#bc like yeah I could make it so that Li soothes reader and it feels nice and they end up making sweet love | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ayekittyk4t · 2 years

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laisse tomber les filles, un jour c’est toi qu’on laissera | montreal

♱ Desc: You know he’s no good but he makes you feel heavenly.

♱ Pairing: Eren Yeager x AFAB Reader, Slight Jean Kirstein x AFAB Reader (There’s lots of tension)

♱ Content Warning: Dubcon (they’re drinking), Unestablished relationship, mentions of a past relationship, cheating (?), unprotected sex, marking, virginity loss, fingering, spit as lube, fingers in da mouth ;), mentions of vomit and blood, subtle eren x historia too

�� Word Count: 5934

a/n second fic for my writing based off the weeknd songs! (this isn’t exactly based off it’s just has some undertones bc abel is a guy often making mistakes and manipulating women in his songs! so yeah that eren rn. eren = abel) uh so, surprise, it’s eren. my next fic might be suna or zeke idk. i’ve had this suna fic for months but i been feeling zeke lately soooo…montreal - the weeknd

♱ Translation: Leave the girls alone, one day it’ll be you they will leave

ao3 | wattpad

Why would you go back if you were hurt once already?

You thought about this often. While showering and pretending to wash your mistakes and secrets away. While overworking yourself to distract yourself from how hurt you actually were. While staring in the mirror, rubbing your eyes clean of smudged mascara and eyeliner from the night before.

It seems like you’ll continue to make the same mistakes over and over until you’ll truly learn.

He’s laying in your bed. Asleep and basking in the warm morning sun like a kitten fast asleep from a night full of playing. His skin is dewy and littered with moles. There’s some scars along his arm caused by his adventures into the woods while he was younger, you remembered him telling you this once.

His long chocolate brown hair is disheveled and covering his eyes. A sight you got a lot of last night and miss seeing already.

Admiring the boy before you, you tiptoed towards your bed, cold tile from the bathroom floor soon turns into plush carpet as you do your best not to wake the sleeping boy. The bed dips low when you lay down. Flannel sheets are smooth on the bare skin of your thighs, mattress soft enough to soothe your aching muscles and the fresh scent of recently washed sheets lingers through the air. You could just fall into a deep slumber.

It was a dream. Laying in bed with someone who you admired so deeply while a faint pitter patter of raindrops begins to hit the windows. You're warm and you feel loved. But you wake up from dreams, they end and you have to come back to reality. You can no longer fall into a deep slumber as if you were a fairytale princess with these thoughts running rampant in your mind.

It feels like a slap. A harsh, icy cold slap. Stinging and leaving an imprint on your cheek. One that'll leave you holding your cheek, hair still dishealved while you’re frozen in place from the slap. That hand is still on your cheek in an attempt to soothe the pain from the slap. But no matter what you do, it’s still throbbing painfully.

You try to sleep, letting the fluffy pillow encase your head and sheets wrap around you like a cocoon, but you just can’t. Because maybe you do know why you’d come back. Why you always go back. Why you can never let anything be left on bad terms. You’ll look back at your stupid naive self one day, but you’ll finally know all along.

So when you look at him, you tuck his messy hair behind his ear, just enough to see his face and that mole that lies just beneath his chin. Out of all the moles that scattered across his body, the one below his chin always caught your eye. You gently rub that spot with your knuckles, taking in the moments you had left.

This was temporary. Like everything else, it will come to an end. If it ends well or bad, you know either way you’ll be torn and hurting, because you remember all and hold the smallest, most forgettable moments so deeply inside your heart.

You’re grasping onto what’s left. But there’s nothing, there never was to begin with. Chasing after someone that never belonged to you, someone who never saw you as the only one. You were an option out of many others. It never was just you. The realization hurts, but it’s helping you overcome this. And in the end, you finally know.

You know that you don’t love yourself first.

You never have.

Pounding walls, sticky floors. The best way to describe an end of semester “kickback”. Although the scene layed out in front of you suggests it’s more than a kickback. Packed driveway, smoke clouds, and empty cans of hard seltzer’s overflowing from the trash.

It’s no Project X, but it’s no “kickback” either.

“Shot?” You’re knocked out of your dazed state when a loud cheery voice calls to you. Sasha held a bottle of coconut flavored tequila in her hand, bringing it near her face and plastering a big smile, “It’ll taste yummy.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes at her comment, “Uh huh,” As if that cheap bottle of fruit flavored tequila was going to be yummy. The bottle was probably stolen from someone’s mom by the looks of the brand and of course the ‘Happy Mother’s Day’ tag which no one bothered to take off. She’s most likely looking for it now and wondering where it is, or hasn’t even noticed it’s absence yet. Either way, it’s in the hands of Sasha - a self proclaimed party girl, and all just because her son wanted to impress college girls who needed to let loose after studying for a week full of exams.

With an exaggerated made up story like this one going through your mind, you were still a college student who studied for a week of exams. After all the studying, you were able to pass all your classes for the first semester. You deserved this, for all your work you deserve the whole bottle.

“Yes, and make it two.” You walk around the counter towards Sasha, bumping into a group of boys who didn’t hear your first few excuses. You roll your eyes at their rudeness, nudging them a little harsher because of that.

Sasha quirks her eyebrow, relaxing it as you meet her side, “Why two?”

“Why not?”

She opens her mouth to say something, but quickly purses her lips shut. For a few seconds you wonder what it was she was going to say. Though the thought is still lingering in the back of your mind, you move past it and watch as the brunette pours what looks like more than two shots into a red cup. She has a dopey smile on her face indicating that she knows exactly what she’s doing.

Your eyes widen as you cock your head to the side, “Wow, are you trying to get me fucked up?” You say sarcastically while looking her in the eyes.

She laughs, inhaling so deeply that her chest rising and falling mimics one of a sleeping baby, “Maybe I am.”

You hum at her response, grabbing the cup anyways and swirling the clear liquid before holding your breath. Downing the drink in one whole swig, you screw your eyes shut, smacking your tongue on the roof of your mouth to get rid of that bitter taste that just won’t leave your tastebuds.

“More?” Sasha offers, raising her eyebrows in a teasing manner while already pouring herself some more. She hadn't even given you time to recover from the previous shot or two, she didn’t even wait for your response. The girl was already lifting the bottle with her shaky hands to serve you more.

As she begins to fill your cup, a loud cacophony erupts from behind you two. The group of boys push into you guys, bumping Sasha and causing the liquid to splash and drench your shirt.

They’re silent, the beginning beat of Still Not a Player breaking the awkward silence between your two groups. One boy snorts loudly, the rest burst out in laughter.

“Ah, shit..” The tallest boy of the group shouts loud enough for you to hear. He’s sporting shit eating grin, tugging his lip with his pearly teeth once his eyes catch yours.

“You assholes!” Sasha yells at the boys, rotating her body to face them, “The fuck, Connie.” She reaches over your shoulder, smacking the boy with buzzed hair across his forehead and knocking his empty cup out of his hand from the aggressiveness of her smack.

She’s tugging his ear now, shouting profanities in his face. You almost think she’s about to have a full on fist fight with the boy by the way her eyes are burning into his. That is until they begin to burst out in laughter. Sasha’s throwing her head back, knocking into you once more, spilling the remnants of liquid in your cup on your arm.

“Fuck,” You shake your arm of any liquor, placing your cup down and searching for any paper towels. Though the likelihood of finding some in a college party was little to none.

In an attempt to catch Sasha’s attention, you grab ahold of her shoulder, leaning to whisper in her ear. The girl is too lost in her conversation with Connie, still rough housing with him and not paying attention to her surroundings or you.

“Hey,” The tallest man called out. You look up, his hazel eyes traveling to the big wet stain on your green tank top. Your cheeks flush. He’s kinda cute.

He licks his lips before he speaks again, “I’ll let you use my shirt.”

“You have an extra?”

He laughs slowly, canines peaking through his rosy lips, “No,” Large hands travel to the hem of his t-shirt, he pulls it over his head handing the shirt to you, “I’ll let you use mine.”

The group of boys behind you howl and shout, teasing their friend as he stands shirtless and towering over you. It’s quite obvious he works out. His body is toned, arms visibly strong, prominent v-line, and even with colored lights beaming off the wall, you’re able to see trails of hair leading into his boxers.

Grabbing the shirt, you can feel the remnant of his body heat left on it. A cloud of musky cologne travels to your nostrils, overwhelming you with its strong scent. You blink hard at him. He’s smiling giddily as you check out what design was on the white shirt.

“Cigarettes After Sex?”

He nods yes, smirk pulling at his lips, “Jean.” He holds his hand out, “Nice to meet you.” You expect him to shake your hand, instead he takes yours with his calloused fingers, bringing it towards his lips and planting a kiss, “Should I expect that you’ll return this to me?”

Still taken aback by his actions, you’re able to slip away from his grasp without your knees turning into jelly. “I'll think about it, Jean.” You smile sweetly, cocking your head to the side. For now, you’ll walk away. You’re standing with a coconut flavored tequila stain across your chest while an attractive boy is talking to him. Continuing to flirt was what your heart wanted, but you listened to your brain walking away. You give him your name, taking one last look at him before walking away. He winks.

As you begin to make your way to look for a bathroom, you push through groups, dancing bodies, and couples in corners swapping saliva or awkwardly trying to make small talk. When you reach a closed door, you ask someone around you if it’s the restroom. Getting the answer that pleases you, you knock a few times. Hearing no responses to your knocks, you twist the knob, nearly falling over when the door swings open from someone inside.

“Bye.” A small blond girl brushes past you, bumping into your shoulder in the process of leaving the room. She looks over her shoulder as she moves through the waves of people, big ocean blue eyes staring daggers into yours. You’d wonder if you interrupted, shrugging and deciding to shake any thoughts off your shoulders.

You enter, locking the door behind you. It’s not your plan to stay any longer than you’ve been in this party. You decide that you’ll leave once you put on Jeans shirt on, though your tank doesn’t seem to be easy to take off. You're tugging it, but a strap tangles between your bra. Finally getting the top over your head, you exhale from relief. Just when you're about to put the t-shirt on, the bathtub curtain swings open.

“Who-”

You scream, quickly covering yourself with the shirt and walking to see who might’ve been in the tub.

“You disgusting pervert, get out!” With your stained tank in your fist, you nearly swing at whoever was in front of you, not even taking the time to learn whom it may be.

“Wait, wait! It’s Eren!” He slurs, his hands coming to stop you from hitting him.

Eren.

You find that he might be the worst person to find yourself in this situation with.

Eren.

Your heart is racing, chest rising, one hand keeping yourself covered and the other pushing Eren away. It takes a while for you to collect yourself, being a bit shocked still from seeing a friend whom you haven’t spoken to in months. You're trying to figure out what to say, and eventually when you do, words cannot fall out of your mouth. Just the sight of those emeralds freezes you. Minutes ago your heart was racing from Jean, now, he wasn’t even your second thought. It was all Eren.

“Hi.” After all the thoughts running laps in your mind, you finally spoke.

“Please don’t punch me.” His eyes land to your balled up fist in the air. Eren attempts to pick himself up, resting his hands on the side of the tub, but failing and slipping back in. He’s drunk.

You’re stuttering and swallowing your own tongue trying to say something else. “Can you look away for a moment?” He doesn’t question you, just slapping a hand over his eyes and facing the seashell white tiles with a quick shift of his body. There’s a moment in which you feel words crawling up your throat and threading to spill. You wanted to question him. Ask him who that was that rushed out the restroom. Ask him how he’s been doing. You had so much to say and there was so much you wanted to know.

What happened? How are you? Tell me everything.

“You can look now.” You speak softly once the hem of Jeans shirt falls onto your hips. His shirt is large, you're swimming in the fabric and the strong scent of his woody cologne. Eren spins his body, his knees knocking against the tub and his head hitting the wall.

“Hey, hey,” Rushing over to him, you crouch to his level picking up his head that slammed against the wall, “A-are you okay.” You’re worried as you stare down at the brunette. His eyes are closed and he’s groaning.

His groaning stops for a second, then he gulps hard. Adam’s apple protruding perfectly, and jaw clenching to repeat the action. Erens eyes flutter open, “Fuck no.” He chuckles deeply, shaking his head lightly. You let your hand slip away from his warmth, letting them fall into your lap.

“I’m fucked up, [Y/N].” He inhales, exhaling harshly and rolling his eyes.

“It’s quite obvious.” You hold your hand out to help him out, but he doesn’t take it. He laughs again. His eyes find yours, quickly leaving your contact and studying the shirt you’d been wearing now.

“My girl walked out on me.” You didn’t need to know this. Eren turns his gaze to the shower head, taking his bottom lip between his teeth, nostrils flaring. “Saying I was a fuck up.” You began to feel bad. There was no way you’d made him feel bad, but seeing him so upset made your heart ache. “I think she meant that I was literally a fuck up, and not just, well,” He looks back at you, “you know.”

Your hand is still out for him to grab, “Yes, I know. I don’t care though,” You do, “I just wanna get you out of the tub.”

He doesn’t take any offense to your comment. He deserved it. Taking your soft hand within his calloused ones, he winks at you, mouthing a thank you.

“You’ve always been so sweet.” He confesses. You ignore his comment and pull him up, stumbling back a bit when he crashes into you. Eren chuckles when he is finally stable enough to stand still. He’s not looking at you, he’s looking at your shirt, “The fuck.” He mutters, “Why are you wearin’ ”

Clearing your throat before he can finish his sentence, you lead him out the tub, “Do you have anyone to take you home?” He shakes his head ‘no’, you nod. Erens arm is over your shoulder keeping him stable until he rests against the sink counter, he drops his head, hands gripping marble counters.

“If I go home my dad will kill me.” Loose hairs hang over his eyes and flow up as he huffs.

“Thought you liked to rebel against him?” You questioned.

“Took an oath not to piss the old fuck off anymore.” He begins to rub his temples, “I messed up real bad last time.” When he looks up at you, you’re staring into his eyes. He chokes up and looks back to his shoes. You're stuck, wondering if there may have been a double meaning to his words. To you, it’d really felt like it. Though it was nothing, you felt a tinge of satisfaction.

What you said next was a mistake.

“You can stay with me for the night.”

What happened between you and Eren wasn’t serious. There was no label for the two of you, you didn’t speak to you in public, and there was hardly any progression. I’m the end, the feelings were all there. At least yours were.

You felt a wave of relief when you’d found out he’d been sneaking around with someone else - doing things he said he couldn’t do with you because he thought it would hurt you. The relief was that he was gone and you hadn’t gotten to the point of falling in love. You knew if whatever went on between you two or even labeling yourself as a couple, your feelings would’ve been deeper and stronger, and his actions would’ve hurt more than they did.

Though your sensitive little heart ached, and your tears fell, forming glistening rivers of pain along your cheeks in the pale gleaming moonlight, you were at peace.

You didn’t have to worry if he wanted to leave because he was already gone.

However, you found yourself within his presence once more. Believing he’d left you to heal yourself and recover from whatever illness he’d infected you with, he'd come back. Contaminating you with his virus. He’s in your lungs, squeezing all the oxygen out. He’s wrap his hands around veins and stopping blood from flowing into your heart.

You should’ve left him.

The low hum of the radio fills the thick silence in your car as you drive to your loft. Erens sitting in your passenger seat, legs spread wide and head stiffly resting up against the window. From the corner of your eye, you see he's fogging up the window, and the reflection revealing he’s watching you drive.

You're only a red light away from your home. Deep down, you wish it was more. Because you knew taking him home was a mistake. Sasha would tell you that, she’d lecture you on how it was a bad idea. Your own senses told you so. It had a strong stench anyone would smell from miles away. It made your tummy churn, your head pound.

You don’t learn.

Turning into your designated parking spot, you let your entire body relax. You will be fine.

“Nice place for a college student.” Eren speaks up after minutes of silence. He's looking up at the four-story building, large hand rubbing his jaw. You just smile and hum, removing your seat belt and hopping out to help him before he faceplants on the pavement.

“I’m good.” He raises his hands, exiting the car perfectly enough to prove he was close to sober. You smile and nod again. Locking the car, and beginning to walk toward your door, you realize Eren isn’t following you.

“You coming?”

He just looks at you. Eyes glossy, back slumped over. He studies you for a bit, wondering what was going through your mind, wondering what your brain told you to keep from him.

“Yeah.”

You lead him up into your loft. He looks around, examining his surroundings. As you enter, you switch the light on, letting yourself and Eren into your home.

“You can sleep on the couch.” You stare at your feet, avoiding his jade eyes and kicking your sneakers off, “Just lay on your stomach, I don’t wanna wake up to you dead in my home because you choked on your own vomit.”

He wishes you’d look at him again, say something he wants to hear. You think the same. Both of you know neither one of you would do so being the stubborn people you are. He watched you walk away, closing your bedroom door behind you while making one look over your shoulder.

You're about to throw your clothes off, get ready for bed and sleep, before you could hear a knock. The angel on your shoulder pulls your ear and tells you to tell him to go away, but her twin devil sisters tell you you're a bad person if you do so.

You listen to her sister.

“Yes.” Once you open the door, the brunette is leaning against the frame. His hair is disheveled, half of it no longer being in the low bun he’s always worn. You gulp hard, hoping to rid the lump in your throat. That fails.

“Let me sleep in your bed.” He doesn’t ask you, he demands you. You should kick him out. Yell at him and tell him he shouldn’t be demanding things from you after everything. You can't. Though you wish you were strong enough to do so, you cannot build enough courage.

You let him.

After half an hour, you aren’t able to sleep. You’re bare legged, Jeans shirt covering your body like a dress, wrapped in your blanket, and still nothing. You think Erens asleep, but you can’t tell with the way your heavy breathing is muting any noise around you. You began to believe you may have imagined it all. Shutting your eyes and taking a breath, none of it works. You still feel the dip of the right side of your bed.

“How’ve you been?” His raspy voice echoes in the room. Your eyes shoot open.

“Good.” You keep your answer short.

A deep exhale comes from his mouth, feeling his body move and come closer to yours. Flannel covers slip away from your form, exposing your legs to the male next to you. Your ass is displayed as a perfect view for him, he tugs your shirt down, covering you and helping him rid the tightness in his pants.

“You used to always speak to me.” He whispered monotonously, “Passionately. For hours and hours. Why won't you speak to me now?”

You didn’t want to have this conversation. Even though it felt like you brought it on yourself by bringing Eren into your home, this was the last thing you wanted to talk about. Lips quiver for a second before you gather your scattered emotions, eyes bordered with glistening crystalline tears.

Eren wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. You lose capability to breathe and mobility to move and push him away. You lose your voice. You should be telling him to not touch you, but his burning touch hurts so good. Rough hands meet your cheek, his large fingers on your jaw, tilting you to look at him.

This is the closest you’ve been to him. He was always afraid of you. Even when you’d crave him and he craved you, he’d hold himself back. He was terrified of you. Now, you didn’t know what got into him. Had you tempted him? Was it the alcohol? Or was it all the pent of feelings and you forced yourself to forget?

You keep your eyes shut, forbidding yourself from getting lost in his captivating green eyes. His thumb brushes your cheekbone, hot breath masking you. He smelt musky. A mixture of woman’s perfume and his own cologne. The faintest scent of alcohol wafted up your nostril. He rubs again, body pressing closer to yours. “Let me kiss you.”

You shouldn’t.

“Please.” You can't see him still, deciding not to face your mistake. It feels as if he’s hesitant to kiss you. His lips brush yours, smoothly then leaving. He grasps the courage to finally press his lips to yours. They mold perfectly together. He's warm against you. Warmer than any blanket you could wrap yourself in. A hand is on your jaw deepening your kiss, another snaking to your waist. He shifts to rest more of his weight onto you. You wiggle underneath him, hands crawling and reaching to his hard shoulders.

The kiss is deeper, rougher. He wants more. You ache for what he can give you. What he’ll teach you. But what you ache for more is the end result. You need it. Your breathing is unsteady, while his is tame. He’s had practice, you on the other hand lack the skill he’s acquired. Eren noticed, letting your lips escape his for a few seconds. He checks if your eyes are still closed. They are. The brunette goes back to your plump lips, kissing once more sweetly before trailing to your jaw, then your cheeks, and lastly your eyes.

“Open them please.” And just like that, you do. He admires that you so easily do so. His eyes are the prettiest you’ve ever seen. A glossy mixture of greens and blues, the looks of a valuable stone from the deep sea. And like the deep sea, it’s easy to get lost.

His mouth finds your neck. Your skin is a delicacy, virgin and tender. You're sweet without putting in an effort. Tooth rotting sweet. He wants to eat you up, have you after every meal. A treat just for him. You’ll be somewhat of a palette cleanser to him too. Keeping his mind off of problems he’ll choose to face later on than now. You’d want the same, though you knew after tonight you’ll hand onto this memory and Eren will let us fly away and disappear.

If your heart was beating fast before, it’s faster now. He’s moving to your chest, his hand leaving your face and meeting the other at the opposite side of your waist. He pushed your legs apart with his knee, body shifting and hovering over yours. His knee hits your crotch, a low whimper falling from your lips as his hands move closer and closer to your panties.

“E-ren.” You whispered, “I’ve never-”

“Do you wanna keep going?” He interrupts, his body pausing from all movements. Lips inches from your clavicle, tickling your skin as he spoke. Hand on your waist, other with its fingers brushing past your inner thigh. He no longer has a gaze of wondering what was going on in your mind. He couldn’t from the way it was fogged with the thoughts of what would come next.

Looking down at him with your chest rising, you thread your fingers in chocolate brown locks, nodding your head yes for him to continue.

“Say it.” He pulls himself up, his lips on yours.

“I want you.”

Eren's lips wrap around yours once more. This time, rougher. He's hungry, chasing after his prey and readying himself to sink his teeth and drink in every little drop of their blood.

You can even get a single rational thought past you, all that flooded your mind was Eren.

Eren. Eren. Eren.

You wished you were stronger. More hard headed and stubborn so you’d fight your feelings on this. Because whatever was happening, was a mistake. He has you trapped. With the way his hands trace your figure and come to grope your breasts through your shirt. Body pressed against you and encasing yours with his strength.

Eren shifts to rest on his knees. Releasing you from all his warmth and staring down at your helpless body. You’re heaving and your shirt is halfway off your body, exposing your panty clad crotch to him. Eren slips his shirt off. He’s gorgeous. Sculpted by the gods and morphed and messaged to resemble one. He came back down, hands roaming up your shirt and pulling it off your form. Your bra and your panties follow soon after.

It's embarrassing how he’s only missing his shirt and you're completely nude. He loves it. He loves the way you react when his hand tweaks your nipple, and he plants a kiss over your breast. When he’s kissing rougher to leave you with marks and fingers come to trace your cunt. You squirm a bit, pressing your lips shut so you won’t sound pathetic to such a small action. His fingers rub your labia, spreading them and finding your sensitive clit. He rubs smoothly up and down. Fingers turn into sweet waves and the building friction has heat rising to your cheeks. Once a finger slips past your tight walls, you allow yourself to let a low satisfied moan out.

A deep smirk etches itself into his lips from the sound erupting from you. He continues his actions. Mouth sucking your tit and hand between your legs, his finger pumping up inside you. Eren's thick fingers plunge harshly, hitting a spongy spot deep inside you. The sound you let out tells him you’ve never hit it.

“You like that?” He lets out deeply, voice nearly sounding like a growl.

You’re lost in the feeling. The moment. The way his mouth works and hands pump. Another finger makes its way inside you, he scissors you open with two, a thumb teasing your clit so deliciously. The build up feels so good. Blood rushing, feet planted in the mattress and your hip moving with his fingers.

“I want-” A moan slips from your lips when his fingers curl, “I want all of you.”

You flip a switch on him. He’s feral, in need of taming. He holds himself back, nearly breaking the chains of his restraint seeing you run your hands around your body and hearing your voice sweetly beg for him. Once again, his warmth leaves you. Jingles coming from his belt make a lustful tune with your heavy breathing. He knows to be gentle with you. To handle you with care. Something he’d been so scared to do before

Your eyes are lidded when he comes back to the bed. The mattress dipping low when he plants himself between your legs, thighs spreading so obediently for him. You watch as he collects slick from your inner thigh and shoves his hand in his boxers. Eren groans once his hand meets his aching cock, rubbing the tip with his finger and teasing himself. He jerks himself off at the sight of you.

“Come here,” He demands. You scoot towards him, cock nearly hitting your lips. He pries your lips open, fingers pushing past your teeth. Thick fingers press hard onto your tongue, rubbing and letting you taste the mixture of your slick and his pre on his fingers. He collects spit from your mouth, when his fingers leave the warmth of your mouth, spit dribbles down onto your chest and stomach. His eyebrows furrow as he pumps his cock in front of you.

“Fuck. Spit.” His hand cups your chin, you collect saliva and spit in his hand. He motions for you to lay back down, and when you do he over you, hand coming to you pussy and rubbing your saliva onto your slick walls. “Tell me if it hurts.” He says darkly, the tip of his cock reading your entrance. With a heavy beating heart, he begins to enter you. The stretch isn’t bad, not until he’s fully seated into your deep, warm cunt.

He doesn’t move, he gives you time to adjust and breathe for a while. Erens messaging your thighs, his own chest rising and voices telling him to fuck it and just fuck you sensless.

“Move.”

Once he does, the pain comes. You feel him stretch you with his length, a thick vein rubbing your untouched walls. He kisses you gently, coming to your neck and planting kisses on everything inch and valley of your delicate skin. You can hear his breathing become carnal. Eren's thrusts speed up, you gasp for air when you hear the slaps of skin and the pain turns into pleasure. You almost forget how you got here. Almost. Because of the way you’d been feeling, how he’d been making you feel, no one would care or give it a second thought about the past. The pleasure was unforgettable as much as the previous pain.

You give yourself permission to moan, letting your pleasure become vocalized to the brunette. He takes your noises as signs to burrow himself deeper as he rises and lifts your hips with his large hands. He’s resting on his knees, hips rocking and arms pulling you to him. You follow after him, rutting your hips with his, your fingers finding your clit to rub delicious circles to increase your pleasure.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous.” He spits out under his breath. Voice is deep. His hands are burning on your skin, steaming and sizzling on your skin. You're melting, turning into liquid and letting him morphe you into anything he wants. You're overflowing in pleasure by the way he’s ravishing you, your cunt is aching and pulsing from his physical effort to please you and the mummers of praise he offers you.

“You’re doing so good.”

“Fuck, I love this pussy.”

Drowning in the pleasure you feel yourself tighten, stomach churning has paused for a second. Your breathing stops for what seems like a dangerous second. Blood rushes and ecstasy erupted throughout the entirety of your body. You cry out from the violent bliss.

Erens watches below as you twitch from your orgasm, thighs shaking and cube convulsing around his cock. Under the moon, you're glowing. He takes a picture with his eyes to have this memory forever. You're leaking around him, dripping down your thighs and covering him with your essence.

He’s chasing his own pleasure now, thrusting just enough for him to come and not torment you with overstimulation. You catch him by surprise when you rut your hips on his cock.

“Let me.” Though it hurts to continue this, you just want the moment to end. For it to end you’ll end it the best way you know how to.

Erens on his back, you're on top, rocking your hips slowly at first and when you gather enough of you used up energy, you speed up. He’s grunting shamelessly, your lips are letting the sweetest whimpers and moans free. You ride his thick cock until you feel yourself spasm from your second orgasm. Creaming and spilling all over him. Eren pulls himself out within seconds, spilling his seed on your abused cunt and staining wrinkled sheets.

“I missed you.” You confess breathlessly, shoving your face into his neck. You're twitching from the work you forced yourself with. He wrapped his arms around waist, pulling you closer and kissing your head.

This won’t end well. You know that. The two of you know that. For now, you’ll hold each other close. Taking in each other warmths and basking in the light of the beaming sun coming from your window. You’ll worry about everything later. You’re content with the answer you’ve given yourself after months of wondering. It’s not pretty, or one you’d be pleased to hear. It’s the truth, it hurts. But that hurt has pleased you with so much satisfaction.

You think that you may be a masochist.

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catch-the-wind · 3 years

Text

when reader is sick hc's

finally posting writing here so true

n e ways okay so i’m brainrotting about the genshin charas taking care of their s/o’s when they’re sick 🥺 and now i'm feeling sick, sigh

ohm and sulien ambros belong to @teyvattherapist! they're such good chara's, i know i'm writing them here but i deffo recommend reading up on them

okay here u go, have some hc's that are kinda sorta long and by that i mean 2.5k- i haven't proofread this bc it's 4am and im going to BED but if i write for any other chara's i'll post a second part <3 mwah

tags: gn!reader, diluc x reader, kaeya x reader, jean x reader, lisa x reader, albedo x reader, dainsleif x reader, tartaglia x reader, ohm ambros x reader, sulien ambros x reader, soft bean hours

diluc

is not working or traveling when his partner is sick

absolutely makes them soup and hot tea and drinks

he’s trying to make them food but he’s not the best cook so he’s asking adelinde for help

absolutely asks jean, barbara, and ohm for help while his partner is sleeping but he’s so awkward LMAO

was absolutely frantic the first day he found out his partner was sick tho, he made them come over to the winery so they could sleep there and he can take care of them <3

absolutely lied about what room was his so they slept in his bed

“hmm this guest room is so furnished diluc are all your rooms like this” and no, no they are not, this room is his, bestie

diluc slept on a sofa in his bedroom and did work on the table that was supposed to be for flowers. kinda stressed over abyss order locations but was more worried ab his partner being okay so he was distracted

he just put the flowers on his nightstand for his partner to see when they woke up <3

gives his partner forehead kisses because they won’t let him kiss them on the lips and he gives them the gentlest cheek kisses while they sleep

also gives his partner his clothes to wear <3

cuddles them and reads to them when they’re awake and TEMPLE KISSES OH MY GOD

kaeya comes over because he’s worried his brother and his brother’s s/o haven’t been seen in a little while

n e way, diluc gets sick after his partner gets better and they nursed each other back to health

kaeya

like diluc, he took off work so he could take care of his s/o i,mediately after he found out they were sick

wouldn’t force them to stay at his place tho, he’d probably let them recover in their own place

but he might make them go to the kof hq or the cathedral just so they can be taken care of by a proper healer

he absolutely soothes their fevers and stuff w cryo and also the man can heal himself w his elem skill ofc he can fix someone if he tries hard enough <3

he gives kisses no matter how much his partner says not to but he’ll also give them butterfly kisses so it’s soft moments too~ sigh, ur too cute alberich

asks ohm and barbara and albedo and lisa for potions and such to help his partner feel better but he’s really lowkey so he doesn’t seem SUPER worried

he just hates seeing his partner not feeling so well </3

refreshes his partner’s vase of flowers at their bedside every day

brings home work so he can watch over his partner. he can’t cook super well either so he asks for help and brings stuff home from good hunter too

jean was okay to let kaeya off of work and diluc would never admit it (man practically swore everyone to secrecy smh) but he helped take up some of kaeya’s duties in his stead

and kae, the alcoholic, didn’t even drink while his partner was sick bc he was lowkey worried they would need his help w smth and he didn’t want to be drunk just in case <3

many cuddles despite protests of getting him sick <3

jean

absolutely uses her healer skills to make her partner feel better

panicked when they were still sick and thought it was her fault </3 she asked barbara and ohm for help and they just told jean to relax a bit bc her partner was sick and it wasn’t going to be a quick fix

wanted to take off work but didn’t, so she just brought her work with her

kaeya and ohm very kindly took up her other duties where she had to leave so she could be w her partner

her partner is staying in the kof hq where they get access to ohm and barbara comes to visit <3 but also so that jean can sleep comfortably enough close by bc you cannot tell me this woman does not sometimes sleep in her office or the library and barely makes it to the kof dormitories sometimes

she’s so worried the entire time, she’s probably got a few gray hairs and a new frown line smh

she has clothes that aren’t her work clothes???? it’s so foreign seeing her in stuff like pajamas. you didn’t even know jean owned pajamas

jean sets them up in her bed at home (yeah she has a place outside of the kof hq??? it’s surprising) but it’s a big bed so they can rest and she’ll have the lamp on her side on while she sits up and does work

absolutely dotes on them. she’s good at making foods that make them feel better, she’s just a good healer that way <3

albedo, klee, venti, kaeya, lisa, and ohm all come over to check on jean and co and make sure everyone is doing okay <3 lots of food brought

if jean was asked to sing to her partner normally, she probably wouldn’t bc she’d probably get embarrassed but i think she probably sounds v good and venti would give her his lyre to try out a musical instrument too. but also she’d read to her partner and they’d probably fall asleep together uwu

lisa

works part time hours at the library so she can go visit her s/o

probably asks them to stay at the kof hq for easier access to medical assistance and plus she’s almost always there

“cutie” but worried and very 🥺 (pleading emoji)

makes soup and potions and reads to her partner until they fall asleep

also super playful omg she’s still got a smile on and is full of affection while she walks her fingers up her partner’s arm to their face so she can cup their cheek

she’ll make her partner laugh and smile and blush even when they’re sick, but she makes them laugh until they cough sometimes and immediately feels so bad

jean, barbara, kaeya, albedo and ohm all come to visit with different foods and soups and medicines and such

klee comes knocking and gives lisa some good fisherman’s toast and asks lisa’s s/o if they want to hug dodoco b/c that always makes klee feel better

purple roses galore, lisa has them in her partner’s room and they’ve got a potion to make the. uh. sniffer? to make the sniffer feel better. don’t ask me how, idk but she would find a way to make them physically feel better with flowers

reads to her partner ofc, and she tells them stories ab her own life and time at sumeru sans the crazies

worried looks when her s/o is sleeping but also the softest smiles when they wake up pls-

albedo

cutest lil frown on his face when he finds out his partner is sick

immediately they are taken home and he’s testing to confirm what’s wrong w them and what he can do to speed up their recovery

he’s more distracted than usual at work but he’s coming over to your place all the time w what paperwork he can do

also sketches his partner while they don’t know. he’s got lots of beautiful candids of his partner sleeping, looking out the window, falling asleep, reading, even drinking water. he’s made the most mundane things look captivating

kaeya and ohm come to check on albedo when he doesn’t show up for work after a few days and it’s bc he’s taking care of his s/o with food and soup and alchemical potions and shit. and when kae and ohm come in, they find his partner opening the door wrapped in a blanket while albedo is asleep cuddling the pillow they left bc he stayed up the night before making soup and reading to them

klee has camped out on his partner’s couch, she helps w the cooking too~ she absolutely lets them hug dodoco and gives them a treasure to feel better too LOL

many kisses from klee and albedo, and they also go out to get treats for albedo’s partner too

domestic albedo cooking in his partner’s kitchen and for once it isn’t some alchemical potion that he might blow up the stove with

tartaglia

takes off work entirely but BOY OH BOY is he stir crazy smh

brings his partner to his apartment to rest <3

he’s so worried ab his s/o that he makes all the sick ppl food the first day, orders from wanmin restaurant when his partner wants smth different, and also gets toys and such to entertain them otherwise

also reads to his partner but, again, he gets stir crazy after a while

absolutely does workouts and katas in the living room and phew shirtless tartaglia working out? gets the heart rate up for sure ahem

rushes to his partner tho omg- need soup? water? a trip to the bathroom? another blanket? he goes to them the MOMENT he hears them moving around. absolutely dotes on them <3

his family knows ab his partner and he’s probably written letters ab them being sick~ his family sent snezhnayan herbs and flowers and medicines and such

zhongli comes around because he wants sugar daddy!tartaglia with tea and medicine from bubu pharmacy. hu tao is in tow with well wishes and a “hope i don’t find you at work!” which is. a little worrying because aren’t you just a little sick-

many kisses from tartaglia because he is Needy and he’ll absolutely get sick from cuddling his partner while they sleep

also he’ll probably just like. envelop his partner while they sleep. they’re all cuddled into him and he’s actually so warm it’s nice bc they’re cold w a fever and he’s living for comforting them

he’s so worried tho, he’s got the frowny face and he’s so adorable but he just doesn’t want his partner to feel sick

dainsleif

the man camps in ruins, he’s going to his partner’s house smh

he doesn’t go into the church either LOL so expect him in his partner’s home making dinner and doing their grocery shopping thanks

he would get ohm and barbara to come over tho <3 “fix them please” but also “how can i fix them”

is so dead set on making sure his partner takes their medicine at the right times, he’s so soft for them and them alone

cooks soup and old recipes he barely remembers from khaenri’ah. he doesn’t really get sick, so he doesn’t remember these ones too clearly. deffo brings back old memories he’d long forgotten

reads to his partner and tells them old stories of how the world used to be, his travels, gives them the gossip on a certain khaenri’ahn but doesn’t give away the name

ohm comes over with medicine and lollipops bc dain is so unlikely to go to the cathedral to get barbara smh

but also dain, so self-sufficient, is unlikely to want to ask for help, so ohm just goes to help anyway

dain with the old khaenri’ahn lullabies and tucking his partner into his arms and singing quietly while he holds them and rocks them to sleep

dain is immortal, he’s giving his partner kisses bc “i’m immortal, ofc i won’t get sick”

he got sick

but his s/o nursed him back to health and then there were smooches the end

ohm ambros

the doctor with his ill lover oh my god

he’s frowny, he’s taking care of his partner at his home in springvale and his home clinic is open to everyone else. but everyone knows his partner is the first priority LOL

kaeya and albedo come over to see if ohm is okay or if his house needs to be checked up on. they’re wondering if he went on a last-minute expedition to sumeru and didnt tell them

diluc comes over too, he’s just checking up on his best friend but he’s also stealing a cherry lollipop smh. he heard from kae that ohm’s partner is sick tho, so he brings some soup and good food over from adelinde. he also brings some of his own specialty food tho, the once upon a time in mondstadt <3

sulien sending letters to his big brother to see if his brother’s s/o is okay

ohm is also just super protective of his partner, there are not many people who come into his life who he loves and lets in in the first place. he’s absolutely trying to heal them with his own vitality, so their recovery is much shorter than initially expected

barbara also comes over w jean to check up on ohm and co, complete w a goody basket of soup, a teddy bear, flowers, and books

ohm reading to his partner <3 he’s got such a soothing voice even if his accent is wack LMAO. he’s reading stories and even his paperwork because just his presence is comforting

he puts his hands on his partner’s forehead to soothe the fever goodbye

ohm will not sing for his s/o simply bc he doesn’t think he sounds v good. and he probably doesn’t but it would be so cute to hear him try and please ohm? 🥺

n e way i want smooches idc if i’m sick KISS ME OHM AMBROS

sulien ambros

when he finds out his partner is sick, the man blinks like twice and then suggests so calmly that they go to his apartment in liyue

man does not sleep normally, he’s just going to nurse his partner back to health and read during their recovery. fruit tart can cover his duties for him <3

sulien cooks for his partner tho, he’s making soup and stuff and getting medicine from bubu’s pharmacy. he’s also picking up books on the way home but some of them are to be read to his partner so it’s okay-

like tartaglia, sulien works out while his partner rests and goes to them if he hears them moving around. he’s reading to his partner and not so frowny, but the slightest furrow of this man’s brow is already such a big expression of his concern <3

sends letters to ohm asking for advice ab how to help his partner feel better. ohm just sends a letter back with “i’m coming” and shows up within the day LMAO

reads to his partner, and the monotony of his voice is soothing and lulls them to sleep. he just looks at them affectionately (well affectionate for him) and presses a kiss to their forehead before finishing the story on his own and in his head

tartagalicious comes over and brings food, flowers and a teddy bear with some of sandrone’s paperwork but he sends a smile to sulien’s partner with some well wishes

scara comes over too just to visit and check to see where sandrone is, but scara is a grumpy bean so he just says “feel better” all brooding and like it’s a command to one of the fatui subordinates LOL

sulien like ohm uses his cold hands to soothe his partner’s fever and also gives them forehead kisses <3

Edit: a link to part 2

#genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #jean x reader #lisa x reader #albedo x reader #dainsleif x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe x reader #ohm ambros x reader #sulien ambros x reader #lane's ocs #genshin fluff #hc's #lyz.writes #i'm finally posting here omg #so many tags...#goodNIGHT

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kookiesjoonies · 4 years

Text

first & last | jjk.

↠ main pairing: best friend!jungkook x virgin!reader

↠ fic type: one shot, friends to lovers

↠ genre: smut

↠ word count: 4.2k

↠ warnings: alcohol consumption (they aren’t drunk, just a lil tipsy), explicit language, dry humping, finger sucking, light dirty talk, hand job, cum play

↠ summary: during a game of never have i ever, jungkook finds out that you haven’t had your first kiss yet and decides to show you how it’s done.

a/n: eeeeep! i’m so happy to finally have smth up for jk again bc it’s been awhile n we all know i’m whipped for this man. enjoy! feedback is always appreciated. xo

Drunken sleepovers with your best friend were your favorite. You were lying on the floor of Jungkook’s living room, the world’s thinnest blanket underneath you to act as a barrier between your back and the hard surface of the floor.

He laid to your left, nursing a bottle of cheap beer while you sipped red wine from your glass. When the two of you were buzzed, the urge to play drinking games always hit hard. You were thankful he seemed to enjoy them as much as you did, because you were always able to be your genuine, goofy self around him without fear of being judged.

Tonight’s game of choice was never have I ever— a classic, one that you wish you’d played more. Hearing all of Jungkook’s embarrassing tales always made you laugh to the point of tears, big belly laughs that caused you to wheeze.

“Alright, alright. I’ve got one,” he spoke up, causing you to tilt your head to look over at him, “never have I ever told someone they were a good kisser and didn’t mean it.”

You watched as your friend brought the bottle up to his lips and took a swig, insinuating that he had, in fact, done just that.

When you didn’t drink from your wine glass, his eyebrow cocked and he stared down at you in disbelief.

“Come on, Y/n. Sure you have!”

You shrugged, giving him a quick shake of your head.

“Nope.” Your answer was simple— too simple, which left Jungkook even more intrigued than he was to begin with.

He didn’t believe you, not by a long shot. But he should’ve. Seeing as how you’d never even kissed anyone, let alone lied about whether they were a good kisser.

Being in your twenties and having never been on a real date, or held anyone’s hand (other than your friends’, but of course, that was different), or had your first kiss wasn’t exactly the coolest thing.

You’d wanted to experience such things, but no one that had come into your life so far had been worthy enough.

Except for one person— the man that was currently staring at you with his round, beautiful doe eyes. You wanted to kick your own ass for thinking of Jungkook in such a way. He was your best friend, nothing more. And you weren’t about to ruin all of that and everything that the two of you had because of your feelings.

“So, what? Everyone that you’ve ever kissed has been exceptional?” His tone let you know that he thought you were full of shit.

“Kind of have to be kissed in order to confirm or deny that.” You mumbled, voice barely even audible.

The wine was making you brave, it seemed. You weren’t drunk enough to not realize what you’d said, but you weren’t sober enough to care.

Jungkook noticeably choked on his beer he’d been drinking, bringing the back of his hand up to wipe at the liquid gathering on the corners of his mouth.

“What did you just say?”

You sighed, sitting up and leaning your back to rest against the bottom of the sofa behind you.

“It’s not that big of a deal, Kook.”

“Uhm, yeah it is!” He exclaimed, and your eyes rolled in response.

“No, it isn’t.” You snapped back, wishing the conversation was done and over with already.

“Can I ask why you’ve never been kissed? I mean— has the opportunity never presented itself, or have you just been waiting for the right person or something?”

He wasn’t going to let it go, it seemed. So, you twirled around the red liquid in your cup, staring down at it to avoid eye contact with your best friend. Though, you could feel his chocolate eyes burning into you, and you were sure if you glanced over at him he’d be staring at you with wide eyes.

“I’ve had a few opportunities, but I just… I don’t know? I don’t want just anyone to kiss me. I want it to mean something, to be from someone special.”

You felt your cheeks begin to heat up, and you were internally cursing yourself.

“Plus,” you said, after a few seconds of awkward silence had passed, “I don’t even know how to kiss, so, I’ve always been nervous.”

Without skipping a beat, Jungkook’s voice was filling your ears again.

“I’ll teach you.”

Your eyes shot up to meet his, and you were sure the shock was apparent all over your features. Jungkook, however, seemed oddly calm.

“Uhm, thank you? But we’re best friends, it could make things weird—“

He cut you off with a shake of his head, “Nope, our friendship is solid. A little kiss isn’t going to ruin it.”

You worried at your lower lip, pondering the thought and weighing out the pros and cons.

You’d always dreamed about what his lips would feel like against yours, you were sure he’d be a skilled kisser. The thought of his hands being in your hair while your mouths moved together in heated passion, or better yet, his hands on your ass— yeah, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea.

Or maybe it was the worst idea. Either way, you were about to find out.

“Okay.” You nodded, setting your nearly empty glass to the side.

“Really?” His eyes widened, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling.

“Yeah, but I’d hurry before I change my mind.”

Jungkook didn’t need to be told twice. He’d been hoping and praying that one day this day would come, and now that it finally had, he was determined to give you the best damn kiss of your life.

And it made it even better knowing that he was going to be the first person to ever touch your lips with their own. Maybe he wanted to be the first and the only. No, he definitely wanted to be the first and the only.

“Come here.” He patted his lap, and you quickly caught on.

Maybe straddling your best friend should’ve felt awkward, but this didn’t. This felt… right.

His large hands found their way onto the sides of your face, effectively cupping your cheeks. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, and you prayed that he wouldn’t be able to hear how loudly your heart was thumping against your chest.

“Is this okay?” You whispered, referring to the way your arms were resting atop his shoulders.

He nodded, flashing you that gorgeous bunny-like smile of his. Suddenly, you felt a sense of calm. All of your nerves were now replaced with adrenaline and excitement. It was amazing how quickly he was able to calm you down just with one toothy grin.

“Yeah, it’s perfect.” he assured you, rubbing the pads of his thumbs along the apples of your cheeks, “just follow my lead, yeah?”

“Yes, sir.” You teased, and he chuckled.

His eyes fell shut, and so did yours. Before you knew it, and before your brain could completely process what was happening, you were kissing Jeon Jungkook.

Fireworks went off all around you, and you could no longer hear the whirring of the AC, or the sound of the television. All you could hear were his lips smacking against yours, and the way his breath hitched as your fingers pulled at the hair at the nape of his neck.

His lips moved slowly, allowing you to get used to the whole process. He was gentle, and you were thankful for that.

You could savor his taste for the rest of your life, you were sure of it. He tasted heavily of beer mixed with the fried rice you’d shared for dinner. Perhaps it wasn’t the best combination, but it was Jungkook, so none of it mattered. You didn’t want to taste anything, or anyone else, for as long as you lived.

His tongue ran along your lower lip, and you didn’t hesitate to open up your mouth for him. His tongue slid easily inside, twisting and curling around yours as he explored every last crevice— memorizing what seemed to get a reaction out of you.

One particular move of his wet muscle against yours had you keening and moaning into his mouth, and you quickly broke the kiss, bringing your hands up and over your mouth.

“Oh, my god! I’m sorry, Kook, I—“

“Sorry for what?” He was out of breath, and his pupils were blown out.

His hair had become slightly disheveled from the way you’d been tugging at it mindlessly, and his mouth was covered in your red lipstick. He’d never looked hotter, and you were suddenly very aware of the arousal pooling in between your thighs.

“For— for making that noise, I’m—“

His fingers pushed a piece of your hair behind your ear, and his voice was soothing as he spoke.

“Why are you sorry? That was the hottest shit I’ve ever heard in my life.”

His words shocked you, “But we’re best friends! I shouldn’t be… we shouldn’t be—“

For the third time in a matter of minutes, he was cutting off your rambling.

“Friends don’t kiss like that, Y/n.”

“So, are you saying you don’t… want to be friends anymore?”

You feared his answer, ready to run away in a fit of tears if he confirmed your scariest thoughts. You couldn’t lose him, not like this.

“No, I don’t want to be friends,” your eyes began to well up, but he was quick to stop your tears from flowing with his next words, “I want to be more than that. I want to kiss you all the time, take you out on dates, among other things… whenever you’re ready for that. There’s no pressure here, because even if you don’t want this, I’m not going anywhere.”

There he goes with that damn calming smile again, the one that caused your heart to stop, yet was its very reason for beating all the same.

“I’d like that.” You grinned, shuffling your weight above him slightly to make yourself a bit more comfortable.

When he groaned and tossed his head back, you were sure you’d hurt him. But before you could offer him your string of apologies, his hands were falling to your hips to hold you in place.

“Fuck,” he sighed, “do that again. Please.”

You arched a perfectly filled in brow, “What, this?”

Your hips rolled in a similar way that they’d done before, this time with more aim and purpose. And the man below you was making the most sinful, most beautiful sounds you’d ever heard.

His length was hardening underneath you, and your eyes enlarged at the recollection. This definitely wasn’t doing your already seeping pussy any favors.

“I understand if you don’t want to jump into anything sexual right now,” he breathed, heavy and uneven, “but if you don’t, you’re going to have to get off of me because all I want to do right now is grind into you until you’re cumming in your clothes.”

“How did we go from being best friends an hour ago, to doing this?” You couldn’t stop the giggle that made its way through your lips, your hips pushing down and rolling into his once more— letting him know that you had no intentions of stopping.

“I don’t know— Jesus!,” he bit down on his bottom lip as he tightened his grip on your hips and guided their movements, “but I’m so goddamn glad you’re on top of me right now.”

“Me too.” You were quick to agree, hands bracing on his shoulders to hold yourself up.

Both of you were gasping now, reveling in the feeling of your sexes grinding against one another. Every graze of his cock against your clothed clit sent fire through your veins, and your vision was beginning to black out.

You had no idea dry humping could feel this damn good. But you were sure that it had a lot to do with the way Jungkook looked underneath you.

He was completely wrecked and fucked out already, offering you slews of curses and praises every time you came down on his dick just right.

“Fuck, I wanna be inside of you so bad,” you were bouncing against his length with fervor, no intentions of slowing down or stopping until you both reached your highs, “can’t wait to see that pretty little pussy, fill you up with my cum and mark you as mine.”

You moaned at the thought, his filthy words moving you further and further to your desired state of euphoria.

One of his hands gripped tightly on your ass, while the other rested over your clothed core. He looked up at you, silently asking for permission. He knew you’d never done anything like this with anyone before, and he wasn’t about to try and make you do anything that you were uncomfortable with.

“Go ahead,” you gasped, barely having time to register what he was doing until his fingers were circling over your clit.

You were very thankful that you’d decided to wear cloth pajama shorts, and thin ones at that. He could feel everything— and so could you. Your hips bucked up and into his hand as you rode his cock, begging for him to make you cum.

“You’re so fucking soaked, babe. It’s leaking through your shorts.” He smirked at the sight, gathering up a bit of the dampness on the tips of his fingers.

The way he inserted the two digits into his mouth had you crying out, nearly on the verge of tears from the sight alone.

“Wanna taste?” He asked, and you eagerly nodded.

He collected more of your wetness onto his fingertips, and you made a show of sucking on them lewdly once they entered into your mouth.

“Nasty little girl, aren’t you?”

As if to prove his point, you used your own fingers to reach into your panties, gathering your arousal straight from the source.

His was practically salivating, eyes begging for you to let him clean your fingers off with his tongue.

As if reading his mind, you nodded. And he wasted no time before suckling your fingertips into his mouth. He moaned around them, savoring your sweet taste. He wished like hell he could pin you down and clean you up with his tongue, but he knew you weren’t ready for that, and he was respectful.

Still, he was determined to make you cum. He wanted desperately to see what you looked like when you came undone.

“No more games.” He growled, his hands returning to your hips to hold you steady above him.

He fucked up against you, the outline of his cock hitting your sensitive bundle of nerves each time.

Soon, you were crying out and squirming— a poor attempt at trying to get away.

“F-fuck! Oh, my god!” you couldn’t stop the way your hips rolled, or the way your thighs began to shake, “Kook! Holy shit, I’m gonna—“

Before you could even finish your sentence, your orgasm washed over you and you came harder than you ever had before in your life. Your body felt hot, and every single one of your limbs were shaking. The only thing you were able to say or remember was Jungkook’s name, chanting it like a prayer as you slowly came back down to earth.

“That was fucking beautiful,” He was quick to compliment you, staring down at the apparent dark spot on your light pink shorts, “just wanna clean that all up, then do it all over again.”

Your face was flushed, and you weren’t sure whether it was from the mind blowing orgasm you’d just had or his words. You couldn’t be bothered to care, your body falling limp against his as he held your delicate frame close to him.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” You huffed, and you felt the rumble of Jungkook’s chest as he chuckled.

“So, you wanna go on a date tomorrow?” His hand caressed your back, and your eyes fell shut at the soothing feeling.

“Mhm.” You were dozing off, barely aware of what he’d said at all.

He just simply smiled at you, pressing his lips to kiss the top of your head.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and get you to sleep.”

You nodded as he stood up from the floor, cradling you in his arms.

“Good idea.” You mumbled, nuzzling your cheek against his chest.

He carried you down the short hallway to his master bedroom, kicking the door open with his foot. You were already nearly asleep as he laid you down on the right side of his bed.

Jungkook kissed at your temple before making his way over to his dresser, pulling out a pair of his boxers for you to change into. He disappeared into the en-suite bathroom for a moment, carrying a damp cloth in his hand when he returned.

You smiled at him, eyes half open.

“This feels like a dream.”

The weight of the mattress shifted as he sat down beside you, holding out the fresh change of undergarments and the towel for you.

“Tell me about it.” He grinned, turning his head away from you to give you some privacy as you changed out of your soiled shorts.

You were thankful for that— for how respectful he was.

As you pulled your shorts down along with your panties, a realization hit you and your eyes widened.

“Kook!” you shrieked, startling the man, “you didn’t cum!”

He barked out a laugh at your outburst. Just when he thought you couldn’t get any cuter, you were quick to prove him wrong.

“I know, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not!” You insisted, quickly wiping your thighs clean and pulling on the plaid boxers he’d given you.

“Babe, I promise, it’s okay. Tonight was all about you, I wanted to make you feel good.”

Your lower lip pushed out and into a pout, your hands reaching forward to grab his face so that you could make him look at you.

“But, I wanted to make you cum.”

He hissed at your words, willing his cock not to rise. He knew you were tired, and there’d be plenty of time for you to get him off later.

“Let’s get some sleep, yeah? We can fool around tomorrow if you want to.”

You sighed, a tiny frown present on your face now.

“Can I just… give you a hand job, or something?”

You didn’t miss the way he groaned at your words, or the way his eyes quickly screwed shut.

“If you want to, you can. But don’t feel like you have to, I promise, it’s okay.”

“I want to,” you didn’t hesitate in replying, “but I’ve never done it before, so…”

Before you knew it, he was moving to lie down beside you on the other side of the bed. He was already sporting a tent in his athletic shorts, which had you nearly drooling. Based on the outline, he was sure to be huge. You prayed that you were right.

Jungkook looked relaxed, large eyes staring up at you and waiting for you to make a move. He flashed you an encouraging smile, his hands resting behind his head.

“Go ahead, do whatever you want. No need for you to be shy, it’s just me.”

Just him.

If anything, those words did little to calm your nerves. You’d only ever dreamed about being in similar predicaments with your best friend. And now that it was real and happening, you were petrified that you’d do something wrong and send him running in the opposite direction.

Taking a mental deep breath, you sat up in the bed and crossed your legs as you turned your body to sit right beside his lower half.

You reached a shaky hand forward, brushing your fingertips over the outline of his rock hard length. As your fingertips danced and teased over his covered cock, Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat.

Carefully studying his face to watch his reactions, you pulled his shorts down and he lifted his hips to help you out.

The tight, grey briefs he was wearing left little to the imagination. You could see every ridge and curve of his thick length, and drool was collecting on the corners of your mouth as you admired it.

“Like what you see?” His voice was teasing, and he wiggled his hips.

You laughed, rolling your eyes at his actions.

Yeah, it was just Jungkook. Your best friend. The one person you trusted and loved most in this world. It was okay. This was okay.

With your newfound confidence, you tugged his underwear down, his impressive dick springing free in the process.

You moaned quietly at the sight.

Sure, you were a virgin and didn’t have much to compare it to, but you were positive he had the prettiest cock you’d ever seen— and would ever see in your life. The head was perfectly pink and already dripping with precum, long veins running from base to tip. You couldn’t wait for the day it would be buried inside of you, and your cunt clenched around nothing at the thought alone.

Your hand instinctively found itself wrapped around his length as best it could, fingers unable to connect to your palm due to his size. Jungkook let out a breathy sigh at the sudden contact, his eyes glued to the way your hand began to do a few test pumps.

“Yeah,” he sighed, tilting his head back, “just like that. A little faster.”

With his guidance, you did as he suggested and picked up the speed of your hand. You watched the way his face contorted, the way his eyes screwed shut and pulled together as you ran your thumb over his slit, collecting the moisture leaking from it to use as makeshift lube.

Deciding to take a risk, you collect a bit of saliva in your mouth before allowing it to drip down and onto his cock.

“Hoooooly fuck, that’s hot.” You smirked at Jungkook’s praise and approval, working your hand up and down his shaft at a quicker and easier pace now thanks to the slick your spit had created.

The faster your hand pumped, the harder it became for Jungkook to properly breathe. He was panting, curses and praises of your name leaving his lips every so often.

You brought your free hand up to work at his balls, rolling and caressing them in a way that seemed to drive the man halfway to insanity.

“Fuck, you sure this is your first time doing this?” He breathed out the words, his arm falling to rest over his eyes as he attempted to keep himself composed.

“Swear.” You responded, eyes glued to the way his bottom lip was now rested between his teeth.

One final twist of your palm had him reeling, gripping at the sheets underneath him with one hand— his other coming to wrap around your wrist as you continued to work him toward his end.

He was moaning shamelessly, not the least bit shy in letting you know how amazing you were making him feel. Maybe it was the way you were fondling him, or maybe it was the fact that it was you giving him the best hand job he was sure he’d ever had.

He decided it was probably a combination of both as his hips thrust up wildly, effectively fucking his dick into your grasp. The way his cock seemed to twitch let you know he was close, and you brought your hand up and then back down as fast as you could.

He came with a loud moan of your name, his sperm coating his lower stomach and your hand all at the same time. You watched in awe as he lost himself, pride settling in as you realized that you were the one responsible for his orgasm.

As Jungkook’s body slowly stopped writhing, you removed your hand from his member. You waited for him to make eye contact with you again before you dipped your fingertips into the cum on the back of your other hand and brought them up and into your mouth.

“Goddamn.” He groaned, marveling at your erotic behavior.

You effectively cleaned his seed from your fingers, swallowing it and showing him your tongue along with your empty mouth.

“That was amazing.” His compliments sent butterflies straight to your stomach, and he was pulling your mouth down to crash on his before you could respond.

“I love you.” You were mumbling the words against his lips before you even realized what you were saying.

You were panicking instantly, kicking your own ass for blurting it out. Sure, you’d said you loved each other before, but not like this.

The feeling of Jungkook grinning against your mouth is what calmed you, and you matched his smile with one of your own.

His forehead rested against yours as he pulled away, and the two of you let out a sigh of content.

“I love you too, you know.” His hand caressed your lower back as he spoke, your thumb running over his cheek.

“I was hoping.” You giggled, and he simply shook his head at you.

This was it, you thought.

You never wanted to kiss anyone else, or do anything remotely sexual with anyone else. He was going to be your first everything, you were sure of it. And you hoped that he’d be your last.

*do NOT reupload/repost on any site, translate without my permission, or claim as your own.

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bittersweetmorality · 3 years

Note

can i please get a hawks hurt / comfort fix please 🥺🥺 like him waking up from a nightmare abt his childhood and u comforting him and cuddling him and making him feel better:)

THANK YOU SO SO MUCH FOR THIS REQ IM GUNNA KISS U ON THE MOUTH ANON. YES !!! ugh hurt/comfort hawks is my biggest guilty pleasure bc i am one sad mf but i am a whore for hawks fluff . best of both worlds <3 also ! i'm so sorry it's short :(( 1,053 words is definitely short for my standards but ! i'm working on a lot of MHA stuff rn so keep an eye out ^_^

also this fic is definitely based off the song “First Day of my Life by Bright Eyes” cuz i listened to that song on REPEAT while writing this 😁🙏 definitely recommend listening to it while reading besties

— i love you more

☾ genre: hurt/comfort hawks fic !

☾ pairing: hawks x gn!s/o reader

☾ warnings: details of nightmares, heavy angst that pertains to emotional/physical abuse, cursing, just very sad and scared hawks :(

☾ w/c: 1,053

he was back in the dark living room— the one he was sure he escaped many years ago. the painfully familiar walls, despite the years of constant effort he put into repressing the memories. the memories of his father grabbing him by his neck with unrelenting strength, and thrusting him up against them, letting his breath ridden with alcohol and pure indifference fan against his cheek. the kind of indifference of a predator about to kill.

and all around him, no matter how much he sealed his eyes closed, covered his ears with all of his strength-- the retched smell of alcohol and his rotten memories were suffocating him.

why was he back here?

his heart began to race, feeling the way his fingers lost all heat and he felt his legs lose all bearings. his breathing an erratic, shaky pace, his eyes feeling cloudy from panic and pure fear as he scrambled through his dreadful surroundings in hopes of some sort of exit. but every step he took was completely useless. no matter how fast his legs moved, he still stood in the exact place he started.

he couldn’t escape.

footsteps could be heard echoing around him, getting louder and louder. it was haunting, like this moment was an exact replica of a night from many years ago. with his fixed position right in front of his father’s couch, and the weather of the night eerily quiet, as if the world was also terrified of the man slowly getting closer and closer to the helpless boy in the living room of a man who never loved him.

“keigo,” a gravely voice slurred from the other room, “keigo, fucking answer me. i know-- know you’re there.” he recognized it all-- the hiccup between his words, the genuine anger in his voice when he addressed him.

keigo blinked, and when he opened them again, his father appeared right in front of him, a large, half-drunk translucent bottle in hand.

"why the fuck didn't you respond? i fucking-- fucking called you, didn't i?" now that he was just mere centimeters from his ears, his voice sounded even more terrifying than his memory could ever bring justice.

his gaze followed the arm of his father that was holding the bottle, that was beginning to rise, and came straight down towards his head with pinpoint accuracy--

and keigo's eyes snapped open.

a thick sheen of cold sweat collected all over his shaking, trembling body. he wasn't able to identify his surroundings, his nightmare replaying itself with seemingly more lucidity than the first time. he still saw the haunting figure of his father at the foot of his bed, and as his breathing came in sharp, short breaths, he felt you sit up immediately.

you shot up from your slumber at the sound of keigo's sobbing, his knees pulled up to his chest, and his face buried between them as you saw his body shake violently. you've never seen him this unraveled; in this much pain.

"keigo? honey?" you softly called out, gently reaching out to him.

as your hand caressed him, you felt him tense under you for a split second, causing him to shoot up from his position to look at the source of the contact. as his eyes fell onto your gentle touch, he collapsed into you without thinking twice, holding onto you for dear life while you cradled him on instinct.

"hey... shh... baby, i'm here. you're safe. it's me, yeah? no one else is here except me and you," you shushed. you knew he occasionally suffered from devastating nightmares, and because of it, you were able to know exactly how to calm him down.

although his sobs didn't seem to subside much, you could feel the way he began to relax into you, as if he was aware that it really was you, not a part of his terrifying nightmare.

he knew you were always there for him.

you shifted from your upright sitting position into a lied down, comfortable spooning position, holding him against your chest while carefully stroking his hair. you waited until he had calmed down enough before trying to speak to him again.

"...nightmare," he mumbled against you.

"i figured, baby," you planted a soft kiss against his hair, "i've got you. you're safe."

he sniffled in response, nuzzling his face deeper into your embrace. you softly rubbed your palm over the expanse of his back to soothe him, and ultimately ground him-- remind him that this was the real world, not the nightmare.

"he was back." keigo shuddered.

you couldn't help the small droplets forming in the corners of your eyes, "honey... i'm so sorry. so... so sorry. i know how scary he is. but..." you took a deep breath,

"but he's not here. he's not back. god, i wish i could get rid of him inside your head like we were able to in reality. but right now, it's only me. me, and your comfy bed, and your comfy blanket, and your comfy pajamas, yeah?" you lifted his head up by his chin to make him look up at you as you spoke.

"yeah?" you repeated.

he slowly nodded.

"yeah, j-just you. and... and my comfy blanket..."

"mhm, your favorite blanket. the fluffy one you like to run your fingers across. why don't you try it right now, sweetheart?"

he took many deep breaths as he held the blanket close to him, running his fingers through it to remind himself that he was okay-- his father wasn't here, because the nightmare wasn't real.

the blanket was real. the calming lavender scent on the bedroom was real.

you were real.

he took one final deep breath, opening his eyes to look at you again. your face illuminated by the soft moonlight, perfectly casting your concerned, but gentle expression.

"thank you..."

you could barely hear the words that escaped his lips, but even so you knew how much he meant them.

"of course, keigo... i'll always be here. always. you know you always have me, and i'll be here to remind you no matter what."

he finally released all of the tension in his body, fully relaxing in your warm embrace.

"goodnight, sweetheart," you whispered, planting one final kiss.

"...i love you" he whispered back.

"i love you more."

masterlist

#keigo takami #hawks x reader #hawks x gn!reader #hawks x gender neutral reader #hawks x you #keigo takami x reader #keigo x reader #keigo fluff #mha fluff #mha hawks #mha angst #hawks angst #my hero academia #mha x reader #morality.reqs

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gallickingun · 4 years

Text

break the glass {in case of emergency} || t.s.

SUMMARY: Todoroki Shouto needs help, so he hires a nanny. More specifically, he hires you.

PAIRING: Pro Hero!Shouto x Fem!Reader RATINGS: M/E+ WARNINGS: language, smut, slight violence, etc. WORD COUNT: 21.2k+

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | mobile | writing tag

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* TAG LIST *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ is at the end of this post!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is the definition of a labor of love. big thanks to @k-atsukidayo, @freckledoriya, and @lady-bakuhoe for keeping me sane. and super shoutout to my love @shoutogepi bc she’s been my hype lady! i hope this lives up to everyone’s expectations because wow has it been a wild ride ♡

if you like this, feel free to request more HERE!

Shouto’s feet are trudging through the proverbial thick of life.

His ankles twist the further he tries to advance, and with every step forward, another tragedy breaks the fragility of the glass box he now lives in. The etching begins at the center, spreading out into cracks like lightning, threatening to shatter what remains of the clear cage.

And yet, Shouto must put on the mask, he must pretend that everything is fine when in fact he really would rather crumble to the floor with his hands in his hair. There are nights when he presses his palms into his temples, wishing and praying that someone out there might be listening so they can help him to will away the painful throbbing between his eyes. He can’t whimper, can’t make a sound, because if he does, if he withdraws the curtain and allows the world to know how inundated he truly is, then it will all be for naught.

“Daddy?”

Shouto blinks harshly to bring himself out of the vortex of his trepid thoughts, “Hey, love, what are you doing awake?”

Her teetering body scrambles into the room, pawing at the bedsheets as a broken sob parts her lips and shakes her chest. Shouto leans down to tuck his hands under her armpits, jolting her upward so she’s pressed into his chest. Her small hands grip onto the skin of his pectorals, thin fingernails scraping at his flesh. Shouto winces, but cradles her around the back regardless, the warmth of her heated cheek on his collarbone alarming.

“Did you have a bad dream?” he asks, soothing one of his hands through her hair while the other rests splayed against her back, dipping gently to try and ease her crying. She doesn’t answer, hiccupping cries making her whole body shake as she clutches onto him.

“Hey,” Shouto presses his lips to the crown of her head before coaxing her head backward. He tucks his thumb underneath her chin, “Talk to me.”

The little girl’s lower lip is wobbling, eyes doe-like and full of tears, thick white eyelashes dense with the little saltine droplets. She palms at Shouto’s face with one hand, seeming ancient when she whispers, “Why did they take mommy from me?”

And just like that, the glass box shatters.

Shouto feels the explosion, but maintains his composure regardless of the impact. Shards lodge into his throat and lungs, painful twinges jutting into his insides. His voice feels jagged when he speaks next, grating against his esophagus and tongue, “Sometimes the world just isn’t fair, love. I wish I had a better answer for you, but there’s not always a perfect explanation.”

Her bejeweled turquoise eyes behold him, thumbs against his mouth as she stares up at him. Glassy irises are blown wide by frightened pupils, “I miss her.”

She collapses back into him like a star shattering in the galaxy, explosive tears dripping down his chest as she tremors. The implosion of her life plays before him in the form of an empty half of the bed, a bare side of the bathroom, and a nightstand still left unembellished despite having been there for almost two years.

“I miss her too,” Shouto murmurs into the child’s silvery hair.

If he sheds a few silent tears of his own, she does not admonish him for it, instead laying quietly until her tears and shaking sobs have exhausted her tiny body. Her lips part and she begins to drool into the pocket of his collarbone, hands twitching against his chest.

A gentle melody vibrates Shouto’s lungs as he rolls himself to the side, carefully displacing her from his body to the empty half of the bed. The toddler grabs for him as soon as the warmth of his body disappears, and Shouto focuses all of his energy into regulating the warmth of his left side. He brushes his thumb over her cheek, pushing her silken hair from her mouth so it does not stick with her drool.

He chuckles, tucking her locks behind her ear, cupping her cheek with his warm palm, “Good night, Hana.”

The only acknowledgement he receives is a gentle snore that flares her nostrils and expands her chest, small body only looking tinier in the large expanse of the king-sized bed. Shouto lies there in wonder, his heated hand keeping in contact with her body until she halts her shivering.

How did I get so lucky? He thinks to himself, the threat of tears pressing intensely against the backs of his eyelids. He can’t close them, though, because he’s afraid he might miss a moment of his daughter’s sorrow.

Shouto leans forward to press a kiss to her furrowed brow, the familiar weight of his lips on her head giving her the comfort she needs to release the tension in her sleep. Her expression mellows, the crinkles in her forehead smoothing until she looks something akin to peaceful, ethereal.

The last thing Shouto sees before his mind succumbs to the lure of unconsciousness is her silvery hair glistening in the moonlight of the bedroom, her tiny palm wrapped around his index finger, clutching on like he were her lifeline.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

“I can handle this on my own.”

“This isn’t just another assignment. This is your daughter, Shouto.”

His nostrils flare, “Yeah, and?”

Fuyumi rolls her eyes, containing herself by taking a deep breath through the nose. Shouto’s eyes wander as Hana teeters around the kitchen with a few crayons and a plush rabbit.

“There’s no reason to keep yourself from admitting you need help, Shouto,” Fuyumi grits her teeth and attempts to appear somehow cheerful, even if just for Hana’s sake. She flexes her jaw, “This is an insanely large house, brother. You could use the extra hands.”

Shouto narrows his eyes, the scar over his left side appearing even more intimidating when his expression shifts, “You’re not moving in here, ‘Umi. I’ll figure something else out.”

His sister runs a hand through her hair, shaking her head as she turns her attention to the toddler bobbing her head to an invisible jukebox as she colors another page in her book. Fuyumi licks her lips, “Listen, will you at least call her? She’s great with kids, and she’s between jobs right now. It could at least turn into a short-term benefit for the both of you.”

After a moment of aggressive silence, Shouto nods. He decides, internally, that his agreement is purely out of the recognition that it will force his sister to let the topic rest.

“I’ll call her.”

“Thank you,” Fuyumi’s chest deflates, releasing a pent-up breath she had been holding in unexpectedly. She sifts her fingers through Hana’s hair, thumbing at her ear gingerly, “I know you hate that I loom over you like another mother, but I just want to make sure that you’re both taken care of.”

Shouto’s expression softens, eyes turning from jeweled beads to something more pliable. His chest tightens at her admission, the reality of their situation doing nothing to lighten the burden on his shoulders. He takes a step towards his sister, praying she can see the sincerity in his eyes as he speaks, “I’ll be okay, ‘Umi. I promise.”

Fuyumi allows herself a moment to take in the sight of Shouto’s twenty-one month old child, watching as she scribbles her crayons onto the coloring book in front of her with as much precision as she can muster. A somber smile tugs on her lips and she sighs, closing her eyes as she readjusts her glasses, “I just worry about you, is all. Taking over a large agency is a lot of work, especially with the added pressure of being a good father.”

“I will be a good father,” Shouto is quick to refute her lofty accusations, the intensity of his voice causing Hana to turn her attention from her book to her father. He narrows his eyes at his sister, “I won’t turn out like dad.”

Holding her hands up in mock-surrender, Fuyumi takes a step back, “I know, Shouto. Trust me, I know.” Her eyes are wide and Shouto feels fear grip his spine like a cold shadow, curling up into him and suffocating his throat. He wants to gasp but he cannot show weakness, not now. Fuyumi inhales a short breath, “You’re the furthest thing from our father. Which is why I think you should seriously consider reaching out, getting another pair of hands on deck.”

Shouto considers her, tilting his head. The implications that his ability at caring for his daughter makes his chest constrict, heart aching in a way he’s never felt before. His eyes dart downward, catching on the silver hair of his child as she sits on the floor, grubby hands gripping at crayons while she smears color all over the pages of her book.

“I’ll call her,” he repeats his words from earlier. “I will.”

Fuyumi reaches out to take her brother into a hug, breathing her peaceful nature onto him like a ghost begging to infiltrate his body. Shouto takes a long drag, lips parted when he wraps his arms around his sister’s smaller frame.

As his sister is leaving, Hana’s eyes focus on the door. Todoroki can’t help himself wonder for a moment if she believes that someone else might come walking back across the threshold, if only she were to look at just the perfect moment. The sun shines on Fuyumi’s figure, forcing a silhouette onto the floorboards of the entryway. If he were to squint the right way, it’s possible he could see her outline there, darkness shaped by the light.

Shouto must bite the inside of his cheek to keep his mind still.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Later that evening, when Shouto has his daughter resting in the crook of his arm, an educational children’s program playing on the television for background noise, he pulls his phone from his pocket to sift through text messages and emails. There are dozens of alerts to sort through, but the one thing his fingers keep returning to is the sight of your contact information in a message forwarded to him by his sister.

If you are every as bit as wonderful and kind as Fuyumi says you are, then Shouto is frightened of what you are capable of, based on your resume and photograph alone.

Not only do you have a stunning personality – caring, gentle, organized – but you have a beautiful outward appearance as well. Shouto notices the curve of your lips, the structure of your jaw and cheeks, and the way your eyes lilt upward at the camera.

The one thing Shouto hates the most about himself, the very being engrained within him to emulate, is that he was brought up worrying about these different kinds of things – the anatomy of a potential candidate.

It’s the Todoroki within him, the lurking presence of his father threatening to stifle his breathing, to suffocate him until Enji is the only glowing ember left in his charred, desolate soul. Shouto sits in the dark, the looming reality that he may very well end up exactly like his father forcing him to press the little green button at the bottom of the screen.

You pick up on the second ring, “Hello?”

“H-Hi there,” Shouto’s voice sticks in his throat.

A gentle laugh from the other end of the line makes his heart stop beating within the confines of his chest, “What can I do for you?”

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Shouto has never been so worried about the interior design of his house before.

He realizes suddenly that there are no photographs on the walls, no pictures hanging to tell the sad tale of his life story. The recognition of this little detail only further throws him into a darkness he knows he won’t ever be able to fully crawl out of. Every day he must fight this beast, this unseen presence that sits on his shoulders, forcing him to carry the burden. He’s never wanted to tell his life story, not with the way it played out, especially not now.

Abusive father. Hospitalized mother. Deceased wife.

When the doorbell rings, he pulls himself from his stupor to step forward into the foyer. Shouto takes a deep breath and curls his toes into the rug to ground his body as he turns the doorknob. It’s as if the door stands for something much weightier, a distance currently built between you and him, something he can control.

But when the heavy door gives way to the sunshine outside, your body casting an elongated shadow on the hardwood, Shouto’s ankles lock and his fingers still against metal.

“Todoroki Shouto?”

The sound of your voice, completely unadulterated from the natural static of a phone, makes Shouto’s head spin. He nods, swallowing so hard his throat bobs, “Yes, please come in.”

You kick your shoes off as soon as you step across the threshold, tucking them to the side near the other pairs of dress shoes and sneakers accompanied by little ballerina slip-ons and tiny formal shoes. He notices the way your eyes linger on the pink ballerina slippers that aren’t really shoes at all, more like glorified socks, and he has to hold back a chuckle.

Shouto raises his hand in a greeting, kicking the door closed with his ankle as he turns to face you, “Thank you for meeting me.”

“I appreciate you interviewing me,” you answer him, reaching forward to meet his handshake. You’re grinning when he makes eye contact with you, cheeks round with your smile. “I know that your schedule is very hectic.”

Shouto can’t think about it too much or it makes his brain throb within his skull. He grits his teeth, “Yes, my assistant was able to push out a few other unimportant meetings for this. I do apologize, but my daughter is currently with my sister. I thought it may be best for us to meet first and then decide if it will be a good fit before we introduce her into the situation.”

“I can respect that.” You smile, wrapping your arms around your waist as you stand in front of him. The surprising warmth from his hand sits with you, palm tingling even as it’s tucked between your body. A nervous laugh parts your lips as your feet shuffle, “I wouldn’t want to get too attached to her if you didn’t like me.”

Shouto chuckles, his eyes darting to his toes, “Oh, it’s not you I would be afraid of being incompatible. Hana can be very picky.”

Your thumbs dig into your biceps, rolling your lips together as you consider your reply. A soft padding forward of your feet on the dense rug makes little sound, but still breaks Todoroki’s gaze from the floor.

“You’d be surprised,” your left eye dropping in a wink. “I have quite the effect on people. Especially those who stand three feet and shorter.”

He is shocked to find himself grinning at your jesting remark, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he shuffles a step backward from you. You tilt your head, eyes washing over his tall frame, “I’ve been doing this a long time, Mr. Todoroki. Usually children are withdrawn from their caretakers because they fear we’re trying to replace someone more important in their lives.”

You are closer to him now as you stride across the tile. Todoroki feels his chest constrict when you speak, “I’m not here to be anything more than supplemental. You set the boundaries, Mr. Todoroki, and those are what I will abide by without a shadow of a doubt. I’m here to do as much or as little as you need of me.”

It takes him a moment to recuperate, faltering before he replies, “I appreciate that. I-I’ve never done this before. I wasn’t planning on it.”

Shouto notices the way you visibly shrink away from him, understanding the subliminal tones in his words. He holds a hand in the air, palm face-up, “No, that’s not, I just-”

A sigh parts his lips and he looks back down at his feet, but you’re careening forward to save the day before he can dig himself further into a hole he’s already drowning in. You chuckle, “I don’t think many people choose to have children only to set them into the hands of a nanny, Mr. Todoroki. You needed help, that much is clear, and I don’t blame you for reaching out. I think being able to push through your pride and do what is best for your child is not something you should be ashamed of.”

Oh yes, Todoroki thinks to himself with a smirk on his lips, hand outstretched towards you again, He’s going to like you just fine.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

You did not imagine your initial meeting with Todoroki Hana to go like this.

Shouto’s voice is mildly frantic on the other line, which is telling in it of itself. Even upon your first meeting, you knew that he was to be a mild-mannered, easy-going man. He does not seem to be a person who is easily upset by much, so the lilt in his voice is a clear indicator to his mood.

“It’s okay,” you try to remain calm in spite of his fear, praying that your clear head can help him to unwind. “I’m sure she’s fine, Mr. Todoroki. I’m already in the car, on the way to the daycare right now. I’ll go pick her up and call you as soon as I have my eyes on her.”

A breath is exhaled from the other end of the receiver, and you can imagine the way his chest deflates at your words. You smile to yourself, phone pressed to your ear as you drive down the highway, “It will only take me twenty minutes. Until then, try to keep yourself busy, okay?”

The two of you exchange pleasantries before you close your phone, slipping it back underneath your thigh before focusing on the road again. You were thankful that Shouto had already installed a car seat into back row, allowing you to go pick up Hana without having to do too much extra preparation.

Driving to the daycare facility takes eighteen minutes on one stretch of highway. You feel your palms sweat the entire way, recalling Todoroki’s words about Hana’s injuries she sustained on the playground not very long ago. The tremor in his voice sent a jolt down your spine, your bones rattling around in your body as you imagine the dozens of different cuts or gashes she might have on her body.

And then there’s the reality that this will be the first time you ever lay eyes on Todoroki Hana. It will be your reckoning day, the deciding moment of happenstance when she makes the choice of whether or not you are worthy of her acceptance.

You park and walk into the building, your eyes wavering over the entire intricate structure. It’s a formation of pillars and high roofing, accented with filigree of metal curved into beautiful shapes. The price point of this facility does not go over your head, given the marble pillars look genuine, smooth and rounded in all the right places. You run your fingertips over the cool stone as you walk to the thick, mahogany door. The doorknob is sparkling gold, as if someone polished it when they saw you park.

All the details wrapped into a pristine package ease your mind about the salary that Todoroki Shouto is paying you. Originally, you’d wanted to fight him on it, but you acquiesced into silence after taking note of his watch and the name brand of his suit jacket.

Your hand shoves at the front door, weighted and dense, and you step up to the front desk. Resting your forearms on the top of the divider, you smile down at her, “Hi, I’m here to pick up Todoroki Hana.”

It’s clear this woman has never seen you before by the way her eyes gawk over your appearance. You may not be dressed as pristinely as she might like, but you still look rather presentable, given the time restraints you were under to come pick up the young girl.

She tilts her head as if considering you like prey before grabbing up the phone on her desk, muttering a few words into the receiver. As she hangs up, she holds out a clipboard, “We’ll need a copy of your ID. Mr. Todoroki called ahead to let us know you’d be coming, but we’d just like confirmation. For Hana’s safety.”

It all makes sense, and is rather sound policy, but the curl of her lips when she says it forces a vat of acid into your stomach. You swallow your retort that is sitting on your tongue like a knife and gently take the board from her hand.

As you’re filling out the paperwork, the sound of little footsteps starts down the hallway. You tilt your head, pen stilled in your grip, awaiting what feels like your very own doomsday. This little almost two-year-old holds your fate in her tiny, grubby hands.

You stand and replace the clipboard onto the front desk, sliding your ID along with it. Turning your head, you await the arrival of your own two-foot-tall guillotine. You twist your hands together, knuckles wrung out white as you wait for Hana to approach the curve of the hallway and seal your fate. You know you should not be this anxious over a child who has just broken into real sneakers, but the rational part of you never wins out in these kinds of situations.

Todoroki Shouto is paying you something on the upside of expensive, offering you a generous starting bonus in addition to your typical pay so you could start working earlier than expected and still make your rent payments without worry. It would be a shame to lose that thick paycheck just because you could not win over a teetering toddler who probably babbles about princesses and the color purple most of the day.

“Hana, it looks like your-”

“Nanny,” you interject as you hear the voice echoing down the hall, attempting to avoid any confusion if possible. You brush your thighs free of any imaginary dust and crumbs so you can hide the shaking of your joints, “I work for Mr. Todoroki.”

When they finally round the corner, you stop breathing.

The little girl standing in front of you cannot be much over two feet tall, bright blue eyes shining as she drinks you in apprehensively. Her pupils shrink the closer she gets, bejeweled eyes swallowed by the inkiness. Her hands fidget at her sides while she stutter-steps towards you. The long locks of pale, silver hair reach midway down her back, the curled tips giving her an almost doll-like appearance with their perfection. Her full lips are drawn inward, tentative, much like her father.

And there, covering her right eye, a gauze bandage attempting to staunch and protect a wound.

You cannot help the way your eyes widen at the sight of her injured face, your hands ready to snag her up and race her to the nearest emergency room. Todoroki hadn’t told you the extent of her injuries, just that she had an accident on the playground, and someone needed to pick her up immediately.

“Hi Hana,” you squat down so you can appear to her at eye-level, an effort to put her at ease. “Your daddy heard you took a fall outside with your friends and he wanted me to come pick you up. Are you okay?”

She has obviously been crying, cheeks dark red and swollen, her visible eye puffy from tears. Your inner nature is telling you to reach out and comfort her, taking her by the hand and drawing her up into your arms to give her a gentle squeeze. But you know that there is a time and place and threshold for each form of affection, so you withdraw.

“How bad is it?” You turn your gaze upward, calves screaming as you shift your weight. You seek out the eyes of her teacher, trying to gauge your reaction based on her body language, “It doesn’t look like it’s bleeding too much now, and she’s rather calm. Was her eye directly injured?”

“No, it’s just around the orbital,” her teacher runs fingertips through Hana’s hair, “I don’t think she’ll need stitches, but she will definitely need this wound cleaned up by a professional. I know Mr. Todoroki has a nurse he usually calls.”

It’s as if these women are trying to suffocate you with their knowledge of Todoroki, almost like them knowing he has a nurse, or not knowing he’d hired you until today, would win them some sort of award or accolade. You try your best not to let your stomach turn at the sight of them, desperate and petty.

“Hana?”

She tilts her head up at you, another round of tears welling up in her eyelids. You wonder if it is from stress, pain, or a mixture of that and the uncomfortable feeling she can sense from the way you’re interacting with the daycare staff. She sniffles and wipes her face with the back of her forearm, careful of her injured eye, “Y-Yes ma’am?”

So Shouto has taught her manners.

You attempt to keep your composure at the sound of her tinny, trepid voice echoing out the words that are normally rare for even full-grown adults to use. In reaching out your hand, you notice she does not shrink away from you, not this time, “I think we ought to go have that nurse of your dad’s check out your eye, what do you think?”

There is silence for a moment, genuine concern evident in her sparkling irises. She blinks quickly, like she is trying to figure you out before she makes her decision in response to your question. You don’t want to clue her in to the fact that, at the end of the day, it’s not really her choice to make – that plight between staying here and going somewhere else has been completely left up to you.

“You know,” you’re whispering now, dramatically hiding your mouth behind the palm of your hand, pretending that that others standing around can’t hear you. “I think that I saw this cool ice cream shop on the way here. You think you could help me try a new flavor?”

This makes her eyes widen, pushing herself up on her tiptoes as she fails to contain her excitement at the suggestion of a sugary treat, “Wh-What flavor?”

You grin, warmth seeping into your chest as a giggle bubbles up in her throat, “I was thinking bubblegum, or maybe cotton candy?”

Hana’s nose scrunches at the suggestion, “No way!”

“Well,” you stand to your full height, hands on your hips as you pout, “what would you rather have then?”

She is full-on smiling now, cheeks drawn upward so her dimples can dip into her cheeks on either side, “I like mint w-with choco-chips in it!”

You hold your hand out again, praying that now, after divulging your favorite ice cream flavors, she won’t totally reject you. The last thing you want is for her to force your hand in making a decision to pick her up and take her out of the daycare.

Hana pushes herself up and down on her toes, biting her lip before bursting with a smile, “Y-You really mean it?! Ice cream?”

“I don’t see why not,” you shrug, wriggling your fingers as the other women watch on in amazement as your connection to the child. “I think you deserve it after that nasty fall you took.”

Bouncing towards you, Hana bobs into the air by pushing upward on the balls of her feet. She reaches out and snags your hand into her grip of her own accord, before beginning to tug you to the exit. She is babbling on about all of the ice cream flavors she’s tried, and what they taste like, and the last time she had ice cream was oh so long ago…

“See you later, ladies,” you wave over your shoulder, unable to hide the satisfied smirk making your mouth crooked, “I guess we’re going to get ice cream.”

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Hana knows how to buckle herself in, so she’s already clambering up into your car as soon as you have the door open. Her injury is completely forgotten as she bustles up into the seat, climbing in awkwardly before turning around to plop her backside into the curve of the cushions. Her fingers are frantic as she desperately tries to get the straps clicked together so you can be on your way to the nearest ice cream shop. You smile at her struggle, allowing her to settle with a pout before offering her your help.

“I-I can do it!” she insists, eyes misted. “I-I’m a big girl!”

“Oh, no doubt,” you shake your head in reassurance, pursing your lips as you hold your hands up in midair, palms facing her. “I’m just trying to help so we can get to our ice cream just a tad faster.”

Your reasoning seems to be sound, because Hana releases the offending buckle and puts her hands on either side of her car seat to give you enough room to maneuver and snap the contraption in place. Your hands make swift work of the buckles and straps, tightening them to the perfect spot on her chest and hips. She smiles up at you when you’re finished, expectant and excited.

It is strange, the intense desire to protect her that immediately washes over you at first sight. You have to stop yourself from rushing into allowing her between the cracks of your heart. You are frantic to seal them so you can let yourself down easy if this job ends up being as short-term as you’re worried of it becoming.

You pull away from her, face blank, and shut the door as Hana begins to fiddle with the remaining length of the straps around her body. Her fingers swirl around the black fabric and plastic, tugging and pulling, but not hard enough to adjust any of your hard work.

On your way to the parlor, you decide to call Shouto.

“Daddy!”

A relieved sigh sounds from the other end of the receiver, and you can’t help the warmth that blooms in your belly when you grin. Shouto coughs thickly, clearing his throat, “Hey, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay!” Hana twirls her fingers in midair, watching around like Todoroki may appear out of thin air like his voice echoing in the car. “We’re going to get ice cream!”

“Ice cream?” his voice sounds slightly judgmental, but you try to push it off and pretend it means nothing. You spare a glance over your shoulder, “Tell him what flavor you’re getting, Hana.”

You pull into the drive through window of the ice cream shop, listening as Hana babbles on about the different flavors you two talked about and whether she’ll get a cone or a cup. You put the car in park as the person in front of you orders, swiveling your hips so you can look her in the eye, “I was actually thinking about a milkshake. How does that sound?”

“Ooh,” her eyes grow wider, chubby little hands curling into fists in her lap. She’s practically buzzing at just the thought of it all, “That sounds like fun!”

You chuckle, hand on the gearshift, “Oh, I meant to ask, have you already scheduled the nurse to be at the house? I wasn’t sure if you’d rather it be someone personal to look after her, or if you’d want me to take her to a general hospital.”

“I’ll call Masuyo and have her meet you at the house.” Todoroki’s voice is muffled as he turns to speak with someone else in his office, hand over the receiver. You hear him cough, voice tense, “S-She’s okay, though. Right?”

“I think she’s a strong girl,” you make your voice confident, straightening your spine, “she’ll be fine once we get her cleaned up. Right, Hana?”

You spare one final look at the little girl in the backseat, all bright eyes and buzzing fingertips. She’s already shuddering off of pure energy, and you wonder if sugar was really the best route to go down for her comfort. Either way, she nods her head, enthusiastic about what’s to come next.

“Yes!” She leans forward in her seat, getting closer to his voice, “I can’t wait until you get home, daddy. We’ll play prince and princess, right?”

You can sense the hesitation on Todoroki’s end and your heart turns to granite in your chest. When he speaks, you feel the weight of it settle in your belly, throat tightening.

“I’m not sure, love. I’ll have to see. It’s very busy this afternoon.”

Hana allows her expression to fall for a mere moment. You honestly would not have caught the change in her demeanor if it weren’t for you studying her as Shouto uttered the words. Every bit of enthusiasm that was previously holding her cheeks high is drained. Her face pales and her lips turn downward in a frown, eyes dropped to her hands as she fiddles with her knuckles in her lap.

And yet, almost as soon as she falters, her smile returns, albeit not enough to light up her eyes as it did before. It’s like she is reconstructing a mask that she feels pressured to wear in order to keep her father satiated and undisturbed.

“Oh, that’s okay, daddy,” Hana’s voice is as cheerful as her little strong will can force it to be. She attempts to be dismissive as she waves her hands, despite Shouto unable to see her, “I played princess at school anyway.”

Your heart continues to crack as she says her final line, “I love you, Daddy.”

Shouto exhales, voice breathy when he repeats the sentiment, “I love you more.”

“I love you most.” Hana’s tone lilts then, a crack in her metaphorical armor at his affections despite his absence. She swipes at her face and you wonder if she was crying, because you certainly didn’t see any tears.

Your throat grows thick with emotion, making it difficult for you to tell him goodbye. You roll down your window and rattle off your order, trying to keep a close watch out of the corner of your eye to monitor Hana’s mood and expressions as the moments progress. You feel horrible for intruding on their very personal, private moment, and it only makes your heart wrench more when you see Hana’s glazed eyes unable to focus on one thing in particular. She’s docile, void of emotion as she stares out of the window, watching clouds pass as the world grows darker with the threat of a sunset on the horizon.

You settle the milkshakes into the front seat, finishing up at the drive through window before rolling forward into a vacant parking space. With your foot still on the break, you reach back to hand Hana the small milkshake cup with the straw already pushed through the opening on the lid, “There you go.”

She takes it from you gingerly, small palms wrapping around as much of the cup circumference as she possibly can. Her lips are pouted just enough that you wonder if she’ll take a sip at all. You busy yourself, pretending to clean up trash in the front seat and maneuver things around on the floorboards, waiting on her first drag from the ice cream cup.

But it never comes.

After five minutes of waiting, you press your hand to the passenger’s side headrest and look her in the eye – as much of her pupils that you can catch in spite of her hooded lids. Hana is still dazed, looking into her milkshake cup as if it might have the answers to all of her life’s confusing questions.

“Hana?” Your voice calls her from whatever lull she was in, eyes blinking slow as she connects back to this version of reality. A vague, “Yes?” is uttered from her lips, but she isn’t focused, not just yet. You brush your hand against the top of her knee, quick and gentle, and it does the trick. She blinks one final time before her pupils dilate back to their usual size, gaze settled clearly on your face.

“Did something upset you?” you ask, your hand wrung around the headrest again. “Or do you just not want your milkshake?”

“I dunno,” Hana admits quickly, eyes downturned once she realizes she’s let the emotion slip from her voice. It makes the edges of her words raw and ragged, “I guess I just don’ wan’ it anymore.”

You are persistent; your job is to make her happy and keep her safe, and right now with a milkshake melting in her lap, part of you feels like you’re failing.

“Was it what your dad said?” Your question is asked in a low tone, something you’re trying to use to convey that you are being patient and kind. You take a chance and rest your palm against the car seat armrest, close enough to make contact but not adjacent enough to infringe upon her personal space. You swallow thickly, taking a short breath, “About not being home to play?”

Hana is pinching the straw between her fingers, looking into the little opening as it closes with the squeeze of her fingers. You wonder if she does this often, with tangible objects. Does she ache to control something so much so that she becomes lost in the euphoria of it all?

She sighs, kicking her feet, “Daddy is just always working. It makes me sad sometimes.”

You aren’t sure how to respond, not really. If you had known her for longer, or met Todoroki some other way, you could likely refute her statement. However, there’s truth in what she’s saying, a vulnerability that you weren’t sure you would see from the child so soon.

When she speaks next, Hana reminds you of a full-grown woman, attempting to redirect the conversation from something personal to something vague, “What’id you get?”

Her voice sounds like an echo of her true self, nothing like the way her tone lilted when she first spoke with her father. There is a seemingly eerie mask she has perfected, something both audible and emotional. And it would appear she knows just how to slip it on and off when the time is right, despite her young age.

Then and there you choose to burden yourself with the purpose of breaking her out of her glass box of entrapment.

“I got cookie dough,” you say as you take an over-dramatic sip, crossing your eyes at the sensation of cool ice cream flowing down your throat, “What did you get?”

Her face scrunches inward, nose wrinkling at the bridge, “Y-You know what I got, don’ you? You ordered it for me!”

You make an exaggerated face of confusion, tilting your head backward and tapping your fingertip against your chin. “Hmm,” you nod, agreeing with her accusation, “I guess you’re right, huh?”

“You’re silly,” Hana giggles before going in for her first sip of her milkshake. Her eyes are narrowed downward at the cup, hands cradling it carefully as if it were the most important thing in the world and she might be in danger of spilling it at any moment. Her eyes are wide, doe-like in nature, as she comes up for air, “This is good!”

“Great,” you answer her, switching the gearshift back into drive so you can pull out of the parking lot and out onto the highway to head back to their house.

The remainder of the drive back to the Todoroki residence is spent in moderate silence, gentle music playing on the radio as Hana preoccupies herself with licking every last drop of her milkshake from the straw. She sucks the mint chocolate chip ice cream from her thumb and looks up at you when you park the car in the driveway, “We’re home?”

You unbuckle yourself from your seat and answer her, hopping down from the car to open her door. She’s already working at her buckles, undone the top half, but still struggling with the bottom. By the time you’ve gotten her undone from the chair, she trusts you enough to reach out her arms and ask for you to help her down to the ground so she does not have to clamber down and risk falling onto the concrete.

When the soles of her shoes hit the concrete, she’s reaching up for you, grabbing you around your fingertips to hold on as she walks. You squeeze her hand gently, fishing the keys out with one hand to unlock the door.

The nurse is already inside, set up on the couch. Hana runs straight to her, plopping herself unceremoniously down on the furniture, hand hovering over the patch as she talks with Masuyo about her ice cream experience from just moments ago.

You busy yourself with dinner, prepping meat and vegetables, as Masuyo starts to clean and treat Hana’s wound. It’s another thirty minutes before you start to sear meat on the stovetop when you hear the garage door rattle open unexpectedly. Todoroki shouldn’t be home until later this evening, he texted you after you’d been in line for ice cream to tell you as such.

And yet, when the door opens to reveal his familiar frame, you can’t help the way your jaw unhinges.

“You’re home early,” you mention, flipping the steak pieces in the pan to sear the other side. “Everything okay?”

Todoroki is stunned by how grossly domestic the sight of you in his kitchen is and he’s jarred back into his prior lifetime where he had the full family package. He blinks and takes a short breath, forcing himself away from the swirling blackhole of the past to smile at you, “Yes, well. I decided that my daughter’s health was more important than some paperwork. I had a few of the first-years handle it.”

That is how it starts. Your first day as the new nanny of the Todoroki household.

≫ ──── ≪•�� ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

“Are you sure you got the right color plates?”

“Yes.”

“And what about the cake?”

“Ordered it three weeks ago.”

“How about the-”

“Shouto.”

He turns to look you in the eyes, breath frantic, “What?”

You can’t help but laugh at the wide-eyed expression he wears, all of his emotions blatantly displayed on his face. You take a step toward him, reaching out to cup his elbow, “I’ve got it all handled, okay? Her birthday party isn’t for another week, Shouto. Are you ready for the zoo?”

Todoroki hesitates, gritting his teeth together so harshly that you can see the muscles in his jaw quiver. He turns his palm to press flat against your forearm, heterochromatic gaze seeking you out for some sort of comfort, “Did you need me to pack the bag?”

“No,” you chuckle, forcing yourself to remove your body from his grasp by walking back to the sink to finish up the load of dirty dishes you wanted to get into the wash before you left. You tilt your head to look across the bar at him, “We’re leaving in half an hour.”

Hana comes careening down the hallway, a doll in either hand, her pajamas still crooked on her body. She giggles, bouncing on the balls of her feet before launching herself forward to latch around Todoroki’s calf like an animal, “Daddy!”

Shouto bends at the waist to pluck her up, hands careful under her armpits when he tucks her into his side, “Yes, love, I’m going to the zoo. But it looks like you need a change of clothes.”

“I already laid some out on her dresser,” you pipe up from behind the sink, “but you’ll need to spray her down with sunscreen first, it’s not very cloudy outside today.”

As Shouto turns to walk Hana back to her room, you allow your gaze to linger a moment longer than the ordinary. Ever since you first took this job, you could note Todoroki’s beautifully carved body and stellar facial features. He is built perfectly for the type of Pro Hero that he is – thick muscles wrapped around dense bones, and yet still a relatively lean frame to hold it all into place. Shouto’s face is cut sharp at the jawline, cheekbones stark against his skin. You are sure to admire him whenever you can.

When you hear him and his daughter talking, sharing words and laughs, it only adds to the flame that burns in your belly at the thought of Todoroki Shouto.

There is no doubt in your mind that it is improper to feel the way you do about a client. They should be nothing more than a paycheck and a steppingstone, and yet somehow you have found a way to allow Shouto to wind his pristine claws into you. He’s got you by the heart and it has only been a few months.

You force your hands to work at the dishes, cleaning what remains so you can start the dishwasher. After you’re done, you make your way upstairs towards Hana’s room, where you hear various grunting noises.

A laugh threatens to part your lips and give away your spying secret when you notice Shouto frantically trying to pull the shirt you picked out over the top of Hana’s head. Her arms are stuck in the wrong spots and you can already tell that it’s somehow inside out, but none of that pushes you to step forward and take over.

It’s only when Hana spots you spying in the doorway that you’re coerced into treading into her bedroom. She pouts and Todoroki doesn’t look much happier. He chuckles, “I swear I’m better at this than I look.”

“Oh, I know you’re helpless,” you smirk across at him, squatting in front of Hana to help untangle her from the clothes and put her back in right side up. Her little hands grab for your face, squeezing your cheeks as she surges forward to kiss your nose, “Daddy is helpless, isn’t he?”

You are too busy fussing over Hana’s hair to notice the way that Todoroki drinks you in like he has been parched for years. He cannot stop himself from memorizing the color of your irises, the slope of your nose, the bow of your lips.

The reality that he could even be attracted to you is lost on him – he swore after his wife died that he would never find another woman to replace her. You have only been here a few short weeks and he’s already begun to question his earlier statement.

It’s just the way she is with Hana, he tries to convince himself. I am kidding myself into believing she’s here for us, not just because it’s a job.

And yet, when his gaze connects to yours, Hana babbling about lions and tigers as you slather her down with sunscreen, Todoroki swears that he feels something different.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

The day of Hana’s party comes quicker than expected.

You’re frantically spinning around, making sure there is enough food and drink for everyone in addition to trying to keep an eye on the children as they play around on the various structures setup outside.

A group of moms gather at the bar, one of them urging the others to look at you with a sinister lilt in their gaze. You continue to serve everyone at the party, filling drinks, bringing new plates of food, and yet their eyes never waver from you.

When you are cleaning up some stray garbage in the kitchen, the blonde woman near the end of the bar perks up, “Excuse me, nanny, would you mind filling my glass?”

It is like the floodgates have opened, and now they are all asking you for favors. You swallow your pride and do as they say whether that’s food or drink or a new napkin or even cleaning up their garbage. They are all gossiping behind their hands, palms raised to their mouths as if that will do anything to staunch the flow of the conversation, or even make it more difficult for you to hear the way they speak of you.

Your pride takes each hit in stride, attempting to roll the insults off your shoulders while you tend to them kindly. It takes Shouto stepping into the kitchen for your face to falter.

You gaze across the room at him and your strong façade falls away, hands shaking by your sides as you look at the floor in shame. You swallow your self-importance and build your walls back to their full height before looking up at him once more.

Todoroki is fuming, to put it nicely.

His hands are curled into fists, knuckles white and cheeks hot at the sight of your unease. He takes a few strides forward, features softening as he reaches out to press his fingertips into the small of your back.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs into the shell of your ear. His breath is warm, spilling down your spine like molten lava, pooling the heat in your belly and turning your insides to mush. The expanse of his palm splays against your back, the plane of his chest flush with your arm when he stands too close.

You take a short breath, unable to get enough oxygen with him crowding your space like this. It is like he’s thinning the air within a few feet of his body, making it difficult to breathe.

“I’m fine,” your voice is high and thick, nostrils flaring when you make eye contact with one of the women at the bar. She is smirking proudly, head tilted so she can look down her nose at you. You swallow the shards of emotion sticking in your throat and look up at Todoroki, confused at the fury held in his irises, darkening them both so they look almost the same color as his pupils.

He turns and you watch in slow motion as his jaw hinges open, anxiety gripping your throat tightly. Your body moves before your mind can catch up; you shift your feet, so your hips are in front of him, hands palming against his pectorals to bring his attention down to you.

You tug on the fabric of his shirt, breathlessly calling to him, “Shouto.”

Todoroki turns his eyes downward, jawline quivering just enough for you to see at this close of an angle. He is intoxicating, the combination of his cologne and his body heat sending your mind spinning. You lick your lips and his eyes track the motion, turning butterflies over in your belly, their gentle wings brushing the insides of your body delicately, enough to tickle.

“Shouto,” you mumble his name again. “S’okay, alright?”

The sound of barstools scraping the floor signifies the judgmental women taking their leave, and your chest deflates at the change in atmosphere. Your hands go slack against Shouto’s chest, head falling forward to rest against his collarbone.

When his hands brush your hips, you snap your eyes upward, neck bent at an uncomfortable angle to meet his gaze. Shouto grinds his teeth together before speaking, “I’m sorry they were bossing you around. You’re not here to take care of them.”

“It’s okay, really,” you pat your hand on his chest as if solidifying your statement, smiling enough to sell it.

His thumb grazes the hem of your shirt, fingertip slipping beneath the fabric to brush against your skin. Your breath hitches and every instinct within you tells you to push yourself up on your toes and grab his shirt in your tight fists, but when you’re eye-to-eye with him, you wish you wouldn’t have listened.

You can feel his stuttering breath on the bow of your lip, and it makes your shoulders quiver. Your name is whispered between his teeth and suddenly he is too close, so close that you’re intoxicated, and every inhibition of yours has been forgotten like dust in the wind.

“Daddy!”

The sound of her voice breaks you apart, stumbling like teenagers caught underneath the bleachers. Todoroki turns to Hana, tending to her face with a napkin and listening to her sugar-driven babbling. You take the moment to slip past them and back to the outdoor area where everyone is gathered.

For the remainder of the night, you feel Todoroki’s eyes on you, following your movements as you maneuver throughout the guests, offering them refills and to take their garbage. He cannot help but feel the heat incinerating his body from all sides, not just his left. The sensation is strange, the ice on his right side usually taking over any and all feeling he might have.

It feels foreign, but not unpleasant. Todoroki’s neck prickles at the impending awareness that he might be in for a crude awakening soon.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

The next few months are a breeze.

Until they are not.

Todoroki has begun to spend more time at work and less at home with each passing day. The threat of his job creeping over him like a looming dark shadow, slowly engulfing him inch by inch until he is surrounded entirely. He spends his days fighting crime, and nights doing paperwork.

You are slowly starting to spend more and more time at the Todoroki house – you are now expected to arrive around five in the morning, and sometimes you do not leave until nine in the evening. It is exhausting, given your drive back to your apartment is a half-hour on a good day with little traffic.

Somehow, you have been able to keep Hana satiated, even without her father around. There are fleeting moments where her cheery expression falters and she sheds a few tears, but you are there to wrap her up in your arms and let her cry until she has nothing left. And then, after she’s dried her face on your shirt, she looks up at you with those beautiful blue eyes and begs you to play princess.

One night, when you are half asleep on the couch with Hana curled into your arms, you feel a palm press to your shoulder, “I’m home.”

You blink blearily, a short jolt of breath stinging your lungs. You swallow and look to the right of you where Todoroki is squatted beside you. He is smiling; you can tell, even in the darkness.

“Hey,” you whisper, careful to cradle Hana’s head as you sit up. “Sorry, it’s been an eventful day.”

Shouto shakes his head and helps you to your feet, palms finding any juncture of you that he can use to support your body. His hand is against your elbow when he speaks next, “No, I’m sorry. I should have been home hours ago. I know you were making dinner.”

“I make dinner every night,” a laugh parts your lips and you run your fingers through Hana’s hair to try and keep her asleep despite the noise. “So, it’s nothing new, Todoroki. Let me go put her down and I’ll head out.”

He looks like he wants to say something, but his jaw snaps shut before he can let out whatever secret he is harboring. You disregard it, walking upstairs to tuck Hana in for bed. She stirs but does not wake entirely and you are thankful. The day has already been tumultuous enough without having to sing her back to sleep or stay up any longer.

As you are walking down the steps, you’re surprised to find Shouto pacing in the hallway, his thumb pinching his chin and his brow furrowed harshly. He looks rather intensely conflicted, and there is a moment where you’re worried, he may decide to fire you. Could you have done something wrong with Hana? Did she not like you? Was he upset that you let her have chocolate before noon the other day?

“Shouto?” you call, padding forward, toes sifting through the carpet. “Is everything okay?”

Another yawn splits your lips and you cover it with your palm, apologizing through your teeth. He shakes his head and steps toward you with a palm outstretched, “Yes, everything is fine. I just have something I’d like to ask you.”

You tilt your head and it reminds him of a curious animal, sniffing him out for food in the form of information. Your hand rests on his bicep and it is dizzying to be this close to you, even after several months of working alongside you. His head still spins when you are too close.

“I was wondering if you might consider moving in.”

You blink dumbly, mouth parted so he can see the pad of your tongue and the tips of your canine teeth. Your fingertips graze against his arm and you feel like lightning is sparking at the cusp of your touch.

The reality is this is not far from normal – most full-time nannies do end up living with their families. It makes everything easier and cheaper. If you live there, he does not have to pay you for drive time, and your boarding costs can be directly deducted from your standard paycheck. This option is what makes the most sense, but you are not focused on sense right now.

All you can see is his bare torso.

You are imagining accidentally walking in on him after he’s taken a shower, or him stumbling in after his morning runs with his tiny running shorts and shirtless upper half. Your tongue goes dry at the thought of it all, but you force yourself to push words past your lips, so you won’t look like a dead fish.

“That’s a pretty permanent decision, Shouto.” Your words hold weight and he knows it, he’s thought this through a dozen different ways to Sunday. You swallow and when your hands brush over his skin, he swears sparks light beneath your fingertips; it makes his arm numb. “I don’t mind, but I just want to make sure that you’ve really thought this through.”

He nods, stepping closer so he’s almost flush with you now, “I feel awful having you drive so early and so late. Your hours would not change, your responsibilities wouldn’t change. You would have your own room and privacy, and I don’t expect to lessen your pay just because you live here. It’s just-”

“Shouto,” you’re laughing now, shaking your head as you look down at your toes, “I don’t expect everything to stay the same if I move in. I’m prepared, are you?”

Truly, he’s thought about that question far too much in the passing days when he sees you around the house or speaks with you on the phone during the day. The idea that you will be here every hour of every day is suffocating, but in a way that makes him want to drown. As time moves faster, Shouto realizes that you have become a second nature in his house. He is thinking of you during his office meetings and the late nights on patrol.

He cannot be honest with the true reason he is asking you to move in, because then he would have to face his emotions and he’s not ready for that yet. And yet, his body betrays his mind as he reaches forward to brush his thumb over your cheek, “I think I can handle it.”

Emotion swells like a blooming heat between the two of you, your bodies almost entirely pressed up against one another as your voices grow softer. You are not sure if it’s the sleep-muddled brain you’re working off of, but you swear that you see his eyes drop to your lips. There is some part of you that wants to fall into him, to let him take you and burn you and leave you for dead, but the rest of you is working off of sense and logic and you know that would never work.

“Well,” your voice shatters the fragile moment, “I guess I better get home and start packing.”

Shouto releases you and something shifts in his irises, but it is gone as soon as it appears, and you don’t have enough time to discern the emotion. You pluck up your bag and slip on your shoes, turning to wave at him over your shoulder as you step past the threshold and back to the garage.

As you start your car, you rest your forehead on the steering wheel before you pull out, and murmur to yourself in utter chagrin, “What have I just agreed to?”

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

“I’m telling you - Red Riot is going to give you a run for your money.”

“That blockhead?” Shouto chuckles, swirling his glass, “I doubt it.”

You tilt your head, “And what about Ground Zero? He’s got his own agency now, doesn’t he?”

Shouto rolls his eyes, “God, can we please leave Bakugou out of this conversation?”

Another swig of the rum and coke slides down your throat, burning in the best way. Your head feels hazy, but you don’t mind, taking advantage of Hana’s early bedtime for the first time in a few weeks. You push your mostly empty glass towards him, “Bartender?”

Todoroki smiles, tipping the bottle downward to refill your glass. You grab the soda off the countertop and fill it to the brim, swirling the mixture with your straw. Another gulp of the liquid has you asking, “You and the other big players all went to Yuuei together, right? Ground Zero, Deku, Red Riot?”

Shouto nods, “Yes, we did.”

“Wow, to have gone to Yuuei,” you whisper in wonder, eyes heavy as you look down into the dark liquid fizzing in your glass.

He leans forward on the counter, body close to you as he asks his obvious question, “You don’t have a quirk, do you?”

“No,” your answer is quick, curt. You swallow thickly, shards of shame sticking in your throat. “I was born without one. You’ve seen my shoes.”

You are referring to the wider shoes that those with no quirk have to wear thanks to the extra joint in their pinkie toes. You lift your foot up in the air for good measure, painted toenails catching the light just right as you wriggle your toes around dramatically. You sigh, “I didn’t fully know who you were when I took this job. It’s kind of embarrassing that I don’t have a quirk, and you’re some superhero saving people with ice and fire.”

Shouto holds out his left palm, face up, and ignites a small flame, “I hated this side of my body for so long. It comes with a burden I’m glad you do not have to bear.”

The weight in his voice entices your eyes upward, connecting with his gaze as the heat blossoms, sucking the oxygen out of the air. Shouto curls his fingers inward and cuts the flame short, a gentle wisp of smoke floating from his palm.

“What does it feel like?” you find yourself asking, the alcohol creating a dull buzz behind your eyes that latches onto all of your inhibitions and immediately tosses them away.

His breath hitches audibly, pupils dilating as he attempts to focus on something other than the way your lips bow when you speak. Shouto steps forward, hands gentle as he cups your cheeks, a bravery he did not know he could muster bolstering his movements. His fingertips tickle your skin and it’s difficult for you to keep your eyes open when he is holding you so tenderly.

Shouto closes his eyes in concentration, taking a deep breath before narrowing his concentration onto the pores of his hands. His palms are flush with your skin and you let your mind wander while he is working up his quirk.

How would his touch compare to different parts of your body?

Your eyes slip shut at the thought, biting your lip as your mind runs rampant. The heat curling in your belly reminds you of his quirk – burning and licking at your belly like a raging flame. You only wish you had his right side to cool you down from the inside out.

Slowly but surely, you feel the right side of your face grow warm while the left side has started to chill. Your eyes go wide, and you circle your fingers around his wrists, voice breathy when you speak, “Wow, Shouto, that’s amazing!”

Your voice goes quiet and it is like the world stops spinning when he opens his eyelids to look down at you. You feel frozen in your spot, but you know it isn’t his quirk affecting you. Your grip tightens but he doesn’t seem to notice, his eyesight directed to your lips, zeroed in on the way that you gnaw at them when you’re nervous.

The tension is like a rubber band begging to snap. You feel the coil twirl around your spine, bunching you together and screaming at you to run away. There are a thousand different reasons why getting too close is dangerous, but your wanton body cannot be bothered to list them. Instead you are pushing yourself up in your seat, so your back is arched toward him, chest brushing his pectorals.

Shouto reminds you of something innocent when his mouth parts and irises glimmer beneath half-hooded lids. You feel distinctly profligate for envisaging his mouth on other parts of your body, the pink of his tongue peeking from behind pearly teeth doing little to quell your thoughts. You swallow thickly and shudder as his hand that produces cold shifts into your hair, rustling through the tresses at the nape of your neck.

Your hands are suddenly wrapped up in the fabric of his shirt, fisting the soft material, and you are pulling him towards you. Even so, it is Shouto who tilts your head upward, heels of his palms gently angling you by the cheeks.

The two of you take a breath before devouring one another whole.

His mouth tastes like whiskey, sharp and biting, but his tongue is in stark contrast to the flavor. He is gentle while still taking over your every sense. His tongue maps out the curves of your teeth and the pad of your tongue while his chilled palm keeps your skin from searing with blush.

The tenderness with which he holds onto you makes your heart rattle around within the cage you have built just for him. You knew this entire time that if he were to wriggle his way in, to touch your heart in just the right spot, you would crumble beneath his ministrations. This entire time you’ve been beholden to him, despite the utter denial you’ve been bathing in to hide the confession.

“Todoroki, I-”

Your voice is cut off by a blazing hand drifting beneath the hem of your shirt, fingers dipping against your spine, “I hate it when you call me that.”

Your eyes go wide but he’s enraptured you with another kiss square on the lips. Your words fall into the confines of his throat, never to be heard again as he swallows them into silence.

Hands are everywhere, so much so that you can’t tell where you begin and he ends.

Shouto nips your lip and you gasp, your hips canting forward of their own accord. Your mouth is gaping, begging for air, and he gives in to your silent request, drifting his lips downward to your jawline. He mutters a string of curse words as your hands finally make their way to his hair and shoulders, digging into him like he might float away.

He hums against your collarbone, teeth bared as he licks and nips at your skin. The alcohol in your bloodstream mixed with his essence in your veins only spins your mind into overdrive, dizzying you to the point that your eyes cross. You whine as he bites kisses into your skin, fingernails dug sharply into the skin of his back through his shirt. There will most likely be little crescent moon imprints when you release.

The trail of his kisses loops back up the column of your throat, teeth grazing your jaw as he works his way to your mouth again. You whine into his lips when his frozen fingers stroke your bare skin beneath your top, “Shouto, please-”

Todoroki’s confidence grows when he hears you moan his name into the air, begging him with only a few syllables. He disconnects his mouth from yours to look you in the eyes, “God, you’re so damn pretty, y’know?”

Your mouth hangs open and Todoroki must hold himself back from slipping his thumb between your parted, full lips. A shuddering breath passes between the two of you, time frozen as the moment sits still. It allows the both of you to agonize over one another, taking in each and every wanton feature as you beg quietly.

“So pretty,” he whispers before digging his hands into your backside and tugging you forward so you wrap yourself around him. His mouth is on you in a flash, all teeth and tongue pulling and prodding at you in a divine way you’re sure only he has mastered.

You are enraptured by him, fully captivated with his dual-ended quirk sending your body into a haze. Your mind is bewildered, thrown into a twirl of rum and Todoroki. If he were to give you a moment to catch your breath, you might be able to find it within your resolve to push him off you, to tell him how wrong this is. And yet, with his tongue tangled in your teeth, you can’t force the word no out of your throat.

Instead it is just his name.

Todoroki picks you up to deposit you on the countertop, thumbs digging into your hips to help you settle. His fingers make quick work of your top, slipping beneath them hem to graze over the swell of your breast on the underside. You whimper at the ghost of his touch, trying to angle your arms so you can tug at the band of his sweats.

When he realizes what you are fumbling with, he uses the bottoms of his feet to tug his pants down to his ankles. He steps out of them, but you can’t focus on anything other than the prominent bulge strained against his dark briefs. You have to swallow the drool accumulating in the center of your mouth, threatening to pool over the corners of your lips if you were to speak.

Before he tugs your shirt over your head, he looks into your eyes, sincerity cutting through the lust clouding his irises, “Last chance.”

He is giving you an out. One last clear path to purity.

You hesitate for a moment and his hands curl tighter around the hem of your top, restraining himself from ripping it away like an animal. His jaw is quivering as he waits on your response, nostrils flaring when you do not answer right away.

Whether it is the alcohol or the need talking, you are the conduit for the words spoken next, “Fuck me, Shouto. Now.”

Your shirt is yanked over your head unceremoniously, but you don’t care. Your eyes are wandering, begging for him to be nearly as naked as you. You don’t have to ask, because he’s already stepping away from you to remove the offensive piece of clothing, baring his body to you.

You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, especially upon moving into the Todoroki residence. He goes on shirtless jogs and sometimes does not wear anything on his torso for a while after he’s showered. There are days he has hardly anything remaining of his costume, after a particularly rough villain or training session.

And yet, this time it feels different.

He is baring himself for you. The intimacy of the moment does little to dull the ache in your mind, the strain of your heart in your ribs. You know that if he were to show you much more openness, you may have bruises beneath your skin from the way your heart threatens to beat at such a quick, tumultuous pace.

Shouto wastes little time in lurching forward to palm at your breasts, mouth too busy with your lips to pay attention to much else. You hitch your thigh between his hips, the curve of your leg brushing into his clothed cock. He grunts into the trap of your teeth, brow tugged with focus as he ruts his hips upward into you. You’re sure to put pressure back against him, the tip of his cock bulging on your thigh.

“Sho’,” you whimper when his mouth drifts from your lips to your neck. Your hands find his hair and his shoulder, eyelids fluttering halfway closed while he licks and nips at your thin, sensitive skin. Your throat burns, flesh aching as he starts to bite into you, rolling the skin between his teeth slowly, agonizing your very core.

A fresh wave of arousal coats the inside of your walls, and you know it is stained your panties, but you don’t have enough dignity to care. All that is on your mind is how he can take you on the countertop, and if you’ll be able to keep quiet enough not to wake the sleeping girl up the flight of stairs.

“Shit,” he’s cursing when your hand finds his bulge, “sweetheart, I-”

His breath is stuttered over your collarbone as you begin to palm him through his briefs. The nickname tumbling from his lips in a moan turns your stomach, effervescent champagne bubbles drifting up from your belly until they are suffocating your lungs. You gasp to relieve yourself of the pent-up anticipation as his left hand reaches the button of your shorts.

Shouto is careful as he unbuttons your pants, slipping the coarse fabric of your jeans down your thighs. As he squats down to help you out of them, all you can think of is what might happen if you were to grab him by the hair and force his mouth to your cunt.

Almost like he was reading your mind, he leans forward after he’s tossed your jeans to the other side of the kitchen floor and his mouth ghosts over your core. Your lower lip wobbles and you must bite your tongue to keep your mewling cries from tumbling out in excess. Todoroki kisses the top of your thigh, nose nudging over the edge of your lace underwear, his eyes closed so you cannot make out the expression settled in his ordinarily stoic irises.

“If you smell this good, I can only imagine how wonderful you taste,” Todoroki smirks against your skin, tilting his head so he can look up at you from his crouched position.

Your hips cant forward at the sentence, pussy already dripping just from the timbre of his deep voice. The vibrations of his word are like shockwaves straight to your core and you want to beg him to give you something, even a teasing lick over the center of your underwear.

Shouto kisses the little bow at the center of your panties, smiling as he snags the accent between the bite of his teeth and uses it to tug your underwear down your thighs. Your muscles tense, his ministrations slow and tantalizing. He chuckles and the sound shoots through your bones as if they were hollow like a feather, the warm honey of his laughter seeping slowly into your every pore and breaking down what remains of your resolve.

You have to cover your mouth with your hands when you yelp at the pad of his thumb brushing back the hood of your clit. His cool palm finds your thigh, just below the curve of your ass, and he stabilizes you with a firm grip, “Sit still, Princess.”

The authoritative tone of his voice turns your spine rigid, eyes facing the wall as he butterflies your pussy so he can see the silvery strands of slick built up between your layers of skin. He licks his lips and you feel the threatening heat of his tongue near your clit and you’re squirming. You are white knuckling the countertop, jaw under immense pressure as you clamp your teeth harshly.

He does not give you warning before delving his tongue between your folds, licking up your accumulated slick with one slow movement. His glittering grey iris tries to find your face, but the only thing he can make out is the line of your jaw and chin as your head is thrown back. Shouto chuckles before starting to explore the glutenous walls of your cunt with his tongue, his one hand still pressed into your thigh, fingers digging so hard that you are sure there will be bruises tomorrow morning.

Your body responds to him quickly, hips canting forward to buck against his mouth, begging for something more than just the quick slithering of his tongue in and out of you. In retaliation, Shouto presses his tongue flat, creating the illusion that it is thicker than before. You keen when he turns the pad of his thumb near your clit, close but not near enough.

“Sho’, please,” you pant, sweat beginning to bead up on your temples from the anticipation alone.

His cocky smirk is something you can sense when he speaks, but even further, you can feel it as he continues to lavish your pussy with his tongue. He huffs before standing to his feet, your slick mixed with his saliva giving his mouth a dangerous glint in the lowlight of the kitchen.

Shouto licks his lips as he steps closer to you again, bodies flush with one another. The hand that you know could burn you in an instant drifts down your side towards your pussy and you feel every muscle in your body clench at the thought of what kind of damage he could do to you if he tried.

Oh, and you’d let him.

You are about to beg him again, wanton moans vibrating your throat, but he intercepts you before you can lower your inhibitions any further. Shouto’s elongated middle finger slips just between your folds, using his saliva and your slick to lubricate his digit as he begins to pump up into you.

Todoroki Shouto is by no means a small man.

However, he is not so muscular that it looks like he is uncomfortable whenever he is walking. He is lean but built, which means that even though his hands are thick with muscle, they are not painful when pressed into your tight heat. Rather, they are snug and comfortable, his knuckle providing a pleasure you’ve not experienced before.

The tip of his finger brushes the spongy spot at the base of your core, and you swear you feel him in your spine. Shouto leans forward kiss you and you receive him quickly, desperate for some sort of tactile relief. He’s grinning into your lips, but you do not care so long as you find some reprieve from the coil beginning to twist within your stomach.

“So fuckin’ tight,” Todoroki whispers into your teeth as his tongue licks against your gums.

At his comment, you clench your cunt around his fingers, tightening your hold only to see how he will react. His hand stills for a moment, but then he is pushing another finger to accompany the first, splitting your cunt open despite the vice-like grip you have on his knuckle. He pumps until the base of his digits are finding the heat of your pussy, his fingerprints searing into your walls as you attempt to stay clamped around him.

Your legs begin to shake from the way you are holding yourself up on your toes, knees bent so you can be closer to his body. Todoroki feels the tremors in your thighs as his hand roams the dense muscle, whispering, “C’mere, love,” and then he’s picking you up gingerly.

Shouto hooks one of your legs around his waist at the knee, arching your back so your cunt is still butterflied open for him. Your other leg dangles from the countertop as he balances you on the edge.

The way his fingers work into you is nothing short of sinful, that white-hot flash of pleasure sinking into your eyelids slowly but surely. You begin to lose your peripheral vision as the impending ecstasy begins to settle in. The crest of the wave is close, his knuckles dragging salaciously against the innermost part of you.

Your jaw hangs open the closer you are to coming undone, panting breaths prying your lips apart. You feel utterly exposed in front of him like this, lewdly strewn against the counter that you were sipping rum and whiskey against not even a half hour ago. And yet, somehow, Shouto’s hand cradled against your shoulders is all you need to bring your self-consciousness down to a manageable level.

From this angle, you can reach down and pull Shouto’s briefs down so his cock can spring free. You’re palming at him as soon as you see the dark red of his cockhead. He stutter-steps forward when you pump him the first time, eyes close to bulging from their sockets at the sensation.

You twist his cock in your palm, running your thumb against the pearlescent bead of pre-come collected at the curve of his slit. Using what you can of the liquid, you drag your damp thumb down the length of his cock for slight lubrication. Shouto bucks into your hand when you bob your palm up and down to connect with the base of his pubic bone.

Now that you’re secure on the countertop, Shouto allows his free hand to wander around the curvatures of your body, mapping out the dips and contours of your frame. His hand is on your neck, thumb brushing your jaw, when your mouth drops open from a particularly pleasurable swipe of his fingers. Your cunt is dripping, and you’re honestly not sure if it even matters if you come, he should be able to slip right between your tight heat with ease.

“S’pretty,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek as his thumb brushes the bow of your bottom lip.

On instinct, your tongue laps towards the digit, silently begging for him to do more.

Shouto listens, dipping his thumb into your mouth, pressing the pad of his finger into the thick muscle of your tongue. You lick and suck at him, rolling your mouth to match the pace of your hand as you work his hard cock towards release. Shouto fixes the rhythm of his fingers so every part of your bodies are going at the same speed.

The collective sensations of his hands and mouth are too much and you cry out, digging your free hand into his shoulder to attempt and ground yourself. You pant, looking up at him with bejeweled irises, tears sitting dormant on your lashes as a whine sits pretty on your lips.

“What is it?” he asks, borderline patronizing. “Are you gonna come on my fingers?”

Your lower lip trembles and you feel yourself slipping into some subservient headspace at the tone in his voice. You nod, rolling your hips to meet him as he slows his hand, “P-Please, Shouto, I-”

“I want you to come,” he murmurs into your ear, leaning forward so his breath is hot on your skin. The hand he has buried in your cunt begins to heat and the searing sensation sends your mind reeling. Shouto nudges his nose along your jawline, warmth creeping along the base of his palm, “C’mon, love, I want to see you come. Make a pretty little face for me, yeah?”

His words do little to quell the growing ache between your thighs, the pent-up need begging to be released. You clench around him again, not forgetting his cock between your hand. You continue to twist your wrist, flicking your fingers along the length of his dick, dragging with just enough pressure to make his eyes cross. Teasing the head, you drag the pad of your thumb over it, catching another swell of pre-come and trailing the liquid down the thick shaft.

You whimper his name, squeezing your eyes closed so harshly that the corners of your lids crinkle. Your sounds only grow louder when his mouth begins to suck at your nipple, massaging your breast in his chilled hand. The crystallization of ice draws your attention, a frozen cold so intense that it almost feels hot in its own unique way.

There is a stinging excitement at the duality of the temperatures that grow further apart the longer he activates his quirk. Your nipples pebble while your pussy floods from the heat, copious amounts of slick trickling down his fingers to pool in the creases of his palm. Shouto murmurs obscenities against your earlobe but you’re in such a realm of fevered phrenzy that you can’t make out he’s even speaking English.

“Sh-Shouto, I-I’m close,” you manage, feeling the way his cock throbs beneath your touch helping to bring you back to the cusp of reality. You dive deep again when his fingertips brush against your cervix, allowing his passion to force you beneath the surface.

His thumb is circling your clit as he murmurs, “C’mon, darling, I know you can do it. Come for me, yeah?”

It’s as if his words united with his caress are enough to shove you head-first into the pool of desire. You are whimpering, cunt fluttering around his fingers as your come drips down the crevices of his palm. Your release reaches his wrist, milky liquid tickling his skin.

“Atta girl,” he kisses your cheek, fingers stilling for a moment to allow you to collect yourself. You continue to ride out your high by bucking your hips over his knuckles, slippery fingers easily providing you the rest of the comfort you need to come down from your high.

“Your turn.”

You’re pushing your way off the countertop when the creaking of the stairs makes your heart still within your chest.

Shouto’s stare flickers from you to the staircase, jaw hung open as he analyzes the sound. When another step echoes in the hallway, he’s quick to yank his briefs and sweats back over his hips. He helps you into your shorts, the silvery strands of your release forgotten as he tugs the fabric up your hips.

You’ve just gotten your pants buttoned when Hana’s teetering figure creates a shadow on the kitchen floor.

“Daddy?” she whimpers, fists digging into her tear-filled eyes.

Shouto swipes his hands against his sweats before crouching in front of her. His palms find her sides quickly, thumbs grazing her rib cage in an attempt at comfort, “Hey, love,” the sound of the nickname makes something stir within your belly, “what’re you doing awake?”

Hana swallows a hiccup, “I-I had a bad dream.”

You step forward, pressing your hand to Shouto’s shoulder, offering a gentle nudge of comfort. Hana blinks up at you, jeweled irises focused on your face, “M-Momma?”

The title holds a weight you had not prepared to carry.

She’s all but forgotten Todoroki, pushing past him to barrel into your shin, wrapping her stubby arms around your knee. She wipes her face against the skin of your thigh, sniffling louder as a fresh wave of tears takes over her body. Her shoulders shudder and you don’t have time to wonder whether she’s cognizant enough to realize that she’s just called you her mother.

You scoop her up in your arms, holding her gingerly by the back and head, and she wraps her legs around your midsection to anchor her little body to your torso like a frightened animal. Hana buries her head into your neck, tears sticking to your skin and creating an unbearable heat.

“You’re not leaving, right?” Hana whimpers, “I-I had a dream that you left.”

In an effort to comfort her, you run your fingers through her hair, gently separating the strands so your nails can scratch her scalp. You kiss her temple, “Of course not, sweetheart. You’re stuck with me.”

She retracts from your neck and a rush of cool air washes over you. Her irises are swallowed by her pupils, thick droplets of tears wetting her cheeks. You smile, forcing yourself to forget the way you were just about to jump her father’s bones, and brush your nose against hers in an eskimo kiss.

“It was just a dream, babe,” you comfort her, making sure you are looking at her directly when you say it so she feels much more solid in the reality that you are here to stay. A soothing hand reaches forward to couple with yours, thumb tracing the bump of her shoulder.

Todoroki kisses the back of her head, “Hana, there’s no need to worry, love.”

“I already lost one mommy,” Hana sounds ancient when she speaks, voice far away and intelligent beyond her young years, “I don’t wanna lose another one.”

Your voice is lodged in your throat now, tears of your own pressing threateningly against the back of your eyes. You try to swallow but the shards of your heart are blocking your windpipe, cutting off your oxygen. Todoroki slips his hands beneath Hana’s armpits, separating her from you so he can cradle her body against his chest, “You’re not losing anyone, sweetheart. Let’s get you back to bed.”

You take this as your cue to leave, grabbing your things as Todoroki takes Hana back up the stairs to her bedroom.

A sense akin to despair settles in your chest, restraining your heart in such a way that makes it difficult to breathe. The world seems to settle atop your shoulders and in the next moments you have turned into Atlas, forced to hold the earth up by your careless grip. Tears settle in your lids as you pull away from the Todoroki residence.

Something tells you that things will never be the same.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

As much as you hate it, that little voice eating away at the back of your mind was right.

The looming reality that Todoroki is avoiding you does little to satisfy the curiosity settled in your bones, affecting you down to the marrow.

Ever since that night, he hardly looks you in the eye.

In fact, he’s barely even around to see you at all.

Todoroki leaves for work before you can emerge from the bathroom with Hana in tow, fresh from a bubble bath and ready for breakfast. He slips back through the doors late at night, normally after eight, so Hana is either passed out with you on the couch or curled up beneath her covers in her bedroom. There is not another time where he touches you gingerly on the shoulder and guides you back to bed, not anymore.

You have wondered many times if you should approach him, beg him for some sort of explanation. Not only is his distance affecting you, but it’s turning Hana into a child you hardly recognize. She is still cheerful a majority of the time, begging you to play princesses and watch Bubble Guppies. But there are times when she turns angry, ripping the heads off her dolls and trying to sabotage Todoroki’s work clothes by drawing on his shoes or dropping her glass of morning milk on his suit jacket.

You start to cook his meals the day before, packaging them up in a Tupperware container that’s always gone when you check at breakfast the next morning. You are not a blind woman, and you normally choose to indulge his silly game of hide and seek instead of confronting him about what happened that night.

However, tonight, you’ve had enough.

Even though he’s decided to spend the weekend at home for the first time in a few weeks, you’ve never felt more on edge. Hana is extremely irritable, nightmares plaguing her mind during the time she’s supposed to be sleeping, and it would seem there is nothing you can ever do to satiate her throughout the day.

Playing princess is boring, coloring is stressful, blowing bubbles is stupid.

You are reaching the end of your rope and Shouto’s evasive presence does little to satiate your temperamental moods. You clutch at the cusp of sanity, praying that it will not leave you just yet; the only thing holding your tongue back from lashing out is the sliver of discretion that you’ve managed to sustain in spite of the day’s events.

“Hey, uh-” Todoroki’s voice is strained as he stands in the archway of the kitchen, “Would you mind making us a couple of sandwiches? I think Hana is getting hungry.”

The warmth from the dishwater gives you something other than his irises to focus on, your eyesight directed downward, “Sure. What would you like?”

“Let’s just do peanut butter and jelly,” Shouto shrugs nonchalantly. “Grape, if we have it.”

Your ears perk up at the mention of a specific flavor. You are certain that if you were to look into the refrigerator that you would not find grape jelly, but it’s obvious that Shouto is otherwise unknowing.

“Grape?” you echo, pulling your hands from the dishwater to wipe them on your hand towel. “You think that’s a smart choice?”

Shouto scoffs and it stings so much that you turn your head away from him, eyes now focused on the floor beneath your feet, “Yes, I’m sure. Why does it matter anyway?”

“Oh, no reason.” You pluck a jar of strawberry jelly from the refrigerator and begin to prepare the countertop for your sandwich making.

He takes a step forward to protest, but you’re waving the knife in his direction before he can stride across the tile, “You listen to me, Todoroki. And you listen good.”

Shouto pauses, throat bobbing as his line of sight zeroes in on your lips. His eyes widen, pupils swallowing his irises in fear. The knife wavering in your grasp holds much more weight than any other butter knife he’s come into contact with.

“We don’t have any grape jelly because your daughter is allergic to grapes.”

Your knuckles turn white as you grip the butter knife in your hand, “And if you were ever here you might notice a thing or two, such as an allergy to something that could, I dunno, kill her?!”

The sound of your voice raising an octave or two reverberates off of the walls and thrums at Shouto’s heartstrings. He swallows thickly, but you’re not done tearing into him just yet.

“This little charade you’ve got going on has got to end.” Your voice is desperate, unhinged, and you feel the honesty scrape against the front of your throat, “Your daughter is turning into someone you can barely recognize, and you’re not far behind her.”

Silence envelopes the room, and the only thing you’re able to hear is your heart beating frantically in your own ears. As your pulse thuds rapidly, rushing like a river of thick emotion throughout your body, you feel your palms begin to sweat. The longer you keep quiet, the louder the sound grows.

Finally, after giving him a few minutes to respond, you press the tops of your fists into your hips, glaring down your nose at him, “If you want me gone, all you had to do was ask. I thought we respected one another enough for that.”

You slap together two sandwiches quickly, tossing the plates onto the counter for him to pick up on his own before you turn and walk from the room. You’re unable to look at him any longer, not sure if it’s the loitering reality that you may have to move on from this chapter of your life or the loss of a generous paycheck and living situation that wraps your heart like the talons of a bird, squeezing until you can’t breathe.

The tumultuous roll of emotions scrapes away at your chest, and you’re surprised that there isn’t blood gushing from your ribs. You lean back against your closed door, head tilted backward to stave off the tears, saltine droplets coating your lashes as they sit in your ducts, pending the gentle sway of your neck to drip down your cheeks.

You aren’t sure how long you stay this way, crumbled against your door with the heat of disappointment building smoke in your lungs. It’s difficult to breathe, a dizziness taking over your mind that you’ve never felt quite so acutely before. You cradle your head in your hands, massaging your temples with your thumbs to try and mitigate the oncoming migraine.

A knock sounds at your door and you jump, hand pressed over your frantic heart, “Y-Yes?”

“Can-Can I come in?”

Shouto.

The sound of his voice does little to staunch the metaphorical puncture wound in your chest. You flex your hands before standing to your feet and opening the door, allowing him to step over the threshold into your room.

“Listen, I think there’s just-”

“No,” you interrupt, a short breath filling your lungs, “I’m going first.”

Todoroki’s eyes dilate, his feet stuttering backward as he takes in your assertive sentence. He grits his teeth, jaw quivering under the stress, but keeps his lips sealed in spite of desperately wanting to speak out.

“If you don’t want me here, you could have just said so.” You wring your hands together, knuckles knocking against one another as you twist your fingers. You close your eyelids and inhale a deep breath, “What happened, u-us kissing, wasn’t professional, and I apologize. But what you’re doing to Hana?”

You flare your nostrils as your hands turn to fists at your side. Todoroki watches you closely, eyes never wavering from your frame as he takes in your quivering, quiet fury. Your jaw muscles tense and you force your eyes to meet his, despite the glossiness settled in them, “You’re never here, Shouto. You missed her ballet recital last week, then you forgot she was allergic to grapes, and now you’re not seeing what’s directly in front of you!”

The more you speak, the louder you become. You can feel your cheeks heating, the tears building up in your eyelids with every syllable. Your fists clench at your sides, and your fingernails dig irately into your palms, so harshly that you swear you might draw blood. Each word draws out an anger in you that you didn’t realize you were harboring, like a fugitive sitting in the cage of your chest, tugging on the bars of your heart as they beg to be broken free.

“Hana deserves better than this, and you know it, Todoroki. So if you don’t get your head out of your ass,” your lower lip wobbles and you reach forward to poke him directly in the chest, index finger dug into the space between his pectorals, “you’re going to lose your daughter.”

You’re shaking your head and your fist as the next sentence comes tumbling from your lips, heart strings fully wound as you speak, “Listen, I don’t know what your problem is, but if it’s me, then I’ll leave.”

Shouto’s brow furrows as he looks down his nose at you, “Are you finished?”

The deadpan of his voice stirs something in your belly, something like an acrid fire that plumes in your chest, the smoke of it all curling around your throat and begging to be spewed like acid from your tongue. Your teeth grind into each other, a creaking sound echoing in your own ears. The way your heart twists in your chest makes it difficult to breathe, but you manage.

“Fuck you, Todoroki.”

You go to turn away from him, your hand falling from his chest, when he snatches you by the wrist, repeating his question, “Are you finished?”

A small remaining sliver of your patience sits heavy on your chest, forcing you to nod your head. Regardless of how you feel about him, Todoroki Shouto is an important man, and you need to leave here a dignified woman. If you make a scene, if you flash your fists and bare your teeth, it’s possible you won’t have another job ever again.

“I don’t want you to quit,” his voice is breathless, an octave higher than normal; he almost sounds sick, “but there is a problem.”

The anticipation of what he might say next brings back that acidic wash in your belly, throat squeezed shut by the clamped hands of insecurity and doubt. Shouto takes a careful step forward, mindful of your personal space as he does so. His fingers never leave your wrist, circled around your arm even as it’s pulled away from his body.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

To say that the world stopped spinning was an understatement.

You feel the whole planet turn on its axis, your body undergoing vertigo as the metaphorical rug is yanked out from beneath your feet. Your stomach flips, the acid molting into lava, hot and sticky as it licks up against your skin, pooling just below your navel. His grip is too restrictive, and you can tell your body is beginning to shift into panic mode.

“You’re right,” he barges in on your internal monologue of self-hatred, eyes boring into your soul, “I’ve been a shitty father, which is painful for me to admit. But it’s the truth.”

The conviction in his voice is solid, and you know that he is being authentic. Todoroki has a clouded past when it comes to his father, Enji. You are aware of the influence his estranged parents have on his relationship with his child, which is one of the reasons his distance has troubled you. Every time he has had enough vulnerability to allow you to peek into the glass panes of his soul, he’s shown you the scars that Endeavor has left on him.

Todoroki uses his free hand to cup your cheek, thumb under your chin to pull your attention back to him, “I tried to distance myself from you to get a better grasp on the way I was feeling.”

His palm grazes down the column of your throat, his eyes careful not to stray to close to your lips or else he’ll get distracted. Your mouth bobs open but you have nothing to say, and the bewildered expression on your face makes him laugh. The sound of his baritone chuckle does little to quell the storm raging beneath your skin, lighting striking with every single touch of his fingers and thunder booming in your chest at the sound of his voice.

“For the longest time, I believed I would never love anyone again after my wife passed away.” The feel of his knuckles slipping between yours, palm searing into you despite it being his right side. At the mention of his wife, your whole being begins to shudder, the weight of expectations and self-doubt pressing into your chest like a mass you cannot remove.

Todoroki swallows the lump in his throat, neck bobbing, “I was content with it just being Hana and I for the rest of our lives, us against the world, until you came along. You fit so perfectly into our family, sliding in seamlessly as if you’d been here the whole time. You managed to win Hana over in a day and now she can’t stop talking about you. And then, when Hana called you mom, it threw me.”

Shouto’s eyes are intense as they stare into you, narrowed and attentive. The odd combination of one blue, one grey, is hard to grasp, unsure of where you should look specifically. His fingers against your neck card through your hair, keeping you anchored to him and this world.

“It was easier for me to dive into work because I knew I’d have you here to pick up the pieces,” Shouto admits, his gaze finally breaking away from your face to narrow focus to his sock-clad feet. “I was so weak for you that I couldn’t bear it. And then you and Hana both suffered for my cowardice.”

A wave of destiny washes over you, looming like a shadow, begging you to make a decision.

“Todoroki, this is-”

“I told you,” his thumb grazes your cheekbone, “not to call me that.”

Your jaw hangs open and tears cloud your vision, and you want to smile no matter how hard your body fights against you. Your lower lip quivers and you shake your head, saltine droplets lingering on your cheeks, “I-I can’t, Shouto. I’m not right for you and Hana, I’m not-oh.”

His mouth slots against yours, angled perfectly to capture your lips in a gentle kiss. Shouto’s hands are on your face, holding you in place so you can’t run from him, despite how every cell under your skin is screaming to bolt from your place.

As he parts from you, you’re left in a daze of euphoria, eyes half-lidded, mouth still pursed as you chase after him, pleading for more.

“You can’t tell me you don’t feel the same way,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your lower lip before retreating to trace your jawline.

And you know that you can’t; your body has already betrayed your words with the simple action of a kiss. Your hands follow suit, wrapped around the fabric of his shirt to keep him close, frightened he might leave you all over again.

Shouto’s hands drift down your abdomen, slow against your rib cage as if he were counting each bone to make sure they were all there, safe and sound. He kisses your forehead and then your nose, mouth hovering over the bow of your lips, eyes begging you even though his voice is caught in his lungs.

You say a stupid thing then, just something meant to break up the quiet, but with the floaty tone of your voice it breeds for much more wicked thoughts.

“Your lips are really warm.”

Shouto laughs before devouring you at the seam of your mouth, leaning forward to scoop you up in his arms, hands dug in at your thighs. You squeal against his lips, wrapping your legs around his waist, your fingers dipping into the muscle of his shoulders for an anchor.

He’s got you back against the bed before you can breathe again, leaning back on his thighs so he can pull his shirt over his head with ease. Your palms are like magnets to his abdomen, fingerprints finding each curve and dip of his muscle, praying you can map it out so you might memorize it for the times when he’s not able to be this close.

As his fingertips graze beneath the hem of your shirt, your eyes go wide, stuttering breath accompanied by panicked words, “H-Hana? Is she-”

Shouto chuckles, “She’s laid down for her nap. We have about two hours.”

The devilish glint in his eyes does little to quell the rampant thoughts running in your mind. You suddenly want to feel his hands and mouth everywhere on your body, insatiable in your lust for his touch.

“Sh-Shouto, please,” you’re panting and he hasn’t even undressed you yet, “need you.”

A devout confession such as that one, something so primal in its nature, shifts his demeanor from playful to sinful. Now his fingertips are dancing beneath your shirt, palming over your skin like he might find a hidden treasure in your bones.

He shakes his head, nose grazing your cheek as he starts towards your collarbone, “Tell me what you need, darling.”

“Need you.”

You are quick in your answer, eyes screwed shut at the tantalizing ministrations of his fingers on your flesh. He is teasing you, just close enough to your breast that it hitches your breathing, but not too close to where you can feel pleasure. A hot wash of arousal rolls into your body, slick beginning to gather between your thighs.

“More specific,” the words are muttered around the skin of your chest, one of his hands tugging on your collar to bare more of your body to him.

You whine, bucking your hips upward, knowing exactly the shape his cock will be in beneath the underwear that has him caged from you. You reach forward and tug at the waistline of his briefs, “Please, Shouto, I want to feel you.”

At the mention of feel, he takes you by surprise as he slips two fingers between your folds, curling into you quickly. You muffle your whine into the pillow, turning your face so your cheek is smushed against the downy cushion. Shouto’s palm that isn’t occupied with your tight heat tugs your shirt up over the tops of your breasts, baring your chest to the cool air of the bedroom.

“You are feeling me, sweetheart,” he teasingly licks over your nipple, thankful for the lack of a bra separating you from his wanton tongue.

Another moan drags salaciously from your lips, vibrating your throat and making his cock twitch, “Sho’, wan’ your cock. Please.”

You’re able to drag his pants and briefs down at once, his cock springing free from the restricting fabric. When it bobs against his abdomen, enflamed red cockhead leaking pre-come, you feel saliva build up in the back of your throat. You start to pump him as best you can, watching as his weighty balls swing under your touch.

Everything about him is enticing, from his dual-toned hair to his heterochromatic eyes to his chiseled body. You’d use your tongue on every part of him if he’d let you, but right now you’re focused on only one thing.

Once Shouto has coaxed enough of your arousal to coat his hand, he curls his fingers into you one last time, collecting the silvery fluid on his fingers, and then stands to step out of his clothes. You keen at the loss of contact, eyes wide open so you don’t miss a second.

“C’mon, baby, take your clothes off for me.”

At his command, you’re stripping down until you’re bare in front of him, clothes in a pool of fabric on the floor right next to his. Even the simple intimacy of his clothing overlapped with yours does things to your heart, a pinpricking sensation making your skin heat.

“Hi,” he whispers, fingers framing your face as you get lost in his touch. His voice is gentle, and his touch is probing in the best of ways, a genuine smile tugging his lips upward as you echo the word back to him.

You can feel your arousal tumbling within the confines of your body, begging to be put to use as you feel his cock against your thigh. Todoroki guides you back into the mattress, shoulders pressing into the cool sheets, your body given some sort of contrast to the molten heat circulating under your skin. Your blushed skin draws Shouto’s attention, eyes dragging over each inch of your body, mesmerized by your beauty.

Todoroki shakes his head, “You’re beautiful, you know?”

And at the end of his sentence, acting like punctuation, his cock slides between your heat.

Your eyelids flutter shut and your hands are on him in an instant, nails dug into his flesh to try and dispel some of the energy already built up within your fragile body. Shouto feels lightning spark up into his spine, the trails of it striking his hidden heart, licking at the edges of the glass box keeping him imprisoned from the world.

As your cunt clenches around him and your mouth utters his name like a prayer, Shouto can tell that his chest is constricting, tightening around his heart in an attempt to break himself free from the confines of his past.

“Sho’,” you’re mewling for him now as the veins of his cock drag salaciously against your tight, glutenous walls. Silvery slick coats his dick and he moans as your pussy clamps again.

He begins to build up the speed of his thrusts, his thumb brushing over your clit slowly, the very beginning of a pleasurable end building up within your belly. His mouth is attached to anything on you he can find – breast, collarbone, jaw, throat, cheek. Teeth and tongue lash out at you, parting his mouth so his heated breath can wash over your body.

Shouto focuses as best he can on forcing heat down the length of his arm, pinpointing the warmest point onto the tip of his thumb. You preen, eyes bulging out of your sockets well enough that he can translate your pleasure. On the opposing hand, the one currently preoccupied with your nipple, begins to freeze. Gooseflesh trembles on his arm but he does not mind, not when he gets to hear your panting whines of his name mixed with the begging sounds of please, please, please.

“Such a good girl,” Shouto murmurs into the thin skin of your throat, tongue delving from between his lips to lavish your jugular. “So pretty, laid out just for me.”

You nod your head as best you can, eyes wide as you drink in his praise. Your mouth bobs open but you can’t form words, not anything intelligent anyway. Shouto reaches his icy thumb towards your lips, brushing his cool touch over the heated skin, steam wafting between the two of you.

“Have you been thinking about this as long as I have?” he asks rhetorically, not expecting you to answer based on the fucked out look in your eyes, the drool seeping from the corner of your mouth as his body makes quick work of you. Shouto grunts, “I’ve wanted to take you against every damn surface in this house for months.”

His left hand peels from your clit, running up over the curve of your thigh to press beneath your knee, pushing your leg upward so he can thrust into you from a better angle. Your hands are stuck on the sheets now, his body just out of reach thanks to the twisting of your hips. Shouto slams into you, balls slapping your ass as he ruts forward.

You feel his cock harden even further from within the confines of your cunt, the tip of him brushing against the spongy corner of your insides. After another deep thrust he’s bottomed out within you, hips absolutely flush with your thighs as he presses into you.

Shouto leans forward, not daring to pull himself away from you just yet, enjoying the way you envelope him fully, “You think you can come for me, love? I want to feel you come all over my cock.”

“Y-Yes, Shouto, I-I’m getting there, almost,” you promise him, eyes fucked out to the point you can barely make sense of his frame loitering above you. Your lower lip wobbles as you pout, “A-Are you gonna-fuck-want you to come in me.”

It’s a simple sentence, but the weight of it makes Todoroki’s heart stop. He knows you’re on preventatives, he’s had to stay home with Hana to cover during the day for your doctor’s visits. But something stirs at the base of his cock, weighing in the thick of his body, and for some reason he wishes you were his for the taking in every sense of the word.

As you whimper beneath him, his eyes trail over your body, landing on your belly. His fiery touch grazes the swell of your stomach where he knows his cock is pressed deep within you. His balls throb at the thought of coating every inch of you in his spend, you begging for more as it leaks out of you and onto the sheets; him drawing you into another round just to make sure that you’re stuffed full.

Suddenly, a fracture within his chest allows him to breathe deeper. As you buck your hips into him, begging him for more, telling him how good he’s making you feel, Shouto recognizes the fragile box surrounding his heart, guarding it from the world, has begun to shatter.

“Shouto, please,” you are begging him now, glassy eyes and pitched tone designed just for him, “Need to feel you, everywhere.”

Your plea is the final rock thrown at the glass box, cracking it in every direction. Shards of emotion lodge in his throat, tearing into him so he cannot breathe. As he gasps for breath, fingers digging into your skin, he knows he’s bruising you but he can’t bring himself to think of it as anything other than finally marking you down at his.

And then, when your breathy voice curls in the air, settling on his chest like a balm, he feels the glass melt away, turning to liquid fire in his gut. The words you utter tear open his heart, leaving a gaping, belligerent wound that he knows only you can mend.

“I love you, Shouto, I love you too.”

His eyes find yours, wide and wanting. You nod as if that will solidify his place in the universe, tears blurring your vision, repeating the sentiment over and over again, uncaring to the way your face looks glassy beneath the lowlight of the bedroom. You just need him to know, need him to understand.

“Shit,” he pushes the heel of his palm into the bottom of your stomach, itching to feel the way his cock pulses in and out of you as he thrusts into your body. His thoughts are even more permanent now, the idea of filling you up, pouring his body into you in the most primal way possible, is the only thing he can see. Your hand makes its way into his hair, tugging at the crown of his head as you lean forward.

A mix of crimson and white is bunched between your fists, matching the little tufts of hair that tickle your pelvis every time he bottoms out within you. You scrape your nails against his scalp, but that only spurs him on faster, panting moans busting his throat open and begging you for more.

Your lashes flutter against the tops of your cheeks, mouth parted so he can see the pink of your tongue, “Sh-Sho’, I’m close.”

He makes it his mission to twitch his cock within your walls, providing an extra layer of stimulation as his channels himself into you mercilessly. Somehow, he does it with such a finesse that it does not feel rushed or sloppy. Shouto is very careful, precise, in everything he does, and you are not surprised it works its way into the mannerisms he exhibits between the sheets as well.

“C’mon, darling,” he coos into your ear, folding your thighs upward so you’re fully pressed into the mattress, “I want you to come for me, yeah? I want you to coat my cock. You can do it, you’re close, I can feel it.”

His praise intertwined with the thickness of his cock bulging within you breaks the crest of the wave, allowing pleasure to flow through your body and onto his cock, coating him in your thick, sweet release.

“Fuck, you feel good.” Shouto continues to thrust upward into you, eyes focused on your face as he uses your cunt to bring his own euphoria down from the clouds. He’s looking down at you, jaw hung wide as he buries his cock into your tight heat, enjoying the way your slick lubricates his length.

You buck up into him and he drops his head to your collarbone, thrusts becoming sloppier the longer he tries to hang on to the edge of the cliff. Your hand in his hair tugs on the strands, mouth by his ear as you whisper, “Please, Shouto, want to feel you come in me. I want you to pump me full of your hot load, stuff me-ah.”

His hips stutters as he releases his seed into you, tongue lapping at your throat carelessly to try and force his body not to start up again. The need to feel you coming around him, begging for his cock and come, is something he has been denying for too long.

“I love you,” he whispers into the curve of your earlobe, nipping at the skin as his hips still. “Fuck, I love you.”

You smile, pressing a kiss to the curve of his scalp, “I love you too.”

As he reaches the extent of his high, he presses his body flat into you, cock twitching within your core. Your palms find his shoulders, grazing gently with your fingernails until he’s moaning into your neck, hot breath fanning out over your skin.

“Unless you want to go again, I suggest you put an end to that,” he warns, but there is no intent behind it.

You laugh, rubbing your ankle against his calf, “We’ve got a little one about to wake from her nap. Maybe later.”

And that is a promise you fully intend to keep.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

“Momma?”

You turn your head, pancakes on the griddle in front of you, “Yes, honey?”

Hana bounces towards you, white chiffon dress bubbling out at her knees, “When is breakfast ready?”

“When daddy gets back from his run,” you answer her, squatting in front of her to smooth the wrinkles from the fabric of her dress. “I made yours with choco-chips.”

Her eyes go wide and you feel a little sunbeam shining directly on your heart, warming your chest. She grabs you by the cheeks, palms squishing your lips together, “You can’t tell daddy!”

“Oh, I won’t,” you promise, voice distorted from the way she has you in her grasp. You brush a hand through her silver curls, tucking the strands away from her face. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“Don’t tell daddy what?”

Hana squeals, turning on her heels to sprint towards the garage door. She’s on Shouto’s leg in an instant, clutching him like her life depends on it. You stand back to your feet, brushing your thighs clean before turning back to the griddle to start another round of pancakes.

“We can’t tell you or else it won’t be a secret, duh!” Hana sticks her tongue out as she pokes Shouto’s leg, rolling her eyes like it should be obvious. “Look, Momma’s making pancakes!”

Todoroki looks across the room at you, eyes reminding you of colorful gems as they behold you. Every time you catch him staring at you, you swear it’s even more infatuated than the last, his love for you only growing as time passes.

“Is she?” He peels her from his leg to shift her into his arms, holding her securely against his side. Todoroki walks over to you, leaning into the counter so he’s close enough that you can reach him but far enough that he can’t burn Hana on the griddle.

“You’re back quicker than I expected,” you admit, pouring batter out onto the stovetop. You grab the spatula, prepared to flip once they look done enough, “Did you pull something?”

Shouto shakes his head, leaning forward to intercept you with a kiss to the lips, “I just missed you.”

“Ew, gross! Kissing means cooties!” Hana pushes your faces apart, a hand on your mouths as she dramatically lolls her tongue out of her mouth to prove her disgust.

You chuckle, leaning forward to brush her hair from her eyes again, tucking it behind her ear even though you know it will spring forward not long after. Your eyes flash from her to her father, watching the pride settle into his irises, solidifying them even more. A gentle touch of your hand to his bicep brings him back to you, gaze unwavering as he maps out the features of your face yet again, each time finding something new to behold.

“Well, that means you have time to shower before we eat,” you squeeze his arm and return to your station at the griddle, flipping the next set of pancakes. “I’ve still got to make eggs and bacon, and some hash browns for the princess.”

Hana is beaming, bright smile tugging on the strings of your heart, “Momma makes the best hash browns.”

Todoroki places her back down on the ground, patting her backside as a silent gesture to tell her to go play. She takes his hint, sprinting back into the living room to resume her tea party with a stuffed elephant and a Ken barbie doll.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You never-ooh.”

He’s got you by the neck with one hand, the other anchoring to your hip to hold you close. Todoroki melds your mouths together, the heat of his body quickening your pulse. He steps closer, knee between your thighs so you can feel the hard bulge pressing into the fabric of his running shorts.

You hum as he parts from you, pancakes momentarily forgotten in the wake of his affections. You pat your hands on his chest, gnawing on your lower lip, “Smooth one, Todoroki.”

Shouto pinches your hip, growing smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, “You. Me. Nap time.”

“Oh?” you ask as he unwinds himself from you, nudging your body back towards the griddle.

“And I’m not talking about sleeping.”

Todoroki disappears from around the corner, slipping up the stairs to your now shared bedroom.

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your lips. When you go to turn this set of pancakes, the diamond sitting on your left hand catches the luminescent lights of the kitchen and you marvel at it. You roll your ring around on your finger, trying to find a different angle to appreciate it from, but you’ve already memorized the shape of it after three years of marriage.

Your palm finds the gentle swell of your navel beneath the baggy t-shirt you’re wearing, one of Shouto’s early proofs for a new merchandise design. You bite your lip and look down, speaking to the rustling new life currently blooming in your belly, “Here’s to tomorrow, little one. May it always be just a little better than today.”

The pancakes are done and the bacon is sizzling when Shouto returns with damp hair and a pair of sweats on the lower half of his body. He curls an arm around you from behind, kissing your shoulder, “Smells good, love.”

You turn to offer him a kiss, which he takes with fervor. Hana voices her disgust from her seat at the table, but Shouto hushes her quickly with a playful rise of his eyebrow, pointed finger making her giggle.

The three of you are sat down to breakfast, just like any other Saturday, but this one feels special for some reason. You can’t quite make it out; maybe it’s the sun shining outside or the crisp breeze blowing through the open windows, but your soul is settled in a way that can only be achieved by utter bliss.

“Hey,” Shouto calls you from your stupor, “your choco-chip pancakes are going cold.”

You blink slowly, returning your gaze to him, a gentle smile on your face.

At least you’ll get to spend the rest of your life with someone as mindful and kind as Todoroki Shouto.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

taglist: @bakugous-forehead @kamehamethot @burnedbyshoto @rivendell101 @cookies-n-chaos @katsukisprincess @rat-suki @bitchtrynafck @bnhatrashh @succulent-momma @multifandom-fanfic @that-one-enthusiast @blue-peach14 @pastel-prynce @bokunokangae @shoutodoki @todorki-shoto @bakuoushoe @1-800-callmekatsuki @tenyaingenium @lxvely-mha @myherorambles @ramen-rambles @honeytama @sleepysuneater @bratwritings @samanthaa-leanne @orokayagi @whats-her-quirk @riotfuckery @sunbeamwrites @bnhawritten @aizawamirite @lovekatsukibakugo @suckersuki @secondhand-trash @yaoyorozuwrites @kingtamakimurder

#todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki smut #todoroki shouto smut #bnha x reader #todoroki fanfic #todoroki one shot #todoroki fanfiction #shouto fanfic #shouto fanfiction #shouto one shot #morgan writes bnha #my writing

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catzula · 3 years

Text

Change

a/n: this is a lil brain dump bcs I've been really inactive lately, sorry!! I wrote it in one sitting and I dint really know how I feel about it but yeah

warnings: toxic relationship i think? But its resolved in the end. Angst, miscommunication, anger management issues, conflict, break-up, but as I said, resolved in the end.

honorable mentions: female reader, 1.9k words, not proofread

Katsuki Bakugou.

Many might think he's an open book, a simple, hotheaded boy with anger management issues. He doesn't know any feelings other than anger. He can't understand others' emotions, doesn't care.

They were right about him being bad at controlling his emotions, but everything else was false. Bakugou had never been a simple person, and it was rare he met someone who truly understood him. You, for instance, were the only one that had come as close to understanding him, but no one could ever understand someone fully, could they?

Still, ever since he had met you, Bakugou was trying to change, or he liked to think he did. You did, too.

You tried to ignore those times it became apparent that he couldn't, didn't, wouldn't. As much as Bakugou tried to prove to you that he was giving it his best to try and change, there were times that proved it incompetent, not enough, and even a lie.

But you always did your best to forget, suppress the thoughts. It was near impossible not to when Bakugou came back to you, an apology hanging from his lips -although never spoken-, warm hands pulling you to him for a hug.

He's trying to change, you repeat to yourself. He's trying to change.

You think of the last fight you had and shiver as he lies on you, eyes droopy with sleep, nuzzling his face to your neck as you rub soothing circles on his back. The way his back rises and falls steadily makes you smile.

It was gradually getting worse, the fights.

As the months passed and exams approached, Bakugou became even more jittery. You felt your heart sink as you remembered his spitting words, "you're not even in the hero course! How would you fucking know how I feel?" But you did. You knew your boyfriend far too well, and even though you weren't experiencing it firsthand, you could see how stressful it was for him.

"Stop fucking babying me!" He had shouted when you tried to approach him, to get him to calm down. "Can't you see I'm trying to change? I'm doing all of this for you, and you keep asking for more- I-I'm doing it for you, okay? I'm trying to become better, so stop asking for more!"

You weren't asking for more, that, you wanted to say. You were trying to-to help.

"I don't want you to do this for me, if all the reason you're changing is for me, stop! I want you to change for yourself, not for me!"

That was unfair, how he was looking at you like he hated you, like he wanted you to disappear.

It's okay, you tell yourself. Katsu's with me now, in my arms, calm, promised me he would try to get better.

And he did, too. He always did. After a fight, Bakugou became the kindest person you knew, treating you like fragile glass, showing you love in his way. And it always led you to think. This is it. No need to worry anymore, you tell yourself when he kisses you softly, oh, so- so softly that you're sure there's no way this man that's holding you like this would ever hurt you ever again. Never.

That never is never longer than a few days, though.

In a few days' time, he- Katsuki forgets. The spite comes back, the snarky comments fitted in his sentences, the slight anger in his eyes. Why is he so angry? That, you can never tell. He's furious with you all the time, even when he himself doesn't know it.

"Katsuki?" You whisper meekly, and his eyes flutter sleepily. "Do you love me?"

Yes, he wants to say, I love you more than I love myself. But it's a soft grunt you get as an answer.

It's okay, though, since you understand it well.

"Tell that extra to bring my shit back." It's a gruff sentence voiced with a fury that tears you away from your thoughts.

For a second, your heart leaps. It's Katsuki! But the feeling sinks quickly. "It's Bakugou to you." You remember when he told you that, you remember too well the way he spitted the words as if he had spitted them on your face, a lump appearing in your throat quickly. He's not talking to you, rather about you, and it stings even more. You're the extra now, an extra that has his belongings in their room and nothing else, and he can't even tell you to bring them himself. Kirishima does it for him.

A half a bottle of his perfume that was never successful at suppressing his sweet smell.

A sweatshirt of his that he knew was your favorite.

A pair of socks, pencils and some other pieces of clothing, the usual.

A full, newly-bought bottle of his shampoo.

For some reason, that last one hurts more than anything else. It's not the shampoo itself, rather the fact that it's new, that Bakugou bought it just a few days ago when breaking up was never a thought.

Why did you break-up? It's very complicated. So complicated that you don't know it yourself. But you do know that he's angrier than ever, with you even more, for some fucking reason. He can't stand the sight of you, you know, he knows, too.

Bakugou himself doesn't know why he's so angry at you. He was the one who broke up, so what gives him the right to feel like this? Why do his hands clench into fists with the sight of you? His heart beating twice as fast with fury, head dizzy, his teeth clench, he can't breathe, a tightness heavying on his chest. With anger, he repeats. All these feelings are because he's so angry with you.

The day you knock on his door, a soft thump audible from the other side of the door, Bakugou knows you brought back the box of his belongings, and he wants nothing more than to open the door and pull you in. But what is he going to do after that? He doesn't know. All he does know is that the lump in the back of his throat is because he's holding back angry shouts. His eyes are stinging with tears that are caused by anger. There is a feeling boiling in the pit of his stomach that makes him feel sick, but it must be fury.

Why did you leave it to the door? Couldn't you have waited for him to open it and look at you for once? Do you hate him that much?

You have the right, too.

Bakugou hates to see you cry.

It's so annoying, he decides one day, as he catches a glimpse of you crying in your friend's arms, hugging them, telling them how much you missed Bakugou as they rub circles on your back.

"He never deserved you, anyway." He hears them say. It makes you cry even more.

Seeing you cry always makes him feel angry, Bakugou decides.

The way he discovers the reason for his anger is in a rather sick way.

All it takes is for him to see you laugh.

It's spring, the winter you broke up is over, the feelings aren't, though.

You're laughing, and you look so pretty under the tree, body swiftly shaking with laughter that doesn't seem to end.

Bakugou knows you like spring, and he notices it's been more than a winter since he last saw you laughing like this. Even before you broke up, he realizes you hadn't been laughing as you did now. That realization stings. You always laughed, smiled when you were with him, but it had a tinge of bitterness that never seemed to go away.

For the first time, it doesn't anger him, but it hurts.

Somewhere inside, Bakugou had always been able to sense your bitter melancholy. It's a feeling you felt even when you were the happiest, but he just hadn't realized it. Like pieces of a puzzle, every other realization starts dawning on him too.

He was angry at you because you always made him feel like he could never make you happy. All he could do was make you cry, you cried and cried, whenever you were with him, and it made him feel so frustrated- he hated it, he hated, hatedhatedhatedhatesyou.

But it wasn't you, it was never you Bakugou was angry with, but it was Bakugou himself.

Bakugou hates himself for never being able to make you happy.

Bakugou was never angry at you, he realizes. He was heartbroken. All those times he thought it was fury he felt when he saw you-

People think Bakugou doesn't feel anything other than anger.

They're wrong.

Bakugou feels many other things than anger, but he doesn't know how to differentiate them.

The next time you meet, there are two changes you realize about each other.

It's a cold night, another sleepless one you let yourself feel everything you suppress during the day. You don't expect to hear footsteps approaching you, it's the dead of the night and very cold, but you freeze when you take note of the sweet smell the sound brought with it.

You can't speak, do anything other than raising your eyes that are wet with tears to see if it really is the owner of your heart.

"We need to talk."

You don't want to, but you missed his voice more than you thought, that you're unable to leave.

But it's the moment your eyes meet with his blood-red ones that you realize why he's here. For the first time in a long while, there isn't a trace of anger in Bakugou's eyes.

He looks sorry, and that night is the first time you hear him apologize to you.

Despite how much he wishes it was, this apology isn't the last.

Bakugou is flawed. He will and does make you cry, maybe more than anyone else. He knows it, and you do too. But love is a strange thing, and it took him years to realize that you would rather cry your heart out than be without him.

So this time, when he takes you between his arms and lets you cry, two things have changed since the last time you both were in this position.

1: You noticed that this wasn't going to be the last time you cried because of Bakugou.

Throughout your relationship, you hoped, prayed that fight you had was going to stay the last, it never was. This way of thinking was flawed, damaging the relationship as much as the fights did. Bakugou could feel your growing sadness, dissatisfaction, fear that you were going to fight at every smallest disagreement you had, and they did nothing but make him angry, turning the conflict into a full-blown fight.

2: Bakugou wants to change. And not for you, but himself.

He wants to be a better person. He always did, but it was only because you asked him to. He wanted to be better for you, and it was the only thing he could think of whenever you told him he had to change. Its pressuring, made him insecure, made him feel like anything he did was never enough. But this time, right then as he envelopes you and pulls you into his embrace, Bakugou wants to be a better person. Not for you, not for anyone else. He just wants to be better, and he will start here.

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blossom-hwa · 3 years

Text

inspired by the ocean, shawna, and virginia woolf.

wc: 1.4k ~ sunwoo x gender neutral!reader ~ slice of life!au ~ triggers: none ~ the boyz masterlist ~ hongjoong (ateez) version (NOT PLAGIARIZED)

[ 7:14 pm: oceans burn in your eyes ] There’s a careful line on the beach, drawn by the ocean, that separates soft, shifting powder from an expanse of dark sand, wet from the waves. Sunwoo crosses that divide, mixing pale dust with damp earth, footprints marking his path in sand cool with the water of the previous high tide.

An orange sun sinks on the horizon, casting warm light over the ocean. Where blue and green used to reign supreme, the waters now burn purple and orange and red, reflecting the sky, and Sunwoo marvels at the change in color as he sits on the wet sand. Part of him knows he’ll have to wash his clothes after this, which won’t be fun, but with the sea breeze ruffling his hair and water pooling around his feet, Sunwoo can’t find it in himself to care.

Waves roll around his body, soaking his already damp shorts and a bit of his shirt as well. They tug him forward lightly, almost playfully, water pulling at the fabric of his pants as it swirls the sand and shells around his sitting figure. If the ocean so wanted, it could swallow Sunwoo whole, dragging him into the dark depths until he sank to the bottom, and if it did, honestly, in this moment, he might not even fight. A certain beauty lies in the dangers beneath the water’s surface, in the way its waves can crash and fight, and what could Sunwoo do but accept it if it came? Right now, though, the waves choose to lay that beauty aside in favor of a calmer sparkle, cheerfully splashing Sunwoo’s feet and soaking the hems of his clothes. It almost makes him smile.

Push and pull, thrust and tug. Sunwoo watches the movement of the waves, listens to the music of its rhythm. Some people paint. Others compose. Sunwoo only does the latter, but from his experience, try as he might, he could never capture nature’s raw beauty on canvas or in a melody – some things, he knows, are meant only to be experienced in person, firsthand. The beauty of creation doesn’t lie in copying the natural world. It lies in observation, inspiration, drawing on what the senses collect to make something different. Something new.

Sunwoo pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, temporarily blocking out the world. If he could just find that inspiration right now…

But no. He didn’t come to the water’s edge to make a track or paint a canvas. He didn’t come to stoke the flame that had already burned too bright. He came to escape if only for a moment, to lose himself in the gentle tug of the ocean waves.

It isn’t hard. Sunwoo brings his knees to his chest, feet digging into the sand as he wraps his arms around his legs, chin resting on top. His eyes close against the burning of the sun, against orange that lights the purple ocean aflame, but it’s okay because he can still see the image splashed across the backs of his eyelids, purple fire on sparkling water fueled by the setting sun behind. It makes him feel a little warmer even as the sea wind flutters by his skin, tugging gently at his clothes and hair.

The tug of the breeze, the tug of the sea. The salty wind is pleasant, to be sure, but Sunwoo leans into it less than he leans into the water pooling around his body. They’re different – air is fickle, ever shifting in one direction or the other and sometimes not blowing at all, but while the ocean may not be as dependable as the solid earth, it never ceases its swirls of push and pull, and Sunwoo likes it. Appreciates it. Might surrender himself to it, even, if only he didn’t have so much fire burning within.

Fire or water. Given the choice, Sunwoo would choose the former, always, even if it burned too bright and scorched him, because without the flame that burns in his heart and fuels his existence, he wouldn’t be alive. Someone like Jacob might choose water – his existence is steady and he knows the constant push and pull, knows when to smother and when to step back. Even more than that, he has the teasing playfulness of the little splashes that nip at Sunwoo’s feet. Sunwoo is different, though. He needs the flame, needs the fire, needs the orange sun burning in the distance – the waves are not enough to soothe him fully, after all.

But a fire cannot burn forever. Sometimes it must die down to glowing coals, to ashes that flutter away in the capricious wind. Sunwoo’s eyes stay shut, a fiery sun still painted across the black wall of his vision, but the waves hum and sing in his ears, caressing his skin and patiently dousing the long-burning flame in his heart, bit by bit, until all that remains are embers waiting to be stoked once more, sometime in the future, but not now. Not yet. Not when the ocean has yet to fully soothe the previous burn.

Give it time. Give it time. Sunwoo sighs, relaxation finally settling his shoulders, previously held tight to his ears. Give it time. Give it time.

The ocean will heal you.

Lost in the waves, Sunwoo doesn’t hear the footsteps behind him, the soft pitter patter of bare feet on the sand. Only when he opens his eyes does he even sense the presence for the first time. It’s familiar, familiar in a way that lifts the corners of his lips even when the waves themselves couldn’t manage.

Sunwoo gets the idea that you’ve been standing there a lot longer than he thinks, but somehow, you still know exactly when to speak. He can almost hear the smile in your voice.

“I thought you might be here.”

Sunwoo turns around then, and the sight, even more so than the burning waves, takes his breath away.

You stand not against the sun but in its rays, golden orange light bathing your eyes, your smile, the hand you extend to help him up. It casts a halo around your figure that Sunwoo wishes he could paint, if only he had the ability. He tries to memorize the vision, but even if he could remember every detail perfectly, Sunwoo knows it still wouldn’t be the perfect picture that he sees now, hand held out like an angel to bring him back to earth.

Your fingers wiggle teasingly, one eyebrow rising with the gesture. Sunwoo takes your hand, letting your fluttering fingers pull him up, steady and strong unlike the waves that push and pull, rhythmic but wavering, beautiful but unsure, nothing like the certainty of your hand wrapped around his.

Certainty was what Sunwoo wanted to escape – deadlines for new tracks, commissions for lyrics. The flame of determination had grown too large, scorching his heart, and in the moment, alone, he had no one to ease the burn besides the undulating waves at the beach’s edge.

Now, though, he has your hand, warm against skin cooled by the breeze and wet sand. Your touch doesn’t burn like the sun does, even as you glow in its setting rays – you are warm, yes, but warm in a way that stokes the glowing embers of the fire within, gently fanning the flames until they come alive once more, burning cheerfully with a subtle heat that Sunwoo can handle.

Sunwoo doesn’t need to say anything for you to understand. Your unruffled appearance tells him you weren’t worried, anyway – you knew just where to find him. So he only smiles, squeezing your hand in thanks after you tangle your fingers with his, warmth soaking into every crevice of his skin. “Ready to go home?” you ask.

It isn’t home, the little beachfront inn where you two have stayed for several nights already. Home in the physical sense is far away, back in the city. But Sunwoo doesn’t correct you, because he knows what you mean – that home for you is wherever he is, and home for him is wherever you are.

The ocean is an escape, a pleasant one that douses his fire when it grows too intense, soothing it with its rhythmic crash, the push and pull of its waves. But you are home, where the hearth lies, gentle flames tickling the embers and ashes of Sunwoo’s heart until it is ready to burn again.

Sunwoo’s smile widens as he nods. “Yeah,” he says, lost in the sparkle of your eyes. An ocean dances in them, flames leaping above the water, a mirror of the scene behind him – only more beautiful, because it’s you. “Let’s go home.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 hug for Sunwoo because he deserves all the hugs :D and then maybe punch him in the shoulder bc he’s a shit)

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sweetlavenderwritings · 4 years

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i’ve been feeling down a lot lately bc boys sucks, can I request for a kirishima one? where his s/o is big girl, big boobs and gets bullied and sometimes harrassed bc of that? it still happens to me and it doesn’t fail ruining my self confidence and also i feel like kirishima would be the type of boyfriend to hype you up whenever ur feeling down and state facts that you don’t know about yourself? hahaha but um yeah that’s the ask sorry if it’s long i liked ur first ask twas so good

Kirishima Comfort Headcanons; for reader with body issues and low self-esteem

A/N: I CAME HERE AS SOON AS I COULD. Boys ain’t shit, and their opinion doesn’t matter （｀Δ´）！ I’m sorry you’re having a hard time, I tried my absolute best with this one and I hope it provides you comfort as much as it did for me too while I was writing it. Please remember you’re absolutely beautiful the way you are and no one else gets to say in this matter.

Pairing/s: kirishima eijiro x reader

Word Count: 487

Tags: comfort, self-esteem issues, body worship, body praising, fluff, love

⋅. ♪ .⋅ Prom Queen by Beach Bunny

Kirishima definitely doesn’t think bullying anyone for their own body is manly. He despises it, believes it cowardice to define a person by something as shallow as that.

He’s not a confrontational person like his best friend Bakugou, but if push comes to shove, he’s willing to risk it all just to defend your honour and trample those who dare hurt you.

Even at that, looking for those responsible wouldn’t be his first priority, what matters right now is how he would convince you that what they said isn’t at all true and to make sure he picks up the pieces.

He’s glad that he’s a big person in general and you know why? Because as he holds you tight to his chest, he can feel every inch of himself enveloping your being. He’s glad his arms can reach as much as they can, wanting to feel your warm skin against his as if he could share all of his feelings and warmth through his body.

He’d hold you for God knows how long, petting your hair and rubbing soothing circles on your back. If you cry, he wouldn’t mind if you spill all of your tears in his shirt and would even offer a handkerchief for you to sneeze on.

He will demand your attention to him as he offers words of comfort and praises, not missing a beat as he lists all of the great things about you and your body. It’s like hearing Iida dictate facts about nutritional values during lunch, he says them all genuinely with a passion and talk like it’s of uttermost importance that you know them and think they’re true, which they are. Plain facts, no lies whatsoever.

“Love handles? They’re called like that for a reason honey.” He’d say as he peppers your skin with soft kisses. His hands would caress parts of yourselves that you can’t even think of being attractive to anyone else.

His praises sift through your ears like silk; they’re sweet as honey and glaze over your heart dripping with overwhelming feelings and sweetness. He doesn’t think he’s great at words like how Kaminari is great with his literature, but he tries his best to pour every feeling he has with words.

Stretch marks? Cellulites? He’d look at them in adoration, fingertips grazing among them and saying how your skin looks so pretty like that. Stomach rolls? He absolutely LOVES them. He’s obsessed with the way you feel against him, so soft and putty in his hands.

He hates how your big chest is over sexualized and is put against you as if they’re something to mock about. He just doesn’t get how people could be that mean.

He wishes so desperately to be a painter for the millionth time, wanting to paint every curve, every inch of your perfection framed to be recorded in time.

#kirishima #kirishima x y/n #bnha fanfiction #bnha #kirishima x you #kirishima fluff #mha kirishima #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijirou #kirishima eijirou x reader #bnha eijirou #mha eijiro kirishima #mha eijirou

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writingtoforgetreality · 4 years

Text

Stuck with U (Peter Hale x Reader)

[Teen Wolf-Masterlist]

Summary: The only thing the pack wanted to do was to find the hunters that kept hurting the innocent. A plan was a good start but what if they managed to kidnap you anyway? And if that was not enough...with Peter out of everyone. To say you guys despised one another would be an understatement. Still, the most important thing now was to keep a clear head & to work on a solution. Together.

Words: 3,482

Warnings: language, Peter & Reader being sarcastic assholes, age gap (Reader is of legal age), kidnapping, angst (so much angst), fluff (bc let´s be honest...Peter is a big ol´ softie)

Inspired by: “Stuck with U” by Ariana Grande & Justin Bieber

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Mmm Hey, yeah (That's just for fun) (What?) Ah, yeah

You were in your senior year of high school & even though you loved your friends endlessly, you were eager to graduate & leave Beacon High behind you. There were just way too many bad experiences you associated with that place. But, on a lighter note, if you had not started at this high school, you would have never met the pack. At first, it scared the shit out of you. The monsters you had dreamed about as a small child were reality. They were somewhere out there, in the dark corners of the country.

Lately, you guys had a little, well actually not so little, problem with a few hunters who wanted to see your pack dead, you included. Why? You were not sure. It was not like you were a werewolf or a banshee. Just a simple teenager who got thrown into this mess. But you did not want to have it any other way. Yeah, the days as an average human surrounded by powerful supernatural beings were hard but you knew how much you were needed.

You were all located at Derek´s loft, figuring out a way to stop the hunters. Now, not all hunters were bad. Chris Argent, for example, was eager to help you guys to put the killers to a stop just as much as you did. The thing was that it always seemed they were a step ahead of you. Even some of Stiles´ plans had previously failed, much to your dismay.

“Maybe we should just go into groups of two & trick them into thinking we´re not all planning on hunting them down?” Peter sighed with a roll of his eyes.

“Sure, because that always works in the movies, right?” it was you who shot him a glance, making the rest of the pack grow quiet.

Peter & you hated each other. Ever since you guys first met. You were fed up with his constant sarcasm & how he could not see the real danger & had to make fun of everything. He immediately caught up to your negative feelings toward him, thanks to his werewolf senses. And neither of you were sure why you hated each other so much, you simply kept rolling with it. The others were at a point where they did not even pay much attention to your bickering anymore. You had better things to do for fuck´s sake.

You were not really paying attention to what the others were saying, too lost in your own thoughts. Graduation was way sooner than you anticipated & you had not really spent a lot of time studying, due to those fucking hunters. What was even worse...you had to deal with a big ass crush. It was not like you wanted to catch feelings, it just sort of...happened. With so many amazing, kind & attractive guys in your pack...you had to pick the one you “hated” most: Peter Hale. Maybe that was another reason why you always fought with him. To keep your feelings at bay. First of all, he was too old for you, clearly he would not have any interest in such a young person. Second of all, he hated you with his guts, you were sure & everyone else could feel it too. So you hid your feelings, acting as if nothing bothered you whatsoever. By the time you started focusing on the conversation the pack held, the plan was already settled. And by your surprise, Peter´s plan was about to happen. Stiles said if you were able to circle them & two of you being baits, you actually had a chance of stopping them. The pack decided to set out at night so less people would be able to see you.

~time skip~

Another one of Stiles´ plans (well, actually Peter´s plan) failed. At first, everything looked optimistic. You all got into groups of two & Scott said it was better for you to be a bait. Of course you understood why, you did not have “superpowers” like the rest but you were not that bad when it came to fighting, you had to give that to yourself.

“Okay, fine. Does that mean Stiles & I are a group?” you gave up & asked the obvious.

“Um, actually...(Y/N), I need Stiles next to me & we thought it was the best if Peter & you teamed up” Scott hesitated & scratched the back of his neck, knowing you were not okay with the pack´s decision. His words made you snap up. You could not believe what you just heard. You & Peter? It was bad enough that you guys always argued but it was even worse because you knew you could not keep focus with him next to you. Stupid crush…

“I think the fuck not.” Peter growled, throwing a disgusted look at you. Very nice of him. You would lie if you said you were not hurt by his words.

“Peter, you are the last one to decide in this group. So if we say you & (Y/N) are the baits then you don´t argue with us, understood?” this time it was Derek who tried to talk some sense into Peter. It seemed to work because after that, Peter made his way over to the couch & sat down, leaving the rest of you in the kitchen.

“Good luck with him, sweetie. If you need help, you know what to do.” Lydia winked at you, then her face showed a sympathetic look. I'm not one to stick around One strike and you're out, baby Don't care if I sound crazy But you never let me down, no, no That's why when the sun's up, I'm stayin' Still layin' in your bed, sayin'

It was dark & Peter & you were already on position. It was an abandoned alleyway and you would have lied if you claimed you were not scared. Peter seemed to sense your anxiety & tried to calm you down, at least a bit.

“We have so many badass people on our side, they won´t let anything happen to you. Besides, you still got me.” with that, he shot you a wink to which you started blushing. Your eyes focused on the floor so Peter would not notice you cheeks heating up. Due to your reaction, he assumed you were but he did not comment on it. He simply smiled. A smile you could not see because your own shoes seemed to peek your interest more.

“(Y/N)! Watch out!” Peter´s scream was the last thing you heard before passing out.

Here you were. Tied up in a room that seemed to have no doors. This fact alone let your anxiety rise up the moment you opened your eyes. Looking around, your eyes settled on Peter who was just a few feet away from you, still unconscious.

“Peter! Peter, wake up!” after a few more tries you heard him groaning out. His wrists were bruised, just like yours, from being tied up. If you had not known better, you would have guessed you two had been held hostage for a long time.

“You alright?” were Peter´s first words, directed at you. You were confused, since when did he care about your well-being? Nevermind, you had bigger issues at the moment.

“I´m fine, how about you?” you lied. To be completely honest, you were a wreck. Your heart was racing, your throat was dry, your wrists were bleeding so bad, they were numb.

“Cut the bullshit, (Y/N)! I´m a werewolf...not a dumbass.” he stated matter of factly. That made you tense up even more. You really were not in the mood for dealing with his hatred.

“Look, Peter, just for as long as we´re here, can we stop the arguing? It´s not helpful.” your voice sounded exhausted. At first, Peter wanted to come at you with a snarky remark but when he looked over to you, he saw nothing but fear so he decided against it.

Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh

Got all this time on my hands

Might as well cancel our plans, yeah

I could stay here for a lifetime

Neither of you said much but you both knew you had been locked up for a couple of hours by now. While you were way too tired to think of an escape plan, Peter had spent most of the time using his claws to free himself of the rope wrapped around his wrists. You had told him a while ago that his attempts were useless but he had just growled at you & kept going. Not wanting to argue any further, you let him do whatever & just stayed silent, trying to calm yourself.

Suddenly, you felt someone grabbing your hands, making you shriek. You thought it was one of the guys who had kidnapped you but were surprised when Peter crouched down in front of you.

“Shh, it´s just me, you´re alright.” his voice had a soothing tone to it, something you had not heard from him before. A look at his wrists made you wince. You were sure yours did not look any better. Peter used his claws again, this time working faster because he had two hands he could use. When you were finally freed, your arms fell to your sides, not being strong enough to take a closer look at your wrists.

“We need to bandage your wrists up, otherwise they get infected. Yours are way worse than mine.” his voice was barely above a whisper &, to your surprise, it managed to calm you down a lot better than you thought it would.

“Why?” was all you could say. His eyes searched your (E/C) ones, his face showed a pure look of confusion.

“I just told you, so they don´t get infected. Maybe you should actually listen to what I say.” Peter chuckled as he ripped two pieces off his shirt to wrap around your wrists.

“No, I mean...why are you helping me?” you kept your voice low, somehow embarrassed that you were in need of his help. Usually, you would try everything to handle such things on your own but your exhaustion made it a bit hard for you.

“Because your wrists look, sorry for my language, disgusting & we´re the only ones here right now. If we wanna get out, we need to help each other. Now, would you please shut up & let me treat your wounds?” Peter made sure that the usual bitterness of his voice was gone. He did not want you to freak out even more. If he were honest, he hated seeing you like this, completely worn out & filled with anxiety. He should not have these feelings right now. The only thing that mattered was getting out alive. Why was he thinking about his crush on you? Peter had always felt drawn to you from the moment you first met. Obviously, he was aware of the age gap & that you somehow seemed to hate him. So, to keep things even, he matched your attitude but in a more playful manner. Deep down, every time you guys argued, his crush on you got slightly bigger.

“Thank you.” you breathed out & looked at Peter as he finished bandaging you up. He sent you a small smile which you reciprocated.

“Anytime, darling.” Peter winked at you & yet again caused you to look at the floor & try to hide the blush that crept on your cheeks.

So, lock the door and throw out the key

Can't fight this no more, it's just you and me And there's nothin' I, nothin' I, I can do I'm stuck with you, stuck with you, stuck with you So, go ahead and drive me insane Baby, run your mouth, I still wouldn't change Being stuck with you, stuck with you, stuck with you I'm stuck with you, stuck with you, stuck with you, baby

“Peter?” you asked after a while of comfortable silence. Both of you had tried everything possible to find an escape but escaping a room without any windows or doors was hard.

“Hmm?” he looked up at you to find you fiddling with your hands in your lap.

“What if we die in here? What if Scott & the rest won´t find us? What if-” but Peter cut your rambling off.

“(Y/N)...Try to breathe, okay? In...and out. In and out. There you go.” he went over to you & sat himself right beside you, his thigh next to yours, slightly touching. He waited until he spoke up again.

“Look, first of all, & I told you this earlier, Scott & the rest are freaking badass & they will do everything to find us & get us out, okay?” as you nodded he continued. “And IF it really comes to the outcome of us dying in here, & the possibility of doing so is incredibly small, then we should set some things clear, don´t you think?” he smirked at your confusion.

“What´re you saying?”

“I don´t know...Getting to know each other better, I guess. The only thing I really know about you is that you have an attitude & you seem to use sarcasm as a defense mechanism.” you playfully hit him as he said the last part. “Okay, okay. Let´s start simple then. Hmm, let me think, oh, I got one: Why do you hate me so much?” & with that question of his, you guys started talking, actually talking, not arguing, for the first time ever.

There's nowhere we need to be, no, no, no I'ma get to know you better Kinda hope we're here forever There's nobody on these streets If you told me that the world's endin' Ain't no other way that I can spend it

After what felt like hours, Peter & you found out that your hatred for one another was based off a big misunderstanding. This was just one of the many facts you learned about him. He was right, if you were about to die in this room, then at least with clearing things up. By the time, you were both too exhausted, too tired to talk any more. You did not recall how it happened but your head was laying on Peter´s chest, right above his heart, calming you down. Before you knew it, the both of you were fast asleep.

Oh, oh, oh, oh (ooh) Got all this time in my hands Might as well cancel our plans (yeah, yeah) I could stay here forever

Peter & you were shaken awake by bashing on one of the walls. Peter motioned for you to stay behind him, just in case. Yeah, you were skilled in fighting but he was still way stronger than you. Perks of being a werewolf. From behind, you could see his sharp claws, ready to attack. It almost sounded like a faint voice calling your names. Was this Scott? Maybe you were starting to hallucinate due to the lack of water, food etc. The wall came crashing down but before Peter could jump into action, you screamed “Scott?”

“Oh, thank god..” said Lydia who was right behind Scott. Stiles came rushing forward towards you, kind of ignoring Peter (they did not really get along, surprisingly).

“Are you okay?” Stiles grabbed you by your shoulders & just as you wanted to answer him, the world around you became pitch black.

So, lock the door and throw out the key Can't fight this no more, It's just you and me And there's nothin' I, nothin' I, I can do I'm stuck with you, stuck with you, stuck with you So, go ahead and drive me insane Baby, run your mouth, I still wouldn't change Being stuck with you, stuck with you, stuck with you I'm stuck with you, stuck with you, stuck with you

You could muster some voices in the distance, they sounded far away & you wanted nothing more than to open your eyes & scream for them to get you. But your eyelids felt way too heavy, giving you a hard time to open them. Then, you felt someone taking your hand, the touch felt familiar, warm but you could not quite make out who it was.

“Come on, (Y/N). Wake up. You can´t just open up to me like that & then...disappear. What would I do without your sarcastic comments? Stiles´ comments don´t count, he´s a douchebag. What would I do without your attitude? (Y/N), what would I do without...you?” Peter whispered, not wanting anyone to hear what he just...confessed. Little did he know you actually heard every bit of his confession & you hated your body for not reacting the way you wanted. Peter did not leave your side, though, wanting to be there when you woke up.

Woah Baby, come take all my time Go on, make me lose my mind We got all that we need here tonight

“It´s been days, Peter. You heard what Melissa said. The stress, the anxiety mixed with the exhaustion you both endured, was a lot for her. It will take a while until she wakes up & even if she does...it will most likely take a while until she´s back to her old self.” Derek informed Peter once more about your current condition. He was aware of that, of course, it still did not sink in. He needed you & it took the both of you almost dying for him to realize it.

“I know...It´s just, ugh, I hate myself for not noticing sooner.” Peter sighed, sadness written all over his features.

“Noticing what exactly?” Derek furrowed his brows, waiting for Peter to continue. After that, Peter told Derek everything that had happened between the two of you from the moment on you were kidnapped. This story made Derek realize. Peter had a huge ass crush on you & still had not had the chance to tell you.

“She´ll wake up” Derek tried reasoning. He went over to Peter & gave him a pet on his shoulder.

I lock the door (lock the door) and throw out the key Can't fight this no more (can't fight this no more), it's just you and me And there's nothin' I, nothin' I'd rather do I'm stuck with you, stuck with you, stuck with you So, go ahead and drive me insane Baby, run your mouth, I still wouldn't change All this lovin' you, hatin' you, wantin' you I'm stuck with you, stuck with you, stuck with You, oh, oh

“Hey (Y/N), I brought you coffee, figured you would need it after waking up from such a long nap.” Peter slightly chuckled as he moved closer to the bed you were currently laying in. He placed your cup on the bedside cabinet & took a sip of the one in his hand. His free hand found its way to yours, he interwinted your hands, bringing it up to his lips to give it a small kiss.

“Didn´t know you were such a softie.” you croaked out. As soon as you chuckled you felt how dry your throat was & started coughing. Peter´s eyes widened at your words. You were awake, finally! He grabbed a class of water, helped you sit up & handed it to you. You downed it entirely, the liquid soothing your throat.

“How...How are you feeling? No lies this time!” Peter once again took your hand into his, enjoying the contact & you did not mind either.

“Not gonna lie, I´ve been better. But I´ve been worse too, sooo…I´ll live.” you made sure to send a smile towards Peter in order not to scare him. You were exhausted, yeah, but you would be okay.

“You scared me there for a bit.”

“Because I looked...how did you put it? Disgusting?” your exaggerated voice made him laugh & you joined him.

“On a more serious note...(Y/N), um, I wanted to tell you-”

“I heard you the other day. When you confessed, I heard you but I couldn´t open my damn eyes. I just couldn´t. So, to ease your mind, I was thinking the exact same thing, Peter.” you took his face into your hands & pushed him towards you, your lips colliding, moving in sync. Finally, after many doubts & many arguments, you were kissing him. The Peter Hale. And it was even better than you had ever imagined. After a while, you two pulled away.

“This doesn´t mean I´ll stop dropping my sarcastic comments, just so you know.”

“I wouldn´t want it any differently.” Peter leaned in once again for another kiss. He made sure to put every bit of emotion in it, wanting you to know how he felt for you.

“Guess that means I´m stuck with you then?”

“I guess so.”

Stuck with you, stuck with you, stuck with you

Published (06/29/2020) by Cathy

Tags: @exceptionallytiredzombie , @theloveshow , @theycallmequeenie , @letsgotothecityandfallinlove , @marvel-gives-me-feels , @blog-lady-vi , @kissingvalentino , @aelin-thefirebreathingbitchqueen , @iclosetgeek , @captainoffantasy [love to everyone tagged <3, let me know if you want a part 2]

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gangrenados · 4 years

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dude, ur writing is amazing. like how dare you be so talented :'( could i request a lex miller x reader imagine where the reader gets into a fight and is all like "im fine hehe" and everyone is v worried but then something stupid happens and the reader starts crying so lex comforts/cheers them up (and bc ur the QUEEN of smut... u kno... it could b a bit spicy at the end) thank you!

I mixed it with this one! do you think you could do a cute headcanon for Lex Miller? Like the reader is a cheerleader but she hangs out with the rats and develops feelings for Lex? Thank you!

First of all thank you so much, thats so sweet! hope you liked it

warning: well violence, slurs...kinda and sexual suggestions

It was so weird for the rats to see you hang out with them without wanting something of them or just collect some information that your cheerleaders friends can use against them. They all sucked it up because Lex semeed happy, he wasn't that annoying when you were around and everyone, included Petra, liked to mess up with his "sappy lovebird" facade.

Yeah, Lex was like another dude around you, more soft and gentle, well he still acted like a jackass, but not hearing him burp during meals was a progress.

He loved having your companey, you made his days better with another perspective of his stupid life in the hole that was King's Dominion.

"Dude, stop smiling. You're creeping me out." Billy mocked him, gaining a punch in the arm from Lex. They and Marcus were goin to see you after your cheer practice, Lex wanted to surprised you and Marcus and Billy wanted to see with their own eyes how Lex became a softie.

"What are you doing here?" Lex crossed his arms, looking from the top of his shoulder to see if the cheer practice was over.

Marcus shrugged off." We were bored." Marcus confession made Lex roll his eyes."Your relationship is the more entretaining thing going on right now..."

"Just fuck off, will you?" Lex scoffed, fixing his leather jacked in a vain attemptd to look groomed." I'm tired of seeing your stupid faces. Look, just go away and-"

"YOU'RE SUCH A BITCH" Brandy's voice interrumpedt Lex, followed by a crash. He left his friend hanging there, who just wave at him goodbye knowing the shitshow that must be happening behind the gym doors.

Lex sighed at the amazning view of Brandy punching you in the face while you had your hands around her throat, trying to strangle her. Insults were being shout with every hit Brandy throw you, but as soon as you were able to put her underneat you and harden the grip you had on her, Lex took you by the waist and spnapped you out of your little fight.

"Back off!" you screamed at Lex. You're hate towards Brandy wasn't fullfiled, you wanted to make her suffer and the sight of blood dripping from her nose made you laugh." You're nothing, but a biggoted slut!"

Brandy gasped, ready to get back at your fight, however, Lex was quickier."Hey, Brandy! Why don't you go to hump one of your cousins and calm down?" Lex suggest as he dragged you out of the gym, Brandys threats becoming more silent as you got away from there.

°°°

"That was fucked up." Lex said to you. In the calm of your room everything seemed better, the girly smell of it was a radical contrast of his won room that was filled with junk and band posters. You were lying down on the bed, silent tearrs rolling down your cheeks as the memorie of your fight with Brandy crossed your mind.

You dind't want that to happen, but she insulted your real friedns, calling them useless mutts and wondering wy they were doing here, filling up space with their disgusting prescense. You got so mad that you saw red and just let yourself be, trying to choke her...

"Hey, you good?" Lex sat down beside you, rubbing his hand up and down on your knee. You looked up to him, sobbing softly.

"Yeah, it was awsome to hit her..." you tried to smile, but Lex concerned face broke your tries of being strong." I think I fucked up..."

Lex chukled."A little bit, but it was great!" He lied down beside you, you put your head in his chest, letting his heartbeat to soothe you. But after a while it got boring.

You towered over him, kissing him softly; Lex put his hands in your waist, keeping you in place as he deepened the kiss. You could feel the coil growing up in your belly; maybe it was strange to make him horny after fighting with someone, but Lex was feeling it too.

"Do you wanna fuck?" you asked between kisses.

"Fuck, yes!" Lex nodded, as he went to leave some hickeys on your neck. He pulled down your skirt slowly, making you giggle as he stumbled a little on his way to pull down your skirt.

Tag list: @deannahartsworld @c0-77

#answered #lex miller headcanon #lex millers imagine #lex miller x reader #deadly class x reader #deadly class headcanon #deadly class headcanons #deadly class imagine #deadly class

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crystalflygeo · 1 year

Text

That's one way to alleviate cramps ft. dragon!Zhongli + fem!reader

cw/tags: Period sex. That's... that's it, pls do not perceive me. Zhongli is a tiny dragon on this one. Chonkli. And he has a long dragon tongue bc of course. Oral sex (reader receiving) Blood I guess it's a given??? An attempt at fluff/cuteness and humor was made.

notes: @moraxsthrone Kel I want everyone to know this is 300% YOUR FAULT (this is a link ehe). Imma just post this before I think twice and then go hit my pillow I'm hungry and TIRED and delirious. Obviously.

“Hng- f-fuck… Zhongliiiii” You groan, squirming on the sheets.

You curl into a tight ball and your arms snake around your midsection, biting your lip hard as another wave of pain washes over your body. It’s sharp, muscles spasming, it leaves you sweaty and tense and whining.

“Archons why…” You mumble, letting out a rather strained sigh.

Your body relaxes a little, melting on the bed once the cramps are over, but your body still feels sore, and it’s hot, too hot, even when you’re down to your undergarments.

A very small and rather adorable dragon shifts frantically all around you, looking very much like a distressed puppy wanting to help but not knowing very well how to.

He noses at your cheek, scales cool against the heated skin, and then laps there trying to comfort you. “I apologize for not being able to help more, dearest.” The deep voice practically echoes in your head, reassuring, and definitely not matching his current cutesy appearance.

You smile softly and run your hand along his back, the scales shivering at your touch. “I-It’s okay Li… comes and goes…”

You’ve rarely ever seen Zhongli in this form, maybe two or three times actually. A miniature and… ‘chonky’… version of his regal Exuvia, with blunt horns and claws, and the size of your torso. He almost looks like a plushie, albeit a scaled one.

He’d said it was for your comfort, and honestly, you really enjoyed cuddling him on this form, playing with his tail fluff or let him ‘make biscuits’ over your skin.

And speaking of…

Once he sees you rolled over your back again, the overgrown lizard makes his way to your belly and starts pressing his small paws over your tummy, massaging. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your throat as it tickles a little.

“That’s better. I much prefer hearing your laugh, baobei.”

“Y-yeah… thank you Li.”

It goes on for a few minutes, the cramps seemingly dissipated for now as he purrs content and your body relaxes at his ministrations. It’s soothing.

But now another problem presents itself…

You groan again and slightly grimace. Your body is all sensitive, hot and sore, and he keeps insistently pressing and kneading at your pelvis, skirting the edge of your panties and so close… so close…

Archons how can you be thinking on that now? You were in pain merely moments ago! And now’s not the time to…

“Darling?” You see the small dragon sniff at the air. “Are you… aroused?”

Oh, damn his freaky dragon senses.

He has no right to sound that amused when he looks so cute either!

“N-No?! I’m- How could I-” You sputter.

His hearty chuckle invades your mind. “No need to be embarrassed, my dear. It’s quite understandable.” The dragon coos and nuzzles at your lower belly making you shiver. “In this stage of your cycle, you’re quite vulnerable and your hormones-”

“Stop. Stop talking biology to me I don’t- I don’t want to hear it!” You exclaim, face flushing. And yet you feel yourself getting needier.

And you know he knows.

“Very well.” His little paws and snout skim at your thighs and you feel the mattress shift as he settles between your legs curling there as if it was the most normal course of action. “Then, will you allow me to tend to you?” His head rests over your inner tight, staring up at you with bright rounded golden eyes.

“Li. I’m bleeding. It’s disgusting…” You mumble deadpanning.

The dragon only blinks at you “Oh, I assure you it’s not. It doesn’t bother me. And even so, beneath metallic smell of blood the scent of your arousal is rather tantalizing…”

Celestia’s sake.

You cover your face with your hands. “You perverted old lizard…f-fine…”

He only chuckles again and next thing you know you let out a shameful squeak as you feel the small dragon press his nose against your clothed core, hot and dampness mixing up together and causing funny feelings to swirl inside you.

Even in this form, Zhongli is nothing but thorough and attentive with his love as he nips and licks at your skin in smooth and carefully considered paths for a moment before starting to pull off your underwear on blunt teeth and clumsy paws.

Still a bit mortified but much hornier than you’d care to admit, you help out on the task, taking out the last piece of clothing you had on and laying back down fully naked. Well. Good thing the mattress was already protected in your paranoia to avoid stains…

The slow thoughtful drag of that thick dragon tongue over your folds has you immediately keening. You cover your face still embarrassed as he laps up the residual taste of blood and shed lining, dutifully cleaning you up.

The tang of copper and iron on his tongue makes him a bit feral and he enthusiastically dives deeper, rewarded with your moans that only spur him on. His little dragon snout rubbing against your clit as the long serpentine tongue enters you. Not as thick as usual but certainly just as skilled.

“Hah… T-That feels so good…”

“I’m glad.” The dragon hums proudly. “Pleasure and orgasms are certainly good ways to mitigate pain and allow the body to unwind.”

“A-Ah! Y-You can certainly… hng… multitask, hm? Lord of Geo?”

You feel that sinful tongue slide out of you wetly, and then lick insistently at the little bundle of nerves, pulling a high-pitched mewl out of you.

“I’d say, the fact that you’re still able to talk means I’m not doing my job properly. Allow me, dearest.”

Pleasure builds steadily as Zhongli’s forked tongue works inside you, massaging and trusting in all the right spots, as outside, carefully blunted fangs toy with your sensitive swollen clit. He drags your climax out of you languidly and reverent and you come with a broken cry, dissolving into soft whimpers as your pussy gushes weakly. A heady mix of your juices and blood which the dragon happily cleans up with more swipes of that little tongue.

Once the job is done, the little dragon sighs and climbs up to nuzzle his head against your heaving chest and you drowsily start petting along the serpentine body, his tail curling around you, either possessive, protective or simply loving and you kiss at his snout. You stay like that for a while, both soaking up the other's presence in the sweet afterglow. Until Zhongli’s soft rumble appears back in your head.

“Not so bad after all, I take it?”

“Mm… I suppose not.” You reply, groggy and already half asleep. “Wouldn’t be opposed to… do that again…” You yawn.

“Of course, darling. Glad to help in any way I can.”

#zhongli smut #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #genshin imagines #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin impact imagines #genshin x reader #genshin x you #crys writes #fem reader #in which kel and I continuously influence each other and toss around crazy ideas #oh god bye I have no words I'm leaving b y e #I'm on my period and it HURTS OK I want comfort //cries

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kpopfromtheblock · 5 years

Text

a/n ⇾ i know it’s not what you all were expecting but i hope you enjoy regardless. sorry for being away so long. i think i’m back now lol... thank you all so much for reading and for all your love and support! ✨

THERE WILL NOT BE A PART 2 TO THIS, PLS DO NOT ASK.

LIFE WITH BANGTAN | knj + myg + jhs

008

genre ⇾ smut, fluff + comedy

pairing ⇾ bts x fem reader, yoongi x reader, namjoon x reader, hoseok x reader

summary ⇾ you don’t usually get invited to the studio when your boyfriends are working so you know something is definitely up when Namjoon, Yoongi and Hoseok ask you to stop by bc they need your help...

warning ⇾ it’s s m u t so; polygamous relationship, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, overstimulation, threesome, voyeurism, fingering, nipple play, oral sex (f receiving), masturbation + usual warnings: cringy-ness and swearing

words ⇾ 6k

I DID MY BEST TO PROOF READ THIS, SORRY IF THERE ARE STILL SOME GRAMMAR MISTAKES!

. * 　　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . * ⁺ ⁺

You ring the doorbell to Yoongi’s Genius Lab and wait patiently.

After hearing a few electronic beeping sounds, the door is being pulled open. You are happy to see a pair of bright eyes and a heart shaped mouth, forming a smile at you.

“Hi Hobi,” You greet him and stand on your toes to reach his lips for a peck. “Hi Angel, thanks for coming!” He says after kissing you back and stepping aside so you can step in.

Once you enter the room, your eyes land on Namjoon, whose arms are already stretched out, waiting to receive a hug from you. You giggle at how cute he is. “Hi Joonie,” You say as you step into his arms. He waste no time wrapping his arms around your waist and you wrap yours around his head, softly holding him to your chest as you stroke your fingers through the strands of hair at the back of his head.

Namjoon closes his eyes and enjoys the soothing feeling of your fingers in his hair.

It’s only been a few days since you’ve seen him but he always misses you dearly when you’re apart.

Still wrapped in Joon’s arms, your eyes meet the side of on Yoongi’s face.

His bottom lip is pulled in between his teeth as he focuses on the computer screen in front of him. He hasn’t turned to see you since you entered the studio which isn’t unusual.

Most people would take offense to him not greeting them when they arrive but you know Yoongi well enough by now to know that that’s just the way he is.

Usually when he’s focused on his music, he has little to no time to pay attention to anything else.

“Hi Yoongs,” You finally say, just wanting to let him know you’re there. “Hi Kitten.” He responds, not taking his eyes away from the screen.

“He’s been like that since we got here earlier.” Namjoon mumbles to you and you nodded understandably. You unwrapped yourself from Joon and walk over to where Hoseok is sitting on the couch. You find your place on the plush seat next to him. He drapes his arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer to him and you snuggle up into his side.

“So what goes on?… Why did you guys tell me to come here?” You asks, mindlessly playing with Hoseok’s hand. You use the tip of your finger to trace the skin over each bulging vein.

You never thought yourself to be a person who is attracted to someone’s hands but as mentioned before, a lot has changed since you met the boys...

“We just wanted to see you.” Namjoon speaks up and you have to raise an eyebrow at him in suspicion.

‘I just saw you a few days ago.’ You think to yourself. 

“Ok, not that I don’t want to see you guys too but y’all never really invite to the studio.” You say crossing your arms over your chest. “So excuse me if I don’t believe that you told me to come over just because you missed me...” You add in disbelief.

“I always invite you over.” Hoseok protest you, moving his hand down to wrap securely around your waist.

“Yes, I know Hobi but these two,” You say pointing between Namjoon and Yoongi. “Never want me around.” You say jokingly with a pout forming on your lips. “Lies, you tell.” Namjoon argues and you giggle.

“There’s a reason why I don’t invite you here when I’m working and you know that...” Yoongi says, finally turning around in his chair to face you.

You take a few seconds to take in his appearance. He’s dressed in all black... One of your biggest weaknesses.

A beanie on his head, a hoodie, some sweatpants and a pair of Balenciaga sneakers on his feet to finish off the look.

Although he looks good enough to eat, you can tell by the look in his eyes that he is exhausted. You almost want to scold him because you know he’s been staring at the computer screen all day, probably hasn’t even eaten or taken a break, but you refrain from doing so as you know it would be pointless…

He’s going to do what he wants, especially when it comes to his music, even if it means working himself tirelessly...

“Why do I always tell you that you can’t come here while I’m working?” Yoongi asks again, getting you out of your thoughts. He looks at you expectingly.

“Because, I’ll be a DiStRaCtIoN.” You say in a mocking tone while holding your fingers up to put air quotes around the word. Yoongi can’t help be chuckle at your antics. “Bingo.” He confirms before swiveling back around in his chair.

“Well I for one,” Hoseok starts, gathering the attention of you and Namjoon. “Love when you come visit me Angel.” He says, theres a hint of mischief in his voice and you know exactly why.

“Yeah because her visits to your studio always ends with her mouth around your cock.” Namjoon apparently knows why too…

You bit back a smile and hold your hands up to your cheek as they start to warm up from embarrassment. “I won’t deny that that is true but it’s not the only reason why I like when she comes around…” Hobi informs him. “I mean that’s a big factor but not the only reason.” He says, and you blush furiously before hiding your face in his chest.

“Cute.” Namjoon coos, beaming over at you.

He thinks you’re the most adorable when you’re flustered, as do the other boys.

You know you should be used to these types of conversations with your boyfriend by now and you know they’re even more detailed when you’re not around but for some reason they still make you blush like a little school girl… You can’t help it.

“Any who,” You say as remove your face from Hoseok’s chest. “Why am I here?” You ask, getting back on topic.

“We need your help with something.” Yoongi informs you, eyes still glued to his computer. “Something like?” You ask curiously.

“A song." Namjoon tells you.

“You need my help? With a song?” If you were confused before, you are even more so now.

Why would the guys ask for your help with a song… It’s not like you’re music expert or anything. Yes, you understand the basics... You know what it is and you enjoy it but anything beyond that? Nope.

“Yeah we want you to listen to something we’ve been working on.” Hoseok explains. “We got the beat down but we feel like it could be better.” He continues.

“It’s missing something.” Namjoon voices.

You nod your head, letting them know you understand what they’re asking of you. They just want me to listen and give your input. That doesn’t sound too hard…

You suddenly perk up in your seat when you realize this is probably a song that no one else has heard yet. You’ll be the first to listen to it… You feel a sense of pride swelling in your chest knowing they respect your opinion enough to let you listen to one of their unreleased songs.

“Okay, I don’t know how much help I’ll be but I’ll take a listen.”

“Nice!” Hobi says enthusiastically.

Soon after the word leaves his mouth, Yoongi hits a button on his keypad and a beat starts to pour through the speakers in the studio.

Yoongi swirls back around in the chair to face the rest of you.

The beat starts off slow. It is definitely giving R&B vibes. It’s very… sensual and different from the usual style of music they do.

You bob your head as the tempo picks up just a bit.

You don’t noticed that they boys are watching you intently… You are too immersed in what you’re hearing to pay attention to anything else.

You continue bobbing your head to the rhythm. So far so good. You really like it and just from what you hear, you already know whatever lyrics the boys decide add later, will make the song ten times better.

But you do agree, there is definitely something missing. You’re not sure what but, there could be more, like Namjoon mentioned.

“What do you think?” Yoongi asks after the beat fades out. “I love it.” You say immediately. “I love all your other music but this is different…” You explain. “It smooth... It flows nicely... It’s more sexy?” You try not to cringe at the use of the word sexy but you couldn’t think of a better word to express what you mean.

“Thats what we were going for.” Hoseok says proudly beside you. You beam up at him, happy because he is happy.

“Although it’s already good, I do understand what you mean about it missing something…”

“Right? There could be more.” Namjoon suggest and you nod.

“Which is why we thought about you.” Hoseok confesses and you turn your head to look at him.

“Me? Why would you think about me?” You ask in confusion.

 “We thought your voice would be a nice contribution...” Yoongi says.

“Ha!” You laugh out loud, throwing your head back. Namjoon chuckles with you and Hobi smiles. “You’re joking right?” You ask with amusement in your voice.

“Nope, not at all.” Yoongi say without a hint of humor in his.

You look at the three of them, your mouth falls open slightly, in both shock and disbelief.

“The three of you are aware of the fact that I cannot sing right? Like can’t hold a note to save my life... I’m worse than Joon in the shower.” Yoongi’s eyes scrunch closed and his shoulders visibly start to shake as he laughs at your statement. Namjoon on the other hand did not find it funny. “Hey! I can sing.” He says, glaring at you. “I know you can baby but in the shower? Not so much.” You retort. You feel a slight pinch on your thigh which causes you to yelp softly. You look over at Hoseok, knowing he’s the one who inflicted the pain on you. “Don’t be mean.” He warns you, with an amused smile on his face. “I’m not!” You defend yourself. “Joon knows I’m only kidding, right baby?” You say before getting up from the couch to walk over to Namjoon. You plant yourself in his lap and he instantly wraps his arms around you.

If he was mad at you before, there’s no sign of him being mad now.

“Anyways,” Yoongi speaks up. “We weren’t asking you to sing.” He informs you.

“You weren’t?” You say a puzzled look on your face.

“Mm, mm.” Yoongi hums and shakes his head.

“Then what?” You ask.

“We were hopping to use you voice for something else...” Hoseok mentions. You look at him, curiosity taking over you features.

“Okay...” You trail off, wanting him to give you a proper explanation.

“Something different...” Namjoon chimes in, his voice has suddenly dropped an octave and if you weren’t so perplexed about what the boys needed your voice for, you probably would’ve felt the tingle you always feel in your abdomen, every time he uses that voice on you.

“Why does it feel like you guys are beating around the bush...”

Yoongi sighs. “Cause they are...” He says. He spins his chair around to face you for third time tonight. “We want you to moan for the song.” Yoongi blurts out and had you been drinking anything, you would’ve spat it out in shock, right in front of him.

“W-what?” You stuttered out.

You’re not sure if you heard Yoongi correctly, he does have a tendency to mumble when he speaks sometimes...

Maybe he didn’t actually say what you thought he did.

“We’d like to record you moaning for the song.” Yoongi says.

“Ok, so you did say what I thought you said.” You mumble to yourself. You sit up in your seat, placing your hands neatly in your lap. “Lemme get this straight,” You start, looking around the room to see each of their facial expression as you talk. “You all called me over here because you want to record the sound of me moaning… For your song?” You question. Even saying it out loud, it sounds fucking ridiculous. This has to be a joke.

“Correct.” Yoongi confirms nonchalantly while nodding his head.

You clear your throat… “I’m flattered really, I am but I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Your voice is filled with worry. “Why not?” Without turning to face him, you can almost hear the pout that you know is on Hobi’s face and you hate to reject them but you can’t help but think of the fans.

You're sure ARMY would get suspicious if the boys released a song with some random girl moaning in the background. Releasing a song like that would be basically be like ratting yourself out because, knowing the fans - they’d just dig and dig until they find what they’re looking for. You’ve done an exceptional job a keeping things under wraps so far... No need to break the streak now.

"What about the fans?" You finally voice your concern. "Hm?” He hums cutely. “Why do you ask Baby girl?" Namjoon asks, tilting his head to the side like a puppy would if they were curious. "Well, I'm sure ARMY would have a lot to say after hearing a girl moaning in the background of one of your songs." You stated causing Yoongi to chuckle.

"We've already thought about that and have come up with a solution."

"Enlighten me..."

"First of all, your voice would be subtle in the background.” Yoongi begins explaining.“We'd be rapping over it, so it wouldn't be picked up right away.” He continues.

“We'll blend it into the beat so it sounds more like an instrument rather than anything else.” Namjoon chimes in.

“And if they do catch it-...” You cut him off, “Which they will… You forgot that your fandom is exceptionally sharp and quick witted.” You state the obvious. “If they do catch it…” Hoseok picks up from where Yoongi has left off. “We’ll just tell them that we’ve taken Jungkook’s voice and pitched it up. They’ll have a field day with that.” He seems enthusiastic about the situation.

“So why don’t you just do that instead… Use Kookie’s voice” You suggest, wondering why they’d wanted to take a risk by using yours. “We don’t want too use Kookie’s voice… We want to use yours.” Yoongi says bluntly.

“Isn’t it too risky?” The weariness in your tone makes Namjoon raise an eyebrow at you.  “You really don’t want to do this huh?” He asks, a hint of sorrow in his voice.

You know it must sound like you are coming up with every excuse in the book to not have your moan recorded but you just want to make sure the boys have thoroughly thought this through and will have no regrets later on.

“No, it’s not that I don’t want to… I’m definitely intrigued but I just don’t want this to cause any problems. I don’t want ARMY to be upset or anything…” You say solemnly.

“You’re so considerate, its cute but you don’t have to worry. We know what you’re doing.” Namjoon assures you.

“It’ll be fun Angel… The song will be even more special this way and only the three of us and the kids will know about this.”

“The other boys are on board with this?”

“Jungkook was the one who said to tell ARMY it’s his voice.” Yoongi notifies you.

“Hmm….” You hum to yourself. Thinking for a few seconds about whether or not this would actually be a good idea.

“So what do you say?” Namjoon is impatiently waiting for a response.

A few beats of silence pass before you finally give in. “Okay.” You say shrugging your shoulders. You trust your boys and if they say it’s going to be fine then it’s going to be fine.

“That’s our girl. Come on, let’s go.” Namjoon says standing up.

Fuck, you didn’t think they’d want to start immediately. “Right now?” You ask, suddenly feeling a little nervous.

“Of course, why waste time.” Yoongi says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Hoseok stands too and holds his hand out for you. You put your hand in his and he leads you to the recording booth… Namjoon follows closely behind.

Yoongi stays seated, messing around with all the little buttons and knobs on the sound equipment. "Aren't you coming my love?" You ask, directing your attention to him. He shakes his head. "I have to stay here, make sure everything is running smoothly but don't fret Kitten, I'll be watching you." He assures you.

A pout falls on your lips. You want him to be in there with you too...

As you step into the booth, you are greeted by an array of plush blankets and pillows covering the center of the floor.

It seems like the boys had been anticipating you agreeing to do this for them, already making arrangements to keep you as comfortable as possible during the recording process. “How did you guys know I’d say yes?” You ask, turning around to face Joon and Yoongi. “Cause’ we know you and you’d do anything for us.” Yoongi’s voice fills the room you’re in, even though he’s on the opposite side of the glass.

You’re not sure how recording booths work but you suppose he can hear everything that is and will soon take place in the room.

You just nodded in agreement at his statement. He’s one hundred percent correct about that... You’d do anything for them.

Hoseok gets down on the floor, sitting comfortably on the plush blankets. He spreads his legs open for you. “Come sit Angel,” He instructs you and you spring into action, getting down on the floor to sit in between Hoseok’s legs with your back pressed against his chest.

You lightly lean back against him, not wanting to put too much of your weight on him in fear that you might hurt his back because of the position he is in.

“Comfortable?” He asks against your ear and you nod your head, rubbing your hands over the softness of the blanket you’re sitting on.

“Nervous?” Namjoon inquires next, squatting down so that he can meet your gaze. Your eyes suddenly drift down to the thickness of his thighs...

To be honest, you noticed them as soon as you came into the studio… The way they look in the black shorts he’s wearing, how thick they’ve gotten and the way the muscles in them beginning to bulge a bit whenever he flexes them, even more so now with new position he’s taken on.

Oh how you’d love to have his thighs in between your own right now. The thought of you rubbing your core on his muscular thigh sends a delicious shiver down spine. You pull your bottom lip in between your teeth to stop the whimper that is at the back of your throat.

Namjoon notices this and a smirk forms on his lips. He knows one of your favorite things about him is his thighs and he knows it drives you insane when he wears shorts but he does it anyways to get a reaction out of you.

You finally snatch your eyes away from his lower half to look up at him. He’s smirking at you...

You’ve been caught staring... Again.

“Huh?” You ask, hoping he’d repeat whatever it was that he asked you. “I said are you nervous?” He asks again. “Oh... Uh, a little bit.” You say truthfully, looking down at your hands. Namjoon reaches out and grabs hold of your them to stop you from nervously fiddling with them. “Don’t be baby girl.” He tries to assure you. “Yeah, it’s just us... And don’t we always take care of you?” Hobi adds, kissing your bare shoulder. “I know you guys will... I’m not worried about that... Just the whole idea of being record is...” Your voice trails off. “Is what?” You hear Yoongi’s voice again. You look over to see him standing up with his hands on his hips, staring at you through the glass window. “What if I sound weird…” You say shyly which causes the men around you to laugh. “Not possible baby girl. You make sweetest sounds I’ve ever heard and I’d really like to hear them now if you don’t mind.” Namjoon tells you and you feel your face and body heat up with arousal at his words.

“Okay...” You say softly.

Suddenly the lights in the recording booth are being dimmed down to set the mood. You assume it’s Yoongi’s doing. “Just relax, okay?” Hoseok comforts you, by wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Whenever you guys are ready.” Yoongi encourages you all.

Hoseok is quick to pepper kisses on the exposed skin of your shoulder and neck. You tilt your head to the side to give him more access, always loving the feeling of his mouth on you. “Mmm.” He hums contently. “You always smell so good.” He compliments you and your face heats up for the hundredth time tonight. “Thank you?” You respond softly, not sure of what else to say.

Hobi chuckles at how adorable you are.

Your eyes start to flutter open and closed as the feeling of Hoseok’s lips on your neck cause a warmth to spread between your legs. You can feel your heat getting wetter by the minute... It’s becoming a bit uncomfortable and you’re itching to get out of the leggings you’re in.

Namjoon is now on his knees in front of you. He brings his hand forward to brush the back of it across the side of your face. “Our beautiful girl.” He whispers and you smile, leaning into his touch.

Your heart feels like it might explode from the affection and attention you’re receiving from your boys. In times like this, you can’t seem to wrap your head around the fact that you are actually in a relationship with seven amazing men who adore you and worship the ground you walk on....

You of all people?

‘How did I get so lucky?’ You think.

Namjoon leans forward until your faces are only a few inches apart. His breath is fanning over your lips. “I love you.” He mumbles sweetly. You respond by leaning forward, closing the rest of the distance between the two of you so that you can press your lips against his full ones. Namjoon can’t hold back the smirk forming on his lips as the two of you begin molding your mouths together, all the while Hoseok is still attacking your neck, leaving a beautiful array of lust induced bruises on your skin.

He unwraps his hands from around your waist to place them against your thighs. He grips them softly, causing a small whimper to escape your mouth.

Any little touch counts at this point.

When your lips part for a brief second, Joon takes the opportunity to pull your plump bottom lip between his teeth. He nibbles softly on it then sucks it into his mouth before letting it spring back into place.

You almost whine at the lost of Joon’s lips from yours. You want more, you always want more. You lift your hands up to grab hold of the strings on his hoodie, pulling him closer to you with as much force as you can. You smash your lips against his frantically, eager to taste more of him. He groans against your mouth and you waste no time slipping your tongue in.

The taste of his mouth is familar yet so sweet. It swallows you whole and makes your cunt tingle with anticipation. If you could spend the rest of your life making out with Kim Namjoon, you do it.

“She’s wearing too much clothes.” The impatient tone of Yoongi’s voice catches you off guard. You pull away from Joon to give your attention to Yoongi. His eyes are burning into you, so much so that you can feel an electric shock pulse through you just from his gaze.

You wish he were in the room with the rest of you.

“Is that so Angel? Should we take these off?” Hoseok says as he pulls on the hem of your shirt. “And these.” Namjoon hooks his fingers in the band of your leggings, teasingly pulling at them.

“Please.” You say in needy breath, not sure if you can take much more of how slow things are progressing.

You just want them to play with your pussy already.

“Always so polite.” Joon smirks at you and your clit throbs instantly at the sound of his voice.

You need these panties off, immediately.

“Arms up Angel.” Hoseok instructs you and you do as you’re told, sitting up straight and lifting your arms up for him.

Hobi hurriedly takes your shirt off, exposing the ugly heather grey sports bra you’re wearing. You suddenly feel self conscious, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Uh uh uh.” Yoongi tsk at you. “Don’t cover yourself up Kitten. I wanna see you.” He commands.

“If I had known…” You moan out as Hobi nibbles on your earlobe. “That coming here, would end with me being half naked…. I would’ve worn something prettier.” You try to make an excuse for yourself, thinking that they wouldn’t be happy with your appearance.

Hoseok laughs against your skin. “Oh Angel.” He says against your skin. “You’re pretty in everything…” He informs you.

“It also doesn’t matter what you’re wearing,” Namjoon says from in front of you. “It’s all coming off anyways.” He starts to tug your leggings and panties down in one go, causing you to lift your hips off the blanket.

When the material is completely off your body, he tosses it behind him. You hear it hit the floor with a soft thud.

Namjoon’s eyes fall on to your wet center. Your lips are glistening with your arousal and in Namjoon’s eyes, you are the most appetizing thing he’s ever seen.

“Fuck, she’s dripping.” Namjoon thinks out loud.

“God, I bet.” Hoseok growls, just the thought of how wet you are is making his pants feel a lot tighter.

“Fuck.” Yoongi groans at the sight of you.

“Let’s give Hyung a show, yea?” Hoseok mumbles in your ear for just the two of you to hear. “Yes,” The word is strained as it leaves your mouth.

“Spread her open for me Hobi.” Namjoon instructs the man behind you.

“My pleasure.” He starts. “I can’t wait to get my fingers wet…” He kisses the side of your head before sliding his hands in between your legs, his index finger slipping in between your folds. You throw your head back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering closed. “You’re so soft and warm.” He compliments you. His finger glides easily against your harden nub. You lift your hips up off the floor, wanting to feel more friction against your clit. “So needy.” He says teasingly.

“I said spread her, not play with her.” Namjoon hisses, laying down on his stomach, positioning himself comfortably between your thighs. He kisses a trail up from your knee too the middle of your thigh.

“Sorry Joon, I couldn’t help it.” Hoseok confesses as he hooks his hands under your thighs, spreading you open wider.

Namjoon and Yoongi now have a full view of your glorious cunt. He watches in amazement as your hole clenches around nothing. His dick twitches in his pants at the sight.

You’re so pink and pretty and swollen for them and he can’t wait to taste you.

Namjoon goes back to peppering open mouth kisses on your inner high. He’s leaving a scorching trail with his lips on your skin, getting closer to your core... You think he’s finally going to give you what you want but he switches his attention over to the right thigh before he gets to your most needy part.

“No more teasing... Please.” You beg as he nibbles on your skin. “Someone’s impatient.” Hoseok mocks, followed by a devious smirk from Namjoon between your legs.

He grips your knees, using them the pull you a little closer to him. Your back slides further down the front Hoseok’s body. You can now feel his thick, hard cock pressed against the middle of your back. You want so desperately to take care of it for him, but the thought flies out of your mind the minute Namjoon licks stripe from the bottom of your pussy to your clit. “Oh fuck,” You moan out instantly, back arching against Hoseok.

He removes one hand from underneath your thigh, sliding up your side to caress your skin. He slips his hand under the band of your sports to grab the hold of your bare breast, gripping it softly before kneading the flesh as best as he can within the confinements of the material.

Namjoon on the other end is licking into to you repeatedly, the grit of his tongue gliding in between your folds is causing a string of soft moans to escape your lips.

It feels so good but of course it’s not enough for you. You put your hands on his head and grip at his hair. “More.” You breath out. “What was that Angel?” Hoseok asks, being the only one to have heard you... Or so you thought. “She wants more.” Yoongi informs his members. “More what?” Namjoon speaks against your wet center. The sounds of his voice vibrating against you, making your hips buck forward. “Please, suck my clit.” You beg him, not caring how weak and pathetic you sound at the moment.

“Ah,” Namjoon says in realization. “Patience Baby girl, I was getting there.” He assures you and you almost let out a groan because patience is something you don’t have enough of right now but Yoongi’s voice stops you from doing so...

“You guys aren’t doing your best tonight.” He teases the other boys. “If I were in there, Kitten would’ve been on her second orgasm by now.” Yoongi says smugly.

You don’t have to look over to him to know there’s a cocky grin on his face.

Namjoon growls at Yoongi’s words before diving mouth first into your pussy. He pays special attention to your clit, lapping his tongue around it. You throw your head back in pleasure, pulling at Namjoon’s hair.

‘Yes, this is what I’ve been waiting for.’

“Fu-uck yes! Right there Joonie,” You moan out loudly. “Right here?” He responds, mouth wrapped snuggly around your clit. He sucks it into his mouth, savoring the taste of you.

You begin panting, the more he sucks on you. You’re chest heaving and your mind spiraling at the pleasure building inside of you.

Yoongi’s words must’ve also lit fire underneath Hoseok with the way he is frantically pulling your bra up over your breast, freeing them from the god forsaken cage that was your sport bra.

Both his hands come down to cup your perky round breast in his palms. He began rolling your nipples between his index and thumb. You whimper out at the feeling.

There is so much going on that you’re sure you will not last long.

You hadn’t realized but you’ve been lifting your hips up off the floor to meet Joon’s mouth. “You’re so eager Kitten.” Yoongi confirms from where he’s sat.

At this point you were a moaning uncontrollably, whimpering weakly between the two men, panting their names back and forth.

Namjoon was making a mess of both you and his mouth. He pulled away from you, letting out a ragged breath in the process. His lips glazed are over with your arousal, breath fanning heavily over your swollen clit.

“God, you taste amazing. You always taste so amazing.” He compliments you. His words causing your pussy clench around nothing

He brings his hand up, taking two fingers to run up and down between your lips. The tip of his fingers brush against you sensitive bud. You breath out, the sound of your moan getting caught in your throat. “That’s it baby. Nice a loud for me.” Yoongi encourages you.

“You’re doing so well.” Hoseok praises. You want to respond to him but Namjoon sliding his fingers into your tight hole causes you to lose your train of thought. “Oh my god.” You whimper, your eyes screw shut. “How are so tight?” Namjoon questions you before latching his mouth back on to your clit.

He plunges fingers in and out of you, the wet squelching sounds of your pussy, mixed in with your moan and ragged breathing fill the room.

“Fuck” You hear Yoongi groan, you take a chance and glance at him... Your mouth falls open at the view. His head is thrown back against his chair, his neck and adams apple is on full display... The way is bobs as he swallows does something to you. You can’t see anything past his waist but it doesn’t take rocket science to know that the up and down movement of his arm, means that he is pumping the flesh of his cock between his palm. The sight of Yoongi is enough to push you closer to your climax.

“Yoongi,” You moan out his name, his head snaps up to look at you and he smirks when he realizes he’s been caught. “I can’t wait to get my hands on you Kitten.” He informs you, his voice is so desperate and needy that you almost want to run to him and drop to your needs before him.

You swear you were about to beg Yoongi to let you suck his dick but Namjoon begins making out with your clit as his fingers pump relentlessly inside of you. “Come on Baby Girl.” Namjoon encourages. “Please cum for me. I want you to cum around my fingers, please.” He begs as he curls his fingers up, moving them against a certain sensitive spot inside you. “You’ve been doing so well Angel.” Hoseok tells you. “Making such pretty noises for us.” He adds.

The pressure you feel on your abdomen is heavy... Something finally snaps inside of you after building up for the past 5 minutes, you can feel your orgasm consume you. It feels like being submerged under a pool of pleasure.

Your body shakes in Hoseok’s arms, all the while Namjoon is still giving you his all, mouth and fingers still on and in you. You begin pushing his head away from your core, “I-I can’t...” You nearly scream out. “One more.” It’s Yoongi’s voice again, he is pumping feverishly against his cock, his breathing is staggered and his words are strained.

“You can give us one more Angel.” Hoseok’s voice is so sweet, yet so sinful in your ear and you can’t decide which side of him you like more at the moment.

Namjoon is up on his knees now, steadying himself with his fingers still in you. He pumps them in and out of you and places his thumb on your clit, pressing down hard. You yelp and buck your hips, feeling another orgasm approaching.

You didn’t even have enough time to recover from the first one. “Joonie,” You whine out his name, ready to beg him to stop. The overstimulation is way too much that tears start to prickle your eyes. “Gimme one more Baby, just one.” He says, fingers pumping mercilessly.

Hoseok puts his fingers under your chin and turns your head towards his. His lips crash down on yours as a way to distract you and it works for a bit when he slips his tongue into your mouth and sucks on your bottom lip but then you hear Yoongi panting and grunting from the opposite side of the glass. Your pussy clenches tightly around Namjoon’s fingers at the sound. “That’s it Baby girl.” Namjoon speaks lowly, as if he’s talking more to himself than to you.

You gasps against Hoseok’s mouth as you feel a familiar warmth roll over inside you. Your mouth falls open but the sounds is caught in your throat, as your orgasms washes over you for the second time. You eyes roll back into your head for a brief second before you hear Yoongi’s voice again... “Look at me.” He growls. He selfishly wants your attention as he is also about to come undone in his hands. You force yourself to keep your eyes open, giving Yoongi the eye contact he asked for.

He grunts and groans as he cums, making sounds you are all too familiar with as you have been the cause of them many times.

Namjoon watches you ride out the rest of your orgasm, cumming all over his fingers, palm and the blanket. He smirks, seeing your arousal drip down your thighs.

You look so pretty like this, completely lost in lusts, covered in your sticky, sweet substance and flushed beyond belief.

He pulls his fingers out of you and you whimper at the loss.

“You are amazing.” Hoseok whispers in your hair, placing multiple kisses to the top of your head. He brings his hand up to wipe the sweat off your forehead. You skin feels warm under his palm. “I’m proud of you Baby girl.” You smile tiredly at Namjoon. “Did you get it Yoongs?” You ask curiously and Yoongi chuckles in the same tired manner. “Oh yea, I definitely got it,” Yoongi confirms and your smile grows a little bit wider.

“I hope you guys invite me to the studio more often.” You say after finally catching your breath. This causes your boyfriends to laugh out loud. Hoseok wraps his arms securely around you and sways side to side. “You’re always invited.” He tells you and you hum contently.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Namjoon says before popping his fingers into his mouth. He nonchalantly sucks your arousal off them while standing up to retrieve your leggings. “What about the three of you?” You say, eyes traveling to the tent in Joon’s pants. You feel bad that you hadn’t been able to touch or pleasure them the whole entire time. You wanted to return the favor.

“Oh don’t worry Kitten.” Yoongi tells you.

“We’re gonna clean up then we’re taking you back home.” There is an insanely smug look on his face, you’re not too sure how what is going on in his mind but you would certainly love to find out. “We’ll need a bed for what we want to do to you next.” He adds. Your cunt throbs again at his dirty words...

‘Oh fuck...’

1K notes · View notes

youngbloodseavey · 5 years

Text

stay golden // corbyn besson

this is my “thank you for 2k followers” post. i’d like to say thank you, because i never thought this would ever be happening when i started this blog. thank you guys for supporting me and this blog, even when i don’t post or i don’t follow through with my projects. thank you. thank you for 2k. it means the absolute world and more to me. i love each and every one of you with my entire heart and more.

request: Requests are open! Yay! I have some requests that I've been storing up just waiting for this moment. So let's say that Corbyn had this childhood friend who was also his neighbour and one day when they're like 14/15 she moves to the other side of the country and they get disconnected. She always had a crush on him and so when she finds out he's on tour like 4/5 yrs later she gets limelight tickets bc wow she doesn't think he remembers her and then they reconnect and like probably fluff who knows

i have no fuckin idea how limelight works so like bare with me kids, and also corbyn is SINGLE in this story. S I N G L E. christina is not corbyn’s girlfriend in this story so keep that in mind tHANKS

pairing: corbyn x fem!reader

triggers: none

“why do you have to leave me?” corbyn pouted at his best friend y/n, as they laid together in the grass fields by their houses.

the fifteen year-olds had been best friends since diapers, and had found out recently that y/n had to move all the way across the country from their home in virginia to california.

“corbs, i don’t want to move. i wanna stay here with you, and graduate, and live my life here in virginia. but my dad got this new fancy-ass job, and i can’t get out of moving,” y/n rolled over onto her stomach, now facing her blue-eyed best friend.

“trust me, the last thing i want to do right now is to leave,” she whispered, feeling the familiar sting of tears rush through her, and her eyes became watery.

“no, please don’t cry y/n,” corbyn rushed out, immediately sitting up and taking the girl into his arms. “if you cry then i’m gonna start crying.”

the two teenagers held each other in an embrace for what felt like an eternity, not even bothering to speak to each other. all they did was enjoy each other’s presence, because soon they wouldn’t be seeing each other for a long time.

“i love you so much corb,” the girl whispered, burying her face into corbyn’s shoulder. she took in a deep breath, inhaling the intoxicating scent that was her best friend.

“i love you too y/n.” corbyn was near tears, but was determined to not show his weakness to his best friend. he gently pressed his lips to her temple, lingering for a few seconds before he pulled away.

“y/n! let’s go!” the pair jumped apart at the sound of y/n’s parents, who were loading the car with their luggage. the rest of their stuff would come later in a u-haul.

“one second mom!” y/n yelled at her parents, who were beginning to look impatient. “hey, before i leave, i wanted to tell you something that i’ve been keeping a secret for a long time,” y/n began to start, taking corbyn’s hands in hers.

the boy’s heart began to race, as he stared into the eyes of his longtime best friend (and admittedly, his longtime crush).

“i really li-” she began, but was cut off by the honk of the car’s horn, beckoning her to go to her parents.

“i’m really gonna miss you.” a sad, tearful smile painted itself on her face. “stay golden besson, because i have no doubt that one day i’m going to see you on some big fancy billboard because you have a number one album. i know i will.” she leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, squeezing his hand in hers before running off to her parents and hopping into the car. “never stop chasing your dreams. because they’ll become a reality. don’t forget me okay?”

and with a sad smile y/n y/l/n was gone, leaving a tearful corbyn besson alone in a grassy field.

it had been four whole years since y/n had seen corbyn. after y/n left and corbyn began to seriously pursue music, it was a bumpy ride for their friendship.

and soon enough, their friendship simply didn’t exist.

it wasn’t a malicious falling out, there was no foul words or cruel gestures. there was simply just silence. and the two of them had to deal with an empty line, a static crackle of nothingness on the other side.

of course the thought of the other was always in the back of their minds, but both y/n and corbyn were far too scared to try and reconnect. what if what they had wasn’t the same as before?

so when y/n saw that a band called “why don’t we” was going on tour, she was immediately intrigued. and when she saw her blue-eyed ex-best friend on the front cover of the poster, only one question plagued her mind.

does corbyn remember me?

so in an attempt to answer that question and rid her head of the incessant nagging that had been continuous for the past four years, y/n took out her debit card and bought a limelight ticket to their los angeles show.

so that’s what brought y/n here. standing near the front of the line at the venue. it was only 3:00 and there was already a line wrapped around the block, which warmed y/n’s heart to no end.

you made it corbyn, i knew you could do it.

her stomach began to tie itself in knots as time went on, each second seeming to pass on like a minute.

y/n pulled her phone out of her back pocket, her foot tapping on the pavement as she checked the time for what seemed like the thousandth occasion. 5:00. they should be letting people in for limelight soon.

she began to scroll through her phone, managing to somehow scroll deep into her camera roll. she stopped across a photo of her and corbyn from the 9th grade, smiling wistfully at their goofy grins and wide eyes.

it was crazy to see how much had changed in four years. corbyn was now touring the world, and y/n was finishing up her first year of college.

“oh my god, you’ve met corbyn?!” y/n was shook out of her daze by an excited voice squealing from behind her, and she turned around to see a girl no older than 16. the girl was wide-eyed and excited as ever, another girl whom y/n assumed to be her friend looking equally as hyped. y/n was irked that the two girls were looking at her phone screen without her permission, but decided to mask her irritation with a smile.

“yeah,” she began, trying to think of an excuse as to how she knew corbyn. she didn’t want people to know she was corbyn’s childhood best friend, it might cause unnecessary drama. “i met him a few years back. i’ve been a fan of him since the beginning, and i’m so insanely proud of him and i want to support him in any way possible.” well, at least she wasn’t lying. the two girls nodded.

“well what’s it like to meet him? is he nice?” one of the girls asked, and y/n began to smile. childhood memories of her and corbyn began to flood her mind, causing a warm feeling to ball up in her stomach.

“he’s the sweetest person you’ll ever meet. i miss him to absolute death, and i can’t wait to see him again.” y/n almost became choked up as she spoke, memories of her and corbyn overwhelming her mind.

the girls opened their mouths to speak, but were interrupted by a man with a megaphone beginning to yell over the crowd.

“people with a limelight ticket, please come to the front of the crowd! stand in front of the entrance doors, we will be letting you in very shortly.” y/n’s pulse began to race, and she said a quick goodbye to the girls she was talking to before making her way to the big, double-door entrance.

her nerves were as high as they could be as she was let in through the doors, taking out her id for security to check and having her ticket scanned.

soon enough, y/n found herself waiting on a couch in a large room, fifty or so fans milling about the room. her stomach was in a million knots, and she began to play with her fingers as a nervous habit.

she took out her phone and began to scroll aimlessly, checking her social media in an attempt to sway the nerves from her stomach. she couldn’t even focus on the posts and tweets she was looking at, instead her head was swarming with nervousness and thoughts.

what if he doesn’t remember me? what if we don’t click like we used to? what if he hates me?

the last thought absolutely terrified y/n. she knew that they fell out, but she didn’t hold any ill feelings towards corbyn for it. hopefully he feels the same way.

“oh my god they’re here!” y/n heard the high pitched squeal of a teenage girl, followed by a flurry of screams. they’re here. this is it.

“hey guys!” she heard a deep male voice, and she traced the voice back to a tall, brown haired boy. she recognized him as jonah, who was the oldest in the band.

y/n had decided to do some studying up on the rest of the band and their music before coming, just so she didn’t look like a complete idiot. and she had to admit, they made some damn good music.

the screams soon died down, morphing into loud conversation. the band members began to mill around, speaking to fans and taking photos. the couch y/n was sitting on was in the corner farthest from the boys, which she was grateful for.

she began to formulate four years of regret and apologies into a single sentence, which proved as hard as it sounds.

y/n saw that the band began to come closer, talking to the fans and taking pictures. she was a few feet away from daniel, and she decided to push her nerves to the side and walked up to the blue-eyed boy, who was clad in a floral button down and black pants.

daniel caught y/n’s eye, and finished up his conversation with the girls he was with to approach the nervous girl.

“hey there love!” daniel’s tooth-gap was on full display, his joyful aura almost immediately soothing some of y/n’s nerves. he enveloped her into a tight hug, resting his chin on top of her head.

y/n hugged back, feeling oddly comfortable in daniel’s arms. she pulled away after a few seconds, taking in a deep breath.

“so what’s your name?” daniel asked, plopping down on the couch that y/n was previously sitting on. y/n took seat next to him sinking down into the fabric.

“y/n,” she responded, moving herself into a comfortable position.

“well that’s a gorgeous name,” daniel responded, turning his body to face y/n. “where are you from?”

“i live in los angeles now, but i used to live in fairfax, virginia.” y/n explained her heart warming at the thought of her hometown.

“fairfax? that’s where corbyn’s from!” his bright eyes widened at the realization, and y/n nodded. “did you used to know him?” y/n nodded.

“we used to be best friends actually,” y/n mumbled, feeling a sudden amount of wistfulness wash over her.

“woah wait, really? no way,” daniel looked shell shocked. y/n nodded yet again, taking out her phone and pulling up a picture of her and corbyn from their 8th grade formal. she showed the photo to daniel, whose jaw seemed to drop even more.

“i’ve known him since we were in diapers, and we were best friends until i moved to california when we were 15,” y/n explained, pulling up another picture of her and corbyn for emphasis. “after that we kinda just, lost touch i guess.” y/n shrugged, and daniel nodded.

“so is that why you’re here? to see corbyn again?” daniel asked, and y/n moved her head up and down in a nod.

“i’m terrified though, like what if we don’t connect like we used to? i don’t know, maybe i’m overthinking things but it has been four years,” y/n trailed off, her eye catching a tuft of bright blonde hair from across the room. her heart skipped a beat at even the tiniest sight of him.

daniel was silent for a few moments, and y/n could see that the boy was deep in concentration.

“let’s go say hi to him.” daniel stood up, reaching a hand out to y/n to help her stand up from the couch.

“w-what?” y/n stammered, her heart beginning to race.

“let’s go see him right now. you need to rip off the band-aid, and he needs a boost of confidence and energy. tour is taking a lot out of him, and maybe you’ll be the thing to give him that boost.” he replied, gesturing once more to signal for y/n to take his hand.

“fine.” she took his hand, standing up. “but if he doesn’t remember me, you have to get me out of there immediately okay?”

“deal.” daniel smiled, and began to walk with y/n over to where corbyn stood with a crowd of girls around him.

“i’ll distract the fans, you go talk to corbyn.” he gave her a bright, reassuring smile before sauntering over to the group of fans, sending the group into a frenzy. he walked a couple steps to the right and the girls followed him and began to talk animatedly, leaving corbyn standing alone.

y/n attempted to shake the butterflies from her stomach, but to no avail.

deep breaths, deep breaths.

she walked over to corbyn, who turned to talk to another fan. she took in another breath, before raising her hand and tapping him on the shoulder.

“hey there besson.” she breathed out, staring into the same clear blue eyes that she adored so much. the same blue eyes that were filled with tears the last time she saw him four years prior.

“y/n?” his eyes scanned your face, not believing for a second what he was seeing. was this really her? was it his best friend? the girl he was so deeply in love with for practically his entire life?

he couldn’t help himself, and scooped her into a bear hug. she wrapped her legs around his waist, burying her head into the crook of his neck. he smelled of cologne, mixed with the familiar scent of him that she remembered from oh-so long ago. he smelled like corbyn.

“i missed you so much,” she mumbled feeling tears make their way to her eyes. she clung onto him like a koala bear, savoring every millisecond of the hug as if it made up for the four years of not talking to each other, and she could tell corbyn was doing the same.

“i missed you more.” his voice shook with emotion, and he too was near tears. y/n pulled away from the hug, her legs still wrapped around his waist.

“impossible.” she smiled, locking eyes with corbyn. the bright blue orbs blazed with emotion, and she could see the tears that brimmed on his lower lash line.

she looked over corbyn’s shoulder for a second, seeing that daniel was looking at the pair with a wide smile plastered on his face. he shot her a thumbs up and she laughed, burying her face in corbyn’s shoulder once more.

after a minute or so of just enjoying each other’s presence, corbyn gently set y/n down onto the ground, his hands still placed on her waist. the smallest reminder that he was still there, he was real, he wasn’t going anywhere.

“i’m so sorry for everything,” she mumbled, the tears that pooled in her eyes beginning to fall down her face in delicate strokes. “i should’ve tried harder to make our friendship work, but i gave up.”

“it’s not your fault. half of the blame is on me too. it’s both our faults, but nothing is gonna change our mistakes from the past. what’s important is that we focus on the future. our future.” he gently cupped her face in his hands, wiping away the tears with a simple stroke of his thumb.

she smiled, placing her smaller hands over his.

oh god, i really want to kiss him.

the thought ran through her head, and she almost immediately pushed it aside.

it’s been four years since you’ve seen him y/n, don’t just go kissing your old best friend and crush in front of a bunch of his fans with cellphones in their hands.

he looked into her glittering eyes, feeling the pull that he felt towards her four years prior. it was as if nothing had changed in his heart and soul.

i’ve never wanted to kiss someone more. his heart longed for her lips on his.

he slowly began to lean in, and y/n sucked in a breath and began to weigh the options in her head.

fuck it.

she leaned in, melting into his gentle touch. y/n’s eyes fluttered shut, corbyn’s doing the same. their lips were four inches apart.

three inches.

two inches.

one inch.

“okay guys!” y/n and corbyn jumped apart, both blushing a bright crimson. they had failed to notice the crowd that had formed a circle around the pair. “sadly it’s time for us to go, but we want you all to know that we love you guys so much, and we hope you enjoy the show tonight!” jonah’s voice boomed, sending a smirk in corbyn’s direction.

“i-i guess i have to get going now,” corbyn mumbled, his hand going to rub the back of his neck.

“yeah, you probably should,” y/n began to fiddle around with her fingers, rocking back and forth gently on her heels.

“i hope you enjoy the show, i’ll see you after? i can send someone out to come find you, so you can come backstage if you want?” he proposed, and y/n’s heart set alight.

“i’d love that,” she smiled shyly at the blonde boy. “break a leg besson.”

“see you later y/l/n.” he paused for a beat. “i hope i make you proud.” he bent down and pressed a soft kiss on her cheek, the spot where his lips touched tingling after he pulled away.

he shot her another heart-melting smiled before walking away, a bounce in his step.

i have no doubt that you’ll make me the proudest i’ve ever been when i see you up there corbyn. i always knew you’d make it.

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cleverbroadwayurl · 5 years

Text

It Only Takes a Taste (Jeremy Heere x Reader Pt. 22)

Song: It Only Takes a Taste from Waitress

Word Count: 6316

Need to Catch Up? The links are weird on this site! Check my masterlist!

A/N: Oh my god I’m not sure how I did it, but I promised it and here it is! I know that there’s been a lack of content lately, and I’m trying to fix that while making a living for myself and wow it’s getting to be a lot! But I will keep working at it and trying because I know when writing gets posted, others are more inclined to create as well! So here’s part 22!! Credit to: MJ!!

Taglist: @retrogarden @be-more-heidi-hansen @scarsonthecuffsofyourjeans @bluhimaweirdo @catatonic-kuragin @stargirl-murphy @dee-writes-fics @macbookpro-hard-drive (I thought I’d tag u bc this fic was literally like your idea)

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of an abusive ex-boyfriend, mentions of intimacy. mentions of fear of intimacy, implied trauma, mentions of trauma, self-depreciation, mentions of the SQUIP, mentions of The Play, mentions of previous fic parts, IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW

Jeremy nods, and stutters out a quick “okay” before you practically vanish before his eyes. Everything and everyone around him was almost static, as if you hadn’t been there at all. But the tingly feeling in Jeremy’s heart and hands said different. It was something different within him. It was the first time he’d left and had some kind of security when thinking about you. Everything almost worked out, was almost perfect, and it was like….god he didn’t even know. You trusted him. You were okay. And in a solid night, he had gotten everything he’d wished so hard for—and he wouldn’t trade that for the entire world.

The Heere household hadn’t been so clean in years. Jeremy’s mom was the last person to really get it sparkling, until this very second, in which Jeremy was counting plates, blankets, amount of food, sodas, waters, amongst other things that had been perfectly laid about for an arrival that had been planned days in advance. Of course, you’d seen the Heere household in its usual somewhat cluttered glory before, but this was different, this was new, this was planned.

But it wasn’t a date…or was it? Jeremy stood for a second and stared at an old painting that had been there as long as he could remember. Was this a date? It was a planned interaction between the two of you, you coming over in what, 20 minutes or so? And yet, there was that same lingering feeling in the air, like you were still off limits like this was just the typical friend thing that he and Michael did. You were just coming over to play games…but then again, that could be counted as a date. He’d heard of other people doing that, but he also heard that there was sometimes no romance to it. Of course, he had Google searched it because his gut was just as unsure as to the logic. He knew that you wanted to be there. You’d texted him first, he brought up the idea of game night, you liked it, said you’d come over in a few days, now minutes, and he was still confused about the entire event. But, instead of pushing romance onto you, Jeremy made a definitive decision that this was a friend date. Yeah, just a friend thing. The last thing Jeremy would ever want to do was make you feel pressured into something you weren’t ready for. He assumed you’d seen that so many times before, and he wanted to be a source of comfort, a source of happiness. He just wanted to make you safe.

The ring of the doorbell catches him off guard, and he runs to answer it, the small window not being completely transparent to display who was really out there. He really hoped it was you and not a religious group asking if he had thought about Christianity that day. With a flick of the lock, and a twist of his wrist, the door was opened, and there you stood, almost basking in the light radiating from the house.

You’d mentioned you would be wearing something comfortable because it wasn’t worth it to play games in jeans—Jeremy agreed, of course, meaning he was in his own sweatpants and t-shirt—but even though you stood in pretty much the same attire, Jeremy couldn’t help but feel underdressed. For the first time ever, you stood on Jeremy’s doorstep, a genuine smile on your face, shoulders tall, and no fear emitted from you. It was the first time Jeremy had seen you healthy in front of him, your cheeks a normal color and your eyes as bright as Jeremy could ever only imagine them. Seeing them in real life felt like a fantasy of some kind. Nervousness creeps its way into your features and Jeremy suddenly realizes he’s been staring at you for like two minutes straight, oh my god, he has to say something otherwise it’ll get more awkward.

But why were you nervous? You should not be the one who’s nervous. You were a good person, even though Jeremy had seen the slander that had happened against you on social media less than recently. But you knew Jeremy, and Jeremy knew you. Meaning all of that stuff that was said Jeremy knew was only conjecture. He knew that it was lies and attempts to get people onto your ex-boyfriend’s side. Some believed him, Jeremy was sure, but your reputation only got stronger with Jeremy. He saw it as you being so successful while the things you left behind put up a fight before dying. It was a triumph. Your nerves became more and more apparent, and Jeremy began to mirror that, his own hands beginning to sweat because oh my god he definitely didn’t say anything like he was supposed to.

“Sorry I’m late, I had to change after work, and they kept me late so uhh…” you began hands fidgeting with the edge of your sweatshirt. Your eyes darted downwards, and Jeremy resented himself for making you revert to old habits.

“Oh! It’s fine, actually, uhh the food was uhh late and it’s totally okay,” Jeremy rushed out.

You giggle at him as he opens the door and lets you inside. He knows you’ve seen his house before, but you still stop to take it all in. It’s different. It’s new for both of you, but good. There’s something in the air as Jeremy stares; your eyes following the structure of his living room before they finally land back on him. He blushes and turns his eyes towards the ground, cheeks and ears getting hot. Jeremy can feel every little droplet of sweat…god it feels like he’s going through middle school again, a smile on your adorable face as he does so. He fidgets with the hem of his shirt before he asks if you just want to head down into the basement. You smile and nod, heading towards the door and down the stairs as Jeremy grabs a pizza and some water. Jeremy can feel the smile on his face grow as he carefully steps down the stairs and into the already-lit basement.

Jeremy sets the pizza down in front of the TV and beanbags, far enough away where both of you have leg room, but not so far that the pizza is unreachable. You sit on one end of the room, while Jeremy sits on the other; beanbags having so much space between them, Michael could probably take a nap in the space. But it feels right. For some reason, space seems to be a requirement before continuing with the night. There’s no pressure to touch, there’s no pressure of accidents, and for some reason, it feels like a decision that needed to be made, and was, mutually.

Eyeing up his own game collection, Jeremy turns to you, realizing that you’d been watching him, almost as he’d been watching you. “What did you want to start with?”

“It’s up to you” comes your response, corners of your mouth turning upwards. Jeremy can feel his heart beating faster at that, along with the fact that you were admiring—no—observing him from a distance. Your eyes glistened in the dimmed lights, almost brighter than any afternoon summer sun. He hadn’t seen that ever, even when he’d first started noticing you. It had always been slightly dimmer. But this? This freedom, this happiness? Was something Jeremy was so glad he had the opportunity to witness in his—friend.

It’s only now that Jeremy realizes that you had just cast the decision of what to do onto him. His mind raced with options, none of them being worthy of your time, especially since you hadn’t shown a preference and you were the guest, so this would be a tough choice. He wanted something fair, something that both of you could get into, even if that meant he would have to sacrifice winning. Maybe winning wasn’t important with you around. Jeremy decided that as long as you two were comfortable and having fun, anything would be fine. That’s probably why you put the decision onto his shoulders. Jeremy could recall you mentioning something about Mario Kart before, and he thought that was a safe choice, even though he wasn’t the best at it, to say the least. Michael would drag that into a melodrama about just how terrible Jeremy was at Mario Kart, but it was something that was current common ground between you and the nervous boy. He moves slowly, almost like the rules that had been distinguished in that basement so many months ago were still significant. He finds the cartridge and puts it into his switch before turning on the system. He takes a glance backward, almost checking to see if everything is okay with you, and he watches as you observe the screen, biting your lip as you do so. It isn’t a soft biting of the lip, it’s almost like you’re nervous, like that’s a way to take the stress out of the situation. Maybe the rules were still significant. You two were alone in the house, basement door closed with heavy and steep stairs leading to an exit. Maybe that was scary. Maybe that was nerve-wracking.

But instead of dwelling on trying to decide what would ease you, it was almost like he knew that actions would soothe that more than anything. He grabs the attachments for the joycons, allowing both of you to play instead of just one player. He held out them in front of you, blue and red controllers both set up for playing. The title music played softly as he wordlessly smiled and gestured to pick whichever one you wanted. And that was a true no preference choice he’d laid out in front of you. Left or right, red or blue, Jeremy didn’t care as long as you were comfortable. The weight of the choice brings your face down, the glisten in your eyes dims, and your hand gently grabs the red one as Jeremy’s other hand grasps the blue one. Your expression doesn’t change as you gingerly hold the joycon and get your hands in place for playing. Your nerves hit Jeremy hard, but he was glad you managed to choose the one controller you wanted.

Jeremy had ended up with the blue one, the left-handed one, but he didn’t mind. You were sitting, observing the controller before he hit start. And finally, things started to ease within the room.

With a few quick button presses, the multiplayer menu is displayed, more choices set in front of both of you. He looks at you again, seeing which one looks like the best option. But your eyes are almost stuck on the cursor on the screen. It’s almost like you’re scared of what is going to be picked. He brushes the thought aside and gives you a choice once again. His own preferences for what he wants to do are out of the door. Even as just friends, Jeremy’s priority is providing a comfortable place to just relax for a second. That’s how he and Michael had managed to become friends without filters. Michael wanted to battle in Mario Kart?? He’d say it, loudly, and usually compromising with later rounds. Jeremy was able to do the same, friendly arguments are healthy. They make sense. You’re allowed to disagree with the people around you. But then again, maybe you weren’t scared of the choice, but rather really wanted to do a particular type. Just to be sure, he somehow verbalized his concerns: “Is there a type you wanted to do? Grand Prix? Just races? Or Battle?”

“Any of them is fine with me,” your smile almost seems forced, like something is keeping you on edge. The very last thing Jeremy wants to do is make you uncomfortable, but this seems like it’s something bigger than him.

“Okay. I know I’m still working through 100cc, so did you just want to help me out with that?” Jeremy asks, hands becoming sweatier as he asks.

“Sure!” You smile at him again, more genuinely this time. He can see the ease drip into your posture, You bat your eyes towards the ground, before gripping your controller.

He selects Grand Prix before looking to you once again as your eyes concentrate on each cup like they were an intensely written sensation novel instead of just simple “Fun English” chosen by game writers. “Is there a cup you like that I haven’t completed?”

“Uhh kinda weird and retro, but Shell cup,” you say, eyeing up the courses, light coming back in as you do so.

“Shell cup it is.”

As the cup begins, your smile gets wide and you ease into the bean bag a little further. Your hands grip the controller as you get ready to race. It doesn’t even take a look for Jeremy to realize that you’ve relaxed, and he does the same. It’s a friendly game, both of you not worried about winning or losing in the present moment, just having some fun as friends. As the course is showcased on the screen, you two share a smile, followed by a chuckle, and the race beginning.

“I love Moo Moo Meadows,” you blurt out, red grazing your cheeks, like it was a fact that was embarrassing.

“Oh no way, me too!”

And that was the truth. He almost always saved Shell Cup for the last because of Moo Moo Meadows. One lap goes by, and then another. It feels too fast, like the Game Theory episode suggests. Racers, according to the episode, go anywhere from 120-200 miles per hour, just like Jeremy’s heart at this moment. He glances at your face as you steal the lead, your concentration just as heartwarmingly adorable as it had been in senior government. But this had more heart, more passion, it felt like something more beautiful and purely stemmed from something good rather than a dumb group activity. He notices your body tilted with the kart as your character on screen turns and drifts, the sparks around the tires turning from orange to blue. Your thumb flicks and the kart straightens out, giving yourself such a lead that Jeremy swears he’s never witnessed, even when playing with Michael.

His eyes turn back to the screen, and he’s doing somewhat well. Except not really, since his character is in 10th and bound to hit a wall at some point. You’re onto lap 3, and Jeremy is a little over halfway through with lap 2, but it doesn’t matter. He’s just happy that you’re having fun and helping him get that cool trophy, even though for his favorite track, he was doing rather terribly. He glances again at your screen, and you’re still in first with an even better lead, and he’s sure that not even a blue shell could make you place second. Jeremy makes a note to not look at your screen anymore, that it’s causing him to lose places every time he does it. He speeds up, and finally finishes 4th, which isn’t too bad for his favorite track and for messing up so badly halfway through.

The cup flies by faster than Moo Moo Meadows ever did, but Jeremy’s heart kept the pace. The scores are predictable, you did mention that you were rather good at Mario Kart. You’re in first while Jeremy’s keeping fifth. But for the first time ever, he doesn’t care. Frustration doesn’t come with fifth, it’s rather warmth and grace. There isn’t taunting like there usually is with Michael, instead, he gets you stating “keeping a place like fifth is so difficult, I’m impressed. First is easy once you get there.”

As soon as the cup finishes and the final scores are displayed, you earning a three-star ranking, a sticker, and a perfect first, Jeremy still keeps his average at fifth. He usually gets fifth or sixth. First or fourth, maybe, on a good day. But instead of saying something sweet or even a “good game”, your face pales, eyes stuck once again on the screen. Your elbows are practically digging into your body, hands gripping the controller so hard that he can practically see your knuckles turning blue. There was something so familiar about this behavior, the way your shoulders shot up in discomfort, the way your razor sharp focus was unforgiving and isolating, and the way you held everything you had.

“Wow,” Jeremy said, breaking the silence, and hopefully the tension that kept itself locked in your body, “you’re really good at Mario Kart.” You just nodded in response, nothing else moving but the slight movement.

Jeremy’s mind raced faster than it had in a long time. Did he do something wrong? What happened? In that short amount of time, his mind tried to recall every little thing he’d said, every movement, every detail that had been placed in front of him, no matter how small. Did he accidentally move closer to you? Did you catch him staring like a creep? He didn’t remember accidentally bumping into you or touching you without consent in any way, shape, or form, besides maybe brushing hands when you’d grabbed the controller from his hand. But that was before the Moo Moo Meadows conversation when you’d seemed to relax so much. And if he had accidentally brushed you or something, he’d immediately apologize for that. He couldn’t remember anything that had happened over the course of the four races. But then again, your perceptions were different than his. His mind might forget something but yours might keep it locked away forever. And leaving it silent was worse than just asking, apologizing, and getting it resolved, rather than keeping it in the open air, where it could really hurt you.

“I’m sorry if I uhh, made you uncomfortable or anything.” Your eyes met his and he swore they pierced his soul. “That wasn’t my intention, if I did.”

“What?” you asked, confusion now flooding into your face. After a breath, you started again: “Jeremy, you didn’t make me uncomfortable. I just uhh, I guess I like forgot something while we were playing. Just remembered it now. That’s all.”

“Oh.” Jeremy paused, unsure of what you were referencing. He was near positive it wasn’t a good memory. Something told him to speak up again, just to say something to fill the silence that surrounded the room. “Is there anything I can—”

“N-No, it’s fine. Do you want to race again, or maybe do something else? It’s up to you,” your eyes lost his and refocused on something else.

It was now that Jeremy realized that you didn’t move. You hadn’t moved. Usually, there was some shifting for comfort while playing a game and relaxing. But it had been several minutes, and there was no movement from you. It was like your body was a statue, rusted to the bean bag, unable to be moved. Something was very wrong. But if you didn’t want to discuss it right now, or frankly, ever, that was okay. And Jeremy accepted that.

He decided that maybe Mario Kart wasn’t the best idea, especially since he was so bad at it. And if him losing every race seem to only make the tension in the room swell, maybe it was good to just let the game go and choose something else; for both of your sakes. Of course, when it came to picking games that were fair for both of you, meaning probably no first-person shooters from middle school or anything, he decided to choose the great equalizer of all party games. Although it was a bad idea to pull it out, Jeremy thought that the best thing to do was switch over to a less popular part of one of the Nintendo franchises: Mario Party.

Of course, Friendship Ruiner 8000, as Michael liked to call it, included motion controls, which Jeremy was again, not good at. But he figured their janky-ness would even out the skill sets and make it more of a fair fight, even though Jeremy was sure he would be too caught up in you to actually play the game to his best ability. But trying was worth it. You were worth it.

“Do you want to maybe play Mario Party 8? It’s the only Mario Party I have, but I figure that the motion controls are so bad, it would be fun to just kinda laugh at,” Jeremy asked, his eyes flicking towards you. He was telling the truth about the motion controls. Yes, sometimes the controllers stop registering movement. It’s just frustrating for games like Skyward Sword but infinitely funny for games like Mario Party 8 or Wii Sports.

At last, your entire body shifted, like your soul was coming back into view, like everything had just been worked out, no strings attached. “Jeremy,” you started, a smile forming on your lips, “you trust me enough to be friends with me at the end of a Mario Party game?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow,” you stopped for a second before a full smile broke out on your face, even though discomfort still seemed to be at the forefront. A red crept into your face as you continued with your thought: “you must really think I’m a good person or something.”

“Well yeah,” Jeremy blushed in return before he rushed to change the game and console.

“Now it’s been a little bit since I’ve played Mario Party 8, so I’m warning you now, 2v2 games are going to be rough with me,” you said, hands pulling your sleeves down a little bit.

“That’s fine,” he reassured, “motion controls are weird anyway.”

You gave a chuckle as you continued sitting, getting more comfortable within the bean bag chair. “True.”

The game quickly started and both of you were met with less than ideal graphics—when did the Wii get such a pixelated screen?—and the odd mascot appeared before the two of you. His weird laugh came through the speakers, and more choices appeared on every screen. But suddenly, choices became easy. The type was of course 4 player, two being you, two being computers, 15 turns—to make it interesting, and any course except the city one that’s somehow a ripped off version of Monopoly. Finally, the character selection screen appeared, and Jeremy waited for you to pick your favorite original Mario character, just so he wouldn’t take something that would be claimed as rightfully yours, for the game, at least. Once you were done selecting, Jeremy picked his favorite franchise character, one that is overlooked by many people, specifically men. Jeremy Heere chose Princess Peach.

“Peach?” you asked, eyeing him.

Jeremy’s skin went aflame, he could feel the familiar tingling from his toes to his ears. His mind raced for justification, a quick answer, a solution, for why he chose Princess Peach. But you surprisingly beat him to it.

“She’s cool, Jeremy, I’m just surprised. Maybe I should’ve picked Mario or something.”

At the small comment and remark of romantic tension that was still lingering in the room, Jeremy turned every little bit redder and he swore that his heart skipped a beat. Was that you…flirting? With him? Jeremy had never seen that before, especially from you, and especially since you’d been strictly off-limits for so long. Maybe it was playful. It was a joke. It was something that he shouldn’t dwell on. You probably weren’t dwelling on it.

Somehow, the next few decisions happen, and Jeremy is able to form coherent enough sentences to vouch for the computers to be on Hard Mode, just to even the playing field between skill levels.

The game starts immediately, both computers pulling ahead and already placing traps on spaces that are supposed to be +3 coins. Both computers get an added 3 coins, for landing on the space, and both you and Jeremy make fun of the randomized way that both AI are playing the game.

The beginning of the game quickly switches to halfway through, and by now you’ve moved closer to Jeremy, bumping each other periodically, so far behind the computers it’s almost laughable. Each minigame is spent in a fit of laughter as both of you are clearly doing what the instructions are telling you to do, but the motion controls aren’t picking it up. It’s sweet, fun, and most importantly, relaxed. The now somewhat-cold-pizza is starting to be eaten, neither of you cares about how it tastes, but rather, what the moment means.

When the game finishes, Jeremy maintains a steady third, with you in second thanks to the bonus stars that are given out after the game is finished. Although both of you felt that you really didn’t do anything special, it was almost like the game took pity on you, and chose to give both of the actual players some bonus stars.

But between the two of you, the places don’t matter. It was fun to just play an interesting game with one another, despite the casual reputation it has among other groups. Each turn out of the 15 was exciting, fun, and laughable, considering how bad you two were doing. Instead of being put against each other, the two of you had an alliance; a method of teambuilding that couldn’t be fabricated by anyone. This was something special, and there was almost a bond formed that game, something that wouldn’t be easily forgotten or erased. And the room now had comfort practically written on the walls. Of course, it was a comfort with each other. The physical, more touchy, comfort wasn’t present in the room. There was still space between you two, and something still felt right about that. Maybe it was Jeremy’s mind consistently telling him to lay off on certain kinds of affection, especially since you two probably weren’t dating, and to keep his space.

The pizza was nearly gone, a final slice just sitting in the box, neither one wanting to touch it. The excitement of the game before had exited, and leaving in its place easy silence and exhaustion. It was late, and while Jeremy definitely wanted you to stay at his house for as long as you could, it was your choice to leave. He might be bummed out for a few seconds, but then would be honestly grateful for the time he got to spend with you, which was worth much more than feeling sorry for himself in his basement like usual. So he decided to leave an ambiguous question out of the equation of the night and instead decided on suggesting to watch a movie. It wouldn’t take much effort, and leaving halfway through would never be a crime, especially since Jeremy was not the person who wanted to take away that freedom. “Hey, do you maybe want to watch a movie? If you have to go, that’s fine too, but I thought I’d ask, like, just in case you didn’t or something.”

“Sure, Jeremy. That sounds nice after Toad totally kicking our asses.”

Jeremy let out a small chuckle before he flipped off the Wii and changed to the PS4. After cycling through the apps on the menu, he found Netflix and booted it up, the classic Netflix noise making its way into the basement. You sat back on the beanbag as the noise rang out, taking a more relaxed posture than you had the entire night. Although you seemed to be a little more at peace, Jeremy’s mind kept crawling back to the same thought: what even was tonight? The Mario and Peach comment made it seem like a date, but you two had never dated or established dating before, and the beginning of the night seemed only friendly. But now it felt so…date like. And of course, it wouldn’t be any date, no, this was the first date. First dates were uncomfortable, awkward, and kind of hard to swallow. They made even the most confident people cringe. They almost take the appearance of an interview for the rest of the relationship. And Jeremy didn’t want that. He’d rather keep the feeling in the room going and choosing something that wouldn’t make either of you uncomfortable. So he had to narrow his search: nothing with a sex scene or domestic violence of any kind. It would be too hard on you, he assumed, and it would crush him to make you upset on your possibly first date.

“First date?” you inquired, eyes scanning him.

Jeremy jumps up and nearly throws the controller, not realizing that his thoughts had been muttered aloud to the person sitting next to him. “Y-Yeah, because I thought well, the Mario and Peach comment, and I—”

“Jeremy,” you chuckle, smile breaking through and remaining. You finally make eye contact with him and Jeremy can feel the fear creeping up into his features. Wrong move, dumbass. “This isn’t our first date—” shit shit SHIT “—It’s like our fourth.”

For a second the world stops turning and Jeremy can feel his brain reeling back. How the heck was this a fourth date? Those other times he’d spent with you weren’t dates, were they? What counted, what didn’t count, what was in between? How did he miss something as big as this??? He didn’t really want to imply romance, even back in the moments, but this still felt like—

“Our first date I think I count as the time I came over here, even though that was a pretty bad circumstance. Our second was making breakfast, which again, bad circumstance, but still kind of a date. Our third was like four days ago, which, dancing together seems pretty romantically inclined, you know?”

Jeremy can only nod. He does know. He just didn’t think you had wanted—and still wanted—to date him. He’s been overthinking every interaction for over a year, each moment, each sleight of hand, everything that had happened before this very second. But for some reason, you explaining it like this, everything felt like it locked into place. The pieces are there, he just needed reassurance to fit them together.

“Therefore, fourth date,” you gesture around you, and Jeremy suddenly realizes that this was a date. The games, the lighting, the way you made jokes, the discomfort that had now morphed into comfortable bliss, it all felt like a date to him, and he had just wanted to respect your space.

“If that’s okay with you, of course,” you mentioned, hands quickly playing with your sleeves again, eyes darting downwards as if you’d done something wrong and made a terrible mistake. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, and I wasn’t going to if you weren’t thinking it but like you just said—”

“No, I agree with you. Completely. I’m just surprised I didn’t like…come up with it sooner.”

A small smile reappears on your face. “You’re valid, Jeremy.”

Instead of a movie, both of you settle on a light TV show, not really getting into the plot, but rather just relaxing in the dim light of the basement. With no one around, it feels like a lost peace that was recently found, like it was a treasure that couldn’t be seen by anyone else. The first episode ends quickly, another one just starting to play as the silence continues. There’s no awkwardness, no commitment, no extra things to be wary about and nothing that needed to be said. For that first episode or so, things felt like they were supposed to feel. Warm, simple, easy.

A thought occurred to Jeremy as the silence continued: he should be closer to you. This is a date, right? Did you want to hold hands or something? Did you want to be closer, and just didn’t know how to request things? Should he just go for it? No. A quick glance at you told him no. Your eyes were on the screen, captured by the show. Your eyes didn’t even match his for a second, meaning you were comfortable where you were and didn’t want, or frankly need, anything extra. Jeremy just being there was enough. His eyes refocused back onto the screen, getting into the show once more before your voice broke the silence between you two, and the quiet murmur of the show.

“Can I talk to you about something?” you ask, hands still fidgeting as you face him.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Because like, we’ve established this like relationship thing, I just…I wasn’t open in my last relationship, which was my fault and a major mistake.”

Jeremy held his breath but didn’t say anything. How could he? He didn’t know about what happened behind closed doors, wasn’t sure about the things that were said to you. In his mind, you didn’t get the chance to express your feelings or be open. You didn’t have the opportunity to have a good relationship, except maybe in the first little bit. But what did he know besides what you told him? How could even attempt to argue with you on something he legitimately knew nothing about? He wasn’t. At last, Jeremy nods, almost asking you to continue your thought.

“I, uhh, god where do I even start with this?” you breathe deeply before continuing, the breath shaky and uneven. “Jeremy, I can’t…do things yet. I can’t—I’m not—Fuck—I am so—” you took another breath—“I can’t be normal. I just…I can’t like…I have a really hard time with intimacy and romance and I just…I can’t even do simple things like hold your hand—not that you’re gross oh my god I’m so sorry that’s how it sounded—but like…my brain and body won’t let me do that for some reason. I don’t know what’s wrong, I’m so sorry, but I just…can’t be normal. I can’t fall asleep around you, I can’t hold your hand, I can’t be a good partner yet. I know you probably want to do that, and I just wanted to bring it up so you aren’t hurt or confused or something because I can’t do it. I just…I have baggage, Jeremy.”

Jeremy can hear tears starting to form, your voice thick. He knows what it means. He knows that you’re hurt, you’ve been hurt, and he knows that what your “not normal” is probably self-blame and trauma from what he could only catch glimpses of before. And while you’re here saying it’s your fault, Jeremy recognizes that it’s not yours, it could never be, but a particular someone’s, who should remain nameless.

“I know we’ve kissed before, but if we could just…hold off on that please for a little while, that would uhh, be great. And it’s a dumb thing to ask, and I’m sorry I have to ask it, and I know it’s a dumb me-thing, and—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jeremy turned towards you and paused the show as you take in a large breath and prepare for what he’s going to say. But he knows that this is something that’s hard to put into words, hard to handle. He knows this feeling, and he knows what should come after it. “It’s okay. We can wait. We can wait on everything for as long as it takes for you to feel comfortable. I understand that it’s hard, I mean, after the play junior year, I kind of had similar boundaries. But I dated someone who gave me patience. I’ve been forever grateful for that, so I want to do the same for you. You deserve that patience and to be comfortable in your own skin.”

“I—” you started, mouth open, eyes frantically blinking, “Thank you. I mean…wow, I really just…wasn’t expecting that at all.”

“You’re welcome.” Jeremy smiles and lets you have some time to take care of yourself, to calm down and really come back to reality a little bit. He offers his hand out if you want to grab it, but if not, he’s not hurt by it. He knows that sometimes you need physical space as well as emotional space, and wouldn’t be offended if you chose not to grab it.

“Can I ask you something weird?” the question drops into the room harder than a weight being dropped.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Can we like…can we just like function on consent for a little bit? Like we ask before just…touching, even if it’s something small, and can we uhh ask for consent for like kissing and stuff? It’s a weird and tiring request, I know, but…”

“Of course we can.”

“Thank you.”

Jeremy shakes his head before continuing the conversation. “You don’t need to thank me, they’re your boundaries and I want to respect them.”

A tear rolls down your cheek, and Jeremy’s eyes catch it, but doesn’t move to wipe it away. That would be cruel after what he’d just been told, and it feels like every night before is flooding back to him. Touching you before required consent. This was the same thing, the same circumstances, the same hurt. It was different, though. This was him having this conversation with you, this was the fear that he’d break them like they’d been thousands of times before. This was to prevent extra breakdowns that didn’t need to happen and to keep you safe, as much as he wanted to do that while you were in his arms. He’d rather not imprison you during the relationship. He’d rather let you roam free as the birds flying above.

“You have no idea what that means to me,” is finally whimpered out.

Neither of you touch one another, and Jeremy’s hand is discarded. You two finish another two episodes before you gather up your stuff and head up the stairs. Upon request, Jeremy doesn’t touch you. He doesn’t try. He doesn’t ask for consent, because something told him to let you have your space tonight: over text, spatially, over social media, and in any other capacity. You thank him for the night, with promises to text him the next morning, before leaving and heading out to the car that Jeremy’s dad knew too well. No kisses, no touching, but confusion about the Mario Kart incident before still unsolved. But that was another boundary he wanted you to have space on.

You had been wronged before, you’d been confused, cheated out of a life that was set for you that was supposed to be happy. Your ex-boyfriend had done wrong. Jeremy wanted to do it right.

#Jeremy Heere x reader #jeremy heere imagine #bmc x reader #bmc imagine #be more chill x reader #be more chill imagine #bmc self insert #be more chill self insert #Jeremy Heere self insert

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