#im not good enough at ultra hand to do things quickly so im standing over the rockets for 15 seconds moving it around and then getting hit

[werewolfcandy]

people are out here building vicious attack drones in totk to kill monsters for them meanwhile im here in the depths getting my ass kicked by Master Kogha because i am too dense to figure out the supplies around the arena that are there for my use before he nails me with a bomb from his stupid little airplane

[no-droids]

Dove

Part 2 of 2 of The Locked Door Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 19.7K i apologize for NOTHING

Warnings: DUBCON ELEMENTS, SMUUUUUUT, religion kink, virgin kink, authority kink, degradation kink, praise kink, age gap, ohhhhh the list goes on y’all been here long enough

A/N: I have nothing to say for myself this time im sorry

***

Obi-Wan feels like he’s going to be sick.

Dinner in the grand hall was difficult enough, forking down mouthfuls of expensive food he’s sure was absolutely marvelous, if he could’ve tasted it.  The s’Ziscari clearly splurged on the celebrations—expensive food, expensive decor, expensive everything, down to the silk napkin he studied and fiddled with under the table as he awkwardly waited for you to finish your plate.

He felt uncomfortable, absolutely.  He’s felt uncomfortable ever since he shuffled into this blasted, Maker forsaken robe not long after he left your quarters earlier.

Not black, no.  Not like yours.  Not like what appears to be an overwhelmingly vast majority of the people he’s encountered so far this dreadful evening.

No, his robes are blue.

A strong, eye-catching royal blue, covering his body in waves of fabric—softer than anything he’s ever worn before and leaving him feeling incredibly exposed.  The far more practical robes he traded for these atrocious garments are made of a thick, scratchy wool, a testament to the Jedi’s philosophical rejection of fine or expensive materials.  And, against all logic—to somehow make matters even worse, the sash tying this uncomfortable piece of attire closed has no place to clip his saber, unlike the leather belt he usually wears.  As a consequence, he’s left simply carrying it around by his side.

Granted, for some unknown reason, his robes are still far thicker and longer and more protective than the… stars, the ultra-thin black silk wrapped around your body, but Obi-Wan is so self-conscious about his appearance that he’s not even allowing himself to look at you.  Obviously that doesn’t stop him from refusing to leave your side the entire night, and he finds himself rather grateful that only a very few number of s’Ziscari are fluent in Basic, if only to provide him with a valid excuse to socially detach.

Of the very few people he’s noticed wearing robes resembling his, they’re all far younger than him—much closer to your age than Obi-Wan’s, and stars, everything about this celebration is unbelievably unnerving to him—including, if not most of all, your response to it.  One of the reasons he knows the food was grand, apart from the immaculate plating and lavish dinnerware of course, is because you momentarily excused yourself from the seat next to him to dish yourself out a second helping.

Even now, even in the skybox seats of this distressingly packed arena, Obi-Wan struggles to keep down what little food he could eat while you stand tall next to him and seem completely unbothered by the situation—and by the Maker, it bothers him.  He isn’t used to this.  He’s used to you being the emotionally turbulent one, the one whom he has to pacify, and it twists his stomach with the way the roles have suddenly found themselves reversed.

“I think the blue looks nice, by the way,” you lean sideways to mention casually to him, and he knows.  He knows you’re just jesting, just trying to lighten the mood, but he feels the bile rising up his throat at the fact that you even commented on it aloud.  “Fitting.  Matches your saber.  Your face, though.”  The smallest hint of a smile tugs at your cheeks.  “It’s beginning to match the color of mine.”

“Thank you for that, young one; your sense of humor is positively delightful,” Obi-Wan gripes, clutching the metal hilt tightly in front of him with both hands while he gazes out at the stadium before him, bustling with black hooded figures and a rare flash of blue.  It does not escape his notice that in complete contrast, your arms are loosely meeting behind your back, your saber dangling in one hand while the other lazily holds your wrist.  Your body is… open.  Draped in garments somehow equally as opaque as they are revealing, presented to the wide panoramic view of the audience and stage with no qualms whatsoever.

“Wonder who I got it from,” you ponder with a tilt of your head, and… fair point.  “How long is this thing supposed to last anyways?”

“Stars—‘this thing’ can’t get over with soon enough,” Obi-Wan grumbles, his eyes anxiously flicking down at the empty stage in the center of the audience.  He’s struggling with butterflies and nausea like he himself is meant to have a starring role in this debauchery.  “They’ll have… acts.  Plural.”

“Heavens,” you sigh under your breath, and oh yes.  He agrees.

He’s also painfully aware that he should be using this free time to continue contemplating his decision about… matters concerning later this evening with you, but he’s already feeling massively overwhelmed as it is.  Right now, it’s all he can do to just breathe and attempt to face one trial at a time.

But then, as if the Maker is feeling just particularly malicious this evening, Obi-Wan’s stomach drops when something quiet flashes in the Force and the roar of the enormous crowd instantly falls to dead silence.  The ominous sign rockets through him and while a Jedi should not know fear, this might be the closest he’s ever felt to truly terrified.

“Ooh, dramatic,” you whisper, but regardless of your laissez-faire attitude, his heart is positively pounding as he watches the figures of robed Force sensitives slowly file out onto the stage, and everything inside him lurches at the realization that—

They’re all wearing blue.  Every single one of them is clothed in fabric that matches his current attire, the one that made him feel like a blot on the landscape the entire dinner and subsequent mass pilgrimage to the arena.  A bright splash of color in the midst of an almost inescapably giant ring of black.

You’ve stopped talking.  Truly, he has no idea if that’s a good or bad thing, not right now.  The Force sensitives join hands and create a ring in the center of the stage while every single person in the arena sits in perfect silence, and Obi-Wan feels dizzy.  He’s not getting enough air right now, but he doesn’t even want to breathe too loudly and somehow draw even more attention to himself.

Two of the blue robes break off from their fellow acolytes and meet in the middle of the circle, and to simply avoid having a heart attack, Obi-Wan very purposefully chooses to ignore—like he’s done multiple times this evening—the subtle flicker of curiosity he experiences at the significance of the color blue and what it symbolizes to the s’Ziscari.  He can’t even bear to watch the way the two of them slowly lean in and allow their lips to touch from under their hoods.

Maker, if he turned his saber on and stabbed himself with it, could he convince you it was an accident?  Probably not—no, definitely not, what a stupid thought to have—

“How does she wipe?”  He hears your voice whisper, and Obi-Wan’s facial expression immediately screws up in confusion.

He turns to you, his tone equally hushed but the bewilderment sharpening his consonants.  “How does who what—?”

Only—you’re not even looking at the scene unfolding in front of you.  Your expression is just as confused as his is, but instead of looking down, your chin is lifted and you’re staring directly across the arena at the viewing booth opposite to yours.  He still has no idea what you’re talking about though, not until he follows your line of sight and sees the way s’Zerthia has her jaw propped up in her hands on her throne, looking bored as usual, and how the length of her newly manicured fingernails curves halfway up her scalp from this angle.

“That’s dangerous,” you remark quietly.  “They’re like talons.  Gaudy little weapons she always has attached to her that she decorates, makes them seem less vicious than they actually are.  I see them.  I certainly don’t envy whoever she picks tonight to—”

You cut yourself off with a bit lip smile and turn your face away from him, and Obi-Wan is almost mystified by how casual you’re able to be about this. 

“Whomever she picks to…?”  He trails off with a sigh.  “Do I… Do I want to know?”

“Never mind,” you tell him quickly, lifting your chin once more while still clearly trying not to laugh.  You’re trying not to laugh, while… while that is happening in the center of the audience.  “It was, uh… tasteless.”

He blinks, wondering what that could possibly mean.  Everything about this is tasteless, the entire thing is just an absolute nightmare coming to life.

Though, after a moment of silence, Obi-Wan soon realizes he much prefers it when you fill the void.

“Members of the Royal Court take turns doing it for her,” he eventually replies, decidedly looking anywhere but where the man is slipping the blue robe from the woman’s body.  It takes you a second to register to what exactly he’s referring, but when you finally do, you snort.  It’s too loud.  A few heads closest to your isolated seats turn as Obi-Wan very quickly thrusts his elbow into your ribs.  “Quit being disrespectful,” he hisses under his breath.

“You just—!”  You quickly clamp your mouth shut and face forward again, trying not to smile in an appalled sort of way.  But then—“Oh,” you blurt, not loud enough for anyone else to hear in this open setting but still loud enough for him to glance around and be slightly anxious about it.  “Oh.  Wow.  I wasn’t… expecting…”

Obi-Wan’s eyes automatically flick down to the couple, only just long enough to catch a quick glimpse of stark nudity in the center of the arena before his gaze immediately bounces back up again and focuses on the incredibly interesting steel beam currently propping up the Queen’s viewing box, clearing his throat.  “I… did warn you.”

“Well, yeah, I expected them to…”  Your hushed voice trails off and you stay quiet for too long, too long to imply you’re still formulating an end to your thought.  You’re distracted by something, but then you appear to snap back to your senses and immediately clear your throat.  “I just wasn’t expecting… the, uh.  The… positioning.”

He says nothing in response.  It… it doesn’t give him great comfort, wondering how you could possibly know enough about this type of profanity to have expected a different sort of positioning.  The stark contrast between the color of his ceremonial robes and yours still remains completely unspoken, but it quietly pulls at the back of his mind nonetheless.

“What about it?”  Obi-Wan immediately hears himself prompt and oh, no, this is completely inappropriate.  Not only should he not be encouraging this kind of talk with you, but he also shouldn’t feel so… so negative, not about something so personal to you and something that’s certainly none of his business.  Regardless, he… still has this buried, unexplainable desire to know the truth about it.  Regardless of the indirect way he’s attempting to go about it, he wants to know the truth about whether or not you broke your oath, and while he recognizes it’s completely improper of him, the urge is still strong enough to manifest itself using his vocal cords.

“Oh, I don’t know, it’s just…  It’s…”  He doesn’t even have a visual reference for what you’re attempting to find the words to describe.  He doesn’t want to.  He just wants to know what you think about it.  “…Bold,” you finally settle on.

Bold.  It’s bold.  Perhaps Obi-Wan wouldn’t be analyzing your verbal responses so closely if he had something more interesting to look at besides the general coliseum-like structure of the large outdoor stadium, but there’s a certain horizon he just won’t let his eyes dip below right now and unfortunately for him, being so high up above the crowd, the upper hemisphere of his visual field remains relatively dull.

“Who would've thought,” he eventually sighs, blinking up at the star-splattered sky now and attempting to see if he can use the Force to break off a piece of a satellite and have it impale him in a tragic accident.  “Considering the s’Ziscari are such a conservative bunch.”

His eyes soon wander back to s’Zerthia, and—Obi-Wan startles to find her staring directly at him with a thin eyebrow dangerously quirked.  She motions two long fingers in a V shape at her eyes and then points down towards the stage, her expression expectant and waiting.

Obi-Wan’s teeth hurt at how hard he clenches them together, his jaw flexing but the thick blanket of his beard doing well to conceal it.  She’s playing with him, he realizes; he can see the hidden smile on her lips all the way from here.

Maker, maybe she’s right.  Maybe he’s—maybe he’s being ridiculous about this.  This is fine.  This is fine.  His stomach feels like it’s all his food might come up at any second, but he’ll do it, he’ll look.  He can at least just look, right?

His gaze slowly begins lowering, trying to take in just a few things at a time so as not to overstimulate himself.  Thousands of s’Ziscari lining the seats of the arena, almost every single one of them dressed in black.  Lower still—the platform leading up to the stage.  A perimeter of blue figures now sitting down in a circle and then, at its center, a… a naked man and woman.

Obi-Wan’s heart pounds as he struggles to comprehend the sight, never having laid eyes on a nude woman before.  She’s on her elbows and knees, forehead lowered and resting against the floor, and the man kneels behind her, one hand holding her hips and the other wrapping around his—

Stars, Obi-Wan wants to end it all.  Right here.  His aim will be true.

But then… oh, no, he’s an idiot.  He’s a complete dullard, because he forgot.  Consumed by his own sheer anxiety and unease, Obi-Wan stupidly forgot an extremely crucial detail of the incredibly little he’s been told about the Sh’inzith.

—the projecting.

All at once, he’s nearly knocked over by the strength of the two Force sensitives at the center of the arena as they deliberately cast their minds out across the entire audience, presenting every sensation and fleeting thought they’re experiencing in all its intensity.  Obi-Wan immediately works to reinforce his mental shields as soon as he feels the shockwave about to hit, but there’s thousands of Force sensitives present—all of them congregated into one relatively small area, all of them tuning into the same two signatures and then suddenly… amplifying them back until it’s impossible for him to shut out.

“Oh, uh—” he just manages to hear you mutter through the whirlwind, just the slightest hint of panic in your voice peaking through the symphony of whispered thoughts and pulsing sensations coming from the stage, “—that isn’t good—”

Obi-Wan abruptly stumbles backwards and gasps at the awful, wretched feeling of something brunt pressing up hard against somewhere elusive, somewhere he’s never felt before towards the lower part of his body, and his mind fights viciously against it as he feels you spin around and reach out for his rapidly retreating figure.

“Wait, no—it’s okay, M-Master, it’s okay, it’s—” your voice cuts off and your hands suddenly fist into the robes at his chest, your forehead dropping to his shoulder against the sharp sting just continuing to push and push and push, “—i-it’s okay, it’s oka—”

He trips over his feet in the chaos and falls back on complete instinct and you’re so tightly attached to him that you’re yanked forwards with the momentum, the two of you plunging to the ground in a clumsy heap of grunts and tangled limbs.  Obi-Wan immediately starts crawling backwards across the floor underneath you, still trying to escape the horrible, inescapable sensation digging into a part of his body that doesn’t seem to exist, but it’s like you’re of the same mind—you’re scrambling forwards in the same direction trying to get away from the same thing, frantically attempting to calm him and simultaneously deal with the agony yourself, and then suddenly—

Oh—oh, Maker—

Suddenly something gives and surges in, and then Obi-Wan gasps—his elbows buckling under him and as the both of you drop down onto the floor because stars, it’s nearly blinding with impression.  Not only the aching, hard fullness stretching sharp and deep somewhere in his lower abdomen—but now a new sensation.  A tight, wet silk he feels swallowing him between his legs, concentrated on a part of his body that… does exist, a body part that’s currently pressed up right between your spread thighs.

“Fuck,” you moan hot against his throat, trying to find somewhere to brace yourself next to his shoulders and push yourself up off him, and he tries—Maker, he tries so hard not to, but his hands shoot out to grab your hips before he even knows what he’s doing and then he’s dragging his lower body up into yours on instinct alone, clamping his eyes shut and groaning out a desperate sound he’s never heard himself make before as his head drops against the floor.

It’s staggering.  It hurts.  He can't even hear your muffled noises anymore, not over the roaring encompassing his mind and body.  All he knows is that your hips quickly jerk back and grind down into his in response, sending Obi-Wan reeling while you bury your twisted cry of pleasure and pain into his neck.

The sound of it breaks through everything else.

Obi-Wan’s hands shake violently as they suddenly release you and then frantically shove at your shoulders, trying to push you off without hurting you.  He can’t think, he can’t see, he needs to leave—

“Get away,” he rasps desperately up at the sky, blinking his eyes wide but somehow not seeing anything in front of him but blackness.  “St-stars, get away from me—”

Suddenly you’re flipping off his body and onto your back next to him, too quick for it to be a mechanical movement alone, and he doesn’t even have the space in his mind nor the processing capacity to figure out if he Force pushed you off him or if it was you who did it to yourself.  He just clambers to his feet and stumbles away in a terrified, graceless retreat, bent in half, limping and gasping and fighting for every step he takes.

***

Your Master was right to leave as soon as possible, you think.  You were wrong to linger here for just a second to try and gain your bearings, because the more you work to grasp and attempt to organize them, the more mindless and disorienting they become.

You eventually have to heave over and drag yourself after him.

The further away you get from the arena, the easier it becomes to block the projection, but Maker, it’s exhausting.  You’re resigned to start out with a crawl—one of those Jedi Core crawls you haven’t had to do since the Academy but this one exponentially slower, forehead dropped down and eyes closed, just focusing on alternating shifting your elbows and your knees forwards and dedicating the rest of your mental energy to just isolating your mind from the debilitating assault.

Consulars don’t usually see much of war—you tend to do absolutely everything in your power to avoid it.  It’s the Guardians who experience the horrors of combat most often, who deal with ambushes and onslaughts from enemies of the Republic.  But Maker above, every merciless thrust into that poor little virgin at the center of the arena is like a blaster shooting directly at you, but then couple it with the thousands of reflections and ricochets in robes lining the bleachers?  You’re in the trenches of a deadly battle you had no idea was even about to break out and you have no weapon of defense besides retreat.

When you finally get far enough away to be able to push yourself upright as much as possible and continue staggering back to the palace on two feet, you have no concept for how long it’s been.  You can still feel the projection vibrating and clawing sharply at the edges of your consciousness, but at least the majority of your thoughts are your own now, and it gradually becomes easier and easier to focus and speed up to a clumsy run.

Though, no matter how successful you eventually are at muffling the vibrant sensations and thoughts of the two Force sensitives behind you—when they cum, you stumble down to your knees again and have to bite the back of your fist to keep from screaming.

Maker, it takes you a minute to recover.  You don’t even cum, you just feel it—the burst of energy from the Force in every direction, the violent explosion from the stadium that feels like it should fracture the ground beneath you.

You’re able to get up after a moment, if only because they decide to take mercy and finally cut off the projection.  You know that it’s a temporary relief, that they’ll likely be at this all night, but you hope the palace will be far enough away from the arena to block out the sensations completely.  You wonder if Master Kenobi felt that through the Force or whether he was too determined to block it out that he was able to simply ignore the nuclear missile that just detonated less than a few miles away from him.

You force yourself forwards and you want to hurry, you do—but strangely, in your wild state of exhaustion, stark reality is almost as debilitating as swimming through that endless madness was.  It’s quiet around you but the noise of still air pulses deafeningly in your eardrums after breaking free from such a thick mental filter separating you from your surroundings.  You still have your lightsaber clutched in your hand, Maker rejoice, and your thin robes are skewed awkwardly across your body, but you eventually find your way to the doors of the palace.

Though, trying to navigate the empty halls back to your Master’s chambers takes you longer than it should.  His signature is cloaked spectacularly, concealed to a mere speck you wouldn’t even know was there if you weren’t so closely acquainted with it for more than a decade.  You follow the flickering pixel of blue light through the obstacle ridden darkness, adjusting the front of your robes with one trembling hand while you wipe your brow with the other, closing your eyes and doing your best to take deep breaths.  He’ll be spiraling right now.  He’ll need a boulder to cling to in this tsunami, solid ground to stand on while the stars are falling out of the sky.

You… find him in your quarters instead.

The door is open and his handsome profile is to you, the thick fabric stretching over his broad shoulders now an agreeable light cream, familiar and telling of his intentions.  His hands are moving.  Setting something down on your bed—your robes, you soon realize.  He’s laying out your Jedi robes neatly for you across the fur blanketing the large mattress.

Master Kenobi begins speaking as soon as you step foot into the room, the tone of his voice very clearly impatient after having waited for you for so long.

“Change out of those ridiculous garments,” he tells you hastily, neatly laying out your leather belt across your dark tunic without even turning his head to look at you properly.  “We must leave.  Quickly.  Also—tell me you didn’t forget your saber at the arena, because if so, I’m afraid it’s lost to us forever now.  Ilum is only three days from here, perhaps we can stop there on the way back to Coruscant to find you another kyber cryst—”

You drop the hilt of your lightsaber on the floor and step forward, cautiously reaching out for his figure as he continues to ramble.  “Master, I—”

Your hand is thrown to the side with a subtle flick of his wrist and you instantly jerk to an abrupt halt, holding your palms out in front of you and keeping completely still while he spins around, his jaw slack and staring at you wide-eyed.  He takes a few steps away from you in shock.

“I’m sorry—” he immediately gasps, reaching out towards you even though the rest of his body is still desperately evading yours.  “Stars, I’m so sorry—that was just… That was excruciating, young one.  Why would anyone ever willingly—?”

“It—it doesn’t always—” you cut yourself off just in time, clamping your jaw shut before you can finish your sentence.

“We must leave,” he says once more as he turns back to your mattress, not appearing to hear you at all and shaking his head, far too frantic to sound like he’s just reminding you alone.  “We can’t do that.  I can’t do that—”

“It doesn’t always have to be—”  Maker, what is wrong with you?  Your heart kicks up in your chest and somehow stutters to a halt at the same time.  It’s the lingering effects of the assault your mind just experienced coupled with your desperate urge to console him that’s making you so utterly careless, you realize, it’s making your tongue loose.

“Stars, what do you mean?”  Master Kenobi finally snaps, and your blood runs ice cold.  “How do you know that?”

It takes the sum of all your years of training to keep the raging hurricane of emotion from showing in any capacity.  You feel like he’s holding his saber to your neck with how dangerously little you’re even allowing yourself to breathe right now, how utterly and completely still you’re holding yourself in front of him.

Lie, a little voice in your mind supplies quietly, the little voice you keep locked inside an impenetrable box of everything you are but have never been allowed to confront, haven’t been allowed to openly think just in case someone is listening too closely.  Lie.  Lie, right now.  Your silence is giving you away.

Only—you can’t.  You shouldn’t.  It’s not fair to keep this from him, not when you’re asking him to do something so structurally compromising to his belief system.  If… if you tell him the truth, perhaps he won’t judge you too harshly.  Perhaps he’ll feel… reassured, knowing he’s certainly not the first Jedi to break a sacred vow when he felt times were desperate enough.

Besides.  This might be the only secret that could potentially get you kicked out of the Order, but… it still isn’t your worst one.

“Because.”  The word is out of your mouth before you can rethink it, barely above a whisper.  “I… know.”

He doesn’t respond, and no.

No, you were wrong.  You were wrong to tell him the truth, and the look on his face immediately shoots panic through your whole body.

He doesn’t look reassured.

He looks… alienated.

“‘It doesn’t always?’”  Your Master eventually repeats back to you, and fuck—the implication is instantly clear.  The implication is made so clear from the sharpness in his tone, the hard edge to it as he rounds out the vowels in the last word that makes your heart twist and throb in your ribcage.  He might as well have just asked you how many times you must’ve violated your code of honor to know the difference.

“It’s not.”  You clear your throat and flick your gaze up to the ceiling, feeling like he’s using the Force to squeeze your chest in on itself.  “That was the absolute worst possible sensation that can be felt during… It’s—it’s not like that.  It won’t… be like that.  Not.”  Are there tears coming to your eyes?  “Not… with me.”

Utter quiet.  So quiet that if you really concentrate, you can hear the distant sounds of the arena continuing on with the Ritual without you.  You bite hard at your lip and wait for him to say something, anything.  Yell at you, tell you how disgusted he is, banish you from the Order.

Instead, Master Kenobi quite suddenly… deflates.  He sighs—not a heavy, exhausted one, but a soft one.  A quiet, accepting sort of sound.

He slowly lowers himself to the edge of the mattress and closes his eyes, running both hands through his hair, and it’s just enough to give you pause.  You glance over at him, trying not to let tears fall beyond the plateau of your lower lids with the frantic downward movement of your eyes, and you’re only just barely successful at it.

“It’s alright,” he says gently.  “It’s… it’s alright, young one.  I… suppose I am in no place to judge.  Quite… quite literally,” he murmurs, gesturing to the space around him with a lazy wave of his hand.  Maker, his figure is too watery and unfocused to make out his facial expressions, but you don’t want to blink to clear your vision just in case a sudden downpour escapes.  “It’s none of my business and I shouldn’t have asked.  You’re… not my Padawan anymore.  I should have no reason to… even care at all, really.”

There’s something that feels… major in that, something monumental yet incredibly well hidden, but you’re still too full of blind panic to interpret it further.  Your breathing is shaky and you wonder, quite stupidly and not for the first time in your life, if it’s somehow possible to use the Force to evaporate the water in your eyes before it turns into tears.

“I am certain it took place in your younger years, a long time ago,” he continues calmly when you don’t immediately say anything.  “You did always have a… a rather unconventional relationship with the rules.” 

Your only response is a quick jerk of a nod.  Yes.

“Yes,” you immediately agree, hoping your tone sounds convincing enough through the lingering tremors.  “It was… a long time ago.  I’ve changed, since then.  Grown up in many ways.”

It’s his turn to nod, and you manage to calm down just slightly.  You’re still breathing too hard and you’re a bit too braced, too much of a stance to truly feel like relief, but your heart rate is beginning to settle back into a somewhat acceptable rhythm.

Master Kenobi looks over at you, and he says absolutely nothing about the traces of water still glistening along your eyelashes.  He just smiles softly and pats the space next to him.

You cautiously make your way over to him after a moment, feeling more unsure now than you’ve felt this entire mission.  You leave at least a half a foot of space separating the two of you once you carefully sit yourself down on the mattress, and you can’t even look in his general direction.  You just focus on the long, draping sleeves of your black robe as you look down at your hands and wait for him to speak first.

“Sometimes,” he eventually sighs.  “Sometimes I… feel like you’re the person I know best in the entire galaxy, you know.  I’ve… I’ve known you far longer than I ever knew my own Master, young one.  I picked you out of thousands, and I’d do it thousands of times again.  Sometimes—especially since the day of your accolade and subsequent absence, I feel like I can know exactly what you’re thinking, even from across an entire star system.  And yet somehow, you… always surprise me.  Even after all these years, I am just.  Consistently surprised by you.”

You don’t know how to take that.  You just sit there in a guilty silence, still unable to turn your head or offer any sort of response.

“I chose you as a Padawan because you surprised me, you know,” he reminds you quietly.  “I had certain expectations for you, and you did not meet those expectations.  Instead, you presented an alternative I’d never before considered, an alternative that forced me to reevaluate you—and by extension, myself—far beyond what I had previously.  That is not a bad thing.  It has never been a bad thing.  As is made blatantly obvious by the fact that I’m the one currently standing in the way of saving lives, and you’re…not.”

Maker, this is thin ice.  You don’t know what to say that’ll express hesitant agreement with his sentiment without making it sound like you’re not apologetic for breaking your oath.  You’re… well, you’re not, not really.  His response itself is causing you to feel far more turmoil than any legitimate regret for your actions.

“It was—” On instinct, you almost say it was a mistake regardless of the conflicts you’re just so happening to encounter on this mission, but something stops you.  You suddenly remember your place here, your goal.  To save the galaxy from the Separatists’ reign.  And, by extension… sleep with your Master.  You can’t call it a mistake if you’re going to ultimately try to convince him to do the same thing.  So instead, you scramble to finish your sentence with a different thought, knowing his full attention is pinned to you right now.  “…A long time ago,” is all your exhausted mind is able to come up with.

“Yes,” he gives you a small, companionable smile.  “It’s alright.  Your prior lapse—or, well… lapses in judgement… will forever be safe with me.”

And still, you don’t feel relief.  Not when Master Kenobi very quickly appears to look uncertain.

“I… apologize,” he offers after a moment, “if.  If I ever made you feel like… like you could not confide in me about any struggles or… or urges you may have been experienc—”

“Maker,” you suddenly interrupt with a frantic wave of your hands, everything cringing inside you, “Maker, we don’t have to do this.  None of it, it’s okay.  Know what?  Let’s just go home—screw the galaxy, I don’t care, just stop talking.”

He snaps his eyes over to you, a sudden bark of laughter escaping him before the rest of his face even seems to register something was funny.

It evolves.  Eventually he’s covering his face and stifling ridiculous little snorts behind his hands, trying to apologize in between the chuckles but laughing even harder.  It’s almost like… just a form of pure stress relief for him.  So far beyond traumatized that it’s revealing itself in a slightly hysterical way, even if what you said wasn’t hysterical at all.

“Now you have a mere glimpse into what my experience has been like today,” he finally tells you with a sparkling grin once he composes himself, lifting his chin as he looks at you and scratching his beard with a quiet flicking sound.  “Shall I keep going?  If this mission has taught me anything, it’s that no matter what, things can always get worse.”

“They don’t have to.”  You say it without thinking, the gentle reprieve caused by his laughter flowing through you in waves and making you throw caution to the wind.  The four words serve to shut him up quite quickly however, even though it was the opposite of your intent, and your smile drops.  Maker, just freely conversing with him about these things is navigating a minefield for his mental state.

“You… you say that, and yet even—” Master Kenobi eventually responds, cutting himself off with a cough.  “Even the things I’ve heard are meant to feel… pleasant, were just.”  He shakes his head and blinks his crystal blue eyes over at you.  “By all accounts.  Agony.”

“I know,” you nod.  “I know.  Projecting that specific situation was… sadistic of them.  A distortion of the truth.  Probably rooted in deep tradition, but also a great scare tactic if I ever saw one, playing with us by presenting the absolute worst of it before anything else.  It won’t hurt.  At all.  I promise.  In fact—I-I can make it feel—”

Maker, you don’t even finish your sentence, but you must think the general idea loud enough for him to understand.  You don’t actually have a specific word in mind—good, great, amazing, euphoric?—and yet, something quiet settles over you two at the silent implication, the mere whisper of the possibility of you pleasuring him.

And him… allowing it.

“Master, I—”

“Don’t,” he quickly tells you.  “Don’t call—You don’t have to… call me that.  Just for right now, it’s.  I don’t—” he takes a breath that sounds shakier than it looks, and then he paints an easy, fake smile on his face following the exhale.  You recognize that smile anywhere, though.  While you’ve never seen him wear it before, it’s the smile that politicians make when they’re about to present a lesser truth to you, a smile shown to you in negotiations all the time that signifies something… hidden.  He’s hiding something, something important, and you have no idea what it could possibly be.  “I don’t feel like I even deserve to be called that right now, young one.  Perhaps you should be the Master, and I the learner.”

“Ah yes, the circle is now complete,” you can’t help but jest in return, wanting to keep the tone light even though the subject matter is heavy.  “Is now when we trade lightsabers?”

“Indeed,” he smiles, this time more sincere, and… you can’t pinpoint when exactly it happened, but it appears you’re physically closer to each other now than you were when you first sat down.

“Do they, uh… actually expect us to…”  You clear your throat and wave a hand around, “…Project the entire time like that?”

Master Kenobi quickly shakes his head.  “No.  s’Zer—Queen s’Zerthia informed me that.  Ah.  For us, projection will only be necessary during the… well, she called it the ‘closing ceremonies.’”

Your eyebrows shoot up and you nod.  “I… see.”

It’s like you can physically feel his body start to break out into a cold sweat next to you at the sudden… realness of it all, the realization that it has to be getting late.  Close to midnight, if you’re not already pushing it.  It’s come time to make a final decision, you both know it.  You want to console him, offer him some kind of solace or reprieve, but stars, you just don’t know how, not when you’re this much of a mess about this, too, but for entirely different reasons.  You don’t have a single clue how to make him feel better about any of this.

“I just,” you rush before you lose the nerve, “I want you to know that—e-even if you feel like you’re somehow alone in this, you’re not.  Okay?  I’m… I’m really nervous, too.  I don’t… I don’t actually know what to do at all right now.  I don’t know whether to respect your apprehension or tell you it’s unfounded.  I don’t know if I should remind you what’s at stake here or whether I should avoid mentioning it at all costs.  I have no idea what position I should take, but I’ll—I’ll take whichever one you want me to.”

And it’s odd, because when you first launched into your confession, Master Kenobi gradually began to look more and more relieved, but at a certain point, something just goes horribly wrong.  You don’t know what you said, but whatever it was, it seems to rocket through your Master and suddenly his breathing stutters.

For a moment, you think he’s going to reach back, yank your neatly folded Jedi robes up from the mattress and push the dark fabric into your hands.  Tell you he’ll meet you at the docking bay posthaste, tell you not to linger, tell you that the mission was a failure.  But then—

“Before,” he suddenly says, the word almost startling you with how abrupt it comes out sounding.  Almost like he wasn’t quite expecting himself to say it either.  “Earlier today, you asked… you asked if there was anything you could do to… make this easier.”

“Yes,” you prompt immediately.  He won’t look at you, and for some reason your heart begins beating faster and the inside of your thighs are getting warm.

“I… I’m not sure I’ll be able to go through with this,” he admits with a whisper, his voice sounding so quietly reluctant, like he doesn’t want to say the words aloud but is forcing himself to.  “But… the Council put you in charge of negotiations.”

Your eyebrows furrow, trying to understand his implication.  What does that have to do with anything?  Is he saying that you’re supposed to be in charge, and therefore he’s defaulting to you?  “I’m not sure I—”

“The Galactic Republic…”  Master Kenobi enunciates very, very pointedly, still unable to look at you, “…put you in charge of negotiations.”

Specifying—or in this case, generalizing—doesn’t help much.  “I’m still not—”

“Maker, for—for the good of the Republic, young one,” he presses under his breath and finally flicks his gaze up to meet yours, sounding urgent and torn in equal parts.  “Negotiate.”

Stars, negotiate with who?  With—with him?  For the good of the…?  Is he asking you to somehow reason with him beyond what you’ve attempted to do already, or persuade him to do what’s right for—?

Maker—Master Kenobi is asking you to seduce him.

Shock paints your expression blank and his eyes instantly evade yours once more.  You have to sit there for just a second and double-check that you’re not dreaming.  None of this seems real.  All of it seems like an incredibly elaborate illusion of the Force, ever since you first laid eyes on him at the start of this mission.  You know you missed him but stars, did you truly miss him this terribly?  Your longing must rival something fierce to unconsciously conjure this wild of a scenario.  Is he actually here right now?  Have you been speaking to a ghost?  Are you actually here right now?  Are you going to wake up any second and remember he’s thousands of lightyears away and has been for years, risking his life on the front lines of galactic war while you’re left to play politics and negotiate treaties behind the scenes?

These thoughts aren’t safe to have in normal interactions with him, but nothing about this situation is normal, and while you know Master Kenobi has years of experience reading your signature, he most likely won’t be able to gauge the specific details of your thoughts when you can sense how intensely he’s focused on guarding his own chaotic mind from you.

So you let yourself think.  If only for a second, you sit next to him and allow yourself to just… think about him.  About how much you care for him, how desperately you ache for him—you let all these improper longings finally have their moment with you.  You let yourself confront it, crack the lid of the hidden box tucked away behind your consciousness and brave it, because if there was ever a moment to do so, it’s right now.

Your heart starts slamming up against your ribcage and your hands feel like they’re tingling.  He wants you to convince him to have sex with you.  He’s asking you to corrupt him.  He wants you to negotiate the galaxy’s survival with the last man standing in the way of its prosperity—a good man with strong, immovable morals, a man who understands the consequences that follow integrity around and won’t be easy to tempt.

“This was a bad idea,” suddenly comes Master Kenobi’s voice, quickly backpedaling after too long of a silence.  “I shouldn’t have said that.  Forget I said that, we should just g—”

“Would you like to meditate?”  You immediately ask him on a complete whim, shuffling back towards the middle of the mattress for the second time today.  You’re careful to make sure he doesn’t see you carelessly flick your neat robes to the floor with the Force, clearing the top of the large mattress.  “Let’s meditate.”

“Stars,” he breathes, shyly his head turning to follow you, “I’d love nothing more, but there truly just isn’t any time—”

You find it easier than you thought it’d be to pull a playful face at him, crossing your legs and straightening your spine.  “Please, you’re a Guardian.  You blue sabers practically invented battle meditation, did you not?”

He looks skeptical for a moment, as he has a valid right to be.  “Is this a battle?”  He eventually asks over his shoulder.

You say nothing in response to that, instead using the Force with a flex of your finger to tug at the loose cream fabric of his robe at his elbow.  “Come on, it’ll do us good.”

He looks conflicted for a second, but then ultimately decides to humor you.  “Alright,” Master Kenobi finally agrees, turning around and crawling towards you on the mattress, and you’re just quick enough to stamp down a flicker of arousal at the mere sight of it.  “It won’t hurt.”

“Of course it won’t,” you agree with just a bit too much air in your voice, but he doesn’t seem to notice it.  He just seats himself directly in front of you, facing you, crossing his legs close enough to yours that your knees barely touch, and—

—Maker, he’s lovely.

You purposefully let yourself think it as his eyes slowly fall closed and he takes a deep breath, beginning to tame the wild tempest of his mind.  You let the word flitter around your thoughts without instantly repressing it like you always do, and just the mere act of allowing yourself to acknowledge the truth is freeing.  He’s lovely.  He’s lovely.  You could scream it.

Your eyes trail down the lines of his ever softening, tranquil expression, not even bothering to pretend to meditate for his benefit this time.  Your gaze roams shamelessly across his face, the way his hair is combed back away from it.  The sandy, masculine beard leading down to the thick column of his throat, the broad lines of his shoulders draped in pale fabric, the way his chest slowly moves as he breathes.  Lovely.  Lovely.

And then you go… lower.

His abdomen is stretched long with how upright he’s sitting, his flawless meditation posture.  His thighs are spread wide in this position, pants stretched tight into an elusive drum over his crotch and preventing you from truly seeing anything—but stars is it a thrill even just letting yourself look. 

Especially knowing that the more his mind works to compose itself, the easier it’ll be for him to hear you.

You keep thinking, growing bolder the more you’re left alone with this box wide open.  You think about how lithe and strong his body is, how it would feel under your hands.  You think about all the different things you want to show him, all the… the mind shattering pleasure you can give him if he’ll allow y—

Master Kenobi says your name without opening his eyes.

It doesn’t sound the way you expect, though you don’t really know what you expected it to sound like.  A sharp, frustrated bark?  An exasperated, pleading attempt to get you to stop?

No—none of those.  It’s a quiet, low growl of a sound, and the clear warning in it absolutely burns a hole through you like he picked up his lightsaber and used it instead.

You take practiced breaths, trying to calm yourself down.  Stars, he just said your name, he’s said it so many times before, and yet hearing it in his mouth with that tone in this context feels like he just strapped rockets to your ankles and told you to stay put.  You’re impatient.  You’re turning yourself on, working yourself up, trying to get to where you can actually make a move on him after dedicating so many years to desperately repressing the longing to do so.  Once he told you to negotiate this deal with him, however, it’s as if every ounce of the impeccable self control you’ve practiced so spectacularly throughout most of your life slowly started to unravel.

Reaching out tentatively so as not to startle him, you wrap both of your palms around the bend of his knees and squeeze gently.  Master Kenobi displays no physical signs of—well, anything really, keeping his body completely rigid under your hands with no noticeable alterations in his breathing pattern.  Biting your lip, you begin to slowly rotate your thumbs, making sure to keep your movements slow and perfectly symmetrical.  Complete relaxation is your ultimate goal here—coaxing your Master into a serene state where physical contact is desired, not obligatory.  He's so uncomfortable with the concept of intimacy in and of itself though, from the way his eyebrows start to furrow and his spine begins gradually tilting back and away from you, it's almost as if your ministrations are dampening rather than fueling.

“Relax,” you murmur, and stars, even though you make it sound quiet and gentle, it’s like the melodic lull of your voice appears to startle him more than if you’d just spoken normally.  Maker—it’s counterintuitive; how are you supposed to turn someone on when the mere state of being turned on turns them off?  “Relax with me, it’s okay—”

“But I just can't, young one,” he suddenly implores, his voice pressed up tight in his throat, his cerulean eyes popping open in frustration and something else—an honest, heartfelt emotion that's strikingly less familiar to you, even after years spent by his side: deep, hot, stomach-wrenching guilt.  You watch your Master’s palms run the length of his thighs; back and forth, back and forth—almost like a nervous tick, you think—and it’s oddly endearing, if not increasingly concerning.  “I just can't, this is all so wrong.  Don't you understand?  E-Even if the Council did provide a—well, a rather admittedly ineluctable blessing for this downright ludicrous endeavor, i-it’s… I don't…”  He takes a deep breath, and visually, it looks like he's attempting to collect his thoughts and composure, but you know your Master all too well.  You know what he's really doing, and at this point, it's almost… frustrating.

“What are you so afraid of?”  You clutch his knees and whisper quietly, interrupting him before he can verbalize whatever perfectly logical reason he's trying to formulate as to why you both should leave the planet immediately, what he's going to say to the Council if they ever inquire as to why negotiations ultimately failed.  He jerks his head up sharply to look at you.

“The Jedi fear nothing,” is his automatic response, though his previously intense gaze strays slightly from yours after a second of too much eye contact.  “Fear is the path to the Dark Side, you know this.”

“And yet you are afraid,” you remark calmly, studying the way he’s turned his face away from you completely now, how you can still see his jaw clench under the thick beard with his profile shown to you like this.  “I—I’m trying to understand, Master, but I—I don’t.  Even if this mission were half as important as it is, your loyalty to the Order would follow you right into an early grave.  But this?”  You remove a palm from his knee to gesture between the two of you, the mattress beneath the both of you, “fulfilling this mission and these terms to save the entire galaxy is too ‘downright ludicrous’ for the Great Negotiator?  I don’t believe it.  Tell me what you’re really afraid of.”

Only, he’s suddenly moving—away from you.  Turning and planting his palms to fur, beginning to climb to the edge of the bed and sweep his legs around under him, and your voice has an unintentional edge to it when you address his back.

“Do you know how many lives over I owe you?”  You ask, and he jerks to an abrupt halt, feet just shy of stepping on the floor.  “Do you have any idea the stockpile of mortal gratitude you’ve amassed from me?  How many times you’ve risked your death to save me from mine over the years—can you count them?  I have.  I know my debt to you, I know the weight of my life piled on top of itself over and over again.  I remember each and every one of them like they happened yesterday, and not once did you hesitate even slightly, let alone the way you’ve hesitated today.”

”And?”  Master Kenobi quite suddenly snaps over his shoulder as he grips the edge of the mattress, sounding sharp but not necessarily directed towards you.  “What is your point?”

“My point is that if you’d so readily trade your death time and time again to prevent that of even one other person, let alone a difficult Padawan who caused the Order nothing but grief for years, then what is it that makes the deaths of trillions—” you nearly say preferable to bedding me before you realize how incredibly harsh that would sound, but something about the way he seems to tense his shoulders and curl inwards implies he was following the general cadence of your agitated signature more than the specific content of your words.

He says absolutely nothing, but he doesn’t move to drop his feet to the floor, either.  If only you could punch a proverbial hole through his practically indestructible mental barriers, you'd see the real reason he's so flustered, why he's purposely attempting to deceive you.  Unfortunately for you though, they feel like they're made of triple-reinforced beskar, a countermeasure gradually increasing in strength the more you try to probe.

But then—all at once, something clicks.  Something… fundamental.  An understanding. 

Your Master is a gifted negotiator, yes.  But more than that.

He wields a blue saber.  Not a green one.

He’s a Guardian.  A warrior.  He fights.  It’s something that has never truly been part of your nature, no matter how much you struggled with it over the years—but it is a part of his, no matter how exceptionally he’s been able to mask it for even longer.

So, all at once, you stop pushing.  Your signature abruptly pulls away from him, gives him room to breathe and simply hovers within your own personal space, unassuming and careful not to disturb him.  You see your Master lift his chin and straighten his spine slightly, immediately noticing your absence and the constant pressure you’d been applying, and you honestly can’t tell if he relaxes or tenses up even more because of it.

Finally, when you feel like it’s been long enough, you slowly reach out and gently place your hand on his arm.  This time, there’s no underlying motivation attached, no inherent desire for him to fulfill any sort of obligation.  Just a warm, companionable gesture to reinforce the simple knowledge that you’re both in this together, for better or worse.

Please tell me, Obi-Wan, you quietly whisper to him through the Force, allowing your tone and energy to transfer through your open palm and into his troubled spirit as softly and gently as you possibly can—a caress more than anything even close to a sentence or inquiry.  Your usage of his first name is entirely unprecedented however, and your Master sucks in a sharp breath in response.

I don't… But then the subconscious, half-formed thought fades away almost as quickly as it’s offered to you from behind the solid, unyielding fortress of his mind.  “W-what are you doing?”

You bite your lip, wondering how honest you should be with him right now.  Though, you suppose, if you truly want him to confide in you, you should at least meet him halfway.

“You’re the locked door,” you finally settle on.  “This is me knocking.”

Obi-Wan turns around and blinks at you, looking for all the stars in this galaxy like that was quite possibly the last thing he expected you to say.  You can see the frantic thoughts pass through his eyes almost as if the clear blue was completely transparent, likely remembering all the times you’ve leaned on him for guidance, listened intently and learned from his wisdom and experience.  And now you’re a fully grown woman patiently offering him your ear, wondering if you’ve earned enough of his trust for him to do the same.

“I’m afraid I’ll form an attachment to you.”  The words tumble from his mouth even though his body all but whips away from you in the process.  “It’s unreasonable for the Council to expect this from me.  From us.  I’m afraid our relationship will forever be tarnished from this, that neither of us will ever be able to go back to the way things were before.  I’m afraid that regardless of whatever decision I make, I won’t be able to carry the guilt on my conscience and continue to call myself a Jedi and Guardian of the Republic.  But mostly, I just—I-I—”

Your heart is pounding as Obi-Wan buries his face into his hands and his muffled voice groans raggedly, “—I’m afraid I’ll like it.  I’m afraid I’ll want it again, and again.  I’m afraid it’ll follow me back to Coruscant, that I’ll save the galaxy but spend the rest of my days aching for something I’ll never be able to keep, and that’s petrifying.  Desire, passion, selfishness, possession; all of them lead to Darkness, and I can—I can feel it right now.  Your soul is so gentle, so peaceful, and yet you… you inspire such Darkness in me, dove.”

Maker, you’re trying so hard.  So hard to keep your legs from clenching together at the utter desperation in his tone, how his breathing has picked up now that the words have ripped themselves out of his throat, like the whole thing was physical agony even just to say.  You have to take a second.  You’ve been so patient this entire time, but stars—this one makes you need a moment.  You’re so glad his eyes are clamped shut behind his fingers right now because yours lose focus trying to mask the absolutely debilitating wave of arousal that sinks down hot through your stomach.

Even when you regain the ability to speak, the ability to form a safe and proper response to the bombshell he just dropped on you completely evades you.

You purposefully don't say that you're already helplessly attached to him, that the colors of the galaxy somehow lost their brilliance the day you graduated to Knight, the day you left his side.  You don't say that you want this so badly you can feel it in your neck, that it would probably break you in half if he said no to this now.  Though it's the honest-to-Maker truth, you know discovering this information will only cause your Master to further distance himself from you, and somehow that thought alone is a million times worse than being denied the opportunity to be this close to him.  Even… even if what you end up sharing is more emotional than physical.

So you take a deep breath to center yourself, and choose your words very carefully.

“A compromise, then.”

Obi-Wan suddenly raises his head, turning around to look at you and blinking twice.  “A what?”

“You told me to negotiate.  What do we do as negotiators, hm?”  You raise an eyebrow, giving him a gentle smile and trying not to curl your fingers into the fur underneath you with how hard it is to conceal your burning arousal.  Do it for him.  Do it for your Master, you’re in l—you… care about him, and you care about the things he cares about, even if doing so feels like it’ll rip you apart.  “We compromise.  Yes?  So, let’s find one.”

He shakes his head.  “I don’t see h—”

“If you were to…”  You cut him off and look down, trying to find the most delicate way to phrase this.  “If you were to… find other means to bring yourself to completion, would you be able to convince anyone listening that I was the one doing it?”

Obi-Wan doesn’t even blink this time.  He just stares at you, holding himself like a statue in front of you.  Finally, he seems to find himself.  “I… I don’t—I don’t know if I can.”

“You’re stronger in the Force than anyone on this planet, Master,” you encourage softly, placing a hand back on his arm and squeezing this time.  “I’ve felt it.”

“N-No,” he practically hiccups.  “No, I mean I-I… I don’t know if… if I can.”

Your eyebrows narrow, a mixture of confusion and concern coloring your expression.  “If you can…?”

He looks back at you almost desperately, his eyes practically begging you to figure it out so he doesn’t have to say it.  Finally, Obi-Wan sighs, seeming to collapse in on himself with its intensity.  “I—I’ve never… purposefully reached completion before,” he admits.  “I’m—I’m not sure how to.”

Your eyes widen, wanting to kick yourself for making assumptions.  Of course.  Of course he’d follow his oath to its strictest interpretation, why would you ever think otherwise?  “Oh, y-yes, of course not,” you stutter, sounding incredibly stupid and perfectly mirroring the embarrassed flush also painting your Master’s cheeks, “I didn’t mean to imply—”

“It’s alright,” he holds up a hand.  “We simply… view such things differently.  So long as you do not pass judgment, then neither shall I.”

You nod and look down at your hands, wondering how else you can attempt to tackle this predicament.  “What if I…”  You blink slowly, almost wanting to keep your eyes closed in case he’s offended by the idea but figuring you should have them open to read his responses.  “What if I… don’t touch you?”

Now he just looks confused.  “I’m sorry?”

You blush and clear your throat, obviously phrasing this wrong.  “If you can modify the context of your projection, then I can… get you there.  Without touching you.”

“How could you accomplish such a thing without tou—” Obi-Wan immediately cuts himself off when you lift your hand and close your eyes.

His thigh.  The right one—you focus on it.  There.  Right above the bend of his knee folding over the edge of the mattress, you concentrate all the energy from your fingertips and reach out, connecting the two together.  And then you take a deep breath and begin to draw your attention slowly upwards.

Your Master’s breath catches in his throat as you use the Force to delicately trail further up his leg, not laying a single hand on him as his muscles start to visibly tighten and quiver.

“Young one, I—”  His breathing stutters when you keep your hand raised but let your head tilt and drop down towards your shoulder with your energy, slinking down the inside of his thigh like water and getting dangerously close to his— “Stars, hang on—”

You blink your eyes open at him and continue concentrating right there, letting your focus melt warm and thick along the muscle and squeeze it—

“Maker—”  Obi-Wan gasps and drops his head back, his legs nearly spasming apart.  “Maker, hang on, I…”

“Do you…” You breathe tightly, flicking your eyes down to the way he’s fisting the fur under his hands and subconsciously flexing his hips up just the slightest bit.  Even though the Force, his body feels good.  Strong, sturdy, and braced tight under your attention.  “Do you want me to keep doing this?  I can… go higher.”

“You can…?  The—the Force isn’t—” Obi-Wan groans, his eyes clamping shut, “—isn’t meant to be used in such… in such… If I’m to break my oath, young one, it needn’t be so… so blasphemous—”

Trying to conceal the hot sparks of arousal deep in your stomach, you simply allow your metaphysical hand to continue resting right at the juncture of his hip and thigh, waiting for a real answer.  You bite your lip and wait for him to tell you to either cut it out or to keep going.  He doesn’t even have to say it out loud if he doesn’t want to—he can just slide it under the impassable door still separating him from you, the door you’re eventually going to get him to unlock himself.

His back is to you, so you can only see a bit of his face from this angle, but you can hear him loud and clear when he opens his mouth and whispers to you, barely louder than a breath.  “Go higher.”

Adrenaline rockets through your veins and slowly, your fingers curl in thin air while your gentle energy wraps itself around his cock.

Both of Obi-Wan’s hands instantly fly up to his face and he releases a tight, longing whimper into his palms, and you feel almost as desperate as he sounds.  You can sense the ghost of his thickness in your hand, and the way he’s already throbbing for it is like pure spice to you.

You can’t stop your crossed legs from shuffling and rotating your body to face his hunched spine more directly, just taking a second and allowing him to adjust to the sensation of you just holding him between his legs like this.  Your fingers rest gently along his pulsing skin while he hides from you, and if only to get a little bit more of a reaction for your own sake, your thumb just barely angles to delicately brush up under his frenulum.  

Obi-Wan shudders and makes a choking noise behind his palms, and oh good Maker, you really want to see his face.  You know it’ll probably never happen unless you take your own initiative, but you also don’t want to overstep and snap him out of this blissful reverie.  Still, something compels you to be so gentle about it that he hopefully won’t even notice. 

You start to slowly work the length of him and squeeze his cock a bit more firmly, but a tendril of your energy slowly slithers upwards, so quiet and full of caution that it hardly even counts.  Very carefully, you start to flatten the lifeforce from your other palm over his stomach and trail it up, gradually urging him to stretch his slouched figure upright and then eventually start to tip backwards, never once letting your focus on his throbbing erection falter.

Your courageous efforts bestow prosperous rewards.  Obi-Wan’s hands drag down the length of his face and he makes it almost too easy to keep pressing him back—back back back until his muscles give up what little fight they were putting up against it and his shoulders are dropping down to the mattress, his head falling into your lap.

“There we go,” you whisper under your breath, just loud enough to softly encourage him if he’s listening but avoiding a break in his focus if he’s not.  “That’s not so bad.”

“It isn’t,” Obi-Wan gasps up at you, his eyes tightly closed but his jaw slack and his handsome features screwed up in rapture.  “Oh, no, it’s… it’s really… rea—good.”

You bite your lip and your cunt flexes hard between your legs without your permission, feeling so empty.  If you’re being honest, only touching him through the Force causes your hand to become increasingly bold, also feeling too empty.  Obi-Wan’s head rolls to the side and he pants hot air against the thin black fabric covering your thighs as you tighten your hold around him just slightly and start to move up and down his cock in earnest.

“Fuck,” he whispers, the dirty word and rasp in his voice contrasting brilliantly with the proper Coruscanti accent and the crisp enunciation behind it.  “Fuck, this feels so good, I—”

His fingers grab at the fur covering the mattress top and pull at it, his adam’s apple bobbing sharp along the arching column of his throat as he groans and twists his head around in your lap.  He confesses it like it’s so wrong, but it can’t be wrong when he fits so perfectly in your hand?  How can this be wrong when it’s the only pleasure you can possibly give him that’s anywhere near close enough to match the way you feel when he’s around?  Even then, it’s but a fraction.

Your gaze flickers briefly from his face to check your progress with his body, and—stars, there’s a startling wet spot staining the front of his pale trousers, his cock tenting up shameless and needy for you to ache and throb just as desperately for in return.  Fuck, he deserves this, he deserves more—

“I can—I can make it better—” you can’t help but gasp, your eyebrows slanting upwards with need.  “Oh fuck, I can make it so much better than this for you, Obi-Wan—”

“You…?”  He blinks his stormy eyes open and sounds like he’s about to explode.  “This can be—” he chokes out, “—better?”

You can’t stop yourself.  Your pussy is clamped up so tight between your legs and Maker, you want to reward him for being so good to you, give him true adoration instead of phantom touches.  You don’t think before you’re moving out from under him and slinking down onto the floor, slipping in between his spread thighs.  You use the Force with a bend of your finger to tug his pants down just enough, just enough to let the swollen tip of his cock peak through the waistband, and then your head is dropping into his lap as you let it slide into your hot mouth.

Obi-Wan lifts his head and snarls at you—and something across the room shatters as you widen your throat for him and slowly sink down his length, curling your finger to stretch his hemline further as you go.  His fingers aren’t gentle when they fist into your hair and neither is the way he immediately twists it sideways, feeling like he’s trying to pull you off and shove you down on him at the same time.

You’re stuck between going as slow as you physically can to drag this out and giving him the best oral you’ve ever given to make him dream about this for the rest of his life.  You want him to want this as badly as you have for so many years.  You want him to fall into this Darkness with you, to crave you and what you can give to him so much that he’ll never want to leave you again.

So you make it wet.  You make it soft and slow and wet, switching between sucking gently at the tip and swirling your tongue around it, and then inching his length down your throat and swallowing around the thick girth of it once you can’t fit anymore in your mouth.  Obi-Wan is just an absolute mess about it—he can’t sit still, he’s tugging uselessly on your hair, whimpering out his bliss into the quiet room while you close your eyes and ignore his squirming, just taking your sweet time enjoying him and the way he feels.

He tastes exquisite.  Maybe it’s just because all your broken, stupid brain can think right now is slightly varying forms of my Master’s cock is in my mouth and it’s fucking leaking while you slowly nurse from it with your tongue, but stars—he tastes exquisite.

He’s swollen.  Throbbing.  Aching for you.  Releasing precum from the tip like his body is producing way too much of it after decades of neglect and just needs to get it all out at once.  Shifting and writhing underneath you but managing to never move his hips or cock a single inch away from the soft attention you’re giving him.  You can feel his smooth skin pulse against your tongue as you continue your lazy pleasuring, finally giving him what you’ve both been denied for so long and steadily swallowing down the spoils of your endeavors.

“—Wait, wait, Maker—stop,” you faintly hear gasped from above you not long after you even begin, and it takes the sum of all your efforts to unlodge his throbbing cock from your throat and pull away from him.

“I’m sorry,” you exhale automatically, trying not to slur your words as a bit of drool slides down your chin.  “I’m s’sorry, Obi, I should’ve asked before I—”

“Something’s… n-not right,” Obi-Wan interrupts you and lifts himself up to his elbows, his abdominal muscles heaving and a wild, frenzied look in his startlingly bright eyes.  “My stomach was—I-I felt—”

Heat blooms through you along with a realization, and your eyelids begin to droop slightly at just how sexy it is—the fact that this man, this fully grown, red-blooded, warrior of a man is currently teetering on the precipice of his very first ever orgasm, and you’re the only one with the power to give it to him.

You shuffle backwards slightly, grabbing hold of his thighs and squeezing to get his attention.  “Hey.  It’s okay, relax.”

Obi-Wan nods his head vigorously down at you, the exact opposite of relaxed.

“Listen to me,” you urge quietly, trying to ignore the sight of his thick, swollen cock twitching restlessly against his abdomen, precum still steadily dribbling at the tip.  Is your mouth watering?  “This is it.  You’ll need to start projecting when you’re ready.  It’ll be tricky, but not impossible.  You’ll just have to imagine you’re inside me when it happens.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head vigorously from side to side, vehemently opposed.

“No, I don’t—” He croaks, “—I don’t know what it’s like, I won’t be able to—”

“Doesn’t my mouth feel similar at least?”  You ask, looking down at his cock once more.

“I-I—” Obi-Wan sputters, “I don’t know, young one—you tell me!”

Okay, well.  He… makes a valid point.

You settle back on your knees even further, gazing at your Master thoughtfully.  His chest continues to rise and fall with heavy breaths, a thin sheen of sweat coating his temples and a mild flush high in his cheeks, but his eyes have regained a bit of their focus.  “You can just try to imagine the, uh,” you try, your cunt nearly convulsing with burning need at the mere sight of him, “the same positioning and sensation from… earlier?”

“Alright, I can…”  Obi-Wan nods, though his hands are shaking.  “I’ll do the best I…”

You can’t help but lean forward to press a soft, encouraging kiss to his thigh, and he jerks under your touch.  You try it again, receiving the same result, and it makes you pause for just a minute longer.

“I’m nervous,” he blurts unceremoniously after a moment of stillness, as if you hadn’t noticed.  “Oh stars, I’m nervous, I—”

“Obi-Wan,” you let your voice lull, your hands squeezing gently around the bend of his knees once more.  “Calm down.  Clear your mind.”

He hiccups and you wait.  You wait with your mouth a few inches away from his cock, waiting for his breathing to slow and for him to follow your lead.

Can you hear me?  You murmur through the Force, and he quickly whimpers and nods.  Focus your thoughts.

You gently kiss at his tensing thighs once again, and he doesn’t flinch away from you this time.  His breathing slows into a calmer, steadier rhythm, letting you trail your lips gently along the curve of his leg.

Will you let me try something?  You ask after a moment, opening your mouth just the slightest bit to brush your tongue out and taste his skin.

“Y-Yes,” Obi-Wan says quietly, his breath stuttering through the word.

And—perhaps you shouldn’t have, but you give him something; a suggestion, more than anything else.  You give him a… visual.  A reference to guide his mind through the Force.

You, still in your black robe, slowly standing up from between his legs.  Widening your stance to straddle his lap, pull you robes up just enough, and then adjust your hips just slightly over the head of his cock.

Obi-Wan inhales sharply at the vision, his eyes clamping tightly shut against it in vain.  He can close his eyes, turn away, hide his face all he wants—he can’t escape the way your body looks as it slowly begins to sink down on his.

At the exact same time, you lower your mouth around his cock once more, and you try to make it as close to the sensation as possible.  You don’t even move your tongue, you simply lift your soft palate and close your lips around his girth, beginning to carefully bob up and down along his length in time to the image you’re conjuring of you riding him.

Only, you already feel his balls tightening up and his body starting to go rigid with tension once again, and you can sense him still wanting to resist his approaching orgasm.  It’s okay, Master, you encourage quietly through the vision, it’s okay, just let it come easy.

“I—I’m not—” he shakes his head back and forth against the bed frantically, his breathing getting shallower and almost immediately picking back up to where it was before you stopped.  “I d-don’t want—”

Stop fighting, you tell him, continuing to mimic the sensation of him thrusting into your aching, neglected cunt with slow and steady movements of your throat.  Don’t run from it, let it take you.

He grits your name tightly in response and subconsciously begins to rock his hips up to match your unhurried pace, his ragged breathing gasping out into the quiet room and gradually increasing in volume and desperation the longer he stubbornly tries to hold out against it.

You know not strong enough to use the Force to coax it out of him.  You can’t alter your technique and break the illusion, either.  So you have to resort to desperate measures.

There’s enough remaining wherewithal to your mind that prevents you from permanently damaging his clothing when you tear his robes open with the Force and allow the metaphysical image of yourself to rip them apart with your hands.  Obi-Wan gasps when both versions of you reach up his bare torso at the same time and dig your nails into his chest.

Master—you demand, taking his cock down your throat as far as you can go and then clawing hard down his stomach—cum.

And thank everything good and right in the universe that he remembers at the very last second to start projecting, because being this close to someone as strong in the Force as Obi-Wan when he finally succumbs to his first taste of the Dark Side is just a fucking atomic missile straight to your nervous system.

It’s all you can do to just remember to keep swallowing.

The projection he casts out through the shockwave is utterly flawless—brilliantly composed, looking and feeling so authentic and overwhelming even from this distance that there should be no issue at all convincing any s’Ziscari in the wide vicinity who are tuning in right now.

Except—then you hear it.  Through the roaring pleasure of his thoughts, a flicker of his subconscious he’s unable to mask through the mind blowing bliss.

Is she…? Maker above, she’s drinking it—

A ragged groan tears through the silence of the room, his cock pulsing spectacularly on your tongue.  He just keeps cumming, and cumming, and so you just have to keep swallowing, and swallowing.  You suppose you should’ve expected this from a fully grown man who lived a life of celibacy, but what would typically be a rather short moment with anyone else subsequently goes on long enough to where Obi-Wan is actually able to lazily raise his head up from the mattress and simply watch you continue to swallow his load, dazed and reverent in his stare, glassy blue eyes trained on the hypnotic movements your jaw and throat make around him.  The remaining traces of whatever visual he attempted to maintain immediately flicker out of existence, replaced instead by the sight of your mouth around his cock, diligently taking down each rope of cum he gives you.

When he finally stops throbbing, you reluctantly let his cock fall from your mouth and slowly stand up as the botched projection fizzles out completely.  His gaze eventually follows the movement like he’s on a five second delay.

“So, uh…”  Your voice is hoarse.  “We… need to have sex.”

“Alright,” he agrees dreamily, his eyes lazily dragging down your body.  “Alright, we can have… I… Wait, what?”

“You, uh.  I know it wasn’t intentional, but you might’ve, uh…”  You  shuffle awkwardly from side to side, wondering why you’ve chosen now of all moments to become shy with him.  You’re literally still savoring the taste of his release in your mouth.  “You might’ve accidentally projected a very specific thought towards the end there and let everyone know that we weren’t actually doing what we’re technically supposed to be doing.”

“What did… what did I think?”  The question would likely be nonsense in literally any other situation, but you understand.  And truthfully, for the life of you, you can’t find it within yourself to feel even a little bit mad about it, not when it means you can continue doing this together.  You can’t even conjure up a single shred of disappointment in his failure, it’d just be a lie.

“Doesn’t matter,” you assure him, your heart continuing to pound.  You know you should make your next move now while he’s still so loopy, the post-orgasm bliss causing his signature to vibrate with pulsing endorphins as he blinks up at you slowly from the bed.  “Though we won’t be able to do it for a little bit, just uh.  Just for general… anatomical reasons.  But that should’ve at least counted for… initiating the Ritual, so I don’t think we have to worry about time anymore.”

Obi-Wan just stares at you, his Force signature feeling more serene and spaced out than you’ve ever sensed before.  Oh Maker, how you wish you felt the same.  You swallow thickly, still tasting his hard orgasm on your tongue, and then try not to clamp your thighs together with how embarrassingly turned on you are.  Anyone with any experience whatsoever would know exactly what you’re going through with just a mere glance—you’re biting your lip with your entire body is subtly crumpled in towards your swollen, neglected pussy—and your Master has been watching you struggle through it this entire time.

“Are you alright?”  He asks dumbly, finally managing to at least push himself upright, still completely unaware or unconcerned at his softening cock on full display for you and your starving libido.  “You’re… shaking.”

“I—won’t die,” is the only serious assurance you can make to both him and yourself right now that’ll ease your suffering the smallest bit.  The last thing you want right now is to come on too strong and snap him back to his senses, bringing everything back to square one.  “Just, uh… r-really worked—worked up.  Trying to just.  C-Cool it?”

Your fingers flex at your sides because no matter what you try, you just can’t stop thinking about his.  They’re right there.  They’re so close, so strong and thick and—

“Aren’t you…”  He trails off, letting his head tilt and then drop to his shoulder with a combination of confusion and exhaustion.  “Aren’t you going to…?”

“To what?”  You prompt shortly, your hands suddenly clenching into fists to deal with another violent wave of arousal at how unbelievably drunk he still looks.  Maker, you did that.  That’s all you.

“s’Zerthia said all—” Obi-Wan murmurs, blinking long lashes lazily up at you, “—all Jedi must… participate.”

Fuck. Just hearing him provide you an excuse to give into the boiling arousal causes you to suddenly break out into a sweat.  You don’t know if he wants you to get yourself off or if he’s indirectly implying he wants to help, but you’re so far beyond desperate that you jump at the chance as soon as he so much as hints at the opportunity.

Very slowly, you move forward and lift one trembling knee to brace next to his thigh on the mattress, and then carefully swing your other leg over his lap, lowering yourself into a straddle in the same exact position he attempted to project earlier.  You’re so unbelievably cautious about his cock, making sure you don’t accidentally touch it and jolt him awake.  Instead of your newfound proximity scaring him away like you feared though, he stays so… docile.  Still so relaxed from his very first orgasm that he even rests his large palms over the thin fabric covering your thighs, letting the loose silk drape and fold over his hands as he drags them up and down.

His eyes follow your trembling fingers as you work at the knot tying the material around your body, your cunt throbbing between your legs at how he’s just… staring.  His eyelids are dipped slightly, breathing so calm and slouched under you, pliant and waiting.

The thin fabric slowly parts only enough to reveal the valley between your bare chest to him, and you watch his eyes fall down the thin strip of skin and catch on the dark line of your panties riding low on your hips.  Maker, you can’t help but remember his terror at even glimpsing the two acolytes taking off their robes earlier—the way his eyes bounced around and how his cheeks lost whatever color they had left to them as soon as he finally made himself look.  Now, though.  Now he can’t seem to drag his eyes away from the soft flesh of your tummy, the way your nipples are still covered by the thin fabric of your slightly parted robe but are impossible to miss while your breasts subtly move with your breathing.

You gently call one of his wrists to your hand with the Force and Obi-Wan is either mentally or physically too weak to resist your will.  He allows you to catch his hand and slowly lead it downwards with both of your smaller ones to the part of your body that’s longed for his attention for years, though now it’s absolutely weeping for it.

You don’t want to scare him.  You don’t want to scare him.  Oh Maker, you need him to be brave for you right now, or at least just continue to be stupefied.  You can work with stupefied, but you cannot work with panic, especially when you feel your own wanting to rise up the more you drag this out.

When the tips of his fingers brush against the waistband of your panties, Obi-Wan’s hand pushes under it without your guidance.

You’re throbbing.  It’s been years in the making.  Unable to stop the way your thighs contract and you lift your hips against his palm as it steadily curves down the slope of your soft curls, the sight of the finish line so within reach makes you reckless and too quick.  You can’t help it.  When he gets hesitant and eventually slows down to a halt right above your slit, you don’t even think before you’re suddenly giving his wrist an abrupt shove with the Force, pulling his hand down before he’s ready and forcing his middle finger deep through the soaking cleft of your pussy.

Your shameless moan of his name comes out sounding so grateful—you pour everything you have into it and sag into Obi-Wan’s chest at the feeling, but he startles and all but rips his hand out of your underwear before you can stop him.  He was a hair’s breadth from touching your clit and the denial of it—the sudden turnaround from your goal is just so massively overwhelming that tears suddenly spring to your eyes.

You can just barely make out the sight of him staring down at his trembling hand between the two of you, your slick shining wet and hot along the length of his finger. 

“Stars,” he rasps, blinking his wide, sapphire gaze up to yours—and then he quite suddenly looks alarmed.  “Did I—Did I hurt you?”  Obi-Wan gasps, his energy beginning to outright seize with distress while you blink rapidly and try not to crumble on his lap.

“No—I’m sorry, it’s just—I’m just… oh, fuck, I n-need it,” you stammer.  “Oh fuck, I need it Master, I’m so sorry—I’m trying to be calm but—”

“What is it, little dove?”  He urges, reaching his hand up to your face and flicking his eyes back and forth between yours, sounding almost as panicked as you do from your desperation.  “What do you need?”

“Oh stars, Obi-Wan, I need you to just—” You can’t fit anything into words, a tear finally making its way down your cheek when you clamp your eyes shut in frustration.  You just need him to understand, to give you what you’ve been craving for so long—but when you blink your eyes back open, his troubled expression has suddenly resolved itself.

Your Master’s hands immediately grab tight to your hips and twist you around, easily tossing you back up onto the mattress.  The jostle of bouncing back into the soft fur startles you, but not nearly as much as when he climbs over your body and braces an elbow next to your head, gently placing the tips of his fingers to your temple.

He pushes carefully but firmly against your natural mental barriers, flexing the energy shields inwards gently enough to not hurt you but with enough force to let you know he’s entirely capable of breaking through should you refuse to let him in.

So you do.  You let him in without a single thought, never mind a second one.  Obi-Wan gasps as your shields all but collapse for him that easily, and then he’s finally breaching the surface of your thoughts.

“Oh—Maker above, little one,” he grits almost immediately, his forehead dropping to your shoulder and his other hand wrapping tight around your arm as he struggles to acclimate to the blinding distress you’re experiencing.  “Collect—” he groans as your cunt clamps down at the rasp of his broken voice, “—collect yourself.  I can’t—can’t think—”

Oh, no, it’s too much.  It’s way too much, even just having him inside your head without being able to read him in return—it’s too much for you.  You start hyperventilating and instead of wanting him out, you just want to drown out the sensation of everything else.  The endlessly pulsing, aching throb between your legs that you’ve been dealing with for so long, the way you can feel his cock dragging against your tummy from this angle and how much you already want it in your mouth again, the way your nipples are so hard right now that even this soft fabric feels so rough and sharp against—

Your robe suddenly rips itself off your chest, and you whimper up at the ceiling as you dig your fingers into thick fur and writhe under him, almost completely naked and just desperate for him to do something, to at least just use his hands or his mouth to make you feel bet—

Obi-Wan’s head drops and his blazing mouth opens hot around your nipple, his tongue rolling soft and slick up under the hard bud.

You choke out the first part of his name and you barely even have a flicker of a thought—a brief flash of a rabid, baser desire you’re not even able to consciously recognize before you feel his jaw opening and his teeth closing gently around it, biting down just hard enough to make you spasm bright and urgent between your legs.  “Oh, fuck—”

As soon as you feel the pleasure and twisting ache spark deep in your core, Obi-Wan flutters his eyes shut and wedges his hand back into your panties, humming low in his throat when your legs jerk apart for him.

This time, your clit is the very first thing he touches.

He zeroes in on it.  The tip of his finger starts to rub it exactly how you’d do it to yourself, exactly the right angle and speed and pressure that your body suddenly feels massively overheated and dizzy from it.  It blindsides you.  It makes sense he’d be able to do this, after all, but for some reason, the whole thing just absolutely blindsides you.

“Maker,” you whimper at the ceiling, soft and pitched high in your throat, eyes rolling back when Obi-Wan gently bites down on your nipple again and continues to work to relieve you even as every muscle in your body feels like it’s tightening up.

“Stars—” he whispers when he pulls away, “This—this feels incredible, Padawan.”

You moan and roll your hips against his hand, on cloud nine at just how he’s slowly allowing himself to become filthier with you, to lower himself in all his righteous beliefs and descend into delicious sin with you, and—

—wait, did he just…?

Your cunt clamps down hard with realization as he continues massaging your clit better than you’ve ever even done it yourself.  Maker, it shouldn’t turn you on so much but it does, hearing that word in this context.  Padawan.  Padawan, holding her legs open while her Master explores her pussy.  Padawan, moaning desperately as her orgasm buzzes deep down inside with a rising, threatening resonance.  Padawan, Padawan, Padawan—

“Oh, you liked that,” Obi-Wan remarks tightly, taking a second to tug on your clit.  You nearly start to cry again, your insides pulling up and going rigid at the sensation.  “I heard it, little one.  You like it when I call you that?”

“Oh I like it when you do f-fucking anything,” you choke out helplessly, your words starting to slur together.  “Oh fuck, you’re so amazing, you’re so good at everything, you’re the best Jedi in the whole entire galaxy Master, you’re so much better th—”

“My, you’re agreeable like this, aren’t you?”  Obi-Wan grits, his touches growing stronger and quicker and rocketing you straight to the edge of madness.  “Shall I take that to heart, my darling little Padawan?  Or did you say such flattering things to the oth—”

“Wait!”  You suddenly exclaim, desperately trying to push his hands away.  “Oh, nonononono—wait, wait, wait, I—I-I’m about to cum—I need to—”

His hand yanks itself out of your underwear once more and you take giant, gasping breaths and try to compose yourself at least somewhat, but then your Master is quickly scrambling down your body and using the Force to rip your panties down your hips—

“Obi-Wan, wait—” you choke out, “that isn’t—you don’t… h-have to…”

He looks up at you, dark brows furrowed in confusion.

“I’ll be able to—y-you don’t—”  You have to take a few gasping breaths and remember how to speak Basic.  “I used my mouth on you before because I… I wanted to.  If—If you don’t want to do that, you don’t have to.  It’s not… oh fucking stars above, it’s not n-necessary.”

“Are you telling me this because you don’t want me to?”  He immediately asks, though you both already clearly know the answer to that considering how exposed your wild thoughts are to him right now.

“Ah, no I, uh… I just.”  You try to clear the thickness from your throat and you feel your body tremble while you focus as much effort as possible into trying to explain.  “I just want to be sure I’m not taking advantage of you, that’s all, I—I want you to know the truth about these things.  It’s not… necessary, b-but.”

“But.”  He repeats the word meaningfully as he glances back down at your weeping cunt, nodding slowly to himself.

And then your Master leans in, flutters his eyes shut, and slides his warm tongue deep into the seam of your pussy with absolutely no hesitation whatsoever.

“Obi—Wan—!?”  You gasp, somewhere between a squeak and a squeal, your entire upper body launching upwards around his head as your clit is immediately enveloped into a slick, dexterous furnace.

Hold still, you hear his voice warn through the Force, sounding so much closer than you’ve ever heard him before.  Whether that can be attributed to the fact that the command came directly from wherever he is inside your head or whether it’s simply because his tongue is now tracing gentle circles around your clit as you whimper pitifully into the quiet of the dimly lit room, you’re not sure.  All you know is that his mouth feels like velvet between your legs and his beard is scraping across your thighs and your fingers have buried themselves in his hair without your conscious permission.

Hold still, young one, he urges once more, but you just close your eyes and moan shamelessly at it this time, opening your legs wider for him.  His voice, it’s… it’s maddening like this, coming directly from your own thoughts.  Deep, precise, somehow sounding so true, so much clearer and full-bodied without your pesky ears in the way.  Your hips are subconsciously rolling slowly against the lower half of his face when Obi-Wan apparently decides he’s had enough.

An invisible energy wraps around each of your individual limbs and snaps them against the mattress without any warning.  You whimper high in your throat, arms and legs held so firmly against the bed with the Force that your internal struggles aren’t able to be translated outwardly; he doesn’t allow your body a single centimeter to move under him, no matter how hard you fight it.  Which means you have to lay there and just take the way Obi-Wan’s hot mouth continues to lick and kiss at your clit slowly, taking all the time in the universe to properly explore you between the legs he’s forced apart.

“Obi—” you croak breathlessly at the ceiling, feeling a familiar heat start to burn hot and tight through your core, “Obi, I—I have to p-project—before I—ah!—before you—before you ma-make me cu—ugh, f-fuck—I have t-to—”

Then project, he encourages simply, gently fluttering his tongue over your clit.  You gasp and he hums, murmuring through the Force once more to you.  We’re not hiding anymore.  They’ll all know I’m using my mouth on you like this.  It’s alright.  Let them know.

You realize you’re going to cum the second you hear your Master’s voice say the words using my mouth on you like this while he slowly sucks on your clit, and you barely have enough wherewithal to gulp in a giant breath and begin projecting your signature as far across the palace and surrounding city as physically possible before your body shatters hot into searing euphoria under him.

Obi-Wan groans deep in his throat and holds you perfectly still under him as you cum with a ragged, hoarse wail of his name, giant waves of white hot bliss beginning to radiate through the Force from you with spectacular power.  The contractions are so much more pronounced when it’s one of the only sets of muscles in your body he’s granted permission to move.  It’s like everything is concentrated and multiplied there because of it.  You can feel each individual spasm your floor muscles make as they convulse against his tongue, how each blazing shot of ecstasy that shatters through your body wrings more and more wetness from your cunt into your Master’s mouth.

Never.  Ever ever ever.  Has anyone done something so mind blowingly sexy to you.  Nobody.  Ever.  He’s a virgin, you frantically remember as Obi-Wan purrs softly into the folds of your pussy while it cums all over him.

Your thoughts, young one, you can just barely make out his voice remind you gently, just as gently as he sucks on your clit through the aftershocks, somehow sounding even more aroused than he did before.

After allowing your projection to flicker out of existence with a putter, you’re completely dazed.  Incapable of moving regardless of the way he keeps you pinned with the Force long after he pulls away, slowly moves back up your body and waits while you work to regain your bearings.  You don’t even want to open your eyes right now, knowing he’s looking down at your peaceful expression while you work to catch your breath.  You’re too stupid with pleasure you almost don’t even process the soft touch of something against your lips.

You’re lovely.

The thought is so quiet you don’t even recognize it isn’t your own.  Not until he keeps pressing his lips to yours so sweetly, not knowing to do anything else when your mind is too fractured with ecstasy to unconsciously act as his compass like before.  Everything is innocent and gentle and not reminiscent of the fact that the robes you’re both wearing are wide open and your mouths tasted of each other even before he kissed you.

Instead of melting into the soft touches, though, they just start to burn you alive, the thick fog of your orgasm clearing more and more with each gentle press of his lips and your need for him steadily growing.  He’s kissing you.  Master Kenobi is kissing you for a few precious, heart stopping seconds at a time before pulling away, pausing to look at your face each time to make sure your eyes are still closed, before leaning down and carefully pressing his lips to yours again.

The only part you can’t stand is that he won’t even let you move your jaw to kiss him back.

Kiss me, Obi-Wan, you urge desperately through the Force, not wanting to interrupt to speak.

“I am, little one,” he replies between kisses, and the sincerity in his tone tells you he’s not purposefully teasing you.  No, this is him kissing you, genuinely, the only way he knows how to.

Let me— you start to struggle in earnest against his hold on you, —please, let me—

The warm breath from his nose puffs softly against your cheek with a quiet little sound from far back in his throat, and then you suddenly gain the ability to move from the neck up.

You immediately part his lips with yours and Obi-Wan pulls back just the slightest bit in response, but your neck lifts up to compensate as you lick deep into his warm mouth.  He gasps at the foreign sensation and loses his concentration for a split second, enough for you to break free of it completely.  Your hands quickly fly up to cradle his face as soon as they can move and your fingers hook around the thick beard blanketing his sharp jawline, urging him back down into you.

Your legs come up to wrap around his lower back and he sags against your strong will with a needy groan, dropping down closer and obediently keeping his mouth open for you to taste.  As soon as he presses his body into yours, his cock strains and drags against your lower stomach, already throbbing hot and leaking precum along the soft hills of your skin.

Maker, you want it but somehow you… you don’t.  You just want to savor tonight as long as you physically can, keep holding him and kissing him like this for another few hours at least before you try to take his cock, but he’s unintentionally grinding it against you while his tongue shyly dances with yours, needy and already raring to go in his own timid way.

Do you want it, Master?  You finally murmur to him, running your fingers through his hair and gently biting his bottom lip, scooting your hips up to let him rub himself against something better than your tummy.  You feel… ready.

The only response you get from him is a shuddering, helpless moan into your mouth and you hold him tighter to you, grinding your still sensitive cunt up against his cock while he pulls hard at the soft fur next to your head.  Your feel your soaking pussy lips part around the solid curve of his length and gradually coat the underside of him in slick with every gentle circle and roll your hips make, and Obi-Wan finally pulls away from your mouth to drop his forehead to your neck.

“Yes, I—” he moans into you skin, “Oh stars, I want it.”

With a gentle wave of your hand, you use the Force to drop his hips down to the proper angle and tilt the head of his cock to line him up perfectly.

And now this is the part you don’t want to rush.  This is when you take Obi-Wan Kenobi’s virginity.  You’ll savor just being able to remember this for the rest of your fucking life.  You’ll see him in Council meetings years from now and be reminded that you’re the only person in the galaxy to know the thickness of him as he rests heavy up against your entrance, the way his voice presses deliciously tight in his throat as he gasps out into the quiet room.  You’re the only one who will know that sound, that sound is yours, that sound belongs to—

“Padawan,” he grits, hips stuttering into you while you wrap your arms around his shoulders, “your thoughts—”

You groan up at the ceiling and your pussy tightens at the reminder that he can still hear you, but your body is just too bold and desperate for it.  Your thoughts begin to flare bright, growing more possessive by the second, and you can’t even wait for him this time.  Every single muscle in Obi-Wan’s body goes rigid when you tighten your grip around him and roll your hips up into his cock, letting it break you open nice and slow.

It stretches you wide with a deliciously sharp fullness and pleasure rips through you as Obi-Wan instinctively tries to lift off you and away from it, but you’re clinging too tightly to him.  Your whole body hovers off the mattress to stay with him. 

“You said—” he gasps, “—it wouldn’t h-hurt—oh—”

“It doesn’t,” you groan, continuing to tighten your legs and hoist yourself up, lifting your hips to take his cock deeper inside you.  “Oh, Maker, it feels so fucking good, Obi—feel it—”

His elbows shake where they’re locked and braced against the mattress but he drops his head and holds strong like this while you work your muscles to take him as far as you can from this shameful angle.  Your body feels like it’s on fire while you desperately cling to him and the length of your robe brushes against the mattress while you just keep trying to get him deeper inside you—

Suddenly something grabs hard at your hips and tries shoves you downwards and off his cock, but you want it too badly.  You summon the hidden strength of your energy and then channel it into your legs where they’re hooked around the curve of his lower back.

Obi-Wan chokes at the unexpected resistance and his elbows buckle, dropping you both down to his forearms with a jolt, but you’re too busy mentally clashing with each other for it.  The result is… well, it’s maddening.

Every time your pussy is able to swallow him more than halfway, you pull back and let his energy shove you down his length—but then dig back in right before you drop completely and use the Force to bend your legs and fight the uphill battle to his cock once more.  Your Master gasps, beads of sweat gathering at his temples while you fight him with every ragged breath in your body to keep fucking him.

Except—he’s the fighter.  And you should’ve known.

You’re no match for the sudden blast of energy from him, easily hinging your legs apart from around his back and then ripping you down off his cock with a wet sound, bouncing back down into the mattress once more.

In order to stop the desperate tears of defeat from coming to your eyes, you immediately clamp them shut and twist your face away from Obi-Wan’s, but he makes a low growl and uses the same ferocious royal blue energy to keep your knees pinned open and wide against the bed. 

And then drops his hips and rocks back into you, giving you those last few precious inches of his thickness you weren’t able to get at before.  It hits sharp nirvana up inside you with his thighs pressed tight to your hips like this.  His name rips itself from your throat while Obi-Wan clenches his jaw and starts to lose himself in the pleasure, holding you down into the bed with the Force while he allows your desperation to guide him to the perfect angle and speed to sate you. 

He’s so gifted, so strong in the Force, he’s able to use your mind as his anchor and give you pleasure beyond anything you’ve ever experienced.  And in return, you want to do the same to him.  You want to read his thoughts, instantly be able to give him everything he never knew he needed—

“You do,” your Master chokes out, “darling, you already—”

Everything inside you surges up at the admission, aching that much harder to hear him, to hear everything the way he can hear you.  The tips of your fingers find his temple, slick with sweat, and you press just hard enough to tell him your intent.

“Let me in,” you whisper, wicked arousal swirling tight in your lower muscles as they start to bear down on his cock.

“I—I can’t—” Obi-Wan gasps breathlessly, “I can’t—”

“Open—open the door, Master,” you beg, “please, open th—”

“Fuck,” he cuts you off, his voice rising in pitch while his his hips snap just a little harder against yours and his rhythm falters, “—It’s too good, Padaw—I’m going t-to—stars, are you—are you r-ready?”

Some terrifying, swirling darkness manifests itself deep in your thoughts.  It rises up, part of the desperate, hidden subconscious that you’re typically capable of stifling.  No, it says, don’t let this be over.  Not yet.  You don’t want to go to sleep alone, wake up and remember you’ll never have this again.  You need there to be a next time, and a time after it.

You try your hardest to push the longing downwards when you recognize it, but your Master is too quick, too talented to deceive when he’s this close to you.  He easily plucks it from your mind and expands it, enlarges the chaotic string of thoughts until you feel them pulsing at the edges of your consciousness.

And then Obi-Wan sees it all, immediately playing out in your memories as you helplessly watch on.  Every desire you buried for him unearthed, every whimper you stifled with the back of your hand when you touched yourself at night and thought of him amplified.  The years of repression, the blind hope that simply ignoring it would make it go away.  How hard you worked to deaden the burst of affection that radiated through the Force when you finally saw him after two years apart.  The circumstances behind the night you lost your virginity—not a long time ago, as he suggested before, but only just last year.  So desperate in your loneliness and longing for his presence that you began routinely sneaking around and fucking other Knights—Guardians with blue sabers whose souls were just marginally close enough to Obi-Wan’s, and you thought of him the whole time.  Every time.

But, perhaps, worst of all.  The… fantasies.

He sees himself dropping to his knees and congratulating you for passing your trials by burying his tongue inside your warmth and telling you how proud of you he is.  He sees you opening his trousers and slowly licking his cock while he meditates, trying to get him to break his concentration.  He watches the two of you fucking in every conceivable position, how incredibly ready you always are to take him when he needs it.  Most importantly, he recognizes your inherent, blazing desire to drag this out as long as physically possible, to permanently brand every moment in your memory to get you through his impending absence.

And then… then Obi-Wan does something unexpected.  Something incredibly uncharacteristic.

You watch as he morphs the fantasies right before your eyes.  He's still on his knees with his head between your legs, but now he’s telling you how proud he is of you for negotiating the mysterious, confidential deal that ended the Clone Wars.  You’re licking his cock as the ship autopilots itself through the week-long journey back to Coruscant from s’Ziscari, letting him slowly cum in your mouth as he sprawls lazily in the captain’s chair.  He’s taking you against the wall of your quarters after a mindless and dull Council meeting; you’re riding him quietly in his bed after lights-out at the temple; he’s rubbing your clit while he sits behind you and advises you on matters concerning your own Padawan you’ll be choosing sometime soon, two fingers deep and squeezing a bared nipple when he whispers in your ear how much he absolutely adores you.

Thoughts that aren’t your own begin to fill the empty spaces of your mind, a lovely pale blue tenor to harmonize gorgeously with the soft green alto of your own consciousness.  The resulting color of your combined energies fills your soul with Light, a stunning turquoise of a color you’ve never loved more, one you wish you could live in for the rest of your life.

For every debased thought of yours he sees, he shows you one even more revealing.  The way he used to dream of you at night, especially after a close battle where many Jedi and Clones fell, and then he’d wake up in a cold sweat with an erection pulsing feverish and so terribly shameful between his legs.  How he tried to shove a pillow down there once to somehow relieve himself of the aching hardness, and then had to rip it away and launch it across the room with the Force when he realized he’d been dragging himself against it and thinking of you.

“I’m gonna—cum—” your voice scrapes across your throat, and you can already sense him throwing his beautiful consciousness out like a net.  You match him with what little mental strength you have remaining, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and your ankles around his lower back and pulling him down into you.

Obi-Wan’s energy keeps swirling a brilliant aquamarine with yours, presenting his every subconscious thought to you, one right after another, so quick you can barely keep up.  How he’ll always be with you, no matter what.  How the Maker himself won’t be able to drag him away from you now.  How quiet jealousy still tugs at his heart just thinking about the fact that you broke your oath—before you both could do it together.

Everything swells up inside you and you scream when it finally crashes over, your blended signatures sealing themselves together permanently and then detonating in a debilitating shockwave that ripples the air around you.  You’re blinded and deafened by its vivid energy, powerful and dazzling every shade between blue and green and Light and Dark, all balanced perfectly together.

You lay there in the gentle afterglow afterwards and feel your pussy still clamping tight to him, pulsing in random intervals while Obi-Wan slouches into you and every muscle in his body trembles with the comedown.  Everything is right.  Everything in you sparkles.

“Stars, Obi,” you start chuckling up at the ceiling, the sheer joy overwhelming you and bringing tears to your eyes.  “Stars, did we just—”

“We just won the Clone Wars, my dear,” he slurs into the crook of your neck while his cock still throbs inside you, and you can feel the exhaustion creeping up his spine, every single thought in his mind completely dead at the moment.

“How long do you… do you think it’ll take before it’s over?”  You ask quietly, brushing your fingers through his hair.  Obi-Wan groans and buries his face deeper into your neck.

“Few months, maybe.  Time for s’Ziscari…”

He stays like that for just a second, and you press your nose to him and breathe him in, marveling at how utterly gorgeous his signature is right now.  Clear blue with the lightest touch of teal, rippling like quiet water in a crystal calm riverbed.

Lovely.

You keep softly playing with the hair at his nape, and then quickly wrap your arms around him when he goes to try to brace his forearms next to your shoulders and lift up just the slightest bit.

“Wait, don’t—it’s—”  You bite your lip and feel him sink back down into your body without another word, clearly having only attempted it for appearances.  “This is good, let’s just… stay for a second.” 

He doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even move, and—a few months, you think.  A few months of his absence, of wondering where he is but never being able to ask.  It burdens your heart, but you understand it’s necessary.

The Council may… grant me a position with a more permanent location after this mission, he responds quietly to your dip in the Force after a moment, too tired to even talk anymore and exhaustion weaving his every thought.  On Coruscant.

Your heart pangs with sudden hope, and you know he can feel it.  “They would do that?”

I could ask to oversee the s’Ziscari’s assimilation into our ranks, he offers alongside a stifled yawn into your collarbone.

He’d… request that?  To be closer to you?  But why?

He doesn’t hesitate before offering the words to you simply, not even considering them before they’re the only thought in his mind.  Because I care for you more than there are stars in the sky.  I always have.

Lovely.

No, no, not even, that’s just.  Love.  By itself.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan murmurs softly into your neck, and your soul feels like it grows wings.

You both lay there in silence for a long time after that, and it takes you even longer to realize he hasn’t succumbed to sleep yet, even as the aching fatigue weighs heavy on his back.  He’s resisting it, keeping his eyes purposefully open against your neck while yours are blissfully shut.

“Master,” you eventually whisper up at the ceiling, and his cock twitches inside you.  Oh stars, you’ll have to remember that.  “Go to sleep.”

I have one more confession.  The thoughts are slurred and distorted, barely conscious as he desperately tries to outlast the sleep trying to pull him under.  I didn’t even want to mention it before because I didn’t know how this was all going to go, but…  He blinks slowly against your neck even as his eyes droop, only just a few seconds from passing out with exertion.  The Sh’inzith lasts six days, dove.

Your eyes pop open in shock just as his finally fall shut, and Obi-Wan stops fighting.

[burnedbyshoto]

I really hate you

— Shinsou knows he shouldn’t trust villains. Especially villains who make his mind spin and stomach twist in joy. But there’s something about you that keeps him coming back for more.

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pairing: pro hero!shinsou hitoshi x villain fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, a little bit of juicy plot, pro hero!au, reader is a villain, betrayal, biting, marking, collaring, cursing, hate sex, rooftop sex, body liquids, angst

word count: 8,180

a/n: i like deception :) being a chem TA is pretty fun, except when im in lab for 8 am until 4 pm. listen,,, I also really liked this prompt I made last night because the one I had before wasn’t spicy enough for me anymore. I hope you enjoy though! like comment and share for the algorithm (jk been watching too many tikytokys)

kinktober day 8 main kink: collaring

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When the sun sets, and the moon is high in the sky, and the chill of the bitter cold winds raise ceaseless goosebumps on your arms, and the only people who are up are drunken businessmen and tiresome students, it is a common belief that this is when the freaks come out.

The freaks come out to play at night.

You are one of these freaks.

Heh.

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Shinsou nodded at his friends as he walked through the doors of the agency he worked at. Despite the power of his quirks ability, he was an underground hero (unless the ultra-rare occasion where they needed his quirk in the limelight); he was stationed within a large, well-known agency and was one of the founding heroes there at that. His ability to be hidden from the bright lights of the world were both easy and challenging; most of the world knew him as the kid from UA’s Sports Festival that went toe to toe with nearing number one Pro-Hero Deku. It both irked and embarrassed him when that event was brought up; on the one hand, it was true! He had nearly beat Midoriya during that final stage. Yet, on the other hand, their memories seemed to recall some crazy quirk-fueled fistfight where Midoriya had broken his entire body in the duration of their fight. 

‘No,’ he often found himself responding back to the gentlemen and ladies who would awe at his school-day adventures, ‘there was a fistfight, but Midoriya handled it without using his quirk except to snap him out of my quirk.’

They always looked embarrassingly horrified by their faulty memory when they pulled the clip up on Youtube, their bows quick in apology before they made off. 

But people recognizing him from that was rare as it gets, fortunately even with the large agency stapled to his alias, he was quite good at his job—a shadow in the night, an urgent whisper to the villain freaks who roamed the night.

“Ah, Shinsou-chan!” Kaminari pouted, his body draping over his purple-haired friend as Shinsou moved to change from his regular clothes into the black triple-weave kevlar of his hero suit. He had once sported a black cotton-like costume akin to Aizawa, but after many, many gun shootings and stabbing incidents, he figured he needed something sturdier. 

“What is it?” he asked, rising up from his bent position so that Kaminari couldn’t take advantage of his slouched form. 

Shinsou’s tired, purple eyes met the exhausted pair of Kaminari.

“Today was so hard,” Kaminari sighed, his lip still put into the stupid pout, and he slumped onto the bench behind Shinsou. His feet were spread before him, fingers drumming onto his directional equipment. “Since it’s winter, the night comes sooo much earlier now. I swear some weirdos really appear out of the woodworks when the night comes! Like just before I was going to make my way back here, I swear I saw Aizawa-sensei hanging out on the rooftops like some super-secret ninja, right?”

Shinsou frowned. He knew his mentor turned friend was actually on vacation at the moment in Hawaii. Something he thought, at the very least, was long overdue. 

“Aizawa is in Hawaii right now,” Shinsou quickly spoke, his hands buckling the belt on his pants, before moving to lace up his boots. 

“Oh fuck, I told Todoroki he was in Seoul,” Kaminari cursed, the palm of his hand hitting his forehead. 

“Good going, who knows what weird message or gift he’ll end up sending to Aizawa now,” Shinsou couldn’t help the small smirk from spreading on his face at that note.

After being accepted into the Hero Course over in UA, Shinsou couldn’t help but be initially disappointed when he was placed within Class 1-B — Class 2-B at that point — simply because his mentor was with Class 1-A. The initial disappointment didn’t last very long when he got to know the rest of Class 2-B better, and he saw that while 2-A possessed raw talent, 2-B were more well-defined with a much bigger take-no-shit mentality that he appreciated more. That and 2-A were being strangled by a new villain of the month far too often, and Shinsou just wanted nothing more than to graduate from high school. 

Still, his lack of enrollment in Class 2-A didn’t mean that he didn’t see the rambunctious, nearly intolerable group of twenty in class 2-A. As a matter of fact, he thought he saw them a bit more than he’d like. Aizawa was his mentor, so he understood seeing him around, but for some reason, 2-A was never too far away. As soon as Shinsou was admitted into the Hero Course and the two hero classes had weekly meals together, which meant that to him, just the slightest bit, 2-A felt like an unwanted, annoying, ugly stepchild.

So no, Shinsou could not tell you 2-A’s inside class jokes, but he knew a lot more about the forty other hero students than he’d ever like to admit. 

And through his knowledge, he knew that the ever so powerful Todoroki Shouto was an idiot, probably a bigger one than Kaminari.

“I hate that you call Aizawa-sensei just…” Kaminari trailed off, a disgusted shiver running down his spine as if it sickened him to remove the single formality.

“Aizawa,” Shinsou said once more.

“Stop.”

“Aizawa.”

“Hitoshi!”

“Aizawa.”

“PLEASE!”

“Shouta.”

Kaminari hit the floor, his chest heaving with fake, bitter sobs while Shinsou couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of his over-dramatic friend on the ground. He had to admit, Shouta felt weird on his tongue too.

“Stop making a huge deal about how Aizawa and I are closer than you are,” Shinsou half-joked half-told-the-truth.

He was more than well aware of his mentor’s former students trying to become even closer to their beloved homeroom teacher. All doing it in their own ways, all relatively unsuccessful because unknown to them (but not Shinsou), Aizawa already loved them all thoroughly, not that he’ll ever tell them.

“I DIDN’T MEAN TO SHAVE OFF MITTENS FUR!”

Oh yeah, that had lost a lot of love points for Kaminari.

Sighing softly, Shinsou placed his newly replaced coiled capturing weapon around his shoulders, and his artificial vocal cords mask onto his chest until he was off on patrol.

“Why’d you think you saw Aizawa?” he asked again, trying to finish the conversation so that he could leave. It felt like it was going to be a long night if Kaminari confirmed where his thoughts were already trailing. 

“Hm?” Kaminari finally looked up from his puddle of tears on the floor, tears streaking all over his face, small charges of electricity humming off it. He blinked once, twice, his eyes shooting to the ceiling as if the answer was there before his fist came down to hit his open palm in a flash of realization. “Oh, I remember! There was this person, obviously not Aizawa-sensei, standing by the edge of a building watching everyone below. Hair whipping in the wind and his capturing weapon fluttering around them!”

Just as Shinsou thought.

“Where did you see her?”

“Her?!”

“Where, Kaminari?”

“Uh… well, I guess by Gramps convenience store. Don’t tell me this is some super sexy megafan of yours! Wait… do tell me, or… no, I’ll get jealous if you’re having rooftop sex with — eh?! where are you going?! Hitoshi?!”

“My shift started two minutes ago,” Shinsou explained, one of his hands lifting in a wave as he exited the locker room, his heart hammering quickly, knowing just who he was going to need to track down tonight.

…

..

.

It was dark.

Shinsou’s eyes squinting as he hopped from one rooftop onto the other, his capturing device assisting him in clearing the dooming crevice. He wasn’t exactly the most physically threatening, and unfortunately, that also meant he wasn’t exactly the greatest at parkour type movements, although he was getting better. Maybe had he started to ask for earlier shifts, where he would be out when the sun was, he could get better faster.

It was tricky with only the moonlight to guide him, but that’s what he could get at the moment.

As he scuffled through the gravel rooftop of one of the abandoned buildings, Shinsou found himself squinting at the figure in the distance. The one perched near what Kaminari oh so fondly refers to as Gramps convenience store.

He studied the form of the picture still person, noticing if it wasn’t for the slight wind through your hair and twisting capturing weapon around your neck, he would think you’re a statue. But he knows better now, he’s known better for quite some time now. 

“What’re you doing out here, y/l/n?” Shinsou found himself speaking the moment he stepped behind you, hands shoving into his pant pockets.

You didn’t move, nor did you respond, your body still completely still while peering down at the empty world fascinated on who knows what.

“Y/l—”

“How can I help ya, Mindjack-senpai?” you interrupted him, your gaze still not removed from the world below the building. “I hear it’s supposed to be a busy night tonight.”

Shinsou paused, his brows scrunching at your words.

It was plain to see to Heroes that you were a villain, you did what you wanted when you wanted, whatever the price, but if there was one thing Shinsou had learned with this rather weird cat and mouse game the two of you played time and time again was that you didn’t lie. 

What was happening?

“A busy night?” Shinsou questioned, his quirk still unactivated, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to Brainwash an answer out of you anyways. “Where at?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Mr. Hero?” you teased slowly, and Shinsou had to deny the way that the way your head finally turned to lock eyes with his made his stomach clench.

It meant nothing.

Nothing at all.

“You know what happens when you slight me,” Shinsou couldn’t help but warn, the bandages on his neck rising under his command. But your eyes blinked slowly, lips spreading into a lazy, cunning smile.

“And you know what happens when you underestimate me,” you returned, fingers gliding against his old weapon — yes, old weapon. Just two months ago, just before your last arrest, you had viciously stolen it from him, your foot crushing his vocal cords while you managed to pry the weapon from his broken fingers. “Anyways, Mindjack-senpai, it’s a bit unethical of you, a hero, to be threatening me in such a way! I’m just a poor girl waiting for the love of my life to show up.”

“And have they?”

You blink, a soft giggle escaping your lips as you nod, “I got him right where I want him.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Shinsou snapped despite the lick of warmth against his chest and cheeks. “I’ll have you arrested again.”

Now, this has you turning from the edge of the building, you sit on the ledge of the building, fingers supporting your head as you stare at him without fear. Shinsou really fucking hated how fast you riled him up.

“Arrested? But Mr. Mindjack-senpai, didn’t you know?” you ask, the taunt evident in your voice, the twinkle in your eye devastatingly bright. “I’m a changed woman. I’m what you call a hero now. You wouldn’t arrest an innocent heroine, could you?”

“You’re hardly innocent,” Shinsou responded back smoothly and deftly, not at all yet entirely impressed by you. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

He blamed his deep impressions of you on the stupid black and purple attire you wore.

“Well, you know as well as I do that I just got out, but I feel like except what happened two days ago, I’ve really changed,” you emptily promise, pushing off the ledge, sauntering closer to Shinsou until he felt the tip of your nose brush against his. “I’ll make sure to think about you whenever… bad feelings come up.”

He prays you don’t see the scarlet flush on his face.

You’re already back at the ledge when he blinks, and he watches you raise two fingers to your temple in a mock salute as you wink at him.

“You didn’t hear it from me, but two blocks east, seven blocks south from the heart of Tokyo is where you’ll find trouble,” you inform him, dropping the salute as you turn to run.

But Shinsou wants his damn weapon back.

“Y/l/n, wait!”

“Yes—?”

You froze at the ledge, your eyes spacing out, and Shinsou sighed, moving to collect his weapon from you until you suddenly dove off the building, a burst of cheerful laughter on your tongue.

“Oh, I forgot to tell ya!” you screamed from the next building over, your fingers threading through the alloy metal cloths. “I got some earbuds just for when you’re around! They make your voice into electrical signals just for me! So guess what?!”

Shinsou didn’t need you to complete that sentence in order for him to realize what you had just gotten your hands onto.

As long as you wore those, his quirk was useless against you.

Despite knowing that a villain held the key to his demise as a hero, he chuckled, running a hand through his short purple hair.

You really were something.

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Shinsou never took himself as an especially suspicious person.

He figured he had days where he was suspicious of some people the correct amount, especially when they had the most painted on emotions he’s ever seen. Some days he was overly trusting and blamed tight smiles on something acute to nerves. Without meaning to brag, he felt like he was healthily suspicious of people, unlike others he knew who wouldn’t dare to interact with anyone new or would spill their darkest secret to anyone who would listen.

But there was something entirely, conspicuously suspicious with how you were behaving.

Winter had long passed, the long winter nights and graveyard shifts of endless freak encounters had worn a hole in his patience and boots. The spring season was beginning to end, and the warm days and nights of summer were setting on his skin.

Six full months of you, the first-ever villain he had fought as a Pro Hero, the first-ever villain to have openly flirted with him and to have him flirt back, being suspiciously… kind. 

Every shift of his, he would find you waiting for him on one of the regular rooftops. Every time he would check in with the database to make sure you weren’t wanted for some crime to find that you were innocent. Every time he would feel pissed off because you wore those earbuds that rendered his quirk useless and you somehow mastered the capturing weapon within weeks.

Now Shinsou didn’t pout, he really didn’t, but there were moments where you would appear from behind him, finger swiping down his spine as you effortlessly twirled around him, a stupid sly grin on your face as you held onto the collar of his hero costume.

“Don’t pout, Mindjack-senpai, I’m here now,” you’d purr each and every time.

He loved the dangerous purr to your voice, the way your eyes hooded over, peering at him through your eyelashes, but he knew better. He had to know better. It wasn’t that villains were terrible people per se; he’d learned a lot of villains were just thoroughly sick of being mistreated (and he had wondered what would have happened if he had been denied from UA… would he be one?). He knew that for the most part, you were quite harmless, merely sticking your nose where it didn’t belong, living a life to your personal laws and rules.

It didn’t make you evil, merely dangerous.

But he had a job to do where even if it was justifiable to beat the ever-living shit out of your sister's abuser, nearly murdering him in rage and refusing to calm down when Shinsou had arrived on the scene with the use of his quirk didn't hold up well in court. It had started this long chain of events where you had absolutely hated him for a time as you were forced to stay overnight in a jailhouse. And many horrible days afterward where you performed what Shinsou had thought to be illegal actions only to find that no, they weren’t. As a matter of fact, entirely legal because Japan had yet to update their codes. 

Long after he had discovered this, you had returned to actual crime, your physical ability growing by leaps and bounds as he ran after you after catching you doing something dangerously illegal. Shinsou was a proud hero and was incredibly proud of the impact he made as a Pro Hero, but it was clear as day, even to him, that he often let you slip through his fingers. Like a child opening their cupped fingers and wondering why the water had left.

He wasn’t sure what it was about you that made him act this way, but he certainly didn’t wish to find out.

“So what’s on the schedule today, Mindjack-senpai?” you asked, appearing from the shadows of the rooftop, not scaring Shinsou in the slightest as this was always where you greeted him. “Are we saving the Prime Minister today? Stealing — I mean, protecting those stupid bedazzled eggs in the museum? Perhaps solving an unsolvable case?”

“Smooth,” Shinsou snarked, his tired purple eyes piercing through your bright ones that seemed undoubtedly excited. “How many times do I gotta tell you that there aren't that many actual case assignments? Besides, most team-ups happen in the morning when I’m asleep.”

“Being a hero is so boring!”

“You’re not a hero.”

“Am too!” Shinsou snorted, turning on his heel and began walking away, listening to your footsteps running after him to keep up with his long paces as you cried that out.

“No.”

“Yes!”

“No.”

“Yes!”

Shinsou stopped, his eyebrow raised in slight forced annoyance but much more amusement, when you spun in front of him, hand on his chest, cheeks puffing with your heavy breathes.

“Look!”

Tilting his head back, Shinsou grunted when your phone was shoved in his face. “What is this?”

“Hero Commission Regulation Handbook, page fifty-four, Article three, sub-article twenty-three,” you chirped, turning your phone back to yourself so that you may read it correctly. “It states that besides attending hero school like a bunch of nerds, civilians have the option of securing internships with approved Pro Heroes and work side by side with them for six months! Once finishing their internships, said Pro Hero must simply sign my licensing papers and bam, a hero I’ll become.”

“And which sniveling hero did you get to do your dirty work?” Shinsou scoffed, not at all buying the notion that you of all people wanted to become a hero. A vigilante at best, an anti-hero much more realistically, and staying a villain as default.

“You,” you smirked, winking at him before turning on your heel and sauntering off, knowing full well the patterns of his routines. 

Shinsou sighed, but he let a familiar smirk fall on his face as he walked after you, enjoying the way you glanced back at him with your wide clear eyes. But that suspicious, gut feeling didn’t leave his core, no matter how sweet and beautiful he found your smile. 

“So, Mindjack-senpai, who are we apprehending today?”

“You want me to sign your paper this entire time, and you’ve been addressing me as senpai?” Shinsou commented, his weapon shooting off to a nearby building, snapping straight in his hand when it was ready. “Where are your manners? It’s Mindjack-sensei to you.”

He didn’t wait for your response, choosing to swing off the ledge of the building with no hesitation, but a part of him wished he could have heard the sound of your laugh he only seemed to hear through the streaming, far away air.

…

… 

While usually, Shinsou didn’t have actual cases during his patrols, this job, after all, was much more spontaneous than anything else, today was different.

Today was different altogether, really.

First off, he showed up to work when the sun was still up just to get his meeting intel down in time for him to be out on the scene in time. He had nodded plenty, silently taking in Creati’s information on the drug cartel they wanted to in the next few weeks take down for numerous charges. The creation of dangerous, illegal drugs, prostitution rings, robbery, and murder being the main ones. It was some bigger stuff, so they needed all the evidence they could get.

Shinsou stared at the faces of the more prominent names of the cartel, studying every crook, nanny, and scar on their faces as Creati simply ended with where they focused down onto where their drug creating facilities were at, but still needed confirmation. “They’re pretty difficult to get to without knowing where they are,” Creati admitted, handing him a GPS. “You’ll need this.” He would be the first to start evidence gathering; after all, his old classmates would begin tomorrow.

So he had left, going to the first hideout and finding out it was completely empty. Not a single spec of evidence remaining, not a secret door or trap to get him to where they could be hiding from sight.

So was the next.

And the next.

And the next.

Something sat weirdly in his stomach as he began walking towards the final one on his list, and he froze when he saw lights shifting and moving from around the building. Quickly, Shinsou hopped to higher grounds, his phone already out, ready to take pictures. He lay low to the rooftop, practically army crawling to get to place to place as he neared the windows on the rooftop, allowing him to peer in onto the building he was scouting to find precisely what he needed. 

The entire building was a drug production spot.

His eyes scanned the building floor, singling out ten of the twelve main heads on the cartel, and he smirked. Perfect.

“Whatcha doing here, Mindjack-sensei?” your voice whispered millimeters from his ear, and Shinsou bit his tongue harshly to keep the instinctual scream from ruining his covert operation.

He snapped his head over to you, eyes slightly furious, eyebrows knitted tightly as he looked to see you leaning toward him. You were in a different outfit today, completely black, drowning you out in the night. He blinked; even the capturing weapon he had still been unsuccessful in stealing back from you was pitch black.

“What’re you wearing?”

“Do you like it?” you asked, straightening up and twirling for him as if you were wearing a magnificent dress and not personally created ‘hero’ clothes. “Ah, I hoped you would! Sorry, I had to get rid of the purple. I just felt it made me look too cute, right? I know I can’t have villains falling for me like you had me falling for you!”

Shinsou did not blush, no he didn’t, “shut up.”

“So what are we looking for today?” you asked, pressing down onto the floor beside him. Your arm touching his as pressed your face towards the glass. “Is this a stakeout?”

“Less stakeout, more information gathering,” Shinsou grumbled, typing some needed notes onto a file on his phone. It seemed to him that there was plenty here for the drug making charges. “We’re trying to get their bigger names caught in the action.”

“Oh, I thought heroes just burst in whenever they wanted, that’s what they do in the movies. Plus, you always threaten me with being arrested with no evidence,” you giggle, shifting closer to the glass, smile wide on your face.

“After saying that, say goodbye to me signing off that paper of yours,” he grunted, slipping his phone back into his pocket while you scrunch your nose at him. Shinsou couldn’t help but stare at you as the palms of your hands supported your chin as you hummed some song he couldn’t recognize.

“Ne, Mindjack-sensei, did you get the big boss?” you asked, your finger pressed against the cold glass, and Shinsou frowned, returning his head to the glass.

Right where you were pointing was, in fact, the head of the cartel. He was horrendously scrawny, holding no sense of fear or malice, and Shinsou wondered what his quirk could be that he was in charge of an operation such as this one.

“Oh, his right-hand man came too! All twelve are here!” you cheered quietly as Shinsou took documentation on his phone, and that suspicious rock in his stomach finally made sense at this second.

“Y/l/n?” he asked, head turning toward yours, tired eyes glinting with emotions he didn’t know how to handle.

“Mhm?”

“How did you know there were twelve main members, and how’d they look like?”

Silence.

Shinsou’s lips pulled back into a snarl, his canines glinting as he locked eyes with yours that were wide with shock and disbelief.

“How’d you find me—?”

He watched you lean away from the glass, fingers shooting to your earpieces. And with the inkling of suspicion sprinting through his veins, the purple-haired hero still found that he moved too slow. 

BOOM!!!!

He blacked out when his body flew with the explosion.

...

..

.

Ringing.

Pain.

Numbness.

Shinsou could only hear ringing in his ears as soot and ashes fell down from the sky, falling on his body, coating his gaping, open mouth as he tried to breathe, trying to calm himself. Was he bleeding? Was he dying? Where was the explosion from? Were you okay?

His eyes blinked heavily, altogether so irregularly that Shinsou couldn’t help but feel he was out of his body when you reappeared in his sight. Your hand pressing to his cheeks sympathetically, eyes truly hurt as you shook your head, hand grabbing into his bloodied pocket to take his phone.

“I’m sorry,” your voice seemingly whispered, just loud enough for him to hear you through the ringing from the explosion. “You weren’t supposed to be here, Mindjack… these are the scumbags that hurt my friends and family. I couldn’t let them live. Plus… I didn't have a choice, they were competition.”

He spluttered, the warm goo of blood and saliva choking out of his mouth as he convulsed on the ground, his eyes watching as you went.

“See you later, hero.”

He tried to yell at you to come back, that you were a coward, a fucking menace that he would destroy the next time he saw you, but his voice failed to work. Nothing was working except his pain receptors, his heart that kept shoving blood into his lungs that he kept spitting up, but he saw flashing white and red lights as unconsciousness sank its jagged teeth into his neck.

An ambulance was here.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

It took four months to recover from the accident.

His hearing had been fucked up. Not even medical quirks had managed to save his hearing entirely. But hey, it did get him the chance for Bakugou Katsuki to come to his room, called him pathetic, and showed off his own hearing aid that he had needed since his quirk had damaged his own hearing. Not to mention that for the past four months, he had been teaching him sign language just in case.

He wasn’t alone, it seemed.

But it was four months, and he had recovered fully.

The hearing aid he required in his left ear still made his ear ache in pain, and he found that he liked it much better shoved in the back of a draw than anything else. But he knew it was dangerous to be a hero without his full hearing. If it hadn’t been for Bakugou’s trial through this all and the help of Hatsume Mei to create a more appropriate hearing aid for heroes, he wasn’t sure if he would still be here — working that is.

But today — or well, night — was a new day, and he was going to push ahead. He could do this, no sweat, no problem. 

Well, that was until an all too familiar figure sat perched on a ledge on his usual route, legs swaying in the air as uncontrolled rage bubbled in his chest. It wasn’t entirely your fault, but a large part of Shinsou was embarrassed to have been caught up in all of this because of you. He had trusted you above all else even when his instincts yelled at him not to because he knew what it was like to be painted as a villain, and he had hoped by letting you in more, you would have changed. He thought you had.

But you hadn’t.

Not one bit.

…

…

You sat at the edge of the building, already having heard the loud crunch of Shinsou’s shoes against the gravel rooftop, but you didn’t turn around. You didn’t know how to face him, how to tell him that you were both sorry that he got caught up in your schemes, but that you weren’t sorry for what you had done. Those bastards had it coming.

“Give me one good reason not to push you off the building,” Shinsou growled, probably much louder than he intended. 

Instead of answering, you shrugged.

You hadn’t brought the earbuds that would keep you from being immune to his quirk, and you slightly feared what would happen if you gave in to the whispers of his words. Would you blackout in a daze before coming back to normal only when placed in the prefectures jail? Would he actually attempt to kill you? You had no idea.

But you turned on the ledge, looking at his tired purple eyes that shook with his anger and betrayal. You had done a number on him.

“So, now you can’t seem to respond back to me?” he laughed bitterly, his teeth bared into a way too fierce smile, one that made your heart thump and sent a shiver down your spine. “What game do you think you’re playing?”

You still didn’t answer as you planted your feet back onto the rooftop and stood up, watching as his binds flared to life. Dancing and weaving around him in a dangerous coil of fabric, like a frilled dragon lion lizard extending its skin in a warning.

“Should’ve taken you down with that first time I found you,” he spat, his eyes narrowing as you took steps toward him, and the weapon seemed to snap at you. “Did your sister pull the same bullshit on him as you did me? Is that why he became ‘psycho?’”

Now that one nearly got the response out of you as fury thrummed through your veins as you were suddenly nose to nose. You couldn’t help it, but you knew there was no point in explaining your reasoning for doing what you did because he would never understand; he couldn’t. 

So as his eyes flashed dangerously from your eyes, his breathing coming down harshly against your upper lip, the hatred he had for you (that was probably reignited from a year ago and make it double) simmered between the air between you and him. You couldn’t resist.

Your lips pressed against his in a simmering hot kiss. 

Shinsou shoved you away, as quickly as you had pressed your mouth against his, but you were back on him before he could utter a word. Only that this time, he kissed you back with scalding, burning heat. 

You never really knew how much smaller you were to Shinsou until you were on the tips of your toes to kiss him, his hands practically burning you as they gripped onto your hips, pulling you so close there was hardly any room to breathe. His kiss was hateful, spiteful, and full of unspoken passion the two of you had never addressed during the period that was good. It had been so good, but he was a hero, he would never understand.

His teeth bit harshly onto your lower lip, and you hissed, your fingers burying into his hair and tugging at the root of his hair as his tongue came and pressed dangerously against yours. His tongue was hot against yours, he was undoubtedly much more hotblooded than you were, and with his emotions heightened, he exhausted what. 

Tongues clashed against one another, but it wasn’t even a battle of dominance; it was a battle to find who surrendered. There was to be no joy or excitement for whichever tongue prevailed, just the burning of the tears falling down your face and the acid taste on your tongue as he suckled on your pink muscle.

Your eyes were partially opened, watching his angry yet blank purple eyes meet yours, neither one of you allowing yourself to give in to the pure elation and sensation this was bringing. No, he wouldn’t allow it, and you wouldn’t have it.

The stubble of his beard scratched into your skin repetitively, feeling like sandpaper against your own skin as the kiss deepened, consuming the both of you on a whole new level as your crotches ground roughly against one another. Hisses and groans couldn’t stop pouring from your collective mouths, both of you hating yet craving more from this all. You couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he spoke to you like this, would he do something to you while you were like this? So when his massive, thick hand made contact with the underneath of your ass, scooping up your leg so that your covered cunt could now correctly grind into his hard cock, the weapon you stole from him a year ago bound around his neck, choking him, collaring him.

“I like my bitches chained up,” you mocked against his lips, but somehow, someway, Shinsou liked it. 

You groaned loudly at the way Shinsou gasped for air against the makeshift collar, your grin widening as you nodded your head, pulling away from his mouth as the grin became a smirk. “Didn’t think you wanted to talk when we were fucking?” you lied, teeth biting onto his lower lip and sucking on it as your hips oh so artfully bucked against his covered cock. You could feel the growing slick in your panties beginning to feel uncomfortable with the lack of proper friction, and your head lolled backward when he slammed your core against his, devilishly grinding against you.

He picked up your other leg and dropped the both of you to the floor, the uncomfortable gravel stone floor digging painfully into your back, but you could care less. Shinsou’s mouth was already back on your body, scratchy, scraping kisses placed on your neck, making you moan out, legs wrapping around his waist as you cant your hips upward to grind into him.

Unamused with the lack of his hands on your body, you took his arms that were planted at your shoulders and pressed his heavy palms on your breasts, avoiding the pissed look in his eyes as his teeth marked you painfully. You actually shrieked in pain. The feeling of his teeth tearing through the skin on your neck, while his finger kneaded and pulled at your covered breasts. It was unashamedly painful with how he played with your breasts. He seemed to grow happier with every sound of distress you made.

Fisting your hands back into his hair, you pulled him back to your face level, your eyes fluttered at the way his clothed erection carded perfectly between your sopping wet cunt. Blood stained his mouth, making his teeth slightly orange in tint, and you clicked your teeth in partial anger and pain as your neck throbbed. Slamming your lips back against his, you almost gagged at the taste of iron that soared through your senses as his tongue wasted no time to seek yours out. His lips and fingers were so ardent, manipulating your every body movement, cry of pain and pleasure as thrumming hatred for the stupid, stubborn hero above you still coursed through your veins. 

Sweat began to form at your temples as your lips gilded against his, your hips snapping up to meet his grinding hips, and an airy response keened from his mouth as you moaned loudly.

His incessantly grinding hips were making your legs shake with stimulation, your whines and whimpers for more opening like a flood gate as you finally stuck a hand between the two of you and shoved his pants to his knees. You dropped your legs from around his waist, and he assisted you in ripping your pants off from one side of your body, the fabric still clinging to your right leg, but you could hardly care. All you wanted was for him to plant his cock into your blazing heat and to fuck you, to claim you here on this rooftop that started and would end it all. You wanted him, his cock, and him.

“Fuck me,” you begged into his ear, and his back shivered with your words. You hooked your leg around his waist, carding his hot, throbbing cock against your soaked pussy, as you rolled your hips. “I want you to fuck me, fill me with his cock, and cum deep within me to show me just how much you fucking hate me.”

You cried out when his hand shot down to his cock to line it up with your squeezing, dripping hole, his mouth once again covering yours, kissing you aggressively, fueled with an emotion you could taste as bitter hatred. Your legs trembled as the tip of his cock continued to press against your entrance, not entirely entering it, not giving you friction to send you into a euphoric end. You could help the snarl that passed through your lips, your eyes angry beyond repair as the head of his cock continued to deny you. Whenever you tried to grind down, to force your walls around his cock, he went down with you, he wouldn’t allow it, and your cunt clenched against nothing as he gave you nothing.

Shinsou wheezes out a bitter chuckle, his hand raising his cock from between your soaked folds to slap his heavy, thick, and long length against your throbbing clit.

Hatred and desire soak your body, and you needily rub your clit against his cock, your hands shoving up his shirt to feel the scarred pattern of his back as you give him new ones that were produced by your nails.

“Don’t tease me, hero,” you snapped, fingers tearing into his skin to draw blood. “You fuck my pussy so good, right now, or I promise next time you’ll go out with that bomb too.”

That seems to do what you want because before those words settle on your nerves. His cock penetrates deeply within you, bottoming out entirely as your head thrashes back against the gravel of the floor, throbbing pain from that entirely ignorable because fuck, his cock was stretching you out. He was so thick, so fucking veiny that you could feel the pulsating veins on his cock pressing against your puffy, sensitive walls. You scream his name as the pleasure-filled pain pulses within you, your hips thrashing, wildly bucking in your attempt to calm from the sudden placement of his cock.

“Why are you so fucking big?” you splutter, a whining pitch to your voice as you clawed at his back, trying to separate your joined bodies but also trying to get even closer. “It’s so big, my walls feel like! Oh fuck, Shinsou, it feels like Imma split in two!”

It seems that Shinsou holds some great pride over those worse, because he growled deep in his chest, and his hips begin to fuck into you. It sends your hands to the base of his neck, clutching onto his skin with hope as you scream in pleasure, eyes rolling to the back of your head as the wet squelches fill the air and tickle your ears. The head of his cock keeps dragging against your spongy wall, brushing over your g-spot over and over again as if he knew where it was, as if it was common knowledge as he fucked you further into the gravel floor. It didn’t even hurt anymore, your skin singing with joy as his cock fucked you stupid.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck me!” you whined, and Shiinsou made an approving noise. 

He grunts as your cunt flutters and clenches around him, his balls hitting your skin in possibly bruising force and speed. And his pelvis crashing against your stings ever so slightly, but has you begging for more, sobbing for more.

Your vulgar words and moans are unstoppable at this point, your legs and thighs trembling as they are still circled around him, sometimes assisting you in coming up to meet his driving, drilling hips. You whine into his ear, your mouth pressing blind and sloppy kisses against his slick with sweat neck.

It’s when both his hands bring your hips up to him, his cock finally bottoming out entirely within you, does the most primal moan rip through your mouth. You convulse underneath him, trying to move as the head of his cock buries against your cervix, poking your womb with power and speed that has you swearing behind the blackness of your vision that this sensation brings. You can see the entire galaxy, the world lighting up when his cock leaves the thin wall, and you gasp, shocked that the heat and slick of your cunt is still going. You tremble underneath him, wordless cries pittering from your mouth while he bites on your earlobe.

You soon readjust to the numbing pleasure, the bruising pleasure, and pain that comes with his cock slamming against your cervix. The way that he thrusts up into you, stretching out your walls far more than you were ever used to.

 A pathetic cry escaped your lips when he rolled over so that you were now on top, your body bouncing as soon as it could against him. You keened and whined, feeling the top of his cock licking your cervix, and you spluttered.

“Fuck this angle, this angle and your cock!?” you stammered, fists curling into his collar as you rode him, his hips snapping up into yours with that same animalistic power and speed.

His pace is irreplicable, near maddening with every successive thrust of his hips. Each snap, each wet noise sends you close to the edge, your inner walls clenching and milking his length with greater power as your senseless cries fill the night sky. His grip on your waist will leave purple bruises later tonight, you just know it, but the fire in his eyes as you lock fazes is enough for you to be okay with it.

Its intensifying, deepening, fire erupting in your core as your cunt throbs.

Sweat, tears, and spit fall from your face, and Shinsou surges upward, kissing you with everything he can. It's a maddening escape of lust and need and hatred being exchanged, saliva spreading between you, covering your hot faces with slimy coldness, But you keep him close, your mouth drinking him in more, begging for more as your tongue sinks into his mouth.

His fingers rake down from your back. Past the curve of your clapping ass and onto your powerful thighs that helped in your action to claim his cock. Your joined mouths, both parted in silent screams, wordless begs for more, branding curses that spoke of his hatred for you, your hatred of his job.

Fuck this, fuck that, fuck, fuck, “fuck!”

You held each other impossibly close. Despite the barriers of shirts and armor separating your chests, you swore you could feel his hammering heart flush against your chest. A steady, consistent beat reminding you that this was a one-time thing, that this was yet another bomb with only one explosion to it.

“S-Shit!” his voice finally managed to escape from the makeshift collar, and you nearly sobbed at the sound of his gravelly, husky voice. 

You still hated him, you really hated him and his stupid deep voice. 

Your back arches as the control you had on collar suddenly slacks, as if you had never had it there, and his own noises of sex, of hatred, of pleasure fill and echo in your ear. You can hear him mumbling something in your ear, your head pathetically nodding, tears streaming down your face only you can’t seem to figure out why. The throbbing pressure in your stomach made you near uncomfortable as his cock sank and disappeared from your cunt, your walls' vice grip becoming tighter and tighter and tighter.

There’s vigor, untapped lust, pent up frustration as he rolls you both around, pushing you back into the gravel and dives his length into your wet, loud cunt without mercy. You were overworked, over thrilled, the pressure of your coming orgasm snapping into your every fiber of your being, your toes curling, and drool seeping from your lips as he growled. 

The noise seemed to resonate deeply in your own chest, and he pressed his sweaty forehead against yours, pathetic, needy noises escaping your lips as you stared into his angry, lusting eyes. And as he buried his teeth into your bottom lip, his nose scrunched in an aggressive snarl, he spoke with finality:

“Cum.”

You weren’t sure if you had suddenly fallen under the persuasion of his brainwash, or he just knew you were overfilled with pressure, but you went rigid in his hold, your eyes rolling backward, and your vision going white. You came in powerful waves, electric stimming vibrating through your entire body as your spongey, wet walls clamped around him, and Shinsou came in a guttural groan. His hips snapping into your with five last, robust, resounding thrusts until your trembling abdomen and thighs were stilled with his crushing weight.

 You could feel his hot cum pulsing and thriving deep within your cunt, and you panted heavily, your body feeling alarmingly weak as the both of you lay there. A puddle of cum, tears, drool, pain, longing, and hatred.

He lays on top of you, his chest heaving with his breathing, and you felt frozen beneath him. The pain of the gravel roof no longer adds to your pleasure but rather is stabbing you in pain. It’s quiet as you lay there.

He’s quiet.

You’re silent.

“Why’d you do it?” he asked suddenly, interrupting the silence that you hated.

“I can’t tell you,” you admit, voice thick and heavy with untold emotions.

“You know I’ll have to arrest you, right?” Shinsou spoke softly, but he didn’t move to capture you, and you didn’t move to run.

What was the point? It wasn’t as if there was ever a fighting chance for the both of you. The world would have never allowed it, so why bother?

“I don’t think you hate me enough to arrest me right now, sleep on it,” you softly chided, your eyes staring up into the universe, begging to know why they made you a freak?

“Not right now, you spent all my energy,” Shinsou admits, rising up from you, his soft cock removing itself from your humming core, and you looked away to keep from staring. “I really hate you though, y/l/n. I don’t like liars or pretenders.”

“Convince your cock of it next time,” you couldn’t help but fire back, your upper lip curling in your anger and hatred at the sound of his zipping pants.

Silence and a beat follow your words.

“I’ll tell you this now,” Shinsou spoke, turning on his heels, his tone was cold, distant, like a stranger who could care less for you. “Don’t let me see you again. If I do, I promise you, I’ll send your ass to Tartarus. We’re no longer on good terms.”

Anger, hatred, and fury course through your veins as you stand up, legs weak, but spirit wounded as you pull up your pants, uncaring of his cum leaking from your slit. 

“Don’t you dare show your face to me again! Next time I won’t save your fucking ass when I blow something up!” you snapped, the tears running down your face uncontrollable although your voice never gave it away. It didn’t have to though, he turned around one last time, and his eyes met yours, and the two of you glared and simmered. 

But, he didn’t bother to respond back as he disappeared into the shadows of the night sky.

You collapsed onto your knees, exhaustion finally catching up with you, and you realized his capturing weapon you had stolen was finally taken back by the rightful owner. You fell forward, the tears and silent sobs muffled by your bitten lip as you stayed on that rooftop for an hour. Crying like a freak.

Truth be told, you weren’t even sure if you ever hated him.

...

..

.

Incoming Text…

Incoming Text…

New Text Message Received!

From Unknown:      ↳ Good job, y/n. Phase one is complete.

[mooncademia]

Caught in Love

PAIRING ~ Aizawa x reader

GENRE ~ fluff

SUMMARY ~ After getting a job offer at U.A, your love life w/ Aizawa has officially transferred to school. And you loved it.

But wait...something is different about Class 1-A homeroom teacher! And it has definitely caught a few suspicious eyes.. who may or may not have an idea up their sleeves to satisfy their burning curiosity. 

First day working at U.A, you realized that you didn’t have to wake up at your usual morning alarm at 5:30 a.m.

Ah yes, the pro hero days of waking up super early, going to the agency, giving Aizawa (who continued to sleep beside you) a peck on his cheek before you left were now over.

And instead, you were introduced to a new routine.

A fresh one.

However, things weren’t going to change that fast, after all, you’ve been pro-hero for years! And your sleep cycle has stuck to your 5:30 a.m alarm and Aizawa, your husband, did not appreciate that.

“We are going to work, together!” You squealed as you flung open the blankets that covered you and Aizawa. You hopped out of bed and shook his shoulder, making Aizawa mumble a groan.

You kissed his cheek passionately and ruffled his messy raven-black hair a little bit.

“Come on,” you said. “Wake up, I’m going to make some coffee.”

Aizawa turned to the side to peek at the clock on the bed side table. He let out another groan when he saw the three digits.

“Y/N, it’s literally 5:34 a.m. You just need to be at U.A at 8 and we don’t live that far.”

“Yeah, well,” you said with an exciting smile. “You can never be too prepared!”

You scurried out of the room and turned on your coffee machine in the kitchen.  Aizawa turned around and saw his bedroom now empty. His wrinkled long black sleeve was bunched up to his waist and he frowned as he got up this early for the first time in months. You knew your husband was a rationally-driven man, sometimes a lone cat who prefers privacy and waking up a lot later. But what you didn’t know was that when Principal Nezu asked him if his wife could teach at U.A after All Might retired, he was thrilled.

So despite it being before 6 a.m, his excitement was bubbling over that it made him finally leave the bed.

But of course, he had to play it cool. With rational excuses, right?!

“Well, I guess I do have to review the school schedule with you,” he mumbled as he palmed the back of his neck and walked out of the bedroom.

When you saw your husband slumping down on the dining chair with his half-lidded eyes, your heart immediately flipped and you poured a nice cup of hot coffee for him.  

You knew him well enough that he didn’t wake up this early in the morning for no reason. You set the cup on the table and leaned down to give him a peck on the corner of his lips as a gesture of gratitude.

But at the very last second of pulling away, Aizawa got the best of you and wrapped your waist with his strong arms, causing you to sit down on his lap—santa lap style.

He hugged you warmly and you slung your arms around his neck. Aizawa snuggled his head between your neck and shoulder and sighed blissfully with his eyes closed. You laughed with your head tilted slightly back.

Yeah, he definitely was not a morning person.

After much time of Aizawa discussing you about the school system for the millionth time during breakfast and almost having a mental breakdown of whether or not you could actually teach (we all have those moments, right?), you were on your way to U.A.

And it really took your breath away.

The school was located on the top hill in Musutafu with the whole neighborhood revolving around it. Glass windows seemed to reach the sky and when you realized how freakin’ big the campus actually was, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the building, not even a second.

But that wasn’t the best thing of all.

Because the best thing was having to walk to work with your favorite (and sometimes most annoying, but you love him nonetheless) person beside you. It was like having your best friend as a partner for your science project in high school. Ease poured over you as you found it quite pleasant to have a strong arm to lean delightedly upon, a familiar face that peers down at you with a gentle smile, and a reassuring voice to tell you that things will be okay.

It was still an hour before class but you and Aizawa were—of course—there early.

The two of you were walking down the halls. Sooner or later you’ll have to let go of your arm that was crossed with Aizawa’s before entering the teacher’s office because one thing that you both agreed upon was to keep the relationship low-key. No one knew that Aizawa’s wife was going to be the new teacher at U.A except for some of the faculty and of course…Hizashi Yamada, aka: the loudest person in the world in Shouta’s opinion.

“Y/N!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Present Mic shouted when he saw you step into the teacher’s office. His blonde hair that was religiously shifted upward was too iconic to not be noticed from far away. You giggled at the sight as he threw his arm around his best friend, Aizawa, poking him teasingly on the shoulder. You were great friends with Hizashi and in fact, he was the one who introduced you to Aizawa in the first place.

“Oi, Eraserhead, you’re so lucky your wife goes to work with you,” Hizashi teasingly snickered with his arm still slung around Shouta’s neck. Aizawa tried to shrug him off but it only made him tighten his grip. “So they managed to get Y/N to teach here but they haven’t even implemented my great idea?!”

“Please no, Mic.” Aizawa groaned, trying again to pull away from Hizashi’s grip.

You sat down your bag. “What’s your  ‘idea?’ ”

Hizashi let go of Aizawa’s neck and casually slung his arm around yours, making you giggle in surprise.

“Well of course it’s my HERO FM radio! Every Friday from 1:00-5:00 p.m!” He announced proudly (or more like promoting) making you laugh even more as Aizawa facepalmed himself. “I told the staff that they should let me add one more day, you know, because of my great increasing popularity! But they said one day a week is already “enough,” he said letting go of you to make air quotes with a disgusted expression on his face.

“Get to work Mic,” Aizawa called as he headed towards his desk to gather up some assignments for his morning class.

Hizashi winked at you before he trotted off, throwing you a thumbs-up sign. “Get ready for some ‘strict Aizawa-sensei.’ One day during U.A fest, I wanted to hear Class 1-A perform but Aizawa kept on saying that I should be on patrol duty—“

“Which you should’ve. It was your shift.” Aizawa interrupted bluntly.

“But I just wanted an INSEY WINCEY listen!!” Hizashi stomped on his feet childishly which made Aizawa roll his eyes and let out a sigh.

You went to your husband and stood on your tippy-toes to land a small peck on his cheek. Aizawa blushed at your move because of the fact that you two were in a semi-public place, but he didn’t complain at all.

“Oh, don’t worry.” You seductively caressed his shoulder and gave him a charming smile as you leaned in deadly closer to his face with your hips arched a bit. “I can’t wait to see… what Aizawa-sensei is like.”

Your tone was silky smooth and you rolled out the last word so slowly that it made Aizawa’s mouth part open just a bit. He stared at you dumbfoundedly. Your eyes flickered down to his lips and he swallowed a gulp. He felt like Cupid just shot his heart and he was totally falling for you once again because the fact that you called him ‘sensei’ totally did not make his stomach or heart heat up.

Yeah…he really was goddamn lucky to have you work at U.A alongside him.

———

“Overall, ‘Plus Ultra’ doesn’t always necessarily means you need to exceed your limits physically. But it also means mentally. It’s how your brain exercises to solve complex situations. What are your strategies like? Are you saving those who need saving in quick time while doing minimal damage to your surroundings? I hope next week’s practice can allow you to exercise these brain muscles of yours that I reviewed today because listening to your thoughts and being mentally stable/prepared is more important than how powerful your quirk is. Listen to that hero gut instinct of yours, because at the end, especially in dearest times… it’s going to help you immensely.” You finished with an encouraging smile that made the class almost want to clap at your amazing class. You were glad to see their engaging faces and raising their hands when they had a question.

Class 1-A was truly remarkable. Though, the only student that left you curiously wondering about was the small boy with purple balls on his head because he seemed to be staring at you so intensely that you swore his eyes were bugging out of their sockets.

Aizawa bowed at you when you finished and you gave him a smirk.

The class began to exchange small chats as you bowed back to Aizawa.

“Wow, I think this teacher is really good! She’s so pretty and smart!” Ashido excitedly whispered to Tsuyu behind her with her eyes widened.

“That’s pro-hero for you,” Kaminari added with his index finger and thumb pointed high up. “Plus, she even made Aizawa-sensei stand there awake the whole entire time listening.”

Some of the classmates nodded eagerly in return, truly astounded that their homeroom teacher did not retreat to his traditional yellow sleeping bag that he usually does.  

“Thank you L/N-sensei,” Aizawa said, popping the class back to the board ahead. You bowed at him in return, but before you headed out, you saw Aizawa gave you the tiniest nod and wait…was that a smile creeping on his lips?!

You exhaled silently in relief. You have been so nervous and worried about teaching at U.A. When Principal Nezu offered you the position, you were shocked to even know that he had you on his mind. You previously thought that Aizawa proposed the option but that guess was quickly diminished when he told you that he had nothing to do with it.

You were just a pro-hero doing your job and when the amazing opportunity arose, you immediately accepted it, knowing that you deeply wanted to help students find their way to hero-life.

And Aizawa knew you had been nervous about U.A since accepting the offer. You have stayed up countless nights just reviewing paperwork, going over the school schedule many times, and even looking through practice exams from the past, thinking about what further lessons you can teach to these students.

You folded your lips and returned a small nod, eyes twinkling as you slid the door to head out.

The class truly captured the small moment you and Aizawa had, but then all shrugged away when they heard their homeroom teacher begin handing out today’s assignments.

As you trotted away from the class back to the main office, you smiled at yourself as you hugged your folders tighter to your chest.

Hm… I could definitely get used to this.

———

Days seemed to go by faster than you had expected.

Wake up (sometimes not that early anymore thanks to Aizawa hugging you down even after your 5:30 alarm rings), enjoy breakfast, head to U.A, teach, and then go back home with Aizawa (when everyone else is —of course— away).

You’ve had your ups and downs at U.A. Some days, work seemed to flow by very smoothly while other days, work was more than just grading papers or checking assignments. There were a few days where work overloaded and you and Aizawa will be staying up past midnight checking over paperwork. But it was times like these where you truly felt utmost grateful to have a mentor there to help you. And it was even better that your mentor was your favorite person in the world.

It has been ten days since your first day at U.A.

Which means: ten days Aizawa not sleeping a wink during your long lectures about hero work that he already confidently knows. And to some of the classmates who knew their homeroom teacher well enough that his yellow sleeping bag was his best friend, it was a bit…odd.

“Don’t you think it's weird that Aizawa-sensei stays awake only during L/N-sensei’s lectures?” Uraraka asked Kaminari on their way to the Lunch Rush.  

“What do you mean?” Kaminari shrugged and chuckled. “It should be weird that a teacher sleeps during class in the first place, right?” He grabbed his food tray excitingly, his eyes focused closely on it, clearly not noticing Uraraka’s suspicious tone nor mischievous eyes.

Tsuyu popped in between with the two and let out a sigh. “Boys……You have to read in between the lines. Uraraka’s right.” She snapped her finger perkily.  “Aizawa-sensei is not just awake but he’s seemed very engaged to L/N-sensei.”

Kaminari stared at Tsuyu and Uraraka obliviously as he sat down with the rest of the classmates. “Huh?”

Uraraka rolled her eyes. “You know! From the way he nods his head when she talks or oh! That smile?! I have never seen his lips tilt upwards besides haunting us on how difficult practice exams are going to be.” She tiredly sighed, thinking about her teacher’s wicked smirk every time a huge exam was coming. It was like he found pleasure in challenging the students to surpass their limits.

But Tsuyu and Uraraka knew that Aizawa’s expression when you were in the room wasn’t that wicked grin that he had when announcing an upcoming exam or event. Instead, it was a mixture of awe and sincerity. And it definitely made the two girls exchange some giggles and fun guesses.

“What’s up?” Jirou said, sitting down beside Tsuyu with her cafeteria tray, noticing her friends laughing loudly.

Uraraka leaned forward on the table to peer over at Jirou. “It's about Aizawa-sensei and the new teacher!”  Her voice was loud enough that it caught the other classmates’ ears, making her furiously blush afterward from her spontaneous excitement.

But of course, of all the pairs of ears in Class 1-A, there was always the one come rushing in when it’s about his favorite subject: women.

“L/N-SENSEI?!” Mineta’s ears visibly perked up from Uraraka’s gush, clearly engrossed with the topic of the new teacher. “She’s SO gorgeous and oh lord, her—“

“Quit it, Mineta.” Kirishima slapped the back of Mineta’s head beside him before he could finish his lewd statement. He hooked his arm around Kaminari with a giant smirk plastered on his face.

“Why don’t we find out, huh?” Kirishima proposed as Kaminari tried to wiggle his way free from his grasp.

“Hey man, watch your grip!”

Uraraka waved her hand to dismiss Kaminari's racket and stared back up at Kirishima. “About what?” She asked curiously, taking another bite of her rice.

“Girls…” Kaminari mocked sarcastically with a sigh, mirroring Tsuyu’s earlier comment that she made on him. The two girls rolled their eyes and punched his shoulder.

Kirishima leaned into the group closer with slyness flickering in his eyes. He grinned and bopped his head at Jirou. “We can find out if there’s anything special between Aizawa-sensei and L/N-sensei…using Jirou’s quirk!”

Jirou scoffed and leaned back with her arms crossed before Kirishima could continue. “Uh, you’re using me to get info about our homeroom teacher’s private life? That doesn’t sound very friend-like to me if I say so myself.”

“Come on Jirou,” Kaminari whined. “It’ll be fun!”

Jirou raised her brows and sneered. “Since when did you get interested in this?”

Tsuyu shook her head and waved her hands, dismissing the rising chaos. “No, you’re right,” She said, trying not to show her disappointing face. “It’s not fair to just use Jirou to grab juicy news about our teachers, you know…even if it can be so great to the point that it makes us cheerful and excited despite upcoming exams.”

Uraraka bobbled her head up and down, religiously agreeing to everything Tsuyu had to say with a pout on her lips and closed eyes. “Or it can even help us lift our spirits.”

Tsuyu nodded. “Even if it is just a tiny bit, it can-“

“Alright, guys! I get it! Fine!” Jirou said over Tsuyu, earning grins from the boys and giggles from the girls. Jirou sighed and pinched her nose bridge. She looked up at her friends and darted a death glare at Kirishima and Kaminari. “I’m only doing this for the girls.”

It was half-true. Jirou didn’t want to agree to this for the boys. But another reason was because of school lately.  With heavy workload that the whole class was dealing with, plus the hero-work after school and training, school has been…well, quite draining. And similar to the time where the whole class decided to hold a competition for “best dorm room” last year to raise everyone’s spirits from the whole villain chaos, she thought maybe this can raise spirits up again too. Even if it’s just miscellaneous curiosity or excitement. She knew and sensed that her friends needed something exciting happening, besides school work.

So the plan that Kirishima introduced was to head over to the teacher’s lounge at this moment during lunch break. Since it was merely the beginning of lunch and there was still a good 45 minutes left, it was the perfect time for teachers to be on their desks with students the last thing on their minds. Jirou can place her earphone jacks in the wall to hear the voices inside to retrieve any news from the two teachers.

“And if we got nothing, that’s totally okay as well.” Kirishima shrugged. “We can always try next time!”

“NEXT TIME?!” Jirou exclaimed uneasily, twirling her earphone jacks. “Let’s just see what happens now, and focus on next time later.”

“All right then!” Uraraka clapped her hands excitingly and bumped her shoulder against Tsuyu’s with a beam. “Mission: FIONA starts now!“

“Fiona?” Kaminari raised his brow, getting out of his seat with the rest of his friends.

Uraraka pointed her finger up in the air pridefully. “Find-Info-ON-Aizawa. I couldn’t think of an acronym for ‘ON’ so just leave it together and you’ll get—wooah!”

Jirou and Tsuyu locked elbows with her and dragged her away before she could finished,  followed by Kirishima and Kaminari trotting behind their footsteps.

“If you keep explaining it’s going to be Mission: GIT!” Jirou sneered, giving Uraraka’s elbows a good tug.

“GIT?”

Tsuyu smirked as the five of them head towards the teacher’s office. “GETTING INTO TROUBLE!”

———

Lunch breaks were times where you and Aizawa could finally heave a sigh of relief and chat with each other freely. You were happy to work at U.A with Aizawa because now since work schedules were parallel, you could efficiently have the time to hang out with him. When you were pro-hero at your original agency, you’ll often come back home with no trace of Aizawa since he was still in school working on students’ assignments till late evening.

But now, you had all the time in the world to chat with him. Okay maybe not all the time, just an hour and a half, but it was definitely enough for you.

Aizawa was sitting next to you on your desk, nodding along to your talks about your recent lectures with other classes as he gave some advice on teaching.

You let out a wistful sigh and rested your head on Aizawa’s shoulder. You closed your eyes and let out a hum. “Thanks for helping me through all this. I can’t believe teacher work is this much.”

Aizawa let out a puff of air and smirked. He peered down at you from the corner of his eye. “So are you gonna apologize for all the times you were scolding me for not coming back home early?”

You shot your head back up with your eyes widened and a jaw exasperated dropped. You knew that Aizawa was joking from on his tone but you pressed your hand on your chest and squinted your eyes at him, giving him a death glare. “Excuse me? Uhm, sir, I don’t think that’s fair. And besides! All the hours you were gone, I really really missed you and-“

Aizawa leaned forward, a hand snaking to the back of your neck, taking you by surprise as he crashed his lips against yours. You were completely shell-shocked that your eyes stayed open the entire time. Sure, you have kissed Aizawa a thousand times before, but he rarely made the first move. And oh did your heart fluttered!

Aizawa pulled away with a smile dancing on his lips. “And I really missed you too.”

Before you could open your mouth to respond, you heard a loud gasp from outside, making you unconsciously turn your head towards the sound.

A muffled voice transmitted through the walls. “KEEP IT DOWN, KAMINARI!”  

A female’s voice? Or was it a boy?

More muffling voices continued and you couldn’t really understand it, but one thing you knew for sure was that there was someone outside.

You twirled your head back to Aizawa. His face hardened and got up from the chair, walking towards the door.

“SH- ! HE- COMING!” A familiar voice echoed through the walls that you could only capture words of.

Aizawa finally opened the door and looked to his right.

Caught red-handed.

All five students were crunched down to the ground. With Jirou’s earplugs on the wall with Uraraka and Tsuyu beside her, plus Kaminar and Kirishima hovering right above her not missing any detail she was saying, Aizawa knew exactly what was up.

“Shouta? What’s wrong?” You asked, making your way to the door when you saw his cold expression.

You sucked in a breath when you saw the scene to your right.  

“RUN!” Jirou shouted but it was too late. Aizawa immediately caught the five of them with his trusty gray scarf so fast that you swore you didn’t even notice it. His scarf rolled all five up into a bundle individually so that their arms were glued to their sides.

All of the students heated up from shame.

“Soooooo……..” Kaminari mumbled weakly, trying to make the matter less intensive. “Are you two dating..or..something?” His voice squeaked higher and higher as Aizawa’s brows got deeper and deeper.

You knew you had every right to be mad that these students who were invading you and Aizawa’s privacy, and you should! But to your surprised, your offended emotions were quickly replaced with a comical one as you saw all the students’ ducking their heads in shame, darting their eyes away from Aizawa’s hardened glare.

Ah well…they would’ve found out sooner or later.

You let out a chuckle. Aizawa turned his head at you with his eyes widened, not knowing that you would be taking this matter so lightly. But you returned him with a kind of smile that immediately released the tension of his grip and the eyebrows on his face.

The students perked their heads up in confusion from your reaction, and you flashed them a smile as you snaked your hand behind Aizawa’s back.

“Dating? Hmmm…,” you said, a lopsided smirk dancing across your lips.

“I think it’s a little bit more than that.”

And with those words, Uraraka and Tsuyu couldn’t help but squeal in delight despite still being bonded.  Kaminari swore he never felt this wholesome since getting accepted into U.A, and Kirishima—on the other hand—twirled his head away from you and mumbled with his eyebrows furrowed in great passion: “…He’s so manly!”

And Aizawa? Well, he definitely looked at you in surprise for being so open, but no less than a second, he felt a warm breeze rushing through his body.

Your laugh after seeing the students’ reaction was the most beautiful sound he has ever heard.  

It always has been.

And hearing that made him feel like hey…

Perhaps people knowing wouldn’t hurt! And maybe it’s because he just loved you that much, or maybe it’s that fact that he realized, that no matter if his class or the freakin’ public knows or not….

Nothing…absolutely nothing, is going to disrupt the beautiful relationship the two of you have.

[heartsywritesthethings]

Tickling! Plus Ultra! 5 (End)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

The class of 1-A was quickly transported over to Momo Yaoyorozu’s mansion after both Bakugo and Deku were taken from the villains. They all had bags with their clothes and other items with them, standing in the middle of the foyer awkwardly. Even Momo seemed to be awkwardly standing around, even though this was her house. Sure, he had a few of the students over before, but never in a situation like this. Bakugo was being more distant than usual, not even standing near Kirishima like he usually did. Deku was smiling, but it was strained. Even Kirishima who was usually their spot of light in darkness, seemed to have a cloud over his head. 

“Alright, everyone, let’s get everyone settled and…uh…” Momo said, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. She took a deep breath before leading everyone to their rooms. 

“We should try and play a game to get everyone’s spirits up before we fall asleep.” Iida said, though the steam had left his voice. All of that running around had really taken the wind out of him. 

“I…I think I’m a little too tired for our kinds of games tonight, guys.” Deku said, rubbing at his sides absently. All of the tickling from both their games and…especially since Toga had really done a number on his ticklish nerve endings. He wasn’t exactly ready for another round. 

“‘Night.” Bakugo said curtly. He stepped into a room and closed the door behind him. The other students of 1-A heard the lock click and that was about it. 

“Guess he’s tired.” Kirishima hummed to himself. He stared at the door a moment longer, wanting to go in and help Kacchan. It couldn’t feel good being attacked and kidnapped so many times by the league of villains. He couldn’t even imagine what those villains must have done and said to him.

“Well, everyone else is going to have to share bedrooms. I’ll take the couch in the main room since Bakugo took a room to himself.” Momo said with a small sigh. Not that she could blame him, but it still wasn’t entirely fair for him to just lock himself in some random house.

“Don’t worry about it, Momo! Since you were so nice to let us stay in your house, I’ll take the couch.” Kirishima said with a charming smile. Momo thought about it for a moment before shrugging. She was absolutely exhausted after making so many things on such a short notice earlier tonight. 

“Alrighty then. The rest of you can follow me.” Momo said, waving for the rest of the class to shuffle behind her.

On the couch, Kirishima checked his phone for just about the millionth time. He was waiting for Bakugo to finally tell him that he was alright. A meme. A link to a Youtube channel. Anything. When nothing came across, he decided to put matters into his own hands. In the Bakugo Squad Group chat (Chaos Crew), he decided to share the code for the game that Bakugo couldn’t say no to.

QWTRZ - Among us code.

Kirishima’s red character ran around the lobby as he waited for his friends to join. 

A pink character with a flower named SlimePrincess joined.

A yellow character with the dum sticker named ChargeBolt joined.

A white character with the floppy brown hat named 0 joined.

A purple character with a red beanie named EarJackD joined.

Kirishima chewed on his bottom lip as he waited. If they waited much longer, then they would be kicked for inactivity. Damn…Bakugo must really be in a bad mood if he didn’t want to play a game where he could slaughter his friends.

An orange character with an egg on top named ExplosionMrdr joined.

Kirishima smiled at his screen and began the game. The little sprites began running around the map and Kiri’s character stuck with Bakugo’s. He wished that there was a way he could chat with him within the game, but just sticking with him was good enough. 

Well, that was until the little orange guy turned around and stabbed him in the back. Kirishima pouted at his screen. Just like Bakugo to kill him first thing in the game. 

As a ghost, Kirishima’s character followed Bakugo’s around the map as he jumped in and out of vents and slashed at passersby. It was a short game and an absolute slaughterhouse. The very last crewmate who was left alive as the game ended had been Sero. 

The next game, it was Kirishima who was the Imposter. He followed Bakugo around, ready to kill at a moment’s notice. As he did, Bakugo’s character ran to the button and pressed it. 

What the hell?

ExplosionMrdr: it’s ****** hair.

SlimePrincess: Proof?

0: Proof?

ChargeBolt: Where?

EarJackD: No one died, Denki.

EarJackD: Kinda sus.

ExplosionMrdr: u idiots its literally **** hair

ExplosionMrdr voted.

0: Anyone wanna follow me to Medbay? I gotta get scanned.

RedR10t: Ill go with u

ChargeBolt: How do I vent like pink did?

EarJackD: im voting denki. Sus af.

EarJackD voted.

ChargeBolt voted.

RedR10t voted.

SlimePrincess voted.

0 voted.

No One was Ejected. (1) Imposter remains. 

The game continued. Kirishima followed Bakugo again, but this time decided to turn off the lights and then kill Bakugo’s character in front of the medbay. No one saw because of the lowered lights.

There was a frustrated yell that the entire mansion could hear. Bakugo stormed out of his room and the sound of his pounding footsteps grew louder and louder. Kirishima stared at his phone screen as he heard his impending doom get closer and closer to him.

Bakugo grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him to his feet.

“Is it you? Are you the imposter?” Bakugo yelled in his face.

Wait, what?

“U-uh, it’s just a game, dude and I didn’t mean to kill you–” Kirishima stammered. This was definitely not the reaction he had wanted. Sure, the frustrated scream and the storming out of the room was something he wanted, but this seemed like something more.

“Did you sell us out, shitty hair? Did you tell that stupid group of low lives what we were up to?” Bakugo yelled, almost as if he didn’t even hear anything that Kirishima had said. 

“Dude, what are you talking about?” Kirishima asked, putting his hand on Bakugo’s wrist. It was a small gesture, but Bakugo retracted his hand. Bakugo ran his hands through his hair in stress.

“Just fucking tell me if it’s you. You can’t keep lying to my fucking face.” Bakugo continued, his voice trembling. Small sounds of footsteps could be heard as the others in the class peeked out of their rooms to see what all of the commotion was about. Kirishima frowned and took Bakugo’s wrist and led him into a different room. 

“Alright, dude. What is going on? I’m sorry for killing you in the game, but this is a little much.” Kirishima said. He reached out and placed a hand on Bakugo’s shoulder, but he pulled away. 

“There’s someone here, shitty hair. Someone here that could have sold us out. Could still be selling us out! It could be you for all I fucking know!” Bakugo yelled, pointing an accusatory finger in Kirishima’s direction. 

The red head sighed, a look of pity crossing his face. Whatever those villains had said to him…they made him think that there was some kind of traitor among the UA students. With how many times they had been caught and Bakugo had been kidnapped…it would make sense to a degree. 

“Kacchan…look at me.” Kirishima said, stepping closer to Bakugo.

“Don’t get close to me!” Bakugo said, flinching away from his friend. He looked away from the red head, his body shaking all over. Kirishima took the risk of getting burned and wrapped his arms around Bakugo, hugging him as tightly as he could.

“Katuski…please. Take a deep breath, man.” Kirishima said softly. 

Ever so slowly, Bakugo melted into the embrace. He wrapped his arms around Kirishima’s waist and buried his head in Kirishima’s neck. 

“That bastard…whoever it is in this dumbass class…I’ll kill them.” Bakugo grumbled. Kirishima shook his head, squeezing Bakugo closer to him. 

Having been taken hostage so many times has really gotten to him. After being beaten around and taken away from his friends so many times, it was perfectly reasonable that some trust issues towards his friends would start to surface.

“None of us would do that to you, man. Seriously. You may be loud and obnoxious, but everyone in this class thinks of you as a friend.” Kirishima said, resting his hand on the back of Bakugo’s head. He could feel something wet against the shoulder of his shirt and he just knew that Bakugo was…crying. It broke his heart. 

“There’s…someone here, Kiri. They’re going to take us down from the inside. It’s so damn stupid.” Bakugo wheezed, clawing at the back of Kirishima’s shirt. Kirishima sighed heavily, feeling tears of his own in his eyes as he held his friend. It really broke his heart to see Kacchan like this. This hurt. 

“No one is out to get you, Bakugo. Even if they are, I-I’ll protect you, okay?” Kirishima told him. He meant every word of it too. He pat his hand against Bakugo’s back and pulled away ever so slightly.

“Come on, let’s go to bed, okay?” He said. 

Bakugo pulled away and wiped his face wildly with his shirt. 

“Whatever. Yeah, sure. You should probably sleep in a bed, dumbass.” He grumbled and turned to walk back up to the room that he had stormed out of. Kirishima sniffled and wiped his own tears from his face. He snatched up his phone and his bag of stuff as he walked up to the bedroom. Once inside, Bakugo threw himself on the bed with very little grace. Kirishima set his stuff down on a nearby bedside and crawled into the bed as well. Once he did, Bakugo slowly pulled himself by Kirishima’s side. He rested his head on Kirishima’s shoulder, threw an arm around his waist, and tangled their legs together. Kirishima couldn’t help but smile as the blonde got himself comfortable. 

“Despite everything, I’m glad the class got to know your special weakness. Now I can tickle you out in the open,” Kirishima said, sliding his fingertips up and down Bakugo’s back. Bakugo squirmed slightly, but he didn’t remove himself from Kirishima’s side.

“Bet your ass that I’ll kill you tomorrow. You won’t escape my wrath.” Bakugo grumbled, pushing his face further against Kirishima’s shoulder.

“Plus ultra?” Kirishima teased and tweaked a couple of Bakugo’s ribs. 

“Pluhus Ultra.” Bakugo chuckled. 

Kirishima hummed softly and pressed his lips against the top of Bakugo’s head in a soft kiss. 

“Shut up and go to sleep, shitty hair.” Bakugo said. Kirishima let his fingers drag up and down Bakugo’s back just a few strokes longer before he slowly drifted off to sleep.

12/25

 -Ga!babe

[hopelikethemoon]

Conclusions (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Conclusions  Rating: PG-13 Length: 2100 Warnings: Angst (fear of abandonment, jumping to conclusions)  Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set in November 1992. Shoutout to @heather-lynn​ for unintentionally convincing me to finish this.  Summary: Reader wakes up alone.

Taglist:  @grapemama  @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @hiscyarika @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale  @roxypeanut @snivellusim @amarvelousmandalorian @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper @awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano @beskar-droids @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @longitud-de-onda @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @seeking-a-great--perhaps @frietiemeloen @arrowswithwifi @random066 @uncomicalhumour @heather-lynn @domino-oh-damn @cyarikaaa​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl​  @yabby-girl @xqueenofthecraziesx​ @punkass-potato​ @coredrive​ @pascalesque​ @theduchessofkirkcaldy​ @queenquazar​ @sabinemorans​ @buckstaposition​ (if I forget to tag you, I’m sorry)

Despite how exhausted you were every day, sleep seemed to be a rather difficult pursuit to achieve. A pursuit that seemed to evade you until those last few hours before your alarm clock went off and a new day was forced to begin. Even on the weekends, your body refused to let you get more than a handful of hours of sleep. 

Being pregnant sucked. At least you weren’t throwing up quite as frequently as you were in those first few months. 

Recently — very recently — you had discovered that Javier was pretty good at putting you to sleep. Sure, he gave a killer back massage, but his real skills came from his mouth. That first night with him hadn’t given him the opportunity to show off what his mouth could do. 

All Javi had to do was spend an hour or so between your legs, helping you crest over the edge, and in the post-orgasm haze your body finally gave in and let you relax. 

But just because he got you to fall asleep, didn’t mean the baby growing inside you would let you stay asleep. Like clockwork, somewhere around one or two in the morning you’d find yourself wide awake until you finally fell back asleep somewhere around five. It was torture. 

The sunlight streaming through your bedroom window was what started to wake you up at first. You stirred, stretching your legs out beneath the covers — seeking a cool spot to keep them as you started to roll over onto your other side.

“What time is it?” You mumbled, eyes still closed as you reached out beside you. Your heart sank as you found the bed beside you empty. 

It was the weekend. Javier always stayed over for the weekend. 

You ran your hand over the sheets beside you, finding them cool to the touch. He hadn’t been laying there for at least an hour. Maybe longer. 

Had he said something about not being able to stay? As far as you knew, he wasn’t on assignment this weekend. Javier tried his best to avoid being thrown into the field over the weekends — it was the only time the two of you could just be.

A rush of unbidden emotion flooded your senses. 

What if he had left? What if, at some point last night, he’d decided he didn’t want this. The baby. You. 

And that cut you to the core. 

Maybe you deserved it. After all, you’d been the one to leave him first. Was this how he felt the morning after? Confused. Alone.

You rolled onto your back, pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes in a vain attempt to forestall the tears that you felt brimming in them. You couldn’t fucking stand how emotional you were. You were never one to cry. You’d been through too much shit in your life to sit around and cry about it… but pregnancy?

Everything made you want to cry. 

But this? The sudden rush of fear that Javier had finally had enough of this bullshit, made you want to crawl into a hole and die. You could do this alone, if you had to… but you couldn’t do it in Colombia.

Knowing what it felt like to be loved by him — losing that? You weren’t going to subject yourself to the pain of having to work across an office from him. Maybe they’d let you transfer to another office stateside. 

You could go back to Atlanta, if they’d have you there. You’d left on good terms and given your situation, you’d take a shitty desk job just to stay with the agency. You’d work your way back up from the groundfloor if you had to.

The tears fell freely, trailing down over your temples and dampening your pillow just above your ears. You stared up at the ceiling, willing yourself to stop jumping to conclusions. But you were already mapping out a future for you and your baby that didn’t include Javier. And that brought on a fresh wave of tears. 

You could do this on your own. You didn’t need anyone. You were actually really good at living your life alone. Besides, you wouldn’t be alone if you had your daughter. You wouldn’t fail her the way you had been failed. 

Reluctantly you sat up, wiping away the tears as they slid down your cheeks. Fuck. What a shitty way to start off a Saturday — crying almost always caused you to suffer through a headache for the rest of the day.

Thanks Javier.

You frowned as your eyes flickered to the corner of the room, where Javier’s jeans had been tossed last night. They were still right there, untouched… alongside his boots. Huh. While he had plenty of pairs of extra pants stored in your dresser — he only had the one pair of boots.

Somehow you doubted he’d been in such a haste to leave that he’d fled your apartment barefoot.

You looked towards your bedroom door as you heard a shuffling sound on the other side of it, just before it was pushed open slowly and Javier popped his head through the crack. He looked surprised to see you awake, though that surprise quickly shifted into worry as he met your eyes. “Baby, have you been crying?”

“No.” You lied, wiping at your cheeks. 

“Hey…” Javier said gently as he climbed into bed with you. He reached out and took your hands into his, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of them. “Baby, what’s wrong?” 

You shook your head as you looked away from him, your eyes fixed on the window. “I feel like a fucking idiot.” You admitted, squeezing his hands tightly, before you pulled your hands from his grasp. “Oh my God.” You covered your face as you brought your knees towards your chest as tears started to fall anew. 

Javier hesitated at first. You couldn’t blame him for being confused. When else had he had to deal with a hormonal pregnant woman? “Baby. Baby.” He reached out, running his hand over your back before he moved to sit behind you, pulling you back against his chest. 

You turned, tucking your head under his chin as you let him hold you. “I hate crying.” You complained, sniffling as you wiped away your tears as they slid down your cheeks. “I hate it.” 

“You wanna tell me why you’re crying?” He questioned, playing his fingers through your hair, cradling the back of your neck. 

“It’s stupid.” You admitted. “So fucking stupid.” 

“I bet it isn’t,” He whispered as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

You sighed heavily, your voice wavering as you answered him. “I thought you left.” 

“What?” You felt the way he stiffened beneath you and it made your heart ache. 

“I woke up and you weren’t in bed.” You started, chewing on your bottom. “I immediately jumped to conclusions and assumed you left.”

“Baby, why would you think that?”

“Because I’m pregnant.” You shoved him lightly in the chest, pulling back to meet his eyes. 

“All these tears are because you thought I left?” He questioned, arching a brow as he regarded you. 

“I told you it was stupid.” You pulled yourself out of his hold, trying to move away from him. “Let go, I need to pee.” 

Javier’s arms went slack around you, letting you crawl out of the bed and away from him. You ducked out the bedroom door, heading across the hall to the bathroom. 

You did need to pee, but in reality, you just wanted to escape from him. Just for a little while. 

At first, you’d thought the sleepless nights, nausea, and the constant need to pee would be the worst part of pregnancy, but in reality it was the tidal wave of emotions that constantly plagued you. Honestly, the men at work were lucky you hadn’t turned them in eunuchs over the slightest inconvenience. 

Fresh tears started falling again as you sat on the toilet. You hadn’t fully addressed just how much you were afraid of him leaving you. Sure, you’d said as much to him (maybe not in so many words) but the fear was real and ever-present. You didn’t need him, but you wanted him. You desperately wanted him to stay. 

And you still hadn’t even told him that you loved him. Those three little words still lived somewhere deep inside of you, too precious to let loose until you were positive he wasn’t going to break your heart. 

You hadn’t bothered to lock the door in your haste, which meant there was nothing preventing Javier from barrelling straight into the bathroom with you.

“Javier! Get out.” You hissed, grabbing the spare roll of toilet paper and chucking it at him. “We are not at this level yet.” 

“Baby, I held your hair up while you puked up a day’s worth of food three nights ago. You sitting on the toilet isn’t going to sour a goddamn thing.” Javier picked up the roll of toilet paper, sitting it on the sink as he knelt down beside you. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up.” 

You rolled your eyes, scoffing quietly as you stared down at the floor in front of you. “Don’t apologize, Javi. You’re allowed to get out of bed,” You grabbed a piece of toilet paper and wiped at the tear tracks on your cheeks. “I’m just being fucking emotional.” 

He reached out and gave your knee a squeeze, “Look, I don’t know much about pregnancy, but I think it’s pretty normal to be emotional, baby. Don’t beat yourself over this.” 

You clenched your eyes closed for a moment, before you finally focused your gaze on him. “I just hate how quickly I jumped to the conclusion, Javi. I didn’t even consider that you might’ve been—”

“Making breakfast for you?” Javier leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your knee, before he peeled himself up off the floor. “I thought I’d do something nice and make breakfast for you. So you didn’t have to get out of bed yet.”

You sniffled, wiping away another tear as it slid down your cheek. “You didn’t have to make me breakfast in bed, Javi.” You mumbled, chewing on your bottom lip as you felt it tremble. “Now I feel like an even bigger ass.” 

“Baby.” He sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’m not gonna stand here and let you beat yourself up about this.” You stared at him for a long moment, before he clicked his tongue against his teeth and jerked his head towards the door. “Come on. Your tea’s gonna be cold by the time we get back out there.”

You stood up and flushed the toilet, before moving to wash your hands off at the sink. “Are you going to keep watching me?” You questioned, turning to look at him.

“Yeah. I don’t trust you not to lock the door after I walk out of here.” He gave you a pointed look. “C’mere, baby.” Javier held his arms out for you. “I’m not going to judge you for how you react. Ever.”

You moved towards him and wrapped your arms around him, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. “I just hated how I felt.” You admitted, looking up at him as you played with the hairs at the nape of his neck. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” He promised you, giving your hips a squeeze as they settled there. “I promise you, you’re stuck with me.” 

“I know.” You sighed, rubbing at the spot between your brows. “Did you say you made tea?”

“You got a headache?”

“Of my own making, unfortunately.” You grumbled. “Maybe a little caffeine from the tea will help it.” 

“I made your favorite,” Javier told you with a soft smile, leaning down to kiss the spot your fingers had just soothed. He pressed a second kiss to your nose and then a third to your lips. “Do you have anything planned for today?”

You shook your head slowly. 

“Good.” He cupped your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. “I think we deserve a day spent in bed.” 

“Yeah?”

He nodded. “I think it might do us both some good.” 

You reached down and interlaced your fingers with his, squeezing three times. How had you let yourself be so easily convinced that he was going to leave you? The way he looked at you — the way he’d always looked at you — was not the look of a man who had plans to abandon you. That sort of adoration was a once in a lifetime thing.

And you’d both been willing to wait for it. 

[dragonhrte]

Destiny? Chapter Seven: Back There

*Author's Note:*

Thank you so much for giving this work a read! Quick disclaimer, for all intents and purposes MHA/BNHA are not mine they do not belong to me. The manga and anime have inspired me to write this fiction and dialogue as well as events are given credit to the beautiful people who have blessed us with this series. Aside from standard story line events this work is mine. Don't forget to comment and heart!

Please note that

*abc* is a sound effect

'abc' is internal thoughts of whomever

"abc" is dialogue

(abc) is a side note from yours truly ;)

*~Love, DragonHearte*

I go down the steps quickly, often taking two at a time, hoping I don't have too much ground to cover to catch up to the two of my classmates. I'm pleasantly surprised when I see both Kirishima and Bakugo waiting at the exit of the building for me. Bakugo is clearly perturbed that he had to wait.

"Thanks-", I'm cut off by Bakugo abruptly pushing off the wall and running off towards the entrance. I pick up the pace to a run to keep up with Bakugo's eagerness to get to the action.

While running, I turn my head towards Kirishima and pant, "Thanks... for... waiting..." I manage to get out between breaths.

He turns to me and replies, "You're… welcome."

I smile and turn back to see Bakugo ahead of us,  as we continue the fast-paced journey to our destination. The fountain is almost within view, just a couple more turns and we should be able to reach it, but I'm starting to lag behind. Kirishima notices I’m not beside him and starts to slow his pace.

I wave him off and say, "No... you go... I'll... catch... up."

A concerned look on Kirishima's face and I grab a bit of my chub from my stomach to emphasize my point and say, "I'm ...out of ...shape, go ...ahead..make sure...Bakugo ...doesn't ...get himself ...killed."

Kirishima nods in determination and speeds up, having to make up for the distance he lost talking to me, to catch up with the hot-head.

Even though I hadn't stopped, I am fifty yards away when I see Bakugo and Kirishima up ahead reach the fray. I see Bakugo use his quirk to propel himself forward towards the warp-gate guy. A second later while in the air letting out a violent explosion when he reaches a spot within the mass. I catch a glimpse of shiny metal and realize that I wasn't the only one to notice that object. 'Wow, blasty-boy was really paying attention. He wasn't just trying to blow the smoke guy up with a random explosion.' I feel an unexpected twinge of heat at my hip, as I stop watching in wonder the scene unfolding before me.

Bakugo has slammed to the ground holding the only solid object appearing to be tied to the warp-guy, and saying, "You're not all that you misty mook."

 I notice All Might, wrestling with some strange behemoth type creature, in an odd position, half of him on one side of a portal and halfway through the other when a layer of ice started to appear on the creature's body.

I hear, "So you people came here because you think you can kill All Might," and then see Todoroki walk into the central area of battle, "however, scum like you could never kill the Symbol of Peace."

 I watch as Kirishima lunges towards a different villain with pastel blue hair, whose upper body is covered in hands.  Kirishima's hand in it's hardened state as he throws a punch. The villain just barely manages to dodge the attack.

"Damn, I almost had 'im." exclaims Kirishima.

"Guys!" Midoriya cries out right before All Might manages to wriggle out of the grip of the mutant creature.

The pastel blue haired villain says, "Well, you've essentially neutralized our only way out. That's going to be a problem."

Bakugo shouts at the villain he has pinned beneath him, "You fucked up and in a big way too! You can only turn certain parts of yourself into that warp gate, and you’re also probably using the mist as a screen to hide your physical form. I'm right aren't I?! Come to think of it, if your whole body was mist then physical attacks wouldn't work at all. But you said when we first rushed you,'That was close!' "

I think back to that instance and I don't recall the exchange, 'Bakugo was closer than the villain anticipated and he was able to hear him due to his close proximity.'

The villain beneath him starts to squirm a bit under Bakugo's hold.

Bakugo yells, "Don't move! If I think you're doing anything questionable, I swear I will not hesitate to blow you to smithereens!"

Kirishima sends a worried glance over his shoulder and says, "That's not very hero-like dude."

The villain with the hands on his torso says, "Our League of Villains should be ashamed of our inability to at least kill some of you measly students. However, you kids of the new hero generation are something else entirely. You've beaten us and managed to stay mainly unharmed. Nomu take out the explosive brat, we need our escape route back."

The giant creature that was wrestling with All Might, contorts its frostbitten body to escape and stands up. Half of its body breaking away from the chunks of ice that Todoroki had caused to form. Scrambling forward despite the carnage, the creature doesn't appear to register the missing limbs.

"How is he still moving even with missing body parts?" I mutter to myself.

All Might exclaims, "Everyone get back! This creature is very dangerous! What on earth?! I thought his quirk was shock absorption!"

The villain with the hands on his torso replies, "I don't remember saying that was all he could do. This here is Hyper-regeneration." As he says that the Nomu sprouts muscles and skin right before our eyes, rapidly regrowing the right side of his body.

"Nomu is  a superpowered living sandbag designed to withstand everything you've got." The villain continues. The Nomu lurches forwards towards Bakugo in the blink of an eye, I watch in horror as the giant beast is about to make contact. Then, there is a burst of motion, too fast for the eye to track and then an explosion through the wall behind where Bakugo was.

'No!' I scream internally, as a small whimper escaping my lips and a tear sneaks out of the corner of my eye. I felt a strange tightness in my chest, almost suffocating. Then, I spot him, out of harm’s way flat on his ass, by Kirishima, Todoroki, and Midoriya. It looked as though he had been there the whole time. The tension in my heart instantly released.

"Did you just dodge that Kacchan?! That was amazing!"

"Shut up Deku!"

The dust from the explosion settles, revealing All Might with his hands in a blocking position.

"That explains why he was able to dodge." says Kirishima.

"Do you not know how to hold back?! They're just kids!" All Might exclaims.

The unknown villain replies, "Just kids you say? I was just trying to protect my companion who the blonde one had threatened. That's disregarded though because he was trying to save someone else though right? It really pisses me off! Villains and heroes both use violence in order to accomplish their goals, but they're labelled as either good or evil. You're labelled as the Symbol of Peace, but you're just a tool that the government is using to control everyone. In the end we're all violent, even you. Killing you will show the world the truth!"

All Might scoffs and says, "That's a load of crap, you're pretending to be an idealistic criminal when you're not. You're doing this for fun."

"You got me." the villain with the hands covering his torso replied.

"It's three on six." Todoroki points out.

"Yeah, and Kacchan showed us the misty guy's weakness." Midoriya adds.

"Even though they're really strong, if we support All Might we can do this together!" Kirishima shouts, getting super pumped.

"No! Get out of here." All Might interjects.

"I don't know if you noticed, but things would've had a different outcome if I hadn't assisted you just now." Todoroki says.

"All Might, you're also wounded, and you might not have much time left..." Midoriya starts off super insistent and confident, but trickles off in his statement.

"I appreciate your efforts Todoroki, but I need you to stay out of harm's way for now and let me get serious." says All Might and he rears his hand back.

"Nomu, Kurogiri, you take care of the Symbol of Peace while I take care of the kids," the head villain orders, and then lunges forward, "let's get rid of these brats and get home!"

"He's coming get ready guys!" Kirishima shouts.

All Might charges towards Nomu, and punches him with enough force to create a shockwave. Myself and the other students are knocked back from the force behind the blow. It also caused the villain who was coming at us to jump back and avoid becoming collateral from the all out fist fight occurring a few feet in front of us.

They're bounding all over the central area dodging each other's attacks and exchanging blows, but you can tell little by little, All Might is the faster and stronger one.

All Might shouts out, "His quirk is shock absorption! Which means that he has a threshold! You said that he's akin to me in every way to handle my quirk at 100%?! I'll just have to go beyond that!" All Might continues, "A true pro-hero is always prepared to come through in difficult situations! Tell me villain, do you know the meaning of... PLUS ULTRA!"

And with that he punched the Nomu with so much force he rocketed up into the air and through the ceiling of the U.S.J. building.

"That was like it was straight out of a comic book!" Kirishima remarks.

"He basically smashed his way past the absorption. It couldn't keep up with the damage." I say.

"In my prime taking down that thing would've taken me five hits tops, that was just over 300. Now villain," All Might said addressing the villain with his torso covered in hands, "why don't we get this show on the road?"

"You cheated!" The villain exclaimed, "You say you're weakened but given that display, clearly you're not! How dare you do that to my Nomu?! They lied to me."

"Are we going to finish this or what? You said you wanted to clear the game, right? If you think you can truly take me on, then bring it!" All Might says, determination in his piercing blue eyes.

"Guys we're clearly not at this level yet, we need to hang back for this one." Todoroki says.

"Come on Midoriya we should head back, if we stay much longer they might take us as hostages." I say, trying to talk to him isn't doing much. He's standing there still as a statue, fixated on the scene unfolding in front of him.

"Maybe there's some other villains left, we should probably go check and see if anyone needs our help. All Might will be able to handle these guys. Let's go." Kirishima says, and we all start to walk in the direction of the stairs. All of us except Midoriya.

"Midoriya!" I exclaim as I watch him jump into the middle of the fray by himself.

"Get away from All Might!" Midoriya shouts, arm extended to punch Kurogiri. The hand of the lead villain reaches through the mist towards Midoriya. Suddenly, a bullet shoots through the villain's outstretched hand. I look behind us and realize, 'They must've managed to send someone for help.' 

There they were a small group of pro-hero teachers assembled at the top of the platform of stairs. One of them starts using his quirk to shoot at the villainous pair. As the villains try to escape through a warp that Kurogiri creates, it seems that they are starting to get pulled away in a different direction, and I see Thirteen hoisted up on the shoulders of my classmates, heavily wounded activating hia quirk to try and suck them into his black hole. It's not enough, and the duo escape. The warp vanishes, leaving the other villains behind.

"Based on the fact that all these pro-hero teachers are here, I don't think they attacked the school itself." Todoroki says.

Midoriya laying on the ground his legs clearly in disrepair, and crying. Kirishima and I both start to run over to him, we've almost reached him before a wall of cement erupts from the ground in front of us. Then, Cementoss says, "We need to ensure all of the students are safe. Please head over to the entrance. I will deal with the severely wounded."

"Okay.” I say, wondering what someone without healing powers will be able to accomplish, while Kirishima responds with, "Roger that!"

We make it to the top of the stairs to join the rest of our classmates, and they start counting all the students they have gathered. There's a guy in a trench coat that says, "Aside from the kid who messed up his legs, it looks like everyone is pretty unscathed." 

The rest of my classmates started conversing, I wasn't really paying all that much attention to what was being said until Tsuyu asked, "What about Mr. Aizawa?"

'Yeah, what about Mr. Aizawa I saw him dive down and start kicking ass, not bothering to take names. After that though, I didn't see him at all...'

The class goes quiet as the guy in the trench coat says, "Both of his arms were smashed to splinters. His face is fractured, thankfully he got away with minor brain damage. His eye sockets were pulverized... and there's a high chance he may suffer from long-term vision loss. Or so I hear... Thirteen has terrible lacerations across his back and upper arms, but his life isn't in danger. All Might's injuries aren't life threatening either. Recovery Girl's healing will probably be enough to get him back in action, that's why he's been sent to the nurse's office." There was a collective sigh of relief, but there was one more question.

Ochako asks, "What about Deku?"

Ida quickly asks as well, "What of Midoriya?"

The guy in the trench coat answered, saying, "Oh him? He made it to the nurse as well, and should be fine after Recovery Girl fixes him up. Go back to your classes though okay?"

"Okay!" the class responded in unison.

We loaded up the bus and went back to our classes, even though most of us were too distracted to really learn anything after the ordeal.

Chapter Eight: Neither Here Nor There

[myheroaizawashota]

I'd totally die if you could write aizawa x reader something really wholesome. Like the reader confessing their love and saying that he is a good man And it ending in cuddles and just some fluff stuff. (Sorry if it's not very specific/sucks)

[Ugh I actually LIVE for this kind of thing so, aha no shame in asking for it lol. Honestly just thinking about writing this one made me tear up and gag becusse it’s disgusting how much love I can actually write about this man...(plus I think sometimes aizawa needs to hear these things from time to time) ]

Your heart pounded in your chest as the heels of your shoes clicked with each step you took down the halls of U.A. Normally you didn’t feel such a jittering in your chest when walking around the building, but today was a little different. This would be the first time since the USJ incident you’d be seeing Aizawa. It was crazy to think that stubborn emotionally detached grump of a man made your heart accelerate this much just in anticipation. Shouta wasn’t typically the kind of man one warmed up to. He was distant and the brunt force of his words could be taken as some by vicious and cruel, even uncaring....but you saw another man behind that facade. You knew there was a caring, more kind nature to him that not many were blessed with the knowledge of.

That’s why when you had heard about the attack on the USJ, it broke your heart to pieces to know what had gone down. The more in-depth details of the incident had been kept on low and low as per requested by the principal, but from the details you had gathered from your fellow colleagues Aizawa among was one of the few severely hurt. You didn’t know much of his condition, all you knew was that he had went down fighting for the safety of his students.

You could just remember when Yamada first told you the details of the fight. Your body stood there numb as a laugh shook through your chest. Though you were laughing, tears had began to gush from your the ducts of your eyes, the laughter becoming sobs as your viciously rubbed the ball of your palm into your eyes “that sounds like Shouta...” You couldn’t hold yourself together in that moment. While you wanted to be mad and upset, your body’s natural reflex was to laugh. As much as the man would complain about his students, and complain about their irrational tendencies and over enthusiastic voices, you knew he cared for them as if they were his own children.

You shook your head, clearing the thought from your mind as approached closer to his class room. You had texted him earlier to make sure it was fine you were stopping by. You knew being out for a day or two after the incident really pushed his lesson plans back a bit, and you didn’t want to get in the way and cause any further detrimental effects on his students learning. Even though he has responded with a very ambiguous consent, you still couldn’t help but maybe think you should just come back another time. What did you really plan to say to the man? Sorry you got your ass kicked, but I’m glad your okay.

You stopped in front of the door of classroom 1-A hand hovering on the door knob as you debated over weither or not knock first. Your brain always tended to go a bit goofy when you were around Shouta...it was sad to say the least. Yamada would constantly jab jokes at the soft spots you held for the solemn teacher of the first year hero students. Often times he’d just chant very juvenile things whenever Aizawa was in an ears shot, though for Yamada, an ears shot could be half way across the building. “Y/LN AND AIZAWA SITTING IN A TREE-“ “if you so much as finish that sentence I swear your a dead man walking” “Oooooh relax, im just joshing you around y/n! Besides killing me doesn’t seem very plus ultra of you.”

It wasnt just apparent to Yamada however, apparent most of the staff knew you held an unusual fondness for Aizawa. Some thought it was sweet you were able to find something to love about the other, most thought you were just wasting your time. It was sad just how obvious you were about your feelings and yet it seemed as if the other still couldn’t pick up on your feelings. With a trembling hand, you took a step back from the door hoping to escape unnoticed...but that ship was soon to sail. As you moved to turn around, your heart clenched as you heard his voice on the other side of the door, almost sounding agitated with your indecisiveness. “Are you coming in or not? When you said you’d stop by I didn’t think it would be just to stare at my door.”

Wildly your heart began to thrash around your chest in panic as you tried to formulate a response, any response, though the best you could muster up was the strength to crack the door open. With a heavy chest you pushed the door just enough to slither into the room, eyes freezing as you fixated on his body....you’d never seen him look so...vulnerable. You couldn’t help when the tears began to freely stream down your cheeks as you moved closer into the room. “Aren’t you just a sight for sore eyes, huh?” You couldn’t help the soft smile that tugged at the corners of your lips as your eyes made contact with his body. You weren’t happy to see him like this, not in the slightest, but for some reason you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe it was the knowledge of seeing him alive or maybe the fact that you always smiled when you were anxious, and especially when you were around him.

The sound of your tears settled in the under tones of your voice, but if anyone could pick up on them, of course it would have to be him. “Why are you crying?” He asked in his typically monotone voice, you immediately becoming self conscious of your actions.

Frantically your hands began to wipe at your face sniffling softly as you gave a nervous laugh “how do you know if I’m crying or not you jerk...you can’t even see my face”

His body stiffened in his chair, and simultaneously you began to feel worse. “I can hear it in your voice y/n...plus I can still see past my bandages. It wouldn’t be very practical if I couldn’t now would it...”

You couldn’t help but snort after his retort, you moving closer to your friend sitting yourself on the edge of his desk. “I’m sorry...it’s just...when i was told what happened, I didn’t think to prepare myself to see you in this bad of shape. I knew the injuries you sustained were pretty bad but....” you paused your hand trembling as you moved to push the bangs that fell in his face just far enough back to clear the view of his eyes . “I-I didn’t think it’d be this bad” you whimper the tears once more falling. The smile you’d been holding onto dropped at the same time your hand did, your body shaking as you cried. The sight of him like this hurt your heart and you couldn’t bare to look at him.

This time, it wasn’t as subtle that you were crying. He may not have shown it but most certainly he didn’t care to hear you in so much agony. “I asked you before and you didn’t answer me, I’m going to ask you again. This time please answer me.” His tone was a bit more pressing, the edge in it making you flinch backwards. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you, it was just...he sounded so aggravated with you, and that wasn’t what you wanted at all. “Why are you crying Y/N”

It took a minute for you to answer the question...honestly you didn’t know how to at first. The only thing you could think to do was ramble, ramble endlessly and quickly. “B-because...I was so worried for you Shouta! When Yamada told me what happened, I just couldn’t help myself. I cried uncontrollably like a giant toddler... I was so scared that the last time i saw you would be the last time i saw you.” Your words were coming out uneven as you frantically sobbed, your body shaking. “You’re always so quick to think logically in every situation, but how come in the one situation you should have been the most logical about, you decided to act like a giant bone head!”

Aizawa was taken aback by your tone, his body language changing as he listened to you sob. If you could only see his face under those bandages you’d see the grimace spreading across his lips. It pained him to see you so upset....he wanted to interject but before he could you were already back to spouting nonsense his way. “I know you had students to defend and i know you’re not the type of person to just stand by when the stakes are high, but you could have died out there! And I wouldn’t have been able to tell you any of the things I’ve been so afraid to say!” You your sobs mixing in with laughter. “I w-wouldn’t have gotten the chance to tell you how much you infuriate me sometimes when you act like you don’t know I care about you! I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to tell you that I adore the way your lips pull into a pout when you fall asleep while your grading papers in the lounge! I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to tell you that I love the feeling I get when I’m standing next to you and you casually let your pinky brush against mine and act like it was an accident, even though I swear every time you do it I can see you smiling.”

You were a nonstop mechine of tears and nonsense in this moment. The whole reason you were so devistaed by the entire thing was because you loved this man, and the thought of your entire world being ripped away from you without giving you the chance to even let him know he was your world ate away at you. You worked to steady your breathing as you moved to rub your face into your elbow, also attempting to muffle the sobs that were coming out far to quickly for you to stop. “I-it’s selfish of me to worry about all the things I wouldn’t have been able to say to you over the safety of your students, but what was I going to do if you would have died out there before I was able to tell you how much I love you Shouta.”

There was a silence in the air as you both sat there. Neither of you knew what to say in this moment and it was evident. You just sat there mortified, that this was how you finally confessed your feelings to the other, and that he had no response towards any of it. Finally it came time that one of you broke the thick silence that settled between you two. “You talk to much...” shouta responded standing to his feet. Your heart broken into pieces as he said those four words, crushing the hopes that their would be just a minor bit of reciprocation to your feelings. Your head hung as you whimpered out the remainder of your tears. “I was going to say all of that in under five words.” He hummed.

Your head whipped around, watching as the other gently wiggled his arm free of their sling, you cringing as he hissed out in pain. “What are you doing you silly man? You’re going to hurt yourself...” you sniffled.

With a low grunt his arm dangled, he struggling to rest it against yours. You couldn’t see his hands through the casts, but you knew exactly what he was doing. The edge of his bandages gently carcasses your pinky, as he let out a sigh. It was different then most of his other sighs, this one sounded relieved. Rubbing your eyes you watched as he let his head rest against yours, nuzzling himself as close as he could without causing himself any more physical pain. “I guess since you went first I’ll have to sum this up in under six words then...I love you too y/n.”

[thetragicescape]

I know no one asked for it buttttttt

This is my blog and I feel like venting. So here we go. More spun thoughts. I feel... hmm. I feel bittersweet. I miss my old roommate. She is honestly not a friend to me, she's a sister. That's how close we were. We hung out 24/7 during our freshman and sophomore years of college. Well, the half of sophomore year before I left. We knew everything about each other and made so many unforgettable memories. Her friendship has been invaluable to me, and we spent so much time together that she was more family than my blood family. She did have strong opinions about certain things, and that's why I hid my drug addiction from her. Her twin sister is addicted to the same drug. I constantly heard her talking shit on not just her sister but meth addicts in general. She was always saying how nasty it was and how bad tweakers were and stuff. I stayed silent the whole time or joined in on her shit talking to cover my ass, never wanting her to know that I was the very thing she despised. I thought that if she knew she would be angry, yell at me or say horrible things to me, or- worst of all- stop being my friend. And I absolutely could not lose her; she was a sister to me. I was confident that I could hide it well enough that she would never need to know, but we can't all be so lucky. The day before I left school, my ex (the one who would rob me the next day) ratted me out to her. I was both furious with him and scared that I was going to lose one of the best friends I ever had. What happened next was miraculous. Something I never would have expected in a million years. She didn't hate me, she didn't stop being my friend, didn't even say one rude word or remark. She was a little upset that I had hidden it from her for so long, but once I explained that it was because I valued our friendship so much and was terrified to lose her she seemed to understand. She even gave me a hug! I was so touched I was near the edge of tears- she knew the worst thing about me, that I was addicted to meth, yet she loved me all the same and was still like my sister. I was about 90 percent sure she would hate me for this, yet she accepted me fully for who I was, faults and all, when for so long I was terrified she would hate me if she knew. I only felt luckier by the second that she had reacted completely opposite of what I thought and that I had her. That night was the last time I saw her. I left college to run away with my ex, he ended up robbing me and my amazing best friend and his wife took me in and let me stay with them. I think of her a lot every day though and miss her. I felt bad leaving her alone there cause we were all each other had. At the time though I thought she would be okay. I mean, for as long as I've known her ive been secretly jealous as fuck of her. She was perfect in every way, and I wish I could say I was exaggerating. She was seriously perfect and I wanted to be her so bad. Honest to god I still do, and if you knew her you'd wanna be her too. She's skinny and absolutely drop dead gorgeous, not to mention amazing with make up. Guys were practically tripping over themselves for a chance to get at her when I was lucky if a guy so much as glanced my way. Getting love or sex or any male attention to her was as effortless as breathing. That wasn't even what I was the most jealous of though. I envy the fuck out of her magic social powers. I can think of another way to put it. It has to be magic cuz I sure as hell couldn't do it. She has some insane power of getting people to take interest in her without trying, and friends flock to her like a moth to a flame. Especially in her home town (when I went to visit her over the summer)- she was popular as fuck. Without even trying, she had more friends than she knew what to do with. All my life id been a near complete loner and desperate for friends, for connections and relationships. No matter what I did, my peers still hated me and I remained a loner. I went straight home every day after school and didn't leave my room cause I had no friends. She, on the other hand, never had to be lonely for a single second- hell, I didn't think she even knew what loneliness MEANT! Without even trying, she had what id wanted so desperately all my life- tons of friends, no loneliness, popularity and guys drooling over her. Over breaks when we went home, shed be having a total blast partying with tons of different people, while I sat alone in my room on the verge of tears because I was so damn lonely and wanted so bad just to have someone to hang out with. Sometimes it was hard not to snap out of pure envy- once she complained to me that she got invited to too many parties. Inside me I was ripping my hair out- like why the fuck are you complaining?! Hers was a "problem" I could only dream of having. Of course if she asked I said I hung out with friends over break because I was embarrassed to let her know how truly pathetic I was. I felt for so long that something was wrong with me and I didn't fit in with humanity because I was so fucking lonely, but she could get everyone in the world to be her friend by fuckin blinking at them. Also her parents were incredibly chill and not strict or controlling at all, the exact opposite of my dad. They cared about her, more than just her grades, they brought her self esteem up instead of crushing it, and they talked to her as an equal human. Which I couldnt pay my dad to do; to this day he talks to me as though Im an idiotic young child or an extension of himself. Never an equal. Hell, I was jealous of her for having grown up with her mom still alive- I lost mine when I was 7. Anyway. At school we hung out only with each other, so I felt very close to her. We tried many times to make friends with other people at the school, but everyone at that school was an ultra religious Jesus freak prude, so not our usual type. Still we tried. We learned pretty early on that people didn't like us for some reason. They got weirded out by us after hanging out with us once or twice and then magically disappeared, never talking to us again. Now i dont know if this is just a paranoid tweaky thought, but I think the word "us" isnt exactly accurate when placing the blame on why nobody wanted to hang out with us. I think the us is actually me. I was what chased everyone away. She has such an incredible talent at making friends that there was no way they didn't like her. I was what they didn't like, and I was always hanging out with her, so if they were chilling with her they were chilling with me. I dont know what about me did it- I seemed to have the opposite abilities of what she did. I suspected that I was the reason since last year, but what's happened in the last couple weeks only makes me think more and more that I was the reason we were so lonely. Since I have left the school, she has instantly made a whole group of friends. She's getting a house with them her senior year and everything. Without me to get in the way, her natural charms were uninterrupted and she found friends almost instantaneously. Nothing like that ever happened when I was around her. Im really happy that she has moved on and found friends so she Wont be lonely, on the other hand it made me sad she moved on so fast. I know that's not fair of me- I cant just expect her to never chill with anyone ever again because I was gone- but still i feel it. That tiny heart ache. Im quite replaceable I think, and Im glad she found her people and not loneliness. I mean it with all my heart, I want her to be happy because she deserved it. Ive experienced more than my fair share of loneliness and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. But love is about appreciation not possession, and what matters is she is happy and has people to support and love her, whether i am included in that or not. Just like you trim weeds to make the garden flourish, my absence has helped her become the socialite she always wad again. I am sad that we are separated (and honestly jealous of her ability to attract people to her without conscious effort) but happy that she is happy. She's quickly moved on and Im sure that in time she will forget me completely. The thought hurts but I need to accept that it might be a possibility. I chased friends away from us, why would she want to remember that. I miss her to death but without my weirdness chasing her social life off, she is much better off. She's in her element again, a social butterfly spreading her wings and flying out into the world. I wish I knew her secret on getting people to want to be her friend or boyfriend or whatever , but ill just have to accept I never will. Even she doesnt know, its an instinct to her. I never was lucky enough to have that gift but oh well. That's life. It is what it is. I really hope that this is just the drugs and the paranoia talkin, that it wasnt my fault we had no friends and she also played a part in chasing them away. I hope with all my heart it isnt true, but deep in my heart I worry that it is. I guess ill never know the truth and Im honestly kind of glad, cause Im not sure I could stand to hear it if it had been my fault. I accept that ill never know. I still miss her though. Even if she forgets my name, ill remember her and her friendship and cherish the memories we made for my whole life. If she wants to continue being my friend, which there's a decent chance of because she still hits me up on Facebook occasionally to check on me, I will be ecstatic. Shes like my sister that came out of a different vagina 😂😂😂. Whatever choice she makes is hers though and I will have to accept it no matter what. Her happiness means so much to me that if she slowly forgot about me, id know at least she is doing well, uninhibited by my weirdness and free to put her social talents to use again. If our friendship does end (which is painful to think) I will hold onto the good times. Ill try not to cry because its over but smile because it happened. I would appreciate that I had such a close bond with her that saying goodbye was sk hard. If saying bye is hard you know it was a good friendship and a blessing that I had it..... Okay, rant over Holy fuck I sound like a weirdo. Tina makes me rambly. Then again this was so long Im sure most of u got bored and didbt make it all the way to the end 😂 I dont blame you its pretty long. This is probably mostly for me to read when I sober up and laugh at myself. If you did stick thru to the end, thanks ❤ weird tweaky rant over!!

[hopelikethemoon]

Ghosts (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Ghosts Rating: PG-13 Length: 2000 Warnings: Potential triggers if you have toxic family members and/or family members or loved ones with addiction. Also very mild allusions to anxiety.  Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set October 31st 1998. Summary: Halloween festivites are interrupted by a ghost. 

@grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale  @roxypeanut @snivellusim @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper​ @awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie​ @swhiskeys​ @lady-tano​ @beskar-droids​ @space-floozy​ @cable-kenobi​ @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes​ @findhimfives​ @pedrosdoll​ @frietiemeloen​ @arrowswithwifi​ @random066 @uncomicalhumour​ @heather-lynn @domino-oh-damn​ @cyarikaaa​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl​  @yabby-girl​ @xqueenofthecraziesx​ @punkass-potato​ @coredrive​ @pascalesque​ @theduchessofkirkcaldy​ @queenquazar @sabinemorans​ @buckstaposition​ @holkaskrosnou​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @fleetwoodmactshirt​ @seeking-a-great–perhaps

“Well, aren’t you the cutest little pumpkin I have ever seen.” You said with the put-on voice that always managed to make Sofía giggle. She clapped her hands together as she rocked back against Javier’s chest. She reached up and tried to pull off the headband that was made to look like the stem and leaves of a pumpkin. 

“You’ve gotta keep that on, sweetheart.” He told her, batting her hand away from the headband. “You still dressing up, baby?” Javier questioned, giving you a pointed look. 

You looked down, gesturing to your sweatpants with a grin, “What? You don’t know what Morticia wore when she was at home?” You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips. “It should take me ten minutes tops.”  

“Mommy!” Josie cried out as she ran down the hallway. “I can’t find my candy basket! I looked everywhere!”

“It’s on the kitchen counter.” You told her, before looking back at Javier. “I don’t know how I feel about your slicked back hair.”

Javier arched a brow, “It was your idea.”

“I know.” You laughed, shaking your head. “Josie-Jo, can you sit with your father while I get ready?”

Josie ran past you with Stevie hot on her heels. You watched, in mild horror, as she climbed over the back of the sofa to get to Javier. 

“This isn’t a jungle gym.” Javier reminded her, before you even had a chance. 

Stevie started barking, ignoring her pursuit as she ran towards the front door a split second before someone rang the bell. 

“I’ll get it.” You told Javier as he corralled the children. “It’s a little bit early for trick-or-treaters.” You commented as you grabbed the dish of candy off the table in the kitchen and headed for the front door.

“Stevie. Hush.” You snapped your fingers, scolding the dog with a look. She took two steps back and sat down obediently. “That’s a good girl.” You gave her a head pat, before turning to the front door.

“Happy Hallo—“ Your enthusiasm was cut short as you pulled the door open. It wasn’t a gaggle of costumed children waiting beyond the door. But it was certainly frightening. 

A different kind of ghost. 

“What are you doing here?” You questioned, stepping out onto the front stoop and pulling the door shut behind you. 

How long had it been? Twenty years? And over the course of those twenty years you hadn’t once regretted leaving her in the past.

“It’s so good to see you, sweetie.” She clasped her hands together as she rocked on her heels. “I’ve missed you.”

“Let me ask again. What are you doing here?” You kept the bowl of candy in between the two of you, like it was a shield that would keep her from getting any closer. 

“I came to see you.” She edged closer, “I’m clean, sweetheart. You don’t have to worry about me anymore, I—“

“I didn’t.” You cut her off. “The only time you ever cross my mind is when I wonder how I managed to get through that part of my life.”

“I know.” She shook her head, before offering you a rather disarming smile. “I’m so proud of you. You’ve done so much. Who would’ve thought that my baby girl would amount to so much.”

“You have to leave.” You said without emotion, despite the storm of emotions you felt in the pit of your stomach. Even your chest felt tight as a wave of anxiety, one that had only ever been reserved for your mother, washed through you. 

She held up a hand, “I want to meet my grandbabies.”

“No.” You clenched her teeth together, “They don’t need to be brought into this same toxic cycle I was caught in. No.”

The front door cracked open and you turned to see Javier standing there, “Baby, you good?”

You bit down on your bottom lip, giving the faintest shake of your head as you caught his gaze. You tried to convey everything without words and he got it. 

“They’ve got the girls,” He assured you softly as he stepped out onto the stoop, pulling the door closed behind you. Javier took the bowl of candy from you, sitting it aside on the small bench that sat on the stoop. 

“Thank you.” You whispered, the chill that had settled into your veins quickly chased away by his warmth as he settled a hand on the small of your back. 

“Can I help you?” Javier questioned, fixing your mother with a look, his other hand resting at his hip as he stared her down. 

“Sweetheart, aren’t you going to introduce us?”

You swallowed thickly, a humorless laugh escaping you. “Javier, this is my mother.”

“Shit.” 

“It’s so nice to meet you,” She remarked as she extended a hand. Javier didn’t offer his, but your mother didn’t let that deter her. “I’m sure you’ve gotten an earful about me. I’m better. I promise.”

“Married again, I see.” You gritted out, catching the glint of the ring on her finger. 

“We met in rehab.” She explained, “He’s got a daughter about your age.” 

“Congrats.” You offered, leaning into Javier as he ran his hand over the small of your back. “I’m glad you’re alive I guess, but… we have plans.”

“I don’t mean to be a burden, sweetheart. It’s just… after I saw that article, I was just so proud of you. Look at you — you’re a mother.”

You scoffed, “That’s definitely the thing to be proud of.” You tilted your head to look at Javier. “I can’t do this. Please make her leave.”

Javier gave a short, “Whatever you need, baby.” He released his hold as you turned away, “I’ll be in, in a minute.”

You offered your mother a tight lipped smile. “Have a safe trip back to wherever. I hope you’re really clean this time, Becky.” 

What a fucking nightmare. 

Stevie barked as you stepped back inside, “Shh. It’s just me.” You said as you knelt down and gave her a scratch behind the ear. 

She kept close to you like she was your shadow as you headed back into the bedroom to get ready. Not that you felt particularly celebratory now. Somehow, after all those years — she could still manage to zap the life out of you. 

“It’s Monica.” She offered as she knocked at your bedroom door.

“It’s unlocked,” You told her, running a brush over your hair. 

“Hey,” Monica started. “Who’s the woman Javier’s talking to?”

You rolled your eyes, “The wicked witch of the west.” You gestured to the wig laying on the bed. “Do you still get Morticia vibes without it?”

“You look gorgeous,” Monica assured you, though her brows drew together with concern. “I’ve only ever heard you refer to one woman as a witch.”

“Yeah.” You folded your arms across your chest. “There’s a lot to unpack there and I just want the girls to have a good night.”

Monica sat down on the foot of your bed, smoothing her hand over the blue gingham skirt of her Dorothy costume. “Why is she here?”

“Regret? A bid for sympathy? She ran out of people to use?” You questioned bitterly. “Fuck, I hate this. It’s all because of that stupid article.” 

You sank down in the small chair in the corner,  and Stevie laid down directly at your feet. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You made a face, “Yes. No.” You looked away, biting down on your bottom lip hard enough to taste blood alongside the taste of lipstick. “It’s been twenty years. I left and I never looked back, Monica. I had plans for my life and none of them would’ve happened if I stayed caught in her web.”

“I know the feeling.” Monica offered you a sympathetic smile, “Remember what you told me and Connie. It’s okay to cut out of toxic people.”

“Apparently she’s clean.” You blurted out, still actively processing everything that she’d said in that short window of time. “But I know how it goes. She married someone from rehab. I think the last one was too… twenty years ago.”

She arched a brow at you, “Is she why you’re so weird about marriage?”

“Yeah.” You rolled your eyes. Your mother would show up mere months after you figured out how to overcome that hang up. “My childhood was shit. The men she brought into my life were monsters. I don’t want that around my girls.”

Javier walked in then and his expression was heavy when he met your gaze, “I had to compromise to get her to leave, baby.”

You pushed your fingers through your hair, looking towards the window then. “What?”

“She’s gonna come back tomorrow. I’ll take the girls the Murphys—“

“You’re not leaving me alone.”

“— and come back.” Javier frowned at you. “Baby, we don’t have to go to this. There will be other Halloween parties at the school.”

“No.” You shook your head. “Josie only gets one kindergarten Halloween party. You stood up then, glancing at your reflection in the mirror. “This is good enough. Let’s just go.”

Javier looked towards Monica then, before looking back at you. “Are you sure you’re okay, baby?”

You pressed your thumb against the spot between your brows and sighed heavily. Taking account of how you actually felt. You could feel your pulse in your ears, a distinct twinge of pain in your ribs. “No. No, I’m not sure I’m okay.”

You sank back down in the chair, resting your head in your hands. “Monica, do you and Nadia mind taking them on to the school? Her class is supposed to be getting together for pictures beforehand.”

“Yeah, of course. Whatever you need.” Monica walked over and gave your shoulder a squeeze. “Nadia’s got so many Polaroid refills. We’ll take a bunch.”

“Thank you.” Javier offered as she headed out of the bedroom. 

You were both quiet for a long time before he moved to kneel down beside you, taking your hand into his. 

“Javi, don’t kneel like that. Your knees are going to kill you tomorrow.” You warned him, lifting your gaze but not quiet meeting his eyes. 

“Baby,” Javier started as he reached out and brushed his knuckles against your cheek. “We’ve gotta talk about this.”

You leaned into his touch, “I’ll meet with her tomorrow, if that’s all she wants.”

“I think it is.” Javier cupped your cheek, “Just say your piece and send her on her way. But I don’t want you to…” He pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he shook his head. “I don’t want you to regret this, baby.”

You chewed on the inside of your bottom lip, “I don’t want her anywhere near the girls. Their grandmother is dead.”

He nodded, “I know.”

“What did she say?”

Javier sighed heavily. “She had a whole bit about how she’s sober now and she’s just trying to make amends—“

“So she’s actually in NA again.” You shook your head, rubbing your hands together. “She’s been before. She gets sober, clings to someone new, and the cycle repeats.” 

“I know.” Javier rested his hand on your leg and gave it three short squeezes, “Look, I told her she could come over tomorrow. We can sit in the backyard and talk until you’re ready for her to leave.”

He reached for your hand, sliding his hand up to press two fingers against your pulse. 

“Javier.”

“How do you feel?”

“Like my blood pressure is through the roof.” You reported. “Trust me, I’m aware.”

He brought your hand to his lips, his breath hot against your skin. “I just want you to take care of yourself, baby. And let me take care of you.”

You smiled, “Thank you.”

“Querida Mia.” He drawled out, pressing kisses up your arm, just like Gomez did with Morticia.

You laughed, turning your hand to cup his cheek as you leaned in to kiss his lips. “I love you. I’m sorry you’ve gotten yourself dragged into this.”

“Don’t apologize, baby.” Javier’s brows furrowed together. “I’m in this together with you. Good, bad, or otherwise.”

“Those almost sound like vows,” You teased lightly, “Now stand up before you’re limping tomorrow.”

Javier snorted, chuckling as he pulled himself up off the floor. He dusted his knees off before offering you his hand, “Shall we?”

“Yes.” You stood, interlacing your fingers. “I don’t want to miss out on the festivities.” 

He squeezed your hand, “We won’t worry about tomorrow, until tomorrow. Alright?”

You agreed, “Tonight is about the girls.”

[hopelikethemoon]

Elena (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Elena  Rating: PG-13 Length: 2000 Warnings: Mild angst, pining, and allusions to sex.  Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set in 1989, directly after Old Parr. Javier POV. I would recommend re-reading Old Parr before reading this.  Summary: Javier spends the evening with his informant. 

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Javier tilted his head back, looking up at the ceiling as he drew in a drag of smoke. He welcomed the way it burned at the back of his throat, filling his lungs, before he exhaled. He watched the hazy smoke as it billowed in front of him. In the haze of the smoke, it was easy to pretend that the woman laying beside him was someone else. 

He still remembered the first time he’d seen Elena at the brothel. One of his other informants — Freckles — had called him over with information. He walked through the backdoor of the house and saw her standing there talking to Freckles. He swore his heart stopped right then and there.

Sure, she wasn’t identical, but there were enough similarities between the two women that he still caught himself doing a double-take. There was something about Elena’s eyes — her smirk and the way she expressed herself. Little mannerisms that reminded him so intimately of her. But Elena’s hair was too dark and her voice was all wrong. 

But for an evening, Javier could pretend. 

“So,” Elena started, tucking a cigarette between her lips as she leaned forward to light it off of his. “Who is she?” She questioned, drawing in a breath of smoke before exhaling as she laid down on the bed beside him.

“What?” 

“I’m not offended, Javi.” She said lightly with a grin, exhaling another breath of smoke as she tilted her head to look at him. “I’m quite comfortable with being a… Oh, what is it called? Ah. A proxy.”

Javier huffed, clenching his cigarette between his lips as he spoke around it. “There isn’t…”

Elena laughed, “Hmm. Well, you certainly said someone’s name.”

His heart clenched in his chest and he looked away from her, his eyes drawn towards the window. “I came here for information. What do you know about the cartel?” He questioned, scratching at the back of his neck. 

“So there is someone.” Elena sat up then, tucking her legs beneath her as she turned to face him. 

Javier shot her a look, “It’s not like that.” Javier insisted, leaning over to the nightstand to sit his cigarette in the ashtray. He scrubbed his hands over his face, sinking back onto the mattress. 

He had almost made a mistake tonight. For a few minutes he’d actually considered it. If Steve hadn’t been there — if things had been just a little different. He would’ve gone home with her. He would’ve happily been her rebound. But Javier knew better than falling into that shit. 

How was he supposed to roll into work Monday after that? 

“I don’t shit where I eat.” Javier said dryly, his eyes flickering towards Elena as he tucked an arm under his head. 

A grin spread over her lips as her brows rose upwards with amusement, “Is Javier Peña in love with his coworker?” She teased as she took another drag from her cigarette. 

“No.”

“It’s okay to admit that you’re deluding yourself, Javi.” Elena told him as she exhaled, “It’s not as though I’m going to tell her.” She leaned forward, draping her bare body across him as she reached to put her smoldering cigarette beside his in the ashtray. 

Javier groaned quietly, scrubbing his hands over his face as she pulled back. “I care about her, alright? But it’s not like that for her.” He rocked his jaw slowly, grinding his teeth together. “She just got out of a year-long relationship with this CIA guy we’d all been working with.”

“So she has no problem shitting where she eats?” Elena retorted with a smirk. “Sounds promising.” 

Javier shook his head, “Nah. It’s not like that.” It wasn’t. “It’s been two years since she started working with us. She’s a good fucking agent. Better than Murphy and I combined.” 

“I’m sure that’s easy enough.” Elena teased lightly. 

“Don’t.” Javier warned, shaking his head. He couldn’t do the teasing — that was too much like her. The way she’d gently barb him and Steve. He loved that about her. Shit. 

Elena sighed and nodded, “Alright.” She reached out and rested her hand on his chest, fingers brushing over his skin lightly. “So why can’t you be with this co-worker of yours?”

Javier pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, “She’s too good for me.” He admitted, looking away again. “You should’ve seen this asshole she was with for a year. He was a real straight-laced, pretty boy. He had that southern charm. He fucking hiked!” 

“But she’s not with him anymore.” Elena pointed out. “Who broke up with who?”

He hesitated, “She broke up with him.” 

“So clearly that wasn’t what she wanted.” She stretched out on the bed beside him, propping her chin up on his shoulder. “Javier, what do you have to lose? If you care about her—”

He cut her off, “It’s not like that. Alright? I work with her. Every goddamn day.” Javier set his jaw hard. “I’d rather be her friend. I’m not gonna lose that just cause I want to fuck her.” He rested his hand over Elena’s, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. “It’s not worth it.” 

Elena hummed softly, “Sounds like she means a lot to you.” 

He nodded slowly, dragging his teeth over the inside of his bottom lip. “She’s something else. It’s fucking hilarious too — when they told us this new agent was joining the team, I was fucking pissed. Steve and I had this good thing going, we didn’t need someone cramping our style.” Javier sank back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. “But that first day, she just really proved herself. She was fucking remarkable.” 

“So these feelings aren’t new?” 

“No,” He turned his head to look at Elena, his brows drawn together. “Truth be told, I don’t know what I feel. I just know I care about her.” 

“You care about her enough to say her name during sex, Javi”

Javier dragged his hand over his face, sighing heavily as he felt his cheeks burn in response to her words. “Yeah. I guess I do.” He conceded, “But in my defense you…”

“What?” Elena arched a brow, “What about me?”

“You look like her.” He admitted.

“Excuse me?” She let out an incredulous laugh. “You’re joking, Javi.” 

He pinched at the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily. “It’s not a perfect match, but…” Javier lifted her hand off his chest, moving to get out of the bed and find his jeans where they were discarded on the floor.

“You’re going to quickly become my favorite client, Javier.” Elena teased. “This is fascinating.” 

Javier snorted, glancing back at her over his shoulder. “Happy to entertain, Elena.” He rolled his eyes as he turned his attention back to his jeans, pulling his wallet out of the back pocket. “This is what she looks like.” He told her, passing her the picture he kept folded into his wallet.

Elena’s brows drew together as she took the picture from him. “Holy shit.” 

“Do you see it?”

She laughed, “Yeah, I see you keep a picture of her in your wallet!” She lifted her gaze to meet his, “She’s pretty.” 

A faint smile spread over his lips. “Yeah, she is.” The picture had been taken about six months after she’d started working with them. They’d wasted the last picture on the roll just to grab a shot of the three of them on their stakeout. She had her arm slung around his shoulders, leaning into his side while Steve fussed with jumping into the frame before the timer on the camera went off. 

Elena held the photo up beside her face, trying to match the expression in the shot. “Well?”

Javier nodded slowly, looking between the two. “It’s not exact, but…” He shrugged his shoulders, reaching out to take the picture back from Elena. He stared down at it, brushing his thumb over her image. “I should’ve told you.” 

“I’m not naive, Javier. I don’t believe that anyone fucks me for me.” She gave him an unamused look, before she moved to drape her arms over his shoulders, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. “You’re one of my better clients, as it is.” 

He chuckled quietly, curling his fingers around her arms and rubbing his thumbs over her skin. “Still.” Maybe he was old fashioned, but it felt wrong. “You’re sweet, Elena.” 

She rested her chin on his shoulder, playing her fingers through his hair. “You’re quite sweet yourself, Javier.” Elena told him. “I’m a little jealous this partner of yours has all you wrapped around her finger and doesn’t even know.” 

Javier snorted. “Like I said. I’m not fucking it up with her.” He turned his head and pressed a kiss to Elena’s cheek. “And on that note, perhaps we should discuss what you know…” 

Elena pulled away from him. She repositioned herself on the bed, fluffing her hair so it fanned out neatly beneath her as she sank back onto the pillow. She bit down on her bottom lip, humming thoughtfully. “Trading information is a rather dangerous business, Javi… I might need a little more convincing.” 

He smirked, “Name your price.” 

She ran her thumb over her bottom lip, “Tell me more about this partner of yours.”

“Elena.”

“Who else are you going to talk to about this?” She questioned, batting her lashes at him. “I don’t mind if you pretend I’m her.”

“I’m not going to.” Javier said firmly. “It was a mistake to come here tonight. I almost—“ He hung his head. “I could’ve gone home with her tonight. But I don’t wanna be rebound.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “It would’ve felt predatory. She’s pretending she’s not sad over him, but if you’d seen her… I wasn’t going to take advantage.”

“You’re a good man, Javier.”

“I’m not.”

“If you don’t want to be her rebound, what do you want to be?”

Javier stared at her, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I don’t know.” He admitted. “I just wanna be there for her.”

“Even as just a friend?”

He nodded, “Yeah. I meant what I said. I’m not fucking this up.” As much as he wanted her, he knew better than to pursue something. He wasn’t wired for what she deserved. He’d already prepared himself for her to inevitably end up with Lance for the long run, but… clearly he’d misjudged that. 

“She’s lucky to have you then.” Elena said softly. “I hope she realizes how lucky she is.”

“I don’t need her to.” Javier shook his head, chewing on his bottom lip. “I’ll get over it. Whatever this bullshit I feel is.”

“You don’t just get over love, Javier.”

“Yeah, I know.”

And she didn’t feel like the kind of person he could just get over, either. Not when she took up so much space in his brain. Two years and he already defaulted to thinking about conversations he wanted to have with her. What stupid telenovela he’d caught last night. 

He’d missed all of that, while Lance had taken up residency in her life. It was a small victory that he’d have more of her back. God, he was a greedy fuck. 

Here he was, fucking a hooker because she looked like her, all the whole feeling pride over the fact that she’d dumped her boyfriend. 

That alone was why she deserved better than him. 

Javier really hoped, whoever she went home with tonight, realized just how lucky he was. 

[burnedbyshoto]

Welcome Home

todoroki shouto x new mom!reader

warnings: just fluff

word count: 2,272

A/N: I accidentally deleted the ask....requesting this....and I was almost done with it...and because it was 4 a.m. and im blind, I pressed delete instead of edit...and I didn’t have it saved anywhere...so I actually cried about that but hey, I wrote it again anyways!!! so sorry anon about that, I hope you find this

Part One  Part Three  Part Four

Shouto sat on the couch, gently rocking Kaito’s cradle as he attempted to put him to bed. A soft lullaby left his lips as he sang in an attempt to get Kaito to sleep so he could do something around the house.

You weren’t home at the moment; being that it was two weeks until you were expected to get back onto the field; you were spending the mass majority of your time training with friends and at the gym. Shouto honestly did not mind a single bit, as he was on paternity leave from his own agency, as he sat at home alone with Kaito. Midoriya and Uraraka have been over earlier and had helped to clean up the Todoroki’s slightly messy house as the new parents struggled to maintain their usual cleanliness with the baby now here.

Peering into the basket, Shouto was happy to see that Kaito was now knocked out. Standing up, Shouto made his way over to the kitchen to start preparing dinner for you and him. Being that you were working diligently and “Plus Ultra,” to get back onto the field, you had been following a really strict diet that had been personally created for your use. Today’s dinner outline was grilled lean lime chicken, a cup of vegetables, and a scoop of steamed rice. Normally the two of you cooked together, seeing that it was an enjoyable thing to do together, and was a nice way to end the day. But with these intense workouts that were making you come home exhausted, Shouto ensured having the meal ready when you stepped foot into the house.

As Shouto prepared the meal, his eyes fell onto a picture frame by the sink, and he smiled in memory. It was the same picture that Hagakure had sent through the chat, framed and placed in your house. When you had woken up and seen the picture, you had begged Shouto to get it in an actual frame, and Shouto who was whipped for you did just that.

Shouto smiled again as he remembered what it was like bringing Kaito back home the first night he was released from the hospital.

⋆✭⋆✭⋆⋆✭⋆✭⋆

You were exhausted, to say the least. You had returned from the hospital in diapers because your uterus was still shedding its layers off and it just reminded you of a period but way worse. You watched as Shouto glanced at you through the rearview mirror, joy, and mirth in his eyes as you gently stroked your baby’s cheek.

You brushed the fiery red wisps of hair Kaito had into a similar fashion of Shouto’s high school haircut and smiled, by gene selection, you wished more than anything else that Kaito would resemble his father more than you. You wanted your son to be nearly identical to your husband.

“I’m going to put the bags in, wait for me to help you take out Kaito?” Shouto says as he pulled into the driveway of your house, but exits the car before you can disagree with him.

You watched in amusement and Shouto took in five huge bags with ease only to fumble with unlocking the door. You opened the car door, and unbuckled, groaning as you scooted out of the seat. Who knew post-pregnancy was almost as bad on the body as pregnancy?

Shouto’s hand appeared from nowhere as he steadied you to your feet and he studied your face as you winced, he kissed you softly, “Welcome home.”

You laugh as you can’t help but bring him down for another kiss, “It’s good to be back.”

Shouto grabs the car seat where Kaito is knocked out, and with a hand firmly pressed onto your lower back helps you into the house.

Shouto helps you onto the couch, and you sigh gratefully as he places the car seat next to you, and you take the initiative to get Kaito out. You snuggle your red-headed baby boy into your body as your husband walks around the house putting things away and preparing anything that hasn’t been finished three days ago.

“Shoucchan,” You call out as Shouto now only seems to be pacing, “I think you should take Kaito on a tour of the house.”

You watched as Shouto hesitated as he always did when you wanted him to grab Kaito, but nevertheless, you smiled warmly as Shouto walked over and took Kaito from you.

Thus your two boys embarked on a journey around the house. Shouto went to every room in the house, explaining what the room was, it’s purpose, and whether mama or papa designed it. “And we’re back to the living room,” Shouto whispers as baby Kaito opens his eyes, “It’s the room where mama relaxes the most, but we designed it together, shocking huh.”

Adjusting the support to Kaito’s head, Shouto can’t help but stare into his son's eyes that are identical to your own e/c and shape. Shouto can’t help but think that beyond anything, he wishes that Kaito will take on after you completely even if he inherited the Todoroki hair color. His thoughts were interrupted as he felt you press your body against his.

Shouto looks down at you, and you peer up at him lovingly, “I love you two, more than anything else in this world.” You whisper as the two of your lips are sealed together again. “Welcome home, baby Kaito.”

⋆✭⋆✭⋆⋆✭⋆✭⋆

Recalling the memory makes Shouto smile softly as he looks around at what he’s cooking. He puts lids over the pots and walks away from the stove for a second, that is until he hears Kaito’s screams of unhappiness from the living room. Checking the time, Shouto realizes that it’s time to feed Kaito and that you’ll be home in thirty minutes.

Grabbing on of the many milk bottles you had left in preparation for your son from the fridge, Shouto warmed it up in seconds with his quirk before heading over to Kaito. Picking up his squirming son, Shouto managed to put the bottle into his mouth and watched in amazement as his tiny son finished the bottle in mere seconds. “Well someone was hungry,” Shouto speaks as he wipes away the slobbered milk leftover of Kaito’s cheeks with a cloth.

Shouto cradles Kaito into his chest and holds him close just before he catches a whiff of Kaito’s foul-smelling diaper. Humming to distract himself from his natural instinct to gag, Shouto calmly stood up and walked over to the kitchen and left the stove on the lowest of settings, and switched the rice cooker to keep warm before heading over to the nursery.

As Shouto changed the gurgling baby, he caught the eye of the baby monitor and smiled as he remembered another memory with Kaito.

⋆✭⋆✭⋆⋆✭⋆✭⋆

Being a new mother had its plenty of perks, but by far the worst part of having a newborn was the fact that it cried through the night constantly. At only two weeks old, it was too early to force Kaito to sleep through the night, so despite the fact, you had accumulated a grand total of fifteen hours this past week, the sharp wails of Kaito had you shooting up from slumber.

You were so tired.

Since you normally slept entangled with Shouto, he was always awake when you went to calm down Kaito and always accompanied you to get your guy's son to calm down enough to sleep.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Shouto says as he pulls your body down back onto the bed, his own person getting out of bed, “I’ll get Kaito, sleep, you need to rest more especially since you’re starting training.”

Despite the fact you wanted to follow your husband to your son's room, you found you couldn’t move, so instead you grabbed your baby monitor and watched through the night vision camera as Shouto walked in, rubbing his eyes. 

Kaito was screaming his head off, demanding attention as Shouto picked him out of the crib and held him closely. So you lay in bed, watching your husband gently rocking your son back and forward all while the monitor was picking up the conversation Shouto was having with Kaito which made your insides melt.

“You know Kaito-chan,” You heard Shouto whisper as the baby lay his head on Shouto’s shoulder, light whines leaving his mouth as he refused to sleep, “You’re being really mean to your mama. She’s really tired nowadays, and your drama queen actions keep her up.” You watch as Shouto places a few pats on Kaito’s butt who was loving the attention.

“The thing is,” Shouto continued at his normal whisper, “I love your mama more than anything in this world, and you of course, but your mama is my everything. I’m telling you this now so that in the future if you ever get mad at me for defending and siding with your stubborn mama, it isn’t because I don’t love you as much as her, but your mama means so so much to me. The both of you do... so come on Kaito-chan, let’s go to sleep now.”

You couldn’t resist wiping the tears that had fallen down your face after hearing your husbands loving words, you blamed the stupid hormones. You continued watching until Kaito had fallen back asleep and you quickly put the monitor down as you fell back onto the bed, pretending to be asleep.

Shouto crawled back into bed, wrapping you up in his arms, and you cracked shuffling around to see him staring at you with the warmest look. “Were you listening, stalker?” He asks you, knowing the answer.

“Just making sure you weren’t turning my baby boy against me.” You whisper back teasingly.

“Sorry, y/n, but we Todoroki men are total mama’s boys.”

The two of you laugh together quietly but you can’t resist it anymore as you plant your lips on his, feeling the most awake you’ve been these past few days as he kissed you back with the same vigor. You smiled into the kiss as Shouto’s hands guided you until you were straddling his lap.

“Are you trying to bed me weeks after I gave birth to your son?!” You asked with amusement in your eyes as you broke the kiss from his mouth, trailing kisses down Shouto’s neck, his head tilting to allow you more room.

“I can’t help it, I’m really into new mothers.” Shouto teases back as his hands roam your body before grasping your hips tightly, only to be interrupted by a sharp cry coming from Kaito’s room. 

You groan slightly as you flop onto your back, “I think he doesn’t like me touching his mama.” Shouto states as you laugh before the two of you get up to get the crying baby.

⋆✭⋆✭⋆⋆✭⋆✭⋆

After finishing changing Kaito’s diaper, Shouto returned to the kitchen with the baby in arms.

“Chicken,” Shouto said as Kaito pointed out towards the cooking chicken. He pointed to the vegetables, “Vegetables.”

Kaito smiled a gummy smile and Shouto smiled back pressing a kiss on his son’s cheek. Shouto looked at his phone when a text message alarm went off and saw a text from you:

running late! sorry! I couldn’t find my water bottle for the life of me ((spoiler alert it was in my hand the entire time I searched for it)) on my way home! don’t miss me too much ;) love you!!

Shouto chuckled at the message, your entire pregnancy fog brain was apparently still in effect, but he did not dismay as he set up plates for dinner, putting on the portions you required and put tin foil on it before placing it in the oven to keep warm.

Glancing at Kaito who was now sleepily closing his eyes, Shouto adjusted his grip on his son, “Let’s go take a nap while we wait for mama to get home?”

When you got home, you greeted the quiet house with your now usual whisper; just in case Kaito was asleep. You saw that the living room was empty, as was the kitchen, and you frowned. Shouto was still home, right?

Placing your gym bag by the couch, you walked to the bedrooms and saw that Kaito’s room was empty. “Shoucchan?” You called out as you headed to your room.

You opened your room door and paused in the door frame as you saw Shouto and Kaito sleeping on the bed. Kaito was curled up into Shouto’s side, whereas Shouto had a heavy hand on Kaito’s body to keep him from moving accidentally. You pulled out your phone and took a picture of your sleeping boys.

Kaito then woke up, his bed head resembling fire lit upon his head and you picked up your son from his fathers grasp. “Did you keep papa busy today, Kaito-chan?” You whisper to Kaito who was snuggled into your neck. “You little brat!” You turn your back to Shouto as you sway slowly with Kaito in your arms. 

Arms wrap around your waist and you look up to see Shouto burying his face into your free shoulder, and once more you feel content and safe as you meet each other for a kiss.

“Welcome home.” He whispers.

“I’m home.”

no bonus todaaaaay, sorry! but I hope you enjoyed this short scenario anyways! pregnancy, in theory, seems so nice, but I would literally burn the house down if I had a baby to take care of uwu but thats all for now folks :D