Taking a quick glance around you, you slowly exchange Nat’s helmet for yours, taking the damaged one in your hand and heading back to where you were suiting up. It’s better me than anyone else, especially Nat. You think to yourself as you move to put the rest of your suit on, Tony calling you for help before you could do so.

/

Once you arrive back at the bench, you’re relieved that the helmet is still there, knowing that yours is the damaged one. “Hey baby, you ready?” Tasha asks as she walks over to you, suit still bunched up around her waist. “Mm.” You hum as you step towards her, hugging her tightly and putting your face into her shoulder. Nat is a bit taken aback but she melts into your grasp anyways, wrapping her arms around your midsection and pulling you close.

“I love you Tasha.” You whisper softly as you close your eyes, knowing that you’ll be dead as soon as you hit the water. “I love you too Y/n.” Nat says before pulling back, looking into your eyes with a bit of concern. “Why are you acting this way darling? We’re gonna make it out of this together, I promise.” Natasha says and you only nod your head, giving her a bittersweet smile as you lean up and kiss her.

“I know...I just love you a lot Nat. Wanted to let you know that before we set off.” You hum and she nods her head, kissing your lips briefly before pulling you in for another hug. Her head is tucked into your shoulder and she rocks the two of you gently, kissing your temple once you both pull away. “Let’s get out of here.” She smiles and you nod your head, pulling the helmet on and securing it tightly.

/

Your breaths are shaky as Tony lowers all of you down into the water, preparing yourself for the pain you’re about to experience. Nat sees how tense you are and mistakes it for just plain old nerves, not knowing that you just gave yourself a death wish by swapping helmets with her. “It’s gonna be okay malysh.” Nat reassures you as she grabs your hand, you shooting her a smile as you make eye contact. “I know..I know..” You whisper under your breath, the water now over your heads as Tony lowers you deeper. “Get ready everyone, the pressure is going to hit hard.” Clint says and to the left of you, you see Steve’s helmet crack, your eyes widening as you spot it.

“Steve, what did you do?” You ask and he only looks at you, a gentle smile on his face as he sees you and Natasha. “Couldn’t let you leave her alone.” He smiles and you shake your head, frantically ordering Tony to not open the door. “Take care of her for me, okay kid?” Steve says and it’s too late, the door already opening and the pressure flooding in. “Steve no!” You yell as you see his helmet crack inwards, barley a second to register what happened before his suit implodes from the inside out.

“No Steve! No! Fuck!” You’re sobbing as everyone else processes what just happened, Tony frantically asking what just happened. “He switched our helmets! That idiot!” You say as Natasha just stands there in pure shock, Clint being the next one to speak up. “You knew your helmet was defective and you didn’t tell anyone?!” He questions and you shake your head. “I switched my helmet for Natasha’s! It was supposed to be me! Not Steve! He must’ve grabbed it when I got distracted, god damn it!” You’re angry, angry at Steve, angry at the helmet, angry at the earthquake, and most of all you’re angry at yourself. You should’ve noticed it. You should have made sure it was still the damaged one. “You should have just let me had it Y/n.” Nat says and you shake your head, glaring at your girlfriend.

“It’s better me than you Nat. You’re not dying, not if I can help it.” You say before everyone falls silent, everyone stunned at your outburst and Steve’s death. After a while Tony clears his throat and steps around you, looking into the depths of the mariana trench. “We’ll have time to mourn later, right now we need to make sure that we’ll live enough to.”

/

"Tony's dead..Wanda's dead, Vision..Steve..fuck they're all dead." Clint gasps out as he holds onto Natasha, the remaining three of you getting separated when a monster ambushed you. "Clint calm down, I need you to calm down." Nat says as she holds onto her best friend, darkness swirling around them. She forces herself to stay calm as she guides Clint through some deep breathes, refraining from asking about you until his pulse rate goes back down to normal.

You all saw their helmets crack and their blood muddle up the water, these monsters picking everyone off one by one. “Where’s Y/n?” Natasha asks once Clint can finally regulate his breathing, his grip loosening on her suit. “I..I don’t know. We got separated after that thing attacked us." He says and Nat is about to ask another question when she hears your static-y scream ring over the coms, her blood running cold as she sees your suit's lights frantically moving in the distance. "Haul ass Clint, come on." Nat doesn't waste any time as she tries to run through the water, dragging Clint along as she hears your screams through the coms. "Y/n! Y/n where are you?" Natasha calls out as your lights flicker off, head immediately turning 90 degrees when she sees your helmet lights come back on.

You're stabbing this merman-shark-eel hybrid in the face when Nat and Clint finally reach you, it's blood making the water murky as you kick it off. "Oh thank god you're alright." Nat breathes out once she sees you standing there, that relief only lasting for a moment as another thing latches onto both Clint and your legs. Its momentum is quick enough to knock both of you off your feet, unfortunately causing you to drop your knife in the process. Both you and Clint grit out curse words under your breath as you fight with the mysterious monster, Natasha loading up a flare gun to try and help. When she shoots the gun, it temporarily lights up the atmosphere around you, blood running cold as you see the monster that grabbed you.

Its teeth are sharp and dripping with blood, its slimy black claws slowly pulling you and Clint closer to its mouth. As it drags you along the ocean floor, you grab onto a jagged rock, quickly trying to swing at the arm. "Mother fucker." You curse as you hit the arm, it's sharp nails digging even more into your leg as a reflex. With all your might, you continue to swing at the hand, desperately wanting this to be over already. “Let. go. of. me.” You grunt out, watching the skin and muscle get hacked away. The monster screeches and pulls its arm back, now trying to drag in Clint double time since one of its meal got away. “Clint! Hold on!” You yell as you grab onto the man’s hand, trying to find any traction as you look at Clint. Nat is immediately behind you in an instant, grabbing onto your waist to hold the both of you back. Clint is screaming at this point, his leg getting torn by the nails clawing at his skin.

“Don’t let me go, please!” Clint says as you three get pulled closer to the monsters mouth, you desperately trying to tug him away. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” Your teeth are clenched as you feel yourself starting to loose your grip, Nat’s boots slipping on the ocean floor. “Don’t let go.” Clint begs and you nod your head, leaning forward even more to try and keep hold. “We’re gonna get out of this, I promise..” You say but there’s no time for him to respond, the monster roughly pulling him out of your grip and dragging him into the depths of the deep blue sea.

The last thing you hear is Clint’s painful screams that come through the coms, Nat grabbing onto you to keep you from falling over the edge. The both of you are quiet as you stare into the unknown, heart pounding as you realize that you’re the only ones left. “Clint.” Natasha whispers softly and you hold onto her, both of you trying to process how quick that was. “I’m sorry Tasha. I’m so sorry.” You whisper and she swallows thickly, taking one last look into the darkness before making eye contact with you. “It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.” She says before composing herself, straightening her posture and checking her compass. “Come on, we got set off course.” Nat grabs your hand before she turns, keeping her gaze straight ahead as she pulls you both away from the ledge.

/

“They didn’t train us for this in the Navy.” Nat mumbles as you both trudge along the ocean floor, about half of the way towards the other drill facility. “Yeah, sea monsters and flesh eating eels weren’t exactly on the handbook.” You say before checking your compass, making sure you’re still on course. “Nope.” Nat sighs and shakes her head, glancing over at you with a soft smile.

“Hey..I love you.” She blurts out and your chest floods with warmth, a smile tugging at your lips as you look at her. “I love you, Tasha.” You say and she smiles back, both of you stepping a bit closer to one another. “When we get to the surface, would you..hypothetically..marry me?” Natasha asks and you raise an eyebrow, finding it amusing how Nat trying to play it cool.

“You know..because I can’t imagine my life without you, and I don’t want to live in a world without you in it. No scratch that, I couldn’t live in a world without you in it. You’re my soulmate..my person y/n, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you..hypothetically of course.” Nat finishes with an awkward laugh and you can only grin, reaching out to hold her hand gently. “Hypothetically..” You start and she laughs breathily. “If you asked me to marry you, I would say yes.” You say and she nods her head, a smile present in your words.

“Do you wanna ask?” You question and she shakes her head, making a little pff sound. “No I don’t want to ask.” She says and you nod your head, looking down at the map. “We’re almost there, just a few more miles-” “Will you marry me?” Nat breathes out in a rush and you laugh, looking back at the redhead who has a nervous smile on her face. “Mm yes.” You grin and Nat’s face lights up. “Yes?” She repeats, voice a bit high as she stares at you. “Yes you idiot.” You giggle as you tug her closer, squeezing her hand gently. “You better hug me when we get out of these suits.” You tease and she nods her head, looking at you with love in her eyes. “I’m gonna do you one better, I’m gonna marry you.”

/

Your breathing is shaky as you slightly lag behind Natasha, the air in your suit getting harder to breathe for the last few yards. “Are you okay darling?” Nat asks as she turns to look at you, you nodding your head as you wave a hand infront of your face. “I’m okay, just tired.” You say with a tired smile, Natasha nodding her head as she grabs your arm. “Come on you turtle, we’re almost there.” She teases and you can only laugh softly, continuing onward.

/

You’re struggling to take in breaths when a robotic voice rings through your ears, a small warning flashing in the corner of your helmet.

Caution, five minutes of air remaining. Oxygen pod damaged.

Fuck. You knew your luck would run out eventually, especially when you’re this close to escaping. “We’re only a few hundred yards from the facility, shouldn’t be too long before you get that hug.” Natasha smiles and you don’t respond, instead letting go of her arm and letting yourself fall behind a bit. “Y/n?” Nat asks as she faces you, seeing you stand there with a small smile on your face.

“Keep on going Nat, I’m right behind you.” You say softly, not wanting to worry your girlfriend as she’s so close to escaping. “No come on you dummy, let’s go.” She says but you shake your head, seeing the clock count down on the corner of the helmet. “I’m right behind you love.” You whisper, willing your voice not to break as Nat’s brows furrow. “Y/n what’s wrong?” She asks and her eyes widen once she sees it, the little screen on your arm flashing an oxygen warning. “You’ve gotta go Tasha.” You say and she shakes her head, gently holding your shoulders as her mind starts to race.

“What happened?” She asks and you point to the pack on your back. “The oxygen pod got damaged back when the monster dragged Clint and I across the floor, guess I didn’t notice it until now.” You say and Nat swallows thickly, checking her map before looking back at you. “If we’re quick enough we can make it, we just need to move-” She starts to say but you stop her gently, holding onto her biceps. “I’m not gonna make it, you know that Nat.” You whisper but she shakes her head holding onto you tighter. “No. No, you have to make it Y/n. Please.” She shakily says and you put your hands on the side of her helmet, holding the glass gently.

“We don’t have enough time Tasha.” You whisper and tears are forming in her eyes, the redhead trying to blink them away as she looks at you. “Please..you have to make it..” She begs, voice small as she sees the timer count down. “I need you to make it, I can’t do this without you..” Nat whispers and you only wish you could hug her one last time. “You don’t need me Tasha. But you’ve got to get going, you need to get to the survive for both of us.” You say and Natasha shakes her head, tears now fully falling. “I’m not just going to leave you here.” She says as her hands shake, trying to think of a way to get you to survive. “You have to.” You whisper before Nat pulls you in for a hug, the suits not stopping her from showing how much she loves you. “I love you Y/n.” She whispers and you hold her closer, closing your eyes as you hear the timer count down.

“I love you, Tasha.” You say softly, Nat holding you there for a few more moments before pulling away. “Keep my dog tags love, so I’ll always be with you.” She says as she pulls back from you, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you look up at the redhead. “What?” You question right before the ai voice rings out once again, the warning light suddenly clicking off.

Oxygen pod fixed, air supply replenished.

“Natasha.” You whisper out her name as you see your old oxygen pod drop to the sea floor, realizing that Nat just switched out the rest of her oxygen into your suit. With no pod in her suit, Natasha’s oxygen levels immediately drop, warning signs flashing bright red in her helmet. “I’m sorry darling.” Nat says as she looks at you, starting to feel lightheaded from the lack of air. “No..no no no no no.” You breathe out as Nat collapses into your arms, quickly moving her so she’s leaning onto your body. “Okay..okay come on. We can do this.” You mumble to yourself as you start to trudge your way towards the drilling facility. If there's one thing that they taught you in the Navy, that's to never give up, even when you're within an inch of your life you never stop fighting.

/

Once the murky lights of the drilling facility finally come into view, you almost jump for joy, Nat's head hung low as you drag her along. Your body aches and you think your leg might be broken, but that doesn't stop the relief coursing through your veins, opening the door and stumbling into the pressurized walkway. The entrance closes behind you before the water gets drained from the room, your legs collapsing from the lack of support the ocean gave you.

You gently place Nat on the ground before collapsing onto your knees, taking off your helmet and gasping down the fresh air. You cough a bit as you try and regain your breath, unzipping your suit so it bunches at your waist. Your coughs soon turn into laughs as you realize you've made it, quickly turning to Natasha to celebrate. "Nat, we did it. Holy shit..we fucking did it." You smile as you gently shake her shoulder, expecting her to take off her helmet by now.

"Nat..? Nat darling..we did it." You say softly, your smile fading as you take Nat's helmet off. "Oh my god, no." Your heart stops as you see Nat's pale cheeks and blue-tinted lips, shaky hands cupping her face as you ask the AI for her vitals.

No vitals found.

"Tasha..No please." You say before quickly moving to unzip her suit, fingertips touching her ice-cold skin. You start chest compressions as you desperately try to revive your love, the tears building up more and more with each round. "You made a promise, Nat." Your teeth are clenched as you finish another set of 30 compressions, bending down to give your fiancee two rescue breaths. "You said we're going to get out of this together. You promised me." You're barely keeping it together as you start another round, hot tears threatening to spill.

"You said you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me, well you can't do that if you leave me." Your chest is heaving as your compressions get sloppy. "So god damn it please Nat. Please. Please don't leave me." A sob rips from your throat as your movements finally falter, your arms collapsing from underneath you. Your entire body is wracked with sobs as you cling onto Natasha's shirt, crying into her chest as you hold her lifeless body.

You beg for Nat to come back like a broken record, chest heaving as you finally let all of your emotions breakthrough. You scream and you cry until your throat is raw, guilt gripping at your chest as you think all of your fallen crew members.

Your head rests on Natasha's stomach until your heart-wrenching sobs mellow down into silent cries, this small emotional break letting you spot something sticking out from your fiancee's helmet.

Sniffling a bit as you sit up, you take Nat's helmets into your hands, gingerly pulling out a piece of paper wedged into one of the corners. With shaky fingers, you hold it up into the light, breath catching in your throat when you see it. It's a picture of you and Nat after running one of the Navy obstacle courses, a wide smile on both of your faces as your working uniforms are caked in mud. A quivering smile tugs on your lips before you sob again, placing your head in your hands as your shoulders shake.

/

You’re still a mess as you fully get out of your suit, hands shaking with exhaustion as you put a makeshift splint on your leg. You easily find the escape pods and sigh in relief when you see that they’re all working, entering the commands to get to the surface.

As you stand in front of the pod, you decide to bring Natasha with you, refusing to leave the love of your life at the bottom of the ocean. The tears come rushing again as you pull Nat into the escape pod with you, pressing the button to close the hatch and to finally get the two of you out of here. “I’ve got you baby, I’ve got you.” You whisper as your arms tighten around Nat’s torso, slipping her dog tags over your head before you kiss her temple. Your eyes are screwed shut the entire time you travel to the surface, sniffling softly as hot tears silently run down your cheeks.

When you break the surface, you aren’t excited or relieved, you just feel numb, the cold air hitting your face once you open the pod. It’s like everything around you is shaded grey, your eyes dull and dead as the paramedics reach you. The entire time you’re looking at Natasha, seeing the first responders check for her pulse. As they pull your stretchers away from each other, there’s only one question on your mind: what’s the point of living in this world if Natasha isn’t in it?

————

The sunlight softly illuminates the Avengers compound in the early hours of the morning, two bodies warmly pressed up against each other under the protection of a fluffy duvet.

A phone alarm goes off but it doesn’t break the peaceful atmosphere in the bedroom, one of the bed’s occupants slowly turning over to shut off the device.

“Y/n, baby, wake up my love.” Natasha hums as she kisses you, her soft pink lips planting a few gentle kisses on your neck and cheek. Your only response is a hum as you turn in Natasha’s arms and bury your face into her neck, wrapping your arms around her torso and pulling yourself closer. “Come on darling.” Nat laughs as she runs her hand through your hair, voice a bit rough from just waking up. “Too early.” You mumble and Nat sighs, a sleepy smile still on her face as she holds you. “Steve will kill us if we’re late to training.” She says but you shake your head, gently kissing the warm skin of her neck.

“You’re the Black Widow, you could kick his ass ten times over if you wanted to.” You reason and Nat nods her head. “You do have a point malysh.” She says and you hum. “Five more minutes.” You mumble and Nat nods her head, wrapping her arms around you before pulling you closer. “Okay, five more minutes.” She whispers before kissing your cheek, her fingers running up and down your spine.

[leviiattacks]

Could I request a Canon levi drabble? He realises he’s in love, confesses, then thinks about how he feels guilty for loving the reader

author note :: this was super quick but here u go !! i’m working on a long fic rn which is why it may not be great my brain hurts from all the writing i had to do for the fic 😞 ANYWAYS, shy levi ahead,,,, :-(

word count :: 1.2k

levi is super shy around you. he has no idea what to do, he has no idea what to say, he’s always stumbling over his words. it’s SO obvious that erwin and hange are able to decipher the meaning behind his unsual body language in a matter of seconds

might i add he’s always trying to subtly get your attention or at least look presentable

sometimes he leans against walls with one hand to look cool but one day he misses the wall completely and falls face first into a patch of mud

not a great experience because he sees you giggle at him

levi just ends up ignoring you and avoiding you a lot in an attempt to shake what he feels away but that’s another thing about levi when he’s in love. his infatuation is stubborn and unfading. unless given a valid reason to stop liking you he literally can’t force himself to stop how he feels

but sometimes there are opportunities where he does have to speak to you and despite avoiding you he finds himself surprisingly running into you more often than he thinks is humanely possible??

he’s in the kitchen making a cup of tea and suddenly you’re there to fetch some water.

he’s in the courtyard teaching some younger cadets and you happen to pass by looking for one of your blades you accidentally left behind

like he genuinely does not understand how he’s able to run into you this much because it makes no sense

apart from that he ends up taking a keen interest in your hobbies. he’ll try to understand why you enjoy specific things because the smile that paints your face is always so bright

you have this thing for strawberry jam and he’s never got why you enjoy it so much really ???

frankly he finds it to be so sweet to the point it’s sickening to digest

but that doesn’t stop him from buying some whilst in town and placing it in front of you one day

you look between levi and the jam jar a little confused

“you’ve been working hard and i accidentally bought this and i think you like strawberry jam so take it. i don’t want it.”

his explanation is UNBELIEVABLE because it’s a big fat lie but despite everyone else in the room being able to see through his facade you nod meekly and accept it with a grateful smile

after the jam incident everyone knows about how he has to feel but even if they do they don’t gossip about it when he’s around

now,,, levi is really in touch with how you feel because most of the time the way you feel impacts the way he feels. if he sees you laughing at dinner his mind is at ease but if your head is drooped downwards looking anywhere but up he makes a mental note to talk to you later

one day at dinner he sees jean whisper something in your ear and you laugh so hard you have to apologize to those around you for creating a disturbance

he burns in slight jealousy because he wants to know what’s so funny

that’s when his resolve starts slipping. he notices he’s stopped trying to ignore you and instead he’s gravitating towards you

and he hates it

vulnerability scares him so he stays away for a while until the next time you pull him in with your magnetic smile

once again, levi’s feelings are stubborn and unwavering.

he’s protective. always checking where you are in the formation. he can’t have any biases ruining expeditions so he never changes your position (despite wanting to on a number of occasions)

however, when the corps regroup he always looks around for a second ascertaining whether or not you’re in the vicinity and safe

one time he noticed you weren’t around and only relaxed when someone informed him you were with hange

he’s confusing when in love. hot and cold. left and right. dark and light. every move he makes he’ll make another that makes no sense. it’s because he’s never certain of what he feels. all he knows for certain is that he’s crashing hard and whatever is going on will end up in disaster if he doesn’t address it

it really does take him a long time to finally become mentally prepared enough to confess to you but he realises he has to push himself to do it otherwise he’ll only end up distracting himself and making a fatal mistake on the battlefield some day

he’s very nervous about it because he predicts you’ll reject him

“i’m interested in you.”

and when you don’t understand what he means by that he has to rephrase it a number of times before you do get it

“your actions concern me.” you still don’t get it

“i think we are jigsaw pieces.” again no nod of understanding from you, instead you ask him if he’s lost a puzzle piece and jokingly you suggest that sasha could have ate it

“if you were cold i would give you my jacket.” at that you say thank you but still don’t get what it is he means

he just doesn’t want to say it outright. he thinks it’ll be unbearably awkward.

but eventually he gives in and goes for it anyway

“fuck, what i’m trying to say is that i like you and i care for you...in a romantic way.”

he’s shocked when you beam, as cheerful as ever you say you like him back. he’s totally prepared for refusal so he just kinda stands there like a statue unsure with what he should do next

you take the lead moving to hold his hand with yours and when your fingers intertwine with his something in that moment makes levi feel whole. he feels full and happy.

from then on everything is smooth sailing, you and levi are happy but as the months pass and the tensions rise within paradis, levi’s guilt kicks in

he feels guilty for loving you and having the opportunity to have you love him back

there’s constantly a seed of worry in his stomach, it forever weighs him down and many of his sleepless nights are spent thinking about how he’ll have to let you go

after all, everyone he’s ever loved has had to face death’s door before him.

his fear gets the better of him and he even reaches the point of rehearsing what he plans to say to you in the case of a breakup

but this is levi we’re talking about and despite knowing you’re safer the further away you are from him he still latches onto you like a lost child

he thinks for once everything will be different. that you’re a positive sign. he chooses to have faith you make it out of this alive with him.

because although you could die you aren’t dead yet.

and that’s all that keeps his fiery hope steady.

he’s the candle and you’re his flickering flame of hope and for as long as he stands he vows he’ll keep you burning alive.

[christ0pher-evans]

Healed Heart

Final Part of the Shattered Heart Mini-Series

Pairings: Chris Evans x Reader Warnings: 18+ Minor Smut / Angst / Cheating / Arguing / Mentions of Divorce / Swearing Word Count: 2.9k A/N: So here is the final part of my mini-series. I honestly cannot thank you so much for the support on this, it means a lot to me and I love you guys for it!!! Please let me know what you think. I hope you’re happy with the ending because it took me a really long time to decide how I could finish off this story with justice. Thank you again, truly😘 Please reblog and like🖤

Part One: Shattered Heart Part Two: Troubled Heart Part Three: Bewildered Heart

 ♡

Three tortuous days had passed since you had last seen or spoke to Chris, three days since you kicked him out your home. You’d had nightmares about being in a loveless and hateful marriage, steamy dreams about your recent rendezvous and nights where you just felt so alone that you had cried yourself to sleep. It was safe to say that the past three days had been exhausting. 

Although fucking Chris in the kitchen during a harrowing argument probably wasn’t the smartest thing you’ve done, it led to some realisations about how you wanted to proceed with your marriage. You definitely didn’t regret anything you said, or did with Chris that day and that was what you found important amongst the disaster. Not regretting your decisions meant that you knew you wanted to move forward in your marriage, and not look backwards; something you would consider a big first step in repairing your marriage. You knew you couldn’t forget what happened and would have to address it before moving forward but you knew you had the desire to push through the hard times. 

You’d called Chris that morning and told him that you wanted him to come home, not that he could or should but that you wanted him at home with you. Emotionally, it felt like the right decision, because at the end of the day he was your husband and you missed him. Practically, it is his home as well and it was the only place you could both be to sort out your marriage with privacy. You didn’t want to be surrounded by the media or by prying eyes. Hell, you didn’t even want the opinion of family or friends, this was between you and Chris only. 

As you tidied up the house a bit and thought about the moment Chris would walk through the door, it was clear to you that no matter how angry or hurt you were, Chris was your endgame. You had played all the variables over and over in your head loads of times, societal rights and wrongs about cheating when you realised, fuck society. You would never leave your husband over this, and that was okay. This was your story and who cared what anyone else thought, because you didn’t want to give up. You owe it to yourself, to your marriage, to try and fix everything before throwing it away. 

For the first few days, Chris slept in the spare room and you danced around each other, trying to find your new normal whilst you navigated the mess that was your marriage. 

Once the first week passed, Chris continued to sleep in the spare room and you finally plucked up the courage to address the problem that had been plaguing your marriage for weeks, months if you consider back to when the problem initially started. 

The day you decided to bring it up, you had finished work early and Chris was already at home when you arrived back around 3pm. 

Walking through the house, you finally found Chris in the home office. 

“I thought you were filming today?” Chris looked up at the sound of your voice. 

“Oh hi sweetheart. I didn’t hear you come in? Um, yeah I was but, uh.. she turned up to re-film some scenes so I came home.” 

You winced at the thought of her and Chris together but was quickly calmed by the effort Chris had made to avoid her. 

Clearing your throat, you found the courage to reply. 

“Oh, er, did you not have to keep filming?” Leaning against the door frame, you settled in for a longer conversation. 

“It wasn’t anything that I can’t just do another day when she isn’t there. I’ve got some scripts to read over anyway so it’s fine.” 

You sighed. This seemed like an appropriate time to bring up the unspoken topic so you could start moving forward but your anxiety felt crippling in that very moment, you didn’t know if you could face it. 

“Sweetheart..” Chris whispered, “Y/N, sit down, please..” 

You moved to sit down on the small sofa by the window, tucking your feet up and under yourself. Chris moved to join you, sitting fairly close but not touching you as you hadn’t crossed that boundary since he came home. 

“Look baby, I’ve been home a week now and we’ve just walked around this house like we are two strangers. I need you to talk to me, tell me what you’re thinking because you’re the one that told me you wanted me to come home?”

You looked up from your lap and straight into Chris’s eyes, “You do feel like a stranger to me.”

You heard his voice hitch in his throat, clearly caught off guard by your blunt answer. 

“I’m still me, sweetheart. I’m the same person you met seven years ago and I’m the same person you married four years ago. Please don’t think I’ve changed.” 

A lone tear falls straight from your eye, as you whimper, “I miss him.” 

It takes Chris no longer than a second to pull you into his lap, all boundaries obliterated, as he hugs you like his life depends on it. As you cry all you can hear is Chris repeatedly whispering, ‘I’m here. I’m still me. I love you.’ 

You shudder at the softened and sweet contact, something you hadn’t felt for weeks but you embraced it, leaning further into Chris’s chest for comfort. 

Once you had basked in the feeling for a bit longer, shutting the world and your problems out, you knew you had to move away. It would have been unfair to give Chris mixed signals as your marriage was still clearly on the rocks. 

Sitting back up on the sofa, you composed yourself. 

“I know you are still you Chris, but you’ve changed to me now. This you..”, you sigh before continuing, “..you’re tainted and untrustworthy, you’re the man that cheated on me, you’re not my husband. I need to get to know you again, and I need to learn to love our marriage again, and learn to trust you again. It’s going to take time.” 

“B-but you want to try?”

“Of course I want to try. Endgame right? That hasn’t changed for me but other things have to change, we cannot continue like this otherwise if something else were to happen, I don’t think we would survive it.” 

“I am infinitely yours sweetheart. Forever.” You watch Chris smile sweetly. 

Feeling slightly more confident and feeling like Chris has really been listening to you, you knew it was time to talk about her. 

“Okay, well whilst we are here, I think we should talk about her. It’s the biggest hurdle for me, and I can’t move past it. I just can’t deal with you seeing her right now, not whilst I’m learning to trust you again. I’ll never trust her so I need to 100% be able to trust you again.” 

Grabbing hold of your hand, Chris nods in understanding.

“That is completely fine sweetheart. For now, how about I just work my schedule around when she isn’t there and wait until you are comfortable before I finish filming my scenes with her? I don’t care if it postpones the film, or they replace me, you are more important to me than any film and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you!” 

You nod feebly, shocked and relieved with the instant commitment Chris was happy to make to save your marriage and earn your trust back. 

An awkward silence falls over the room at the monumental conversation you just had. Needing a moment to yourself, you decide to make a quick exit. 

‘Um, I think I’ll go and grab a shower before dinner.” Quickly leaving, you rush to your ensuite. 

The shower provided a solace to digest what just happened, a few tears falling as you feel overwhelmed. But you left the bathroom with a renewed sense of hope. 

It was another week of tough conversations and private marriage counselling before you felt you had reached another milestone in fixing your marriage. 

You were in the ensuite of your bedroom when Chris came in to say goodnight. He was merely wearing a pair of pyjamas bottoms that amusingly you were wearing the matching top of. 

He chuckled as he leant against the wall, “I was looking for that top.” 

You giggled lightly and blushed, using all your self control to not drool over seeing Chris topless. Unfortunately, you had never been good at hiding any of your emotions from Chris and you saw him smirk slightly at your flustered state. 

“Okay, well, I just came to say goodnight, so uh- night I guess..” 

You mumbled a goodnight back as Chris turned to walk out the room. A rush of affection from the interaction washed over you causing you to shout back towards Chris to catch his attention. 

“Um, stay..” 

You saw the startled look on his face as the words left your lips. 

“Stay with me tonight..”, you repeated as if you were confirming your own words. 

“Yeah, course I’ll stay, if that’s what you want?”, he shuffled back towards you. 

“It is what I want.” 

You smiled at him sweetly before you brushed past him and moved towards the bed, leaving him a bit stunned in the bathroom. 

Weeks passed with no problems. You and Chris had gone back to sleeping in the same bed and you often woke up snuggled together. At first, you’d wake and quickly move away from him however, slowly, you became comfortable with it and you were finally starting to feel at peace in his arms. 

You had woken up early this specific Monday morning as it was Chris’s first day back filming with her. You felt sick to the stomach at the thought of him seeing her again and had slept terribly. You knew this day would come and thought you would be, at least slightly prepared, but as the day dawned, you were scared. Nerves caged around your heart as your mind could only replay the moment Chris told you that he had kissed another woman.

Chris had to go back to work, you understood that. He had already put it off for a while and sacrificed enough of his job to try and reconcile your marriage. You almost felt obliged to let him go back to work, who were you to hold your husband back from his job? 

You were sitting in the kitchen, slowly nursing a very strong coffee when Chris came down, ready for his day. You glanced up at him briefly, barely acknowledging his words to you. 

“Y/N? Sweetheart, are you okay? You’re up really early?” 

Glancing at the clock reading 7:30am, you shrugged and mumbled, “Woke up at 5:30am.”

You stared in the abyss, thoughts whirring through your mind. Thinking about being frightened to death about the thought that your marriage wasn’t even halfway back to where it should be. Knowing that Chris would see her today, spend all his time with her whilst you were waiting back at home for him. It felt like some sick and twisted de ja vu. 

It had been almost two months since you’d last been with Chris in any form of intimacy, almost four months since you were truly a happily married couple and now he was going to see her again, were you really debating that history would repeat itself? 

“Baby, will you talk to me? I can see something is on your mind”, Chris gently rests his hand over yours, bringing you out your nightmarish daydream. 

Looking up at Chris, taking in all his handsome features, you thought, how could anyone ever resist him. The thought panicked you even more.  

Learning from previous mistakes, you knew it was best to communicate to him how you were feeling. 

“I’m scared you’re going to see her again today and history could just repeat itself. Nothing is fixed yet Chris, and it feels like we are already going backwards.”

Just when you thought that being honest and communicating with Chris was the best option, it backfired in your face. Chris scoffed, a look of disgust on his face. 

“Huh, you’re not kidding?” Watching him run his hand through his hair, he turns away and slams his coffee mug down on the side. You jump at the aggressive action. 

“You really think I’d do that again? You really think that little of me? Have you not seen all the work I’ve put into this fucking marriage the past couple of months?”, he shrugs and turns back to you, “What else do you want from me Y/N?” 

You wince at his spiteful words. 

“I know you’ve put a lot into this marriage Chris, so have I! We’ve been doing really well, but can you really blame me for having doubts on your first day back with her? I thought you’d understand!” 

“No, I don’t blame you, but I thought you’d trust me more that this by now.” 

You chew on your lip nervously as you both stare at one another, terrified of the silence. 

“I’ve got to go to work Y/N, see you later.” You hear Chris huff before he walks straight out the house, leaving you sitting dumbfounded and anxious at your kitchen table. 

Trying to do any work from home was useless as you just felt panicked and couldn’t stop thinking about how Chris’s day was going. You hadn’t heard from him since this morning at it was now 6pm. 

After developing a painful stress headache, you decide to lay down in bed. Believing you can block the world out and briefly pretend that nothing is wrong in your marriage, you shut your eyes momentarily. 

FLASHBACK. 

Waking up so softly, you barely blink your eyes open as you feel tender kisses dancing their way up your back, following the line of your spine. You flutter your eyes open carefully, aware of the vibrant sunlight gracing your face as you try to focus your eyes, gradually making out the floor length curtains gently blowing through the breeze from your open balcony doors. You can hear the soft crashes of the waves and can see the soft, baby blue sky from your place on the bed as you stretch out all your limbs from an energetic night. You let yourself surrender to the feeling of Chris’s lips grazing against your bare body.

As he gradually makes his way up to your neck and cheek, you hum in utter happiness and contentment as he places one final kiss on your cheek as he leans over your body. You can feel every line and shape of his naked form as it presses up against you. You think about how you’ve never felt so happy and loved in this moment, knowing that this is exactly how you’ll get to feel for the rest of your life. 

“Good morning Mrs. Evans”, Chris roughly whispers, his voice hoarse from minimal sleep. He nibbles on your ear teasingly before grinding his core over your ass. You whimper at the feeling his movements evoke from you. 

“Mhm, I like how that sounds”, you mumble before smiling happily. The use of that name giving you butterflies. The one that now belongs to you, the name that now proves you belong to each other forever.

END OF FLASHBACK.

You wake with a start as you hear the front door slam slightly. You sit up too quickly, as you feel light-headed and your vision blurs slightly. You breath deeply, gaining your bearings before looking at the bedside clock. 7:30pm; you had slept right through dinner. 

Not that it mattered because you would have been eating alone anyway, you thought. 

Your body adjusts to being awake, your stomach fluttering slightly at the memories and feelings that the dream provoked. Momentarily caught in a fever dream. 

Back in reality, you brain registers that there was a slam at the door. Quickly, you get up and rush downstairs to see what is happening. 

As you halt at the bottom of the stairs and look out into the open plan room, you see Chris standing by the breakfast bar. The very same breakfast bar that holds so many recent heartbreaking conversations. But this time, it doesn’t bring you sadness. 

There Chris stands, holding takeout food in one hand and in the other, your favourite donuts. Behind him, on the wall, hangs the framed photo from your wedding day. Your matching smiles beaming on both your faces, almost as if they are lighting up the room.

You look back at him, standing here in your house. Bringing home dinner to you. Coming home to you. 

Your breath catches in your throat, “It’s you Chris, it’s always going to be you.”

You watch him place down the food on the side, before he begins striding towards you. Stuck in your spot, you can’t do anything but smile at your husband as he reaches you. 

“Forever yours”, you whisper before Chris’s lips crash onto yours for the first time in months. Your lips work together as your hands grip as his waist and his grasp your neck and face so you can’t move away. So you can only feel Chris, so you can truly remember the raw intimacy and passion between you. 

As your lips melt together, it feels as monumental as the moment he kissed you as you became his wife. It feels as if your story is beginning again; with a fresh start and a new-found hope for your marriage. 

 ♡

Forever Tags: @itsscottiesstark @patzammit @partypoison00 @cynic-spirit @n3ssm0nique @sohoseb @madbaddic7ed @moonlacebeam @ilovetheeagles  @beautifulrose0809 @lovelyladymayyy @tenaciousperfectionunknown @mysticapples17 @whxre4cevans @firoozehmoon @spookyparadisesheep @mytbel0st @thatonelatina @snowy992 [Please drop me a message if you’d like to become part of the taglist for this series or any of my work]

[theladyofdeath]

Heels {Rowaelin}

The prompt: walks in front of their crush in stripper heals and a short skirt because they want their attention

Rowan x Aelin os

Written with @snelbz​

There was no way this could be a good idea.

Aelin was sitting on her bed, watching as Lysandra flicked through her closet. She had told her that tonight was the night and had recruited her to help her do what she considered nearly impossible.

She was going to get the attention of Rowan Whitethorn.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know she existed, it was quite the opposite. He was one of her friends, having met during orientation week their freshman year, and as their group grew, so did their friendship. But after three and a half years, she had very solidly gotten her stuck as just that: his friend.

“You’re wasting your time,” Aelin crooned, flipping through the timeline on her phone. 

“Bullshit,” Lysandra muttered, flipping through the clothes in her closet. “You need to feel confident, Aelin. Rowan is obsessed with you, and you’re obsessed with him. This whole thing is ridiculous.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, but remained quiet. 

“How about this?” Lysandra asked, pulling out a denim mini skirt and black halter cropped top. As Aelin was about to reply, Lysandra said, “Say nothing. Put it on.”

With a roll of her eyes, yet again, Aelin did as much. Once she had the skirt and top on, she looked in the mirror. 

And she looked hot as hell.

“Shoes?” Aelin asked, despite herself. 

“Oh, I have the perfect heels,” Lysandra said, fleeing from the room. She came back a moment later with a pair of black stilettos that were Aelin’s  size. 

Scoffing, Aelin held them up. “I’m going to break my neck.”

Lysandra snorted and flounced back into the bathroom where she continued to straighten her hair. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Fine,” Aelin amended. “I’m going to break my ankle.” She set the shoes on her bed and joined Lysandra in the bathroom to finish getting ready.

She let Lysandra curl her hair, but drew the line when she offered to do her makeup. They had very different styles when it came to that and while Lysandra looked drop dead gorgeous with her cat-eye liner and ruby red lips, Aelin would never be able to pull it off.

“Where is this party even at?” Lysandra asked, pulling her hair back into a stylish ponytail.

“Lorcan’s.” Aelin was trying to keep her hand steady as she applied the thin line of liquid eyeliner to her upper lid. “I think Elide convinced him to throw it.”

Lysandra snorted, applying her mascara.  “Sounds right. Lorcan isn’t exactly the host-type.”

Aelin grinned, tossing her eyeliner in her makeup bag. “Alright, hurry up. I want to make my entrance.”

With a roll of her eyes, Lysandra took one last look in the mirror and declared herself ready and they were off.

Lorcan’s apartment was just on the edge of campus, so the two girls walked and earned the eager glances of many as they did so.

Aelin took it as a good sign.

“Will Aedion be here tonight?” Lysandra asked, shooting a glance over at Aelin.

She groaned. “Probably.” She still couldn’t believe that her roommate actually had the hots for her cousin. He was practically her brother and the thought of him in any sort of compromising position made her want to gag. “If you hook up with him tonight, please do it at his place. I can’t afford therapy on my barista’s salary.”

“Trust me,” Lysandra said, adjusting her ponytail as they approached the steps to Lorcan’s. “I plan on giving you complete privacy at the apartment tonight. And you better take advantage of it.”

Butterflies grew in the pit of Aelin’s stomach. 

She planned to, hoped to, wanted to…but, she had to catch Rowan’s eye first - something that made her nerves go haywire. 

Lysandra must have caught it, because they stopped outside of Lorcan’s door and Lysandra made Aelin face her. 

“You look gorgeous,” she said, and brushed Aelin’s hair back. “He’d be an idiot not to come after you.”

That was the goal, after all. Aelin was not going to be the one doing the chasing. She wanted Rowan to see her, want her, not be able to take his eyes off of her. She knew he’d be here, the party was at his best friend’s apartment, knew that everyone from their friend group would show up. Yet she was absolutely fucking terrified he’d see her and have zero reaction.

She played it off with a joke though. Scoffing, she tossed her hair over a shoulder. “He’d better. I didn’t book an emergency appointment with my waxer for nothing.”

If Lysandra noticed the fake bravado — which she absolutely did, she and Aelin had become as close as sisters over the past three years — she didn’t call her out on it. Instead, she smirked, smacked Aelin on the ass, and said, “Then let’s go get your man.”

The music could be heard from a block away, and when they opened the front door, the apartment was already packed.

People definitely noticed them come in, though, including Elide who was running towards them, a drink in hand. “It’s about time you two showed up!”

“The host himself isn’t here to greet us?” Aelin mocked, giving Elide a hug.

Elide chuckled as she rolled her eyes. “He’s been out on the balcony for about a half hour, avoiding all human interaction.”

“Sounds about right,” Lysandra replied, rolling her eyes, but then she began looking around the spacious townhouse Lorcan and Elide shared. “You haven’t seen Aedion tonight, have you?”

Elide gave Aelin a knowing glance, but said, “Last I saw, he was playing beer pong with Fenrys. Don’t know who the poor bastards getting their asses handed to them were, but they’re probably still in the kitchen.”

Lysandra gave Aelin a wink. “Good luck.” And then she was gone, lost in the bodies dancing to the music.

Her part in tonight was done, to help Aelin get Rowan’s attention. It was all up to Aelin now, so Lysandra was free to find someone to occupy her own time. Even if the thought of who she’d be with made Aelin want to shudder.

Alone with Aelin, or as close to it as they could be, Elide let out a low whistle as she finally took in Aelin’s outfit. “I have a feeling that outfit isn’t just to impress me.”

“Does that mean you’re not impressed?” Aelin asked, pretending to pout. 

Elide looped her arm through Aelin’s and led her to the bar. “I’m always impressed, but I don’t think you care so much about my opinion, do you?”

Aelin snorted as she began to look around, but Elide saved her the struggle.

“He’s on the patio with Lor,” Elide said, simply. “Don’t worry. I’ll drag his ass back in here soon and Rowan will follow.”

Elide poured them both a shot, which Aelin gladly took and even asked for another. But when Manon and Asterin Blackbeak showed up, she waved Elide off to go greet her friends, and leaned against the bar, debating on a third shot.

She wasn’t trying to get shitty tonight, just a little messy, but her nerves were beginning to grow again.

Just as she decided to say fuck it, and get another shot, and heard a whistle from behind her. She turned and found Dorian Havilliard staring at her legs.

Or maybe he was staring at her ass.

They had messed around her freshman year, when his dorm room was just down the hall from hers, but it had never been anything more than that between them, and they agreed that they were better as friends. It didn’t mean they didn’t have fun though.

She smirked as she tossed the glass back and set it down on the bar top, before turning to him. “See anything you like?”

“I see quite a few things I like,” he said, raising his drink in salute. “Then again, only a fourth of your skin is covered, so there’s a lot to look at.”

Aelin laughed, quietly, and clinked her empty shot glass against his full bottle. “Gotta show off what the gods gave me.”

“As you should,” he agreed with a wink. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

“Well, it is school, and I actually study,” Aelin said, turning to refill her shot glass.

Dorian had the audacity to look offended. “Hey, I study, too.”

Aelin laughed as she turned back around. “Reading a bunch of books that have nothing to do with any of your classes doesn’t count as studying, Dor.”

“But they’re so much more interesting,” he replied, chuckling as he thought of the boring curriculum he studied for his pre-law degree.

Aelin rolled her eyes as she tossed back the shot and set it behind the bar. Four shots was enough. She’d be fun, she’d be confident, but she wasn’t tipsy enough to make an ass of herself.

Yet.

“I assume all of this skin isn’t for me, so who are you trying to impress?” Dorian asked, and then added, with a wink, “Chaol?”

Huffing a laugh, Aelin shook her head. “Absolutely not. That ended in a disaster and I’m not inclined to repeat it.”

The sliding glass door opened and Aelin’s eyes snapped to the door, before she quickly turned away before Lorcan and Rowan stepped inside.

“Oh,” Dorian chuckled, softly. “Whitethorn then.”

It wasn’t a question.

He had moved imperceptibly closer and she knew how it would look to Rowan. For whatever reason, she decided she wanted him to be jealous she was talking to another guy.

Even if she had no idea whether or not he’d even noticed her.

“Is this who I am now?” Dorian asked, quietly, leaning into her ear, fully aware that it looked like he was coming onto her. “Your super hot wingman?”

Aelin snorted, and didn’t bother moving away. “My overly cocky wingman, maybe.”

Dorian huffed a laugh. “I still take it as a compliment.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be flirting up Manon instead of fake flirting with me?” Aelin whispered, quietly. She glanced at Rowan, who was filling up a red solo cup.

“I like to make Manon wait,” Dorian said, running a finger up Aelin’s forearm. “She gets jealous, too, and it makes things so much more exciting in the bedroom.”

“Thanks for the image, Dor,” Aelin said, pushing away the need to roll her eyes and flick him in the nose.

He and Manon weren’t exclusively in a relationship, but everyone knew they hooked up with each other, and only each other. But, again, totally not exclusive.

“Besides,” Dorian mused, his finger skimming Aelin’s arm. “She’s busy doing body shots with Asterin. I’ll enjoy her later.”

Aelin snorted, reaching behind the bar and pulling an ice cold beer from the open cooler. She handed it to him and he opened it for her, flicking the cap in the air as if it were a coin.

He let it fall to the bar top as he leaned in to whisper in her ear one last time. “Pretty sure that’s my cue.”

She followed his gaze across the room, and found Rowan looking at her. Watching her and Dorian both.

“Have fun,” he added, before sauntering off towards the kitchen.

Rowan watched Dorian walk away to the other side of the room where he sat to watch Aedion and Fenrys continue to dominate in beer pong.

When Rowan’s eyes trailed back to Aelin, she was already watching him, a slightly-forced mischievous smile on her lips.

On the inside, she felt like she was going to puke.

He made his way across the room, pausing in front of her and slipped his free hand into his pocket. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” she said, and she wasn’t sure why it sounded so breathless.

“I didn’t see you get here,” he said, taking a sip of his beer.

She did the same, fighting the urge to toss her hair over a shoulder. “You were outside.” She realized that told him she was keeping tabs on him and she quickly added. “I mean, Elide told me Lorcan was outside, so I assumed you had to be with him.”

He smirked. “Right. Well, I was. It’s a little crowded in here.” She nodded, but he went on. “However, seems like you didn’t mind when Havilliard was over here with you. Not too crowded for you, then, huh?” 

Aelin slowly lifted a golden brow. If Rowan wanted to play, she would play. “Not crowded enough for someone to be blocking your view of me with Dorian, apparently.”

A light lit up Rowan’s green eyes as his jaw twitched, suppressing a grin. “I can always count on you to manipulate my words and their meaning, Galathynius.”

Aelin’s grin was wide. “Someone has to keep you in your place, Whitethorn.” 

“And is that you?” He asked, voice low as he took a drink from his cup. “The person that’s going to keep me in my place?”

Aelin’s eyes glittered as she took another drink. It was always easy with Rowan. They could talk for hours, that witty banter, back and forth. But, that’s all that had ever happened between them: simple conversation. 

From the way she caught him watching her legs as she took a drink, though, she thought tonight may just end up as she planned.

A hell of a lot more than simple conversation.

“Want to dance?” She asked.

His eyes slowly slid up her body to meet her gaze. “You know I don’t dance, Ace.”

She took a long, slow drink from her bottle. “Not even with me?”

“Not with anyone,” he said, crossing his arms and resting a hip against the bar.

It was a miracle no one had interrupted them, but the bulk of the drinks had been set up in the kitchen.

“That’s a shame,” Aelin sighed, finishing off her beer and tossing the empty bottle in the trash can. “I would love to dance, but I don’t have anyone to dance with.”

Rowan said, “I’m sure you can find someone, especially with how you’re dressed tonight.”

She raised an eyebrow and looked at him. “And how is that?”

“Don’t get me wrong, you look drop dead fucking sexy,” he replied, without missing a beat. “I just don’t get why.”

“What do you mean?” Aelin asked.

“Why try so hard?” He asked, head cocked to the side. “Who are you trying to impress?”

Cocky bastard. She could see it in his eyes, he knew what he was doing and she hated him for it.

Hated that she loved it, anyway.

“What need would I have to impress anyone?” Aelin asked, chin raised. “I think I’m naturally perfect in every way.”

Rowan chuckled. “Then you should’ve come in your sweatpants and a tank top.”

Aelin rose a brow.

Rowan shrugged. “I think that’s when you’re sexiest.”

With that, with his cup pressed to his lips, he turned and walked away.

Aelin blinked after him, not sure she was sure she heard him right. He made his way through the people and headed back to the door leading out onto the balcony, stopping to say something to Lorcan. He waved him off and then Rowan was slipping back outside, while Aelin just started after him.

She pushed her way through the crowd, which was easier said than done when you weren’t a six-foot-four giant who mildly scared the shit out of everyone by scowling at them, but she eventually made it to the door. Sliding it open, she stepped out into the balmy night air.

“You can’t say shit like that and then just disappear,” Aelin said, finding him exactly how she’d expected to.

Rowan was leaned against the wall, the sole of one booted foot pressed against it as well. A lit cigarette dangled from his fingers. She gave him shit about smoking all the time, but knew he only did it when he drank.

Or when he had something on his mind.

He held the cigarette out to her, but she gave him a look. “You know better than to offer me that.”

Rowan just grinned and put it back between his lips. “You’re missing the party.” 

“What did you mean?” Aelin asked, standing opposite of him, leaning against the railing. 

“When?” he asked, looking up at the sky.

“Don’t bullshit me, Rowan,” she snapped, and it got his attention. 

Blowing a puff of smoke into the cool night air, he met her gaze and slowly shook his head. He gestured to her outfit, to the heels that were making her feet ache. “What is this?”

“They’re clothes,” she said. “For a party.”

“They’re Lysandra’s,” he replied, simply. 

“I can’t wear my roommate’s clothes?” Aelin scoffed. “What the hell is wrong with you tonight-.”

“Why can’t you just admit that you’re just trying to impress someone?” he interrupted, watching her, that light in his eye fading. “You’ve never been not-confident a day in your life. Whoever it is that you’re trying to impress, he obviously isn’t worth it if it causes you to be someone you’re not.”

Aelin looked down at the cropped halter top, the skirt that hardly reached her thighs, the heels that she was certain would cause blisters. “This is someone I’m not?”

Rowan slowly shook his head. “Last time we went out, you wore that little golden slip dress….” He shook his head, reminiscing on the memory. “That was you. You wore sneakers and you were still barefoot halfway through the night, dancing on the patio. What you’re wearing now - yeah, you look gorgeous - but I can tell you’re not comfortable in it.” 

“If I’m trying to get someone’s attention, maybe my usual isn’t best. Especially if it pushes me out of my comfort zone,” she snapped back, her hands on her hips. “And why is it such a problem if I’m trying to impress someone? Dorian was impressed.”

“Dorian doesn’t drool all over you like a dog in heat,” he replied. “He respects you, regardless of what you’re wearing, how much skin you’re showing off. But if you’re trying to impress some D bag who will only notice you if you’re dressed like that, you might want to reconsider.”

“And what if I was trying to impress you?” She asked, getting in his face, cigarette smoke and whiskey breath be damned. “What if I was trying to get your attention, Rowan?”

His jaw locked and his eyes searched hers, as if he was trying to find the underlying meaning in what she was saying, even if there wasn’t one. 

“Then you’d be wasting your time,” he said, at last.

It felt like a knife had been shoved into Aelin’s ribs with every word that had come out of his mouth. Begging herself not to cry in front of him, she went to take a step away, but Rowan grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to him.

Their chests were nearly touching, and his hand trailed from her wrist, into her hand, interlocking his fingers with hers.

He took the cigarette from his lips and said, “You’d be wasting your time because you impress me every time that I’m around you.”

“You never act like it,” she breathed, shaking her head. “You never do anything, and you’ve never tried to make a move. What the hell else was I supposed to do?”

He flicked the cigarette over the rail and let go of her hand, only to frame her face with both of his. “This.”

And then his lips were on hers, and Aelin didn’t care that she could taste residual smoke or stale beer. She knew she didn’t taste much better. All that mattered was that Rowan was kissing her and his hands were on her face and hers were tangled up in his shirt. His tongue slid against hers and she had to fight to stop the moan that threatened to slip out of her.

He pulled back, resting his forehead against hers. “That,” he said, breathlessly. “That is what you should have done to get my attention.”

Aelin swallowed, harshly. “Do it again.”

Rowan didn’t have to be convinced. His hands slid down her back as he brought his mouth to hers, and he pulled her body uptight against his. They stayed out there for a long time, for hours, uninterrupted. 

At one point, she saw Dorian come by and lock the balcony door, so everyone else would get the hint to stay the hell away.

Wingman of the year.

They stayed on the balcony, kissing and laughing and kissing some more, until the party wound down. Around two, Lorcan let them inside, and Aelin pulled Rowan out of the apartment and across campus to her own. 

True to Lysandra’s word, she was nowhere to be found.

The second Aelin stepped into her apartment, she kicked off her heels and was swept into Rowan’s arms. He carried her into her bedroom, where he stripped her down, out of her roommate’s clothes.

Rowan Whitethorn saw all of her.

She had his full attention.