#my 'about me' on here is just full of wish wash now

[rottingsick]

I need a new fuckin vent blog but I'm so tired of account hopping at this point

[bywons]

✶ A LITTLE HELP — SJY

╰—— 𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄

( ✶🪽𝓢. ) 𝗌𝗂𝗆 𝗃𝖺𝖾𝗒𝗎𝗇 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 g. 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝗇𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗈 ? 1217 𝒘𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 contains ! 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 (?), 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 ✦ ◞ 𝒞 ATALOGUE?!

๑´ ³`) ﾉ pls leave feedbacks if u liked it ♡ REBLOG !!

“i mean your abs are pretty impressive, pretty convenient for a washing board though.”

an offended, loud gasp from just beside you, makes you giggle. the cardboard boxes rustle against each other, a few of them being opened up to take out your newly ordered white vases, which your helpful neighbour skillfully places among the wooden shelves.

meanwhile, you wipe off the dust and rearrange the little trinkets on the white showcase, occasionally admiring your handsome neighbours’ work.

“when did you see my abs though, are you lying to me, ms y/n?”, jake scoffs, putting the last vase on the shelf.

you giggle, finishing off your work on the showcase, “i think you're forgetting that our apartment complex has a gym, mr jake,” you walk towards him, an unexpected rise in your heartbeat, “last week.”

“was i on the bench press?”, jake smirks, before catching his lower lip between his teeth and flicking it outside. you don't know what he's trying to do with all that, but he is sure to make your heart beat faster.

“treadmill”, you correct him.

the proximity between you and your striking neighbour increases by the windowsill, where both mild sun rays and inquisitive pairs of eyes can peek in, but it's something that doesn't bother you. after all, sim jake is only here to help you, just a helping hand for you when you've decided to clean and rearrange your apartment.

you don't know how the helping part is kept aside for now, confused at how jake is staring into your eyes, a hesitant but longing step closer to you. he should've been helping you with the bookshelf now, stacking in the new books to the according racks.

but right now he is busy igniting new feelings to your heart.

jake is too close for your own good, left hand threatening to close in around your waist and pull you into such a proximity he has only imagined. he could smear that pink lip gloss of yours now, his hand on you and his mind all dizzy, it would be a perfect weekend for him.

and as he's about to accomplish that, when you swiftly glide out of his imaginary hold on you and pick up the new books to be kept in place, breaking your poor neighbours’ heart.

“that's too much work for a pretty girl like you,” jake was fast, you have to give it to him, well not only in pace but also incredibly fast to make you squeal inside, “i'll take them from ‘ya.”

“you know i can do that myself”, you scoff, leaning against the bookshelf as he snatches the basket full of new books, arranging them.

“yes ma'am”, jake sings, pulling out another giggle from you while he pushes the new books between the old ones, “but i'd rather do it myself you know? wouldn't want your arms all tired.”

you had enough time, strength and leisure to stroll around your apartment and bedeck it, a change of scenario and colours for your eyes, a break from the dust collecting shelves eyeing you from their constant spot. you definitely didn't need another flirty neighbours’ help who could easily pull you into a scandal.

five months ago when you first moved in here, you didn't expect a cheeky, lovestruck neighbour, jake, to knock on your doors every weekend. and even if you're not willing to talk, his flirting skills would find his way to your smile anyway.

so jake became a regular face to witness, a regular voice to hear and a regular touch that you wished would linger for one more second.

“nosy neighbours”, jake reads out the title of the last book on his hand, “ouch, am i a nosy neighbour?”, a dramatic hand over his heart and a fake pout made you giggle harder.

“shut up jake”, you roll your eyes, hitting his arm.

“actually i'd like to borrow this book from ya”,

“you read books too?”, you tilt your head in confusion, an eyebrow raised at his request.

“are you surprised?”, jake giggles, taking a step closer to you as he secures the book in his hand.

“of course i am”, you let out a hearty laugh, hands flying up to your face to cover your flushed cheeks, “i thought all you do is flirt with women and lure them into your apartment”, you tease.

“that's not very nice, ms y/n,” and he goes back to his unnecessary honorific and a dangerous smirk tugging at his lips, making you swoon, “i’m hurt to know you think of me like that.”

jake leans in until he's face to face with you, his hot breath tickles your cheeks and makes them bloom from inside. he's at it again, his infamous grin while he stares you down, his rosy lips are too close to yours.

“the only woman i want to take home is you”, he whispers, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ears. his eyes wander about to face, to your eyes to lips to neck to your eyes again, “do they kiss in the book?”

“no spoilers”, you whisper back.

“fair enough”, jake scoffs, his lips hovering over the corner of yours as he pulls you in by your waist, until you have to create a barricade between you two by softly pressing your palms against his chest. but jake doesn't really gives you what you want, he teases you, grazing his lips over the corners of yours and pressing a light peck on your cheek before pulling back.

he leaves you blushing and stunned, which he likes and smiles at.

“o-ok now i have a lot of work,” you hurriedly grab jake’s hand and begin to drag him towards the door.

“aww are you shooing me away, y/n?”, jake whines, walking the few steps to the exit on his own, “i was just having fun!”

“i wasn't”, you bite your lips, suppressing in a chuckle as you look at him, standing on your threshold.

“oh? is that so?”, jake's eyes widens, he's loving this little act of yours.

as if you didn't turn butter under his touch just a few seconds ago.

“yeah! now off you go jake, i have a lot of things to do”, you try to send him off, lightly pushing on his chest and he's quick to grab your hand.

he brings it near his lips and kisses the inside of your wrist, looking up at you he says, “why don't you come over someday? return my favour maybe?”

all the blood in your body rushes up to your ears and cheeks and you stand still before him, not knowing what to do when you slowly retract your hand. he's intoxicating and he knows it, even if you don't visit him, jake already has an excuse to return his borrowed book to see your pretty face again. maybe you should give it a thought, give him a chance? after all, you can't deny the fact that he does make your heart beat faster.

you clear your throat, “i'll think about it.”

jake chuckles, “you better, ‘want to lure in my favourite pretty girl”, he winks at you, a final blow before he quickly pecks your cheek again, “9:30, i'll be waiting, gorgeous.”

© bywons, 2024. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission.

📌:: TAGLIST IS OPEN ! nets. @/k-labels tags! @bambisite @leaderwon @dimplewonie @wonfilms @heartswonn @jwonistic @aaa-sia @ashtxrie @kgneptun @flwrstqr @haechansbbg @river-demon-slayer @in-somnias-world @teddywonss @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @mylstserenade @branchrkive @aishigrey @nctislifue @greyminyoon1 @ro-diaries @rikibun @sleepyxxhead @belowbun @belovedsthings @moond1or

[reiderwriter]

🔐 Password Protected 🔐

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Requested: "Hii Kacie, may I put in a request of a NSFW prompt? Any plotline or back story is fine I trust your talent :"> Reader's boobs/asscheeks recoill during sex turning Spencer on even more "I wish you could have my view right now" he grabs the phone to open the camera app."

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, DubCon Hidden camera, dry humping, free use, soft to hard Dom!Spencer, sub! Reader, creampie, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, implied oral sex, implied bondage, implied somno, pictures/ photos, degradation (slut, whore etc,) and pet names (Princess, sir, angel etc,), nipple play/torture, multiple orgasms.

A/N: Here's my second fic for the CM Kink Bingo 2024~♡ I'm definitely all over the board now, so who knows if I'I hit bingo this year, Imao? Anyways, I hope you enjoy~ And to my dear friend :"^ anon - thank you for your inspiring request.

Masterlist || Bingo Board

With a glorious lull in cases to close over the summer, the biggest mystery in the BAU was “What's in the locked folder on Spencer's phone?” 

The man had made the (technologically inept) mistake of leaving his new phone unlocked on his desk in a bullpen full of criminal profilers. To say you'd all descended like vultures to a fresh carcass was putting it extremely lightly.

“What apps does he have? Five dollars says there's a dictionary app,” Emily joked, leaning over Morgan's shoulder to try and catch a glimpse of the screen. You were similarly perched at his other shoulder. 

“He can probably recite the dictionary himself, and I don't think he'd know how to download apps,” you scoffed, scrolling up in the phone yourself to the app page. 

“There's got to be something good in the camera roll, right?” Morgan said, clicking into it to find some dirt on the much too innocent Spencer Reid. Which is where you'd found quaint pictures of the sky, some pages from a book and the folder. 

The one with a little lock on it signalling the boundary. Spencer had figured out how to use a locked folder - you'd be impressed if you weren't so curious about what was inside. 

“Placing bets, people? My money is on work documents,” Morgan chuckled, losing interest swiftly in the phone and pressing it into your hands. “It's not like the kid has a lot going on romantically, right?”

You kept your mouth shut as the others nodded in agreement. While Spencer Reid may not have anything romantic going on officially, he definitely had something sexual going on. You'd been in his bed five of the last six days, losing count on the amount of times he'd fucked you into oblivion, using your body as freely as he wished, cumming inside of you to finish before washing off all traces of your coupling and cuddling upto you as you slept. 

It wasn't quite a relationship, but dear god, did you never want it to end. You hadn't been so satisfied, so fulfilled (emphasis on the filled) in a long time. 

“What are you doing with my phone?” You heard Spencer question from behind you, and you turned, trying to mask your embarrassment. You really didn't want him to think you were some obsessive not-girlfriend going through his messages, and almost dropped the phone like it was a bomb when your eyes met his. 

“We were just debating what you could possibly have to hide in your gallery’s locked folder,” Emily laughed, clapping the man on the back and smiling up at him. “Help me win $20 and tell Morgan here that you made it accidentally and don't know the password.” 

“Hey, I didn't agree to any bet yet,” Morgan laughed, kicking his feet up on his desk. 

“Only because you know you're wrong.” 

They bickered just long enough to let Spencer take a step closer to you, slipping the phone easily out of your hand and back into his pocket. His voice was low, his mouth close to his ear when he finally sated your curiosity. 

“I think you may want to distract them from this topic, Y/N. I don't think you'll like it if they demand to see what kind of pictures and…videos I have in that folder.” 

His tone wasn't suggestive, but it still lit a fire in your belly with the implication alone. You'd warmed his bed for long enough to know that you were the only one sharing it, but you didn't remember him taking any pictures or videos of you. Shit, had you been so desperate that you'd completely blanked him capturing a folders worth of images of you servicing his cock? 

You took the hunt and stepped away from him, picking up a file quickly and glancing over it before turning to Emily. Distracting them with work was the only way to keep them off the scent and distract you must.

Even if it did mean you were inconvenienced with curiosity and lust for the rest of the day. 

When you finally finished work, you practically hammered down Spencer's door, trying to get answers to questions he'd left hung in the air earlier. You were a visual learner, so you dearly hoped he'd answer by simply just showing you what you'd missed. 

“Y/N,” he said, opening the door with a sweet smile, drawing you into the apartment with a slow, honeyed kiss. You felt him smile into you, his touch chaste enough around your arms to still your beating heart. You languished in the kiss as he pulled you on closer, shutting the door behind you as he opened you up to him, pulling you further under his spell than usual. 

“I'm so happy to see you,” he said once he'd pulled away, feathering his touch across your waist, settling his hands in the crook just under your breasts, stroking the bottom of them with his thumbs. You were suddenly glad the man's hands were so large, sure that this one interaction was heaven on earth. 

He almost distracted you from your purpose for coming here. 

Pulling you to the sofa in his living room, Spencer pushed back a strand of hair, hooking it behind your ear as he let you straddle him  wrapping your arms around his neck, your head falling comfortably onto his shoulder as you inhaled his scent. 

“I'm not complaining that you're here, or anything, Y/N,” he said, hands roaming your body and stroking your ass as he spoke. “But did you have something to say? You didn't message before coming.” 

You lifted your head to look him in the eyes before looking away out of embarrassment. 

“Earlier, you…” you started, tongue going dry as he tightened his grip on your ass. He shifted slightly under you and you realized he was grinding his leg up into your clothed pussy as you spoke. 

“Yes?” 

“Your phone…the locked folder, I want to see what's inside.” 

You were sure that he knew already what you wanted before you'd even arrived, but he just smiled at you again, almost too kindly. 

“That's my private business, Y/N. Why should I let you see it?” He asked, looking good a finger under your jaw to make you look him in the eye once more. 

“I th-think… I think there are videos. Of me. I'd like to see them.” 

“Where are your manners?” 

“Please, sir,” you whispered, tipping your head forward, begging him for a kiss. “Please show me the videos.” 

He huffed out a quick laugh and gave you one last peck on the lips before he pushed you off. You sat on the floor between his legs, a position you were so used to being in by now that you wouldn't be surprised to find multiple shots of you sat like this, lips wrapped around his cock, pussy grinding on his shoes. Even the thought of such pictures had you wanting to recreate those memories, you weren't sure what a folder worth is going to do. 

Stretching over to his coffee table, Spencer picked up the discarded phone and unlocked it, flipping through some pages before looking down at you again. 

Stroking your hair, Spencer neatly arranged it before wrapping the same hand he'd been using g around your neck and pulling you gently upwards. You landed back in his lap, but he'd turned you around this time. Instead of straddling him, your back was pressed to his chest, your legs on either side of one of his. He released your neck, instead pushing his hands between your thighs so you couldn't push them together for relief - he already knew your body so well. 

“Is this what you're curious about, Y/N?” He said, finally flashing you the phone screen. The first picture was obviously taken post-sex, and you recognised his bed sheets quickly. Your face hung off the end of his bed, eyes shut as his cum painted your lips, cheeks and eyes, lips parted in a lusty moan. From the angle it was taken at, you could see your breasts swell and your hand disappear between your legs as well, stroking yourself to release.

“Shit,” you moaned, pussy clenching on nothing as it begged for relief. With a hand on your hip, Spencer started encouraging you to rock back and forward, humping his leg as he whispered in your ear. 

“You didn't know about that one because your eyes were covered in my cum. It turned me on more knowing you had no clue I was going to jack off to it later as well.” 

He scrolled to the next image, and in this one too, you seemed unaware of the camera. Your hands were tied to the headboard, and he was fucking you from behind, the shot capturing his creamy dick pulling out of you and the discarded condom on the bed beside you. 

“That was the day we learned how much more you enjoyed being filled with cum than you enjoyed condoms,” he said, scrolling to the next picture. 

“And here's your first creampie,” he said, his spare hand pushing under your shirt, fingers clamping down on one nipple as you shuddered. 

Your pace was faster now, desperately thrusting up and down his thigh. Even through your skirt and panties, you felt your wetness against his pants, knowing you'd be punished later for such unladylike behaviour. 

As if Spencer had ever wanted you to act like a lady. He knew you were a slut and he enjoyed it. 

“The next one is a video,” he said, moving his hand to your other breast and slapping it as you moaned above him. “Do you think you can handle it?” 

“Y-Yes, Sir. Please let me see it, sir.” 

“Okay, but not a fucking noise out of you. I want to hear your screams from the video.” 

You could only silently groan in reply, nodding quickly as he scrolled and pressed play. 

This one was recent, maybe one or two nights ago. You recognised the outfit you'd partially discarded, the shirt that had been ripped open. 

How had you possibly not seen the camera pointed straight at you? 

In the video, his cock was pressed into you, fucking you at a pace most would call violent  but you called heavenly. The focus wasn't on your pussy taking his cock, though, but on your boobs, recoiling and jumping with every thrust. His other hand pressed to your stomach, feeling himself sheathed there, as you moaned desperately. 

“Spen…Spen-sher,” you tripped over your tongue, slurring the words as if you'd been drugged. Your eyelids were heavy, eyes practically rolling back in your head as his hand on your stomach tightened. 

“I think I fucked your brain out, baby,” he laughed deeply, cock not relenting even one second. 

“Your tits looked so perfect,” the Spencer of the present said, pressing the phone into your hand as he grabbed each nipple and tugged them forward, leaving you gasping. 

“And you didn't even realize I was filming it all. I could've done anything to you, anything at all, and you wouldn't have cared. You'd have enjoyed it, and I'd have had the proof.” 

You were soaked now, humping deliriously against his thigh, like a puppy experiencing their first heat, desperate for this feeling to go away and for it to stay and intensify all the same. 

“You were acting so stupid. At one point, I even got you to say hello to the camera, and you didn't remember a thing an hour later.” 

Releasing one breast, he swiped one more time to the left, and you saw the beginning of another video. 

Hitting the play button, his hands returned to your chest, this time pushing up your top and bra and freely clamping down on the nipples as hard as he could. 

What intrigued you the most about this last video was the start. Unlike the pictures and the videos, you weren't in the middle of sex at the beginning of this video at all. 

You were instead laid with your back to the camera - to Spencer - a leg thrown over some unfamiliar sheets. This wasn't his bed. This wasn't yours either. 

Another minute of grinding against his leg, and you recognised the motel room from your last case. 

“Spencer, wh-” 

“Watch and see, princess.” 

The bed creaked under his weight as he climbed in behind you, removing the duvet covers from your body, replacing it with his hands. He made similarly swift work of your pajamas, only bothering to push them down to your knees before pulling out his cock and slowly pushing into you. 

If you weren't so close to another orgasm, you'd probably be shocked that Spencer had invaded your personal space and started fucking you as you slept. But that's what it meant to be his little free use slut. You allowed him access to you anywhere, anytime (including the motel room you'd given him the spare key for) and in return he dropped as many loads of his cum into your pussy as would fit there. 

Watching yourself get violated in your sleep was the last of what you needed to push over the edge. 

You grabbed Spencer's arm, gasping, and you felt him trail kisses along your neck and shoulders. 

“That's it, baby, just hold on a second while I…” he pulled the phone out of your grasp, opening yet another familiar looking app. 

You looked at the screen and found your own bare chest heaving staring back at you. He clicked the red button and forced it back into your hands as he began abusing your tits again. 

“Show the camera, Y/N. Show them how you get yourself off on my leg.” 

You complied, lifting the phone slightly to get the best view of your chest, heaving up and down as you humped his thigh into oblivion. 

Your cunt twitched and you felt fluids rushing out of you, even as your arms trembled. But you didn't let them falter  holding g up the phone to capture every second of your climax, knowing its exactly what he would want. 

“You're perfect, you know that Y/N,” he said, finally kissing the top of your head and pulling the phone out of your grasp as he saved the video into the file you'd been browsing. 

His gentleness was short-lived, though, as he pushed you off his lap and back to the floor. As you caught your breath, ass up on the floor, he took the opportunity to slip his dick out of his pants, and began stroking it up and down, inspecting your pussy with his free fingers. 

“I'll give you five seconds to get ready for the next round,” he said, and you panicked, lifting your legs off the floor. You weren't strong enough, though, or maybe you just didn't want to move. He kept counting down. 

“4….3….2…1,” you heard the predatory grin in his voice as he pushed his foot onto your head, holding your cheek to the floor with one leg. 

“As you wish then, my little slut.” He moved his foot away quickly and pushed inside of you, and your last coherent thought was of the folder again, and how long he'd make you wait to see the video you were about to shoot. 

[mauvecherie-writes]

so ready: l.hamilton.

pairing: lewis hamilton x pt fem!black reader

summary: you’re his trainer, he’s him, the chemistry is undeniable.

warning: 18+ mdni, EXTREME SEXUAL CONTENT, pwp, fast paced, teasing, dirty talk, degradation kink?, unprotected sex, guys, I’m a slut - we sucking and fucking over here.

notes: I put a break on working on endless melodies, this picture called for my attention and here we are 😩. I also don’t know where the 3.5K words came from 😭 this was meant to be short.

w.c: 3.5K

tags: @queenshikongo3 @dhlfastestlap @hersinsarescarlet @emjayewrites @saintslewis @serpenttines-library @hopefulromantic1 @cocobutterqwueen @bluesole16 @chaneajoyyy @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @felicity-x0 @lewisroscoelove @lh44adore @hellomadamebutterfly @scorpiobleue @qveenmelanink @tremendousstarlighttragedy

buy me a kofi.

You sighed as you walked through the underground garage of the building. You were mentally preparing yourself to be in your client’s presence. You wish you could have rejected his contract but it was such good money to resist - a resource that you needed at the time - and he was a good man. Refusing to train him would have not made sense outside of the biggest con being that you were attracted to him.

Deeply attracted to him.

Every session was a fighting battle and today would be no different.

It had been seven months since you started working with him. Lewis was very serious about his physical health but he was so flirtatious and it made it hard to concentrate on your job. But today, you promised yourself that you would be serious and not give into his little games.

On the elevator ride up to his penthouse, you trained your mind to block his advances and not give into his charm. However, whether you intended to or not, your outfit choice for the session was along the lines of cute and practical. The grey headband keeping your hair away from your face was matching the gym shorts that you were wearing. Your physique was on display without it coming off as a little desperate. It’s not like you needed to put in any type of effort anyway, you were beautiful enough on your own but the outfit was just a greater temptation for Lewis.

Even though you lied to yourself that you didn’t enjoy the game of teasing that you played with him.

“Lewis! I’m here!” You yelled as you walked through the lobby of his penthouse. The patters of Roscoe’s feet against the marbled floor rang through to your ears. The aging dog ran towards you and it brought a smile to your face. You bent down and grabbed the pup’s face into your hands and caressed the deep folds of his cheeks.

“Hi boy!” You spoke with a high pitch to your voice. “You’ve been good for your Dads when I’ve been away?” He licked the palms of your hands as he wiggled his tail.

“Yeah! Because you’re a good boy aren’t you? It’s your Dad that’s the trouble maker.” You said to Roscoe before standing up straight.

“Oh I’m a trouble maker now?” His voice was the first thing that you heard before you saw him. As you walked to the kitchen to wash your hands, you caught sight of him leaning against the living room area wall as he watched you.

Dressed in a dark grey fitted t-shirt and matching grey shorts with black thermals beneath. His locs were braided away from his face, forcing you to bare witness to his beauty.

“You’ve always been one, don’t act so surprised now.” You replied as you watched your hands. You may not be able to see him but you could feel his eyes on your back. You bit your lip as you wiped your hands and then turned around. Your hands were on either side of your body on the counter as you looked at him.

“When have I ever caused trouble for you darling?” He asked as he stood to his full height and moved closer to you in the kitchen area, stopping by the island and leaning fowards against it.

“Do you really want me to answer that question? Because I have a list of examples.”

He laughed at your response instead of answering. He knew exactly what you were talking about.

“Anyway. Are you ready for our session today? I don’t want any problems this time around. You have somewhere to be and so do I. So no funny games.” You stressed the last part of your statement - more to yourself than to him.

Lewis’s eyes were drooped low, his long lashes nearly touching the apple of his cheeks as they hung low before he trailed them from the exposed skin of your thighs to your flushed cheeks as you held in your breath. His teeth trapped the flesh of his bottom lip to restrict his smile from spreading as he stood up straight.

“I’ll be on my good behaviour. I promise.” His voice was an octave deep and laced with temptation. You knew then, that this training session would be anything but smooth sailing.

.

.

A good sparring session was a great way to end a productive session. Lewis stayed true to his word for most of the time but he’d throw in a flirtatious jab here and there that had you flustered. As much as you tried to hate it, you revelled in the way that those comments made you feel.

One last sparring session and you won’t have to see him for another three days.

You needed that breather.

“Come on baby girl. You can give it to me harder than that.” He teased as he bounced on his feet as he moved away from you. You rolled your eyes as you flexed your arms.

“I’m your trainer Lewis. I’m not supposed to be harder on you.”

“I can take it.” He shrugged. “That’s something you’re supposed to be saying in the right circumstances.”

“You’re a cocky little shit!” You stressed as your fingers flexed in the punching mitts before you began to run after him.

“There we gooo. Give me that fire, show me what you got baby.” He smirked at you. You fumed as you stopped chasing him and took off your punching mitts.

“Beating your ass would give me the greatest pleasure.” You said as you threw the mitts down before pulling the bandage wrap out of your open bag.

“I can do many things that can bring you pleasure that don’t involve us boxing.”

“Prove it.” You spat at him.

Before things moved forward, Lewis did the one thing that he knew would disrupt your focus.

He took his shirt off and kicked it close to the edge of the floor to ceiling mirror. All of the witty comments dried in your throat as you took him in. The defined muscles of his abs, the deep pelvis lines, the rich tan contrasting his tattoos and most of all, the budding chest hair.

Involuntarily, your thighs clenched at the sight.

He licked his lips as he watched you struggle for words. He could see the fight in your eyes as you were determined to not fall into the trap of your attraction but your body was failing tremendously.

Fine. You thought. Two can play that game.

Without warning, you grabbed the edge of your top and pulled it over your head. If Lewis thought his naked chest would disrupt you then you could pull the same card. Left in just your padded sports bra, you watched as Lewis became as speechless as you had been.

You were not going to make this easy for him.

Lewis finished wrapping his hands. “I’m ready.”

The both of you put up a good fight. Physically and mentally. Every hit, every jab, felt like a victory in the war of desire. Both of your bodies damp from sweat with how much energy you exerted during this ‘friendly’ sparring session.

You were winning. He asked for your all and you gave it. This was something just to prove to yourself that you could resist him. That you could withstand his charm and that your attraction didn’t lead you blind.

Then he grabbed your wrists and pulled younclose to his body. You gasped as he tightly held your hands behind your back trapping them by his torso as his other arm wrapped around your waist.

“Aren’t you tired of playing this game sweetheart?” He whispered in your ear.

“You started it. Of everyone, you should know how crucial professionalism should be.” You hissed back as you struggled to get out of his hold.

“How could I focus on staying professional when every part of me wants to explore every inch on you. And don’t try to deny it either. I see the way you look at me, the way you desire me in a way that would disgrace the gods.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he spoke. His words were the apple from the tree of knowledge and his voice was the serpent in the garden of Eden.

“I can’t pretend anymore.” He confessed. “I want you YN. I want you so fucking much.”

“Now you admit it.” You say as you squirmed. Lewis held onto you tighter.

“I never denied it darling.” He chuckled in your ear. “You did. We wouldn’t be having this back and forth if you had just admitted that you were into me the way I was into you.”

“That wouldn’t change the fact that I was compromising a client-employer relationship and my reputation just for some dick.”

“This dick would change your life baby.”

“You’re so fucking annoying!”

“Turn around and say that to my face.”

He spun you in his arms before another word could be uttered. You stared at each other with no words spoken as your eyes ventured from their eyes to their lips. The action causing you to lick your lips.

“Cat got your tongue?” He teased as his hands dropped to your waist and pulled you closer. The smile on his face held the promise of everything that he had teased and taunted you about. Wicked and sinful things that had your mouth watering at the mere thought of them.

Body to body like this, the wall that you had been building in your mind had come crumbling down. Not that you had put up that big of a fight anyway but the effort that had been exerted up to now was too much and you were giving it up.

You were ready. You were more than ready.

“You’ve been trying your hardest to break me. And for a while I forgot that I too can play this game very well.” You said as you hooked a finger around the strap of your bra and brought it down your arm.

“I want you Lewis, I do.” You finally admitted. “But you want me just as much, if not more.” You unhooked your bra and flung it across the room. He fought to push the bandages away from his knuckles before embracing you with his big hands running up and down your back.

“If you had just given me the chance, I would loved on you the second I knew that you felt the same.” He whispered as his hands trailed down your back and settled on your ass. He kneaded the flesh of your ass cheeks, drawing you closer so that you could feel his breath on the top of your lip.

You leaned forward and kissed him with all of your might. All of the pent up desire you had been holding at bay for the last seven months burst out of you. You pushed your body into his as he moved his lips roughly over yours, opening your mouth for the sweet intrusion of his tongue as he deepened the kiss. Your nails dug into his back as you wrapped a leg around his waist as you felt the lower part of his body pressing into you.

Lewis moved his hand from your ass, trailing it up your spine before cupping the back of your neck and pulling you inwards. You gasped as he nibbled on your bottom lip, pulling the lip into his mouth. Your pussy creamed at the realisation at just how hard his dick was as it rested against you.

“Let me taste you.” You said as you pulled your lips away. “Please.”

“Do you think you deserve it? After the way you made me feel for wanting you? You think you deserve my touch?”

“Lewis … please.”

“Take these off.” He growled as he tugged at your grey shorts. You made light work of them before stepping back into his embrace. Your small cotton panties were digging into the flesh of your hips but Lewis quickly tugged at the material and shoved them down the length of her legs.

His eyes focused back on your face as he felt your hands move down the back of his head and edge him closer to your core. He pushed your legs further apart as his fingers teased your hot skin. His eyes soaking in every reaction that he drew out of you.

“You have spend the last seven months playing hard to get but here you are, ready to crumble at the touch of my fingers.” Lewis whispered as he pressed kisses onto your stomach.

“You’re talking entirely too much for someone who has pussy staring them in their face.”

“And this pussy is glorious, believe me. But I need you to suffer a little bit.”

He gave you an inch by running his fingers teased along your slit but did not settle his fingers where you needed him the most. Instead of shoving his digits into your cunt like he wanted, he brought them to his lips and licked them clean.

“So good.” He said and then stood straight and buried his face into the crook of your neck. He licked at your flesh before sinking in his teeth. The way he drew your skin into his mouth caused you to moan.

“Lew, please. Please.” You begged before he claimed your mouth yet again. He kissed you hard with his tongue lashing against yours before his teeth sunk into your bottom lip causing the sweetest pain to shoot up your spine. You pushed your body against him as far as your standing position would allow.

He wrapped his hands in your sweated out hair which was reverting back to its natural curl pattern. He pulled away from your lips and stared down at you with the darkest look of arousal tainting his beautiful eyes.

You watched as a cocky smirk etched on his face. You knew Lewis had you. Once your inhibitions were shut down, it was very easy for you to turn to your desires. And that lust had you falling to your knees as you looked up at him as his cock swelled in the confines of his thermals.

You pushed the fabric further down his thick thighs until his cock was revealed and … holy shit.

You knew that Lewis had the inches and the girth to work with but you weren’t expecting it to be so … heavy? His dick was so big and thick but it was nothing you couldn’t work with. Especially with the smugness glazing his eyes, you took it as a challenge.

His legs were spread, standing tall and proud as his dick bobbed in front of you. Heavy, leaking and begging for your oral attention.

“Open your mouth.” He said as he held his cock by the base and pointed it towards your plump lips.

Your mouth quickly hung open and your tongue darted out to lick his tip. You swirled your tongue around the head before you slid most of his dick into your mouth and sucked. You were extra as fuck as you licked and slurped, wanting him to understand the sloppy, messy head that awaited him. That you had been fantasising about this moment for a long time and now you were going to show to show him what you were about.

“Sucking this dick so fucking good.” He groaned as he held your head and tipped it back before moving his hips so that his tip was brushing back against the back of your throat.

“This is what you needed huh? My dick in your mouth to turn you into a little slut for me.” You moaned around him as you stretched your hands out on his torso, feeling his chest hairs prickle against your palm.

You don’t answer him as you continue working your head up and down his length. He felt so good in your mouth. The muskiness of his scent was all that you could think off as your saliva pooled in your mouth the more he worked his hips, fucking your mouth.

You were so eager to suck his dick. You pushed your head down further, taking him deeper down your throat which caused his knees to buckle.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Lewis groaned as he fisted your hair tighter, looking down at you as you moved your head fast, spit bubbles building as your nose brushed against his pelvis before your hand came up to fondle with his balls.

“Just like that. Keep sucking me just like that baby.” He gasped as you continued sucking on him as if you were trying to take his soul. Sure, Lewis had brought you down to your knees but you were making him regret ever thinking that he held all of the cards. There were no words to describe just how good you were sucking his dick. Your hands cradling his balls, his tip repeatedly hitting the back of your throat - this was more than otherworldly.

When you pulled your lips away from him, Lewis felt like he could breathe as you moved your hand around his length in tight, circular motions.

“If I didn’t want to come inside of you, I would have come all over your beautiful face.” He spoke with a hoarseness to his voice before he manoeuvered you underneath him. The gym mats were harsh against your skin but you were past the point of caring.

“Fuck me.” You whispered as Lewis shifted your legs into the crooks of his arms as his dick rubbed against your opening. You reached up and claimed his mouth. His saltiness lingered between each entanglement of your lips. You tasted the remnants of your sweetness in his mouth the longer you greedily moved your mouth against his.

You didn’t care for the way the hard mats were biting into your skin. All you cared about what the surge of lust that burst through you as Lewis rubbed his cock against your cunt. His hand travelled up to your throat and squeezed as he positioned himself in between your legs. Every single gasp and little cry that he pulled out of you pushed him closer to the edge. His lips sought your earlobe as he raised your leg to his shoulder before he finally sunk into your pussy.

You were so soft. So sweet. So tight. So wet. You accepted him like you’d been waiting for him all this time and then clenched onto him so hard that Lewis so felt lightheaded before he could complete his stroke.

Lewis needed to regain his composure but you were a withering mess beneath him. Your scent like a cocoon around the both of you, he couldn’t find his bearings as he found a rhythm to his strokes.

Slow and deep as you arched your back and dug your nails into the skin of his back.

Your lips parted as you struggled to catch your breath with the sexy sounds of your pleasure reverberating through the room, bouncing off the equipment back into his ears.

Lewis let your legs fall back to his waist as he dropped to his forearms so that his body, slick with sweat, pressed against yours. You immediately wrapped both of your legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper into you as he resumed his slow, deep thrusts coupled with circular motions that always pulled a sharp, little cry from you beneath him.

For months he had dreamt you like this. Underneath him, begging and crying for him as he deprived your body of pleasure.

Your nipples grazed his chest as he moved. You trailed your fingernails down the length of his back as you pulled him in for frantic kisses as the both of you moved towards the inevitable conclusion.

Lewis pressed his forehead against yours as your pussy started clenching rapidly around him.

“That’s it, baby,” he demanded through his teeth. “Cum all over this dick.”

You screamed his name and it was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard. He covered your mouth with his, swallowing your cries of pleasure, thrusting hard and fast into you as he chased the orgasm building in him.

You scratched at his back, gripped the sheets and bit into the pillow even as you started moving your hips up to meet his dick.

“Lewis!” You yelled as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your orgasm plummeting through your body.

“That’s it sweetheart. Come all over this dick.” He growled into your ear as he bucked his hips hard and fast before the force of his climax had him tensing and twitching in between your legs.

You hummed softly as Lewis returned to himself once his muscles had stopped twitching. All that pent up energy had finally been released and the both of you were butt naked in his private gym.

So many lines had been crossed tonight but either of you cared. Especially when he kissed you senseless and promised you more orgasms than you were ready to give.

London fashion week be damned ….

[kitashousewife]

“yes, rintaro?”

“hi-jesus, a warning next time would be nice,”

“you called me,” you huff, picking at the now dried mask on your face in the small reflection of the facetime. “what do you want, rin?”

suna is outside, walking rather quickly as the background is blurred around him. he lets out an airy laugh before looking at the screen.

“i’m drunk;” he smirks, continuing to walk but tripping a little, shaking the camera. you raise your eyebrows at him to continue. he sniffs. “and i’m coming over.”

“is your house broken or something?”

he giggles, then shakes his head. “nah, yours is closer though.”

you sigh and accept defeat. you knew your best friend was in the neighborhood from his social media posts, so it’s no surprise he’s deciding to drop in. it’s late though, well past midnight. you shuffle into your bathroom to rinse off the mask, setting your phone on the counter.

“when will you be here?”

he clears his throat and swallows. “i’m walking up the stairs, so 2 min-fuck-minutes,” he trips up the steps and groans.

“what? okay give me a minute, i’ll be right there,” you wash off your mask quickly and run to the door, realizing too late as you slide on your socked feet that you’re only in a t shirt, suna’s t shirt. you open the door to find a very intoxicated suna, leaning against your with heavy eyes and a smile, which turns to a frown when he sees you.

“hey, that’s mine,” he taps the collar of your shirt before pushing past you, slipping off his shoes and throwing his coat on the floor.

“you reek, rin. god, where were you?”

he smirks. now making himself comfy on the couch despite your protesting glares.

“the club a few blocks away, it was packed and-“ he hiccups. “y-yeah it was just busy. aran was there,”

“don’t fall asleep on my couch,” you tap his leg as you walk past, tidying up a little. he opens his eyes and sits up, slumped into the cushions. “how do you feel?”

suna doesn’t answer. he scrolls on his phone at full volume, completely ignoring you while chuckling at the different videos he comes across.

one of the worst things about your best friend was how stubborn he is normally, but that stubbornness triples when he’s had enough to drink.

you stand in front of him with your arms crossed for a few more seconds before you clear your throat. he finally looks up and waves.

“rin, why don’t you-“

“so yeah, aran was there and-“ he laughs at something on his phone, losing his train of thought.

“how about you take a shower?”

“no,” he pouts again. “why don’t you take a shower?”

you huff. “i’m calling aran to get y-“

“i think i’m going to take a shower,” he grunts, standing up and following you to the bathroom while you grab towels for him. when you finish turning the water, he begins to lift up his shirt.

“uh-uh,” you laugh to yourself and slip out the door, pulling it shut. “you can do that in private. take your time, i’m going to bed.”

“but what if i wanted you to see?”

you stutter. “y-you’re drunk, rin. just shower, please.”

you hear him clamber into the shower soon after and retreat to your bed. as you settle in, suna’s comment continues to nag at you. sure, he jokes around and has his fun with you. but in the many years being his best friend, he’s never made any sort of effort to make a move on you.

you feel dizzy, suddenly picturing suna in a way you had never before. it felt like jumping off the high dive and into water all at once.

“what am i supposed to wear?” a very wet suna waltzes into your room with a towel on his waist, and you wish you could jump into that pool right now. you can’t take your eyes off his torso, eyeing the defined muscle as they flex with every step.

“there’s s-some of your clothes here from last time, they’re clean i just forgot to give them to you,” you jump out of bed and rummage through your closet before handing him his belongings.

“oh cool,” he walks back to the bathroom, bumping into the wall on the way. you slink back to bed without another word.

just as you’re drifting off to sleep, your mattress dips.

“hi,” suna breathes, getting under your covers with you.

“what are you doing?” you hiss, voice a whisper. he stares back at you with an irritated look.

“painting a picture, what does it look like? i’m going to bed,” he huffs, pulling your covers over him and leaving your legs exposed to the cold air.

“rintaro,” you pull the covers back over you and he groans. “i don’t want to hear it! if you’re going to sleep in my bed at least share.”

he remains quiet, making himself comfortable on the other side of the bed. meanwhile, your heart is racing and your mind is fighting between being bothered and pining over your best friend.

“did you use my shampoo?”

“of course i did,” suna’s voice is tired as he finally settles in. “the extra stuff you gave me sucks. and you smell good so thought i’d use it,”

your heart skips a beat. you don’t say anything, though.

your eyes get a little heavy, mind finally relaxing as the heavy sounds of suna’s breathing lull you to sleep.

the next morning you wake up next to your best friend, blinking a few times before you get a good look at him. he’s resting against the pillow, your blanket pulled up to his bare chest while he scrolls on his phone.

“good morning rin,” you mumble, yawning and sitting up. “did you sleep okay? are you feeling today today?”

“slept great,” he mumbles, eyes not leaving his screen. “i feel okay. head hurts,”

you nod, handing him your water bottle and an aspirin from your bedside table which he happily takes.

“thanks for letting me stay here by he way,”

“of course,” you watch as he sits up, blankets falling to his hips and showcasing his muscles once more.

“i feel bad that you had to deal with me,” he looks you in your eyes and for some reason, it feels different from normal. you shrug.

“i don’t mind.”

he smirks and gets comfortable once more, but begins typing on his phone with a giggle.

“what’s so funny?”

“nothing,” he smirks at the screen. “i just told aran we slept together, though.

“rintaro!”

[mostly-imagines]

ur jason makes me want to RAHHHH like i just want to wash his hair for him :(((

lexi my girl you're speaking my language

the first time it happens he is so tired. he's just gotten back from patrol and there's blood and dirt all over his armor and his hair is a tousled mess. his shoulders droop as he removes his suit and he can barely keep his eyes open but he's so dirty he has to shower but he's not sure he has the willpower to push his body all the way into the bathroom.

but you, the saving grace that you are, start running a bath for him before he's even fully stripped. he honestly doesn't even register the sound of the water running and can only think about how much he wishes he could sleep right now. so you take his hand and guide him wordlessly to the bathroom, and while he's grateful for the assistance, he still doesn't realize what you're doing until he sees the bath, completely full and welcoming.

you sit on the edge of the tub and he leans back against you, eyes closed, relishing the feeling of you running your fingers through his hair. if he were slightly more awake he'd feel bad about getting your shirt wet because he's too exhausted to hold himself upright on his own, but right now all he can think about is how relaxed he feels. relaxation is far and few between for him and was bordering on impossible before he met you, so the fact that you have him sitting here so vulnerable, it's basically the equivalent to handing you his life.

you nudge him to sit up a bit further so you can scoop up handfuls of water and get his hair wet without it spilling onto the floor. the warm water feels amazing against his scalp and he squeezes his eyes shut at the sensation.

you squeeze out two pumps from your shampoo bottle, something he was silently hoping you would do because he loves that it smells like you. you spend longer than you need to lathering it into his hair, just wanting to be sure that you can get him as relaxed as possible (you're quite successful)

he tilts his head back as you rinse the suds out of his hair, smiling to himself when you bring one of your hands up to help support the back of his neck. you decide you'll save him of suffering through the wait of the extra step of conditioner and you hand him your best, fluffiest towel to dry off.

you sit up on the bathroom counter as you blow dry his hair on the low setting, careful not to let it get too hot on his head. he palms at your thighs the whole time like a stress ball, trying to fight the urge to rest his forehead on your shoulder.

his eyes are basically closed as you guide him back to your bedroom, climbing onto the bed and pulling him in after you. he collapses his head onto your chest, arms wrapped around your waist. his body is completely lax and he's barely able to mumble out a thank you when he feels you press a gentle kiss to his forehead before sleep finally takes him.

[beejunos]

SPEAK TO ME | Sneak peek [Alastor x f.reader] | SMUT (mdni)

Summary: Alastors voice turns you on. Something he loves to take advantage of.

If you want you read the full story, press THIS LINK

Did someone ask for an Alastor voice kink fic?! This is only a sneak peek! I hope to finish this little smutty story in about two days.

Halfway through your night routine, you turned on your radio at a soft, pleasant volume, and Alastor's smooth voice filled the otherwise silent room. 

"Salutations, friends and hellish residents! Tonight, we have a splendid assortment of the latest news and the best Hell has to offer in jazz, but before we chitchat about our dear city's hellish affairs, here is the newest music from Miss Jezebel and The Wicked Six!" 

Slow and sultry jazz music started to play on the radio. The woman who sang had a deep, smoky quality that was inherently sexy to you. There was just something about women who sang with deep voices that made your hips sway from side to side, effortlessly dancing across your room as you started to strip, pretending there was someone there who enjoyed the show you put on. 

You turned off all the lights except the small lamp by your bed and crawled under the thick blanket. You left the radio on as you made yourself comfortable, hugging one of your pillows close to you. 

The song ended, and Alastor came back. This time, he started talking about the news. Since the news sometimes made you too sad to sleep, you never really listened to what he was saying; you only listened to his voice—his tone, the cadence of his speech, and his transatlantic accent. 

You let his voice wash over you like a soothing balm to your aching body, but soon, you felt the familiar tingles run up your back. Warmth pooled low within you as you shifted in your bed, lying on your back. The desire to touch and be touched grew in you, to move, to grind, to satisfy the urge for sex. 

Closing your eyes and letting your hands wander over your body, you start by slowly dragging your fingertips over your sensitive throat, making sure that your light fingertips touch all the places that made you weak. 

Your hands travel from your throat down to your chest. Palming your breasts in your hand, you drag your nails over your sensitive nipples. Pinshin, pulling and rolling them between your fingers till they are warm and hard. 

Your senses sharpen as you start to feel more intensely, but your mind goes hazy, making it hard to think clearly. Alastors voice is but background noise now that edges you on.

One hand stays on your breast as the other journeys down, down, down and under your underwear. 

You slowly drag your finger between your lips, coating your finger in your wetness as you slowly pull it towards your clit. A breathless gasp is pulled from your mouth the first time your finger comes in contact with your sensitive clit. Slowly and with the lightest touch, you start to circle the organ, and what feels like electricity builds in your loins.

You can't help but move in your bed, legs bending and toes curling as you give yourself the pleasure that you wished Alastor would provide you. Your hand that previously played with your breast joined your other hand, and you let out a not-so-subtle moan as you pushed two fingers into you. Desperately, you curl your fingers inside you to increase the pleasure. 

You want it. You need it. Your toes curl almost painfully as Alastors name falls from your lips like a prayer. 

You're so close. So close you can see stars behind your eyes. You breathlessly chase that sweet release. Building, and building, and building. Your legs are shaking as you bite your lips. Hips lift from the mattress as you fight the urge to close your legs.

You are so, so close.

"What are you doing, my dear?" 

Cold dread crashes through your body as you rip your hands away from your body. You frantically look all over your room in the shadows. Looking for that all-knowing smile and calculating red eyes. 

His voice had been so close and clear that he had to be in your room. It had felt like he had spoken to you right beside your ear. But you were alone. No one was in your room but you. 

"Such a naughty little creature you are, my dear. So desperate to be touched." 

Goosebumps travel up your back as you slowly turn in the direction you hear his voice. On your nightstand is the radio that Alastor gave you. It is still on, but the yellow light of the display has turned red. 

Towering over you in your bed, you almost feel like he is watching you. Observing you as you lay naked in your bed. Your blankets were by the end of the bed as you had kicked them off a long time ago. 

"Can't even listen to me talking without having to touch yourself. My oh my, what will I ever do with such a bad little doe, hm?" 

Shaking all over, you reached for the radio's electrical cord and jerked it out of the outlet. The radio fell silent as you collapsed in your bed. Spent, but not satisfied. However, you soon start to tremble over the fact that Alastor had listened to you pleasuring yourself, and he seemed to like it.

[astraystayyh]

han x reader. domestic morning where they also remember snippets of their (enemies) past. they’re very cute and i might write a full fic for their backstory.. stay tuned (also one suggestive joke)

if you wish to request a drabble as well, you can donate to our gaza fundraiser here! there are many writers participating as well hehe <3

10:02 a.m.

“wake up,” you whisper, your nose nuzzling against the slate of han’s neck. his eyes remain closed, but a delicate smile unfurls across his lips. you pretend not to notice.

“come on,” you murmur, your lips brushing his exposed collarbone, your hand slipping around his waist. “i miss you, hannie.”

his arms suddenly envelop you, drawing you into an impossibly tight embrace. “sorry baby, hannie is asleep.”

“is that so?” you giggle, resting your cheek against his bare chest. your face warms as you sense his heart racing unusually fast for a tranquil saturday morning.

“what’s this?” you pout, your fingers grazing the skin that shields the world's most precious organ. “do i still fluster you this much?”

“i literally have the sun in my arms, leave me be,” he grumbles, pulling the covers over you both.

you chuckle, pinching his side gently. “but wasn’t i your volcano?” you ask, referencing the song han wrote about you, for you, to you.

“yaaah,” he drawls out, a gleam of excitement shining in his eyes. “do you remember how we were before i confessed?”

“we hated each other,” you both giggle at the memory, months that now feel like a lifetime ago washing over you. it’s a sweet remembrance, akin to the last ripples of a wave caressing the shore.

“you were the most gorgeous producer I’d ever seen,” he sighs exaggeratedly, “and the most infuriating too.”

“it’s not my fault my genius was too much for you,” you tease, and he leaps away, waving a hand in the air in true han fashion.

“it wasn’t too much, we just had different artistic visions,” his voice grows increasingly high-pitched, “AND you were too prideful to collaborate.”

you shrug nonchalantly, “because you seemed too full of yourself.”

“and yesterday you were too full of m—“ your hand swiftly covers his mouth as raucous giggles erupt from him.

“you’re an actual idiot. i can’t believe I’m dating you now,” you say as his lips meet your forehead tenderly, his hands weaving through your hair as if crafting silent confessions of love.

“how could you resist the world’s best love song, hm?”

memories of listening to han’s Volcano in the rain flood your being. you recall the shiver that overtook your bones, the realization that dawned suddenly upon you, just like a striking bolt— you had never known the line between love and hate was this thin until, you too, experienced it.

“you know, it’s crazy how romantic the lyrics are, yet you never say 'i love you' once in them.”

“but you knew.”

“but i know.”

the smiles that bloom across your faces are serene, peaceful, like the calm that follows a storm, painting the world in hues of stillness.

“hi, baby,” he whispers, and you giggle, cupping his cheek with your palm. “hi, hannie.”

“i’m so happy we moved past the screaming matches.”

“i’m so happy i get to love you.”

“well, I love you more.”

“well, actually, that can’t be true because—“ the rest of your protest is silenced by han’s lips finally pressing atop yours. your words melting like sugar at the tip of your tongue.

[en-dazedafterdark]

PAIRINGS: established relationship!jake x reader

GENRE: smut, fluff?

SYNOPSIS: In which you help your boyfriend relieve his stress after his schedule

WARNINGS: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), bath tub sex, shower sex, mentions of multiple rounds, oral sex (f receiving), handjob, creampie

WORD COUNT: 4k

A/N: wish this was me </3

The interviewer was asking him a question - something about how preparations for their world tour are going - and he nodded, smiling as if he was paying attention to her. He was answering the questions she was asking, but that was all; his mind wasn't on the interview. The last few weeks of preparation for this tour had been stressful and he'd had a hell of a time keeping up his happy, energetic, cheerful persona.

The only thing on his mind at the moment was going back home to his gorgeous girlfriend. His schedule had kept them apart for way too long and it was all he could do to not just run from the interview, jump in a car, and get the hell home so he could be with her.

"So, Jake," the interviewer asked. "Is there anything you would like to say before we go?"

Jake looked up. They were done? Finally. It had felt like forever, and now he could finally get some rest. "Uh," he said. "Yeah. I guess. Um, I wanna thank everyone who has supported us. And to all our fans, I'm looking forward to seeing you all again."

And to his girlfriend, he thought. I'm gonna give you the best fucking night of your life.

The interviewer smiled and gave the closing remarks, and the cameras were turned off.

The time passed by in a blur, he was so desperate to get home that even his group mates could sense his energy.

"Dude, chill," said Jay. "You're acting like you haven't seen her in years."

"It feels like it," Jake muttered.

"Oh, leave him alone, guys," said Sunghoon. "I'd act the same if my girl was waiting at home."

Jake gave his friend a grateful smile, and they both laughed as Jay and Heeseung made exaggerated gagging sounds.

Mercifully, there was little to no traffic, and they were back home within the hour.

"I'm gonna go see my girlfriend," Jake announced, ignoring his groupmates' good-natured teasing.

"Don't you want to eat first?" Jay asked, opening the fridge and poking around inside.

"I'll order in. See you guys tomorrow," Jake called, already heading towards the door.

The apartment complex wasn't far from the company building, and soon Jake was pushing open the door and stepping into his shared home.

He was met with an immediate wave of exhaustion, and he sighed heavily. It had been a long day.

"Y/N?" he called. There was no answer, but the door to their bedroom was closed.

Jake walked over to the door and opened it, smiling softly. You were sleeping, curled up on top of the sheets, the light from the lamp on the bedside table illuminating your soft skin.

"Jake..." you murmured, not even opening your eyes.

Jake couldn't help the smile that came over his face. "How'd you know I was here?"

"I'd know your footsteps anywhere," you replied sleepily.

Jake laughed. "Of course you would.”

You sat up and stretched, blinking owlishly as your eyes adjusted to the light. "Hey, babe. Did everything go well today?"

"Mmhmm," Jake hummed, walking over to the bed and sitting down next to you. "How was your day?"

"Uneventful. But it's better now."

"Mm, I'll bet," Jake teased, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his lap. “I had a long day and I still need to wash up and eat something. Would you like to join me, or are you too tired?"

"I'm never too tired for you," you replied. "Let me go run you a bath."

Jake let out a contented sigh, watching as you slipped off his lap and padded into the bathroom, the door shutting softly behind you.

Jake was exhausted, but he was also incredibly stressed. His schedule had been packed full the past week, and he'd barely had time to sleep. He'd been trying to be strong and keep up his cheery demeanor, but it was wearing him down, and he was getting more and more frustrated and tired as the days went by.

And you could tell.

You knew Jake better than anyone, and you could see the strain in his shoulders, the tightness in his voice. You could see how hard he was working, and you wanted to make sure he knew how much you appreciated it.

You turned on the water and adjusted the temperature, waiting until the bath was filled with steaming hot water before adding a generous amount of the lavender-scented bubble bath. The scent filled the air and you breathed deeply, inhaling the calming aroma.

The water was just right, and you shut it off, smiling. You turned around, planning to call for Jake, only to see him standing in the doorway, a towel around his waist and his eyes closed, a peaceful expression on his face.

"Babe?" you said, concerned.

Jake opened his eyes, looking over at you. "Sorry," he said, shaking his head. "Just spacing out a little."

You nodded, giving him a small smile. "Your bath is ready. Come on, get in."

Jake followed your instructions, sighing as he sank into the water. He was tired, but he wasn't relaxed yet.

"Are you alright?" you asked, kneeling beside the tub and stroking his hair.

"Yeah," Jake mumbled, closing his eyes again. "Just tired."

"I know," you whispered, gently cupping his face in your hand. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Jake said, leaning into your touch.

"Still," you said. "You've been working so hard. And you're so stressed."

"I'm alright," Jake insisted, smiling at you. "Don't worry."

You weren't convinced, and you knew that if you didn't help him relax, he'd never be able to get a good night's sleep.

You leaned in and kissed him gently, your hands resting on his chest. He responded immediately, kissing you back and pulling you closer.

You smiled against his lips, feeling the tension melt away from him as he wrapped his arms around you and deepened the kiss.

"Mmm," he murmured, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead against yours. "Join me.”

"Hmm?"

"Join me," he repeated, smiling.

You raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes, really. Please. I wanna hold you."

You couldn't say no to that.

You stood up, and Jake's eyes followed your movements as you stripped off your clothes. His gaze was hungry, and you felt a tingle run down your spine as you slipped out of your pants and panties. You felt a bit shy as you removed the last piece of your clothing, his eyes washing over every bit of your exposed skin.

"Come here," he murmured, and you stepped into the tub.

The water was hot, and the bubbles were thick, covering your body as you settled into his lap. Jake's hands ran down your back, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. You sighed, and he smiled.

"That feel good, baby?" he murmured, kissing the side of your neck.

"Yeah," you whispered, tilting your head to give him better access.

His hands continued to explore your body, his fingers skimming over your breasts and down your sides. His touch was light, and you squirmed, the sensation sending shivers down your spine.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," Jake murmured, his voice husky.

"Shut up," you mumbled, blushing.

"I mean it," he insisted. "I've never seen a more gorgeous woman."

"Stop it," you whined, embarrassed.

"Never," Jake whispered, his voice low and gravelly. "Not when you're like this."

He leaned in and kissed you, his hands squeezing your ass. You gasped, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

The feeling of his body against yours, his hands on your skin, his tongue in your mouth, his fingers squeezing your ass - it was too much. You felt your arousal pooling between your legs, and you pressed yourself against him, desperate for friction.

“Jakey… let me wash you off."

Jake groaned. "You're killing me, baby."

"Please," you said, kissing his jaw. "You've had a long day."

"Fine," Jake relented, his eyes dark with desire. He turned around, somewhat awkwardly in the small bath tub.

You picked up the bar of soap, lathering it up and running your hands over his back, massaging his sore muscles. He moaned, the sound sending another shiver of desire through you.

"Oh, fuck," he murmured. "That feels so good."

You continued to massage his back, taking your time and making sure you got every part of him. When you were satisfied, you moved onto his chest, and then his stomach, working your way down his body.

His erection was standing tall and proud, and you couldn't resist.

You reached out, taking him in your hand and stroking him gently.

Jake let out a gasp. "Oh, fuck, Y/N..."

"Shh," you murmured, leaning forward and kissing his shoulder. "Just relax."

You stroked him slowly, your grip firm. He moaned, his hips thrusting forward into your hand.

"That's it," you whispered. "Just let go."

"I...I can't," he panted, his hips moving in time with your movements.

"Yes, you can," you cooed, speeding up your pace.

He was so close, and you could tell he was on the edge. You kept stroking him, and he threw his head back, a groan escaping his lips as he came, his seed splashing into the water.

You held him in your hand, feeling him pulse. His head was buried in the crook of your neck, and you could feel him trembling.

"Fuck," he mumbled.

You smiled, letting go of his softening member and wrapping your arms around him.

"You okay, baby?" you whispered, nuzzling his neck.

"More than okay," he murmured. "Thank you, Y/N."

"You're welcome," you replied, kissing his temple.

He stayed like that for a few moments, his breath tickling your skin, his body relaxed against yours. Finally, he sat up, looking at you.

"Now it's your turn," he said, his eyes full of mischief.

You giggled. "Jake, I'm fine."

"No, no," he said, a smile playing on his lips. "I insist. Let me take care of you."

He took the soap, lathering it up in his hands and then placing them on your breasts, massaging the suds into your skin. You gasped, the sensation sending tingles of pleasure through you.

He took his time, massaging your breasts and teasing your nipples. His touch was gentle but insistent, and you could feel your arousal growing.

"Jake..." you murmured, closing your eyes and enjoying his ministrations.

"Feel good?" he whispered, his voice husky.

"Mmm," was all you could manage.

His hands traveled down your body, caressing your skin and leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He slipped one hand between your legs, his fingers brushing against your folds.

"Oh, fuck," you gasped, your hips bucking involuntarily.

"That's it," he murmured, his fingers moving against you, circling your clit. Your chest was heaving and if it had been any other time you would’ve been embarrassed at the way your hips were desperately moving against his hand, but at this point all you could think about was him.

"Fuck, Jake, please," you whimpered, your body aching for him. You felt warm all over, heat rising from your legs and spreading to the rest of your body.

"Tell me what you want, baby," he purred, his fingers teasing your entrance.

"I need you," you moaned, unable to contain yourself any longer. "Please, Jake, I need you inside me."

Jake groaned at the sound of you whining his name, and his hands stilled. You opened your eyes, and he was staring at you, his eyes dark with lust.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he whispered, and you felt a wave of heat wash over you.

You looked up at him, your eyes pleading, and he leaned down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. His tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring and dominating, and you couldn't help but moan.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, needing him. He broke the kiss, his breath hot on your lips, and looked down at you, his gaze full of hunger and desire.

“Come closer baby. Straddle me," he growled, his voice low and gravelly.

You did as he said, straddling his hips and positioning yourself above him.

He reached down, his hands gripping your ass, and pulled you down, sheathing himself inside of you.

You cried out, the sudden sensation of him filling you sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body. He groaned, his grip on you tightening as he began to move his hips, fucking you slowly.

You were a whimpering mess, the feeling of him inside you, filling you completely, driving you insane. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders, as you tried to keep up with his pace.

“Jake Jake Jake Jake..." you moaned, the sound of his name on your lips a symphony to his ears.

He was relentless, his movements fast and powerful, his hips thrusting upward as he fucked you hard and deep. His mind had gone blank as soon as he had felt your walls grip his cock, the only thing on his mind was making you fall apart.

"Look at me, baby," he murmured, and you looked up, meeting his gaze. His eyes were full of hunger and passion, and you felt your orgasm approaching, the intensity of his gaze sending you over the edge.

"Fuck," he gasped, feeling you clench around him.

He continued to thrust into you, his pace unrelenting. You were barely coherent, the sensations too much for you to handle. Your legs were shaking, your toes curled, and you were moaning his name.

"Jake, fuck, Jake..."

"Come for me, baby," he growled, his grip on your hips tightening. “Come around my cock."

You did as he said, your orgasm hitting you hard and fast. Your body trembled and shook, waves of pleasure washing over you.

He continued to fuck you, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release. His fingers dug into your skin, and you felt him stiffen, his release coming seconds after yours.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." he muttered, his cock twitching inside of you.

The two of you were still for a moment, basking in the afterglow, before Jake pulled out of you, his softening member sliding from inside you.

"Are you alright, babe?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

"Yeah," you breathed, your body still tingling.

He smiled, the expression on his face almost boyish. "Good. You're incredible, you know that?"

"You're not so bad yourself," you teased, reaching up and running your fingers through his hair.

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. "I love you, Y/N."

"I love you, too," you whispered, cuddling against him.

You stayed like that for a while, enjoying the feeling of each other's bodies. Finally, Jake spoke up.

"We should get out. We're going to prune. And we should probably wash up some more. We’re sitting in cum water now.”

“Gross! I don't wanna get up," you whined, snuggling closer to him.

"Come on, baby," he said, giving you a gentle squeeze. "Let's get out and shower. And then we can cuddle in bed."

"Fine," you sighed, reluctantly pulling away from him.

You stood up, the water cascading down your body, and stepped out of the tub. Jake followed suit, and you watched as the water dripped off of his chiseled body.

"What are you looking at?" he teased, noticing the way you were ogling him.

"Nothing," you said, a blush creeping across your cheeks.

He grinned, stepping closer and kissing your cheek. "Don't worry, I'll let you stare all you want later. Right now, we need to wash up."

"Okay," you mumbled, feeling silly.

Jake turned on the shower, waiting for the water to warm up before ushering you in. You sighed, the hot water hitting your skin and relaxing your muscles.

"Feel good?" he asked, his hands resting on your hips.

"Yeah," you murmured, leaning back against him.

He smiled, and reached for the body wash, squirting some into his hands and beginning to massage it into your skin.

"Hmmm," you hummed, enjoying the feeling of his hands on you.

"Like that, huh?" he whispered, his voice low.

"Yeah," you replied, the sensation of his hands on your body making you shiver.

His hands slid from your shoulder to your back, slowly reaching to the front and cupping your breasts.

"Mmmm," you moaned, closing your eyes and letting him work his magic.

"Feels good?" he murmured, his breath hot on your ear.

"So good," you breathed, your body beginning to heat up again. “I don’t think you want to just shower right now.”

"No," he whispered, his hands moving lower, ghosting over your belly. "I want to fuck you again. Right here. In the shower."

You moaned, the thought of his hands on you, his cock inside of you, his mouth on your skin making your head spin.

“Can I taste you baby?”

His voice was thick with desire, and you could feel the tension between you.

You nodded, your words failing you, and he wasted no time. He pushed you up against the wall, his lips crashing against yours in a passionate kiss. His hands roamed your body, leaving a trail of heat everywhere he touched. You couldn't get enough of him, the feeling of his skin against yours intoxicating.

He kissed his way down your body, his lips ghosting over your sensitive nipples, sending shivers of pleasure through you. His hands cupped your breasts, gently squeezing and kneading them.

"Oh, god," you moaned, the sensation making your head spin.

"Like that, baby?" he murmured, his mouth trailing lower, leaving a path of kisses down your stomach.

"Yes," you breathed, your head falling back as his hands traveled lower, his fingers teasing your folds.

"You're so wet," he whispered, his voice husky. "So ready for me."

"Please," you begged, desperate for him to touch you, to fuck you, to make you come.

"Patience, baby," he purred, his fingers continuing to tease you, sending waves of pleasure through you.

You were a whimpering mess, the anticipation nearly unbearable. His mouth found your inner thigh, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

"Jake, please," you moaned, your body trembling with need.

"Tell me what you want, baby," he said, his tongue darting out to lick a trail up your thigh.

"I want you to eat me out," you breathed, the words leaving your lips in a rush. "I want your tongue inside me."

"As you wish, princess," he murmured, his voice low and sexy.

His mouth found your pussy immediately, his tongue lapping at your folds. The sensation was intense, and you cried out, the feeling of his tongue against your sensitive flesh almost too much.

He explored your most intimate parts, his tongue dancing over your clit and making you see stars. You were a writhing mess, the feeling of his mouth on you pushing you to the edge.

"Jake, fuck, Jake..." you moaned, your hands desperately trying to grasp at the wet tile behind you.

He increased the pressure, his tongue circling your clit and his fingers teasing your entrance.

You were lost in the pleasure, your body overwhelmed by the sensation.

"Please," you begged, your body aching for release. "Please, Jake."

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. He gave your clit a hard flick with his tongue, sending you hurtling over the edge. You came hard, your body convulsing, the pleasure overwhelming you.

"Oh, god," you whimpered, your body trembling as the aftershocks rippled through you.

But Jake didn’t stop. His tongue continued to lap at you, his fingers pushing into you, coaxing every last bit of pleasure from you. You were barely able to stand, your legs shaking and threatening to give out.

"Jake, please, I can't take it," you panted, your voice barely a whisper.

"One more," he demanded, his tone commanding. "You can do it baby. Give me one more."

You couldn't deny him, and you knew your body was already responding, the pleasure building again. His mouth worked its magic, his tongue finding all the right spots, his fingers curling inside of you. You were helpless against the onslaught, and before long, you were coming again, the intensity taking your breath away.

"Fuck," you cried, your body shuddering as you came.

He slowed his movements, his tongue languidly licking you, easing you down from your high. When you finally caught your breath, he looked up at you, his face glistening with your arousal.

"You okay, baby?" he asked, his voice rough and husky. You could barely hold yourself up, but you managed a nod.

"Good," he purred, getting to his feet. He kissed you, his tongue parting your lips, tasting you. You moaned, the taste of yourself on his tongue turning you on.

"God, you're so fucking hot," he groaned, his erection pressing against your leg.

"I want you," you breathed, your voice trembling.

"Then have me," he murmured, his hands cupping your ass and lifting you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist, his cock brushing against your entrance.

He pushed you against the wall, his lips crashing against yours. He entered you in one swift motion, the feeling of him stretching you making you gasp.

"Fuck," he moaned, his hips thrusting into you, burying himself deep inside of you. “Pussy so good, you were made for me weren’t you? So perfect. All mine."

"Yes," you cried, the sensation of him filling you driving you wild. "All yours."

"Fuck, yes," he growled, his hips pounding into you. You clung to him, your nails raking down his back, urging him on.

He was relentless, his hips pistoning into you, his cock hitting your sweet spot over and over again. You were lost in the pleasure, your mind foggy, only the sensation of his body against yours and his cock inside of you registering.

You were moaning incoherently, the feeling of him fucking you taking over. He buried his face in your neck, his lips and teeth teasing your skin. You were on the edge, the pleasure building, the pressure increasing.

"I'm close," you whimpered, the words leaving your lips involuntarily.

"Me, too," he grunted, his hips slamming into you, his pace quickening.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic. You felt him stiffen, his cock twitching inside of you as he came.

You were right behind him, the sensation of him coming inside of you sending you over the edge.

You came together, your bodies shuddering, the pleasure taking over. You were a panting, moaning, trembling mess, and the world faded away, the only thing that existed was the two of you and the intense pleasure.

"Holy shit," you finally breathed, when you had finally come down from your high.

"Yeah," Jake murmured, his breath warm against your neck.

You leaned against him, your body still shaking, unable to move.

He held you for a few moments, before carefully setting you down. Your legs were weak, but you managed to stand.

"I think we need another shower," he chuckled, gesturing to the mess the two of you had made.

"I don't think I can handle another round," you said, the thought of him fucking you again making your legs weak.

“Oh we’re not done, baby. I want you in my bed. All night long. But first, we have to actually shower. Then maybe dinner and drinks. And then more fun. You game?"

You nodded, the thought of spending the night with him making you giddy.

"Good. Now let's wash up and get out of here. I'm starving." And a loud grumble echoed throughout the bathroom, which could only be Jake's stomach.

You laughed, and pulled him in for a kiss. "Sounds like a plan."

"Perfect. Because there's so much more I want to do to you," he purred, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

"Then let's get started," you whispered, a wicked grin spreading across your face.

It would take an hour and three more orgasms for the two of you to leave the bathroom. And that was only the beginning.

[slu7formen]

luke castellan x fem!reader

Luke has been making fun of your ‘unnecessarily absurd beauty routine’ —as he liked to call it— for the past week, so, you decide to drown him in it, just to see how much he can handle.

warnings: just a single use of the word b1tch, fluff at the end <3, little use of yn

reminder: english’s not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

i. the eyebrows

“Ow, ow, ow! That hurt!”

“No it didn´t!”

“Yes, it did!”

“Shut up and hold still”

“Ow! You´re pinching my skin, you bitch!”

“That was fully on porpuse”

A chorus of laughter erupted from the nearby bunk beds. Most of the boys, Luke´s half-siblings, gathered around you both, enjoying the show, eyes gleaming with mischief as they witnessed their usually stoic and confident counselor reduced to a whiny mess. Luke´s head was leaning on your thighs as you plugged his eyebrows with some dangerously sharp tweezers.

“See, that´s what you get for making fun of a girl” Travis Stoll, the elder of the Stoll brothers, joined in, a smirk on his lips. "We all warned you about messing with her” he pointed towards you.

“Shut up, Travis!” Luke spat.

You enjoyed the way his face was turning red, from embarrasment and because he was trying so hard to hold back his tears.

“You know, Luke” you started, plugging on another thin hair which earned you a little curse whispered from his lips. “You can always just, give up on the bet”

You found yourself enjoying the sight immensely. The perfect Hermes´ cabin counselor who'd spent the past week mocking your beauty routine,– here he was, sprawled across your lap, a prisoner of your tweezers.

“There´s no way in hell I´m letting you beat me that easily" he declared, though his voice lacked its usual conviction.

You couldn't help but smirk. The bet had been born out of sheer frustration. For the past week, Luke had been relentless in his teasing about your beauty regimen. He'd mocked the meticulous way you cared for your eyebrows, the endless battle against unwanted body hair, the whining about the occasional pimples even when you spent a good twenty minutes locked in the bathroom cleaning your skin. He'd called you high-maintenance, a slave to societal expectations, and everything in between.

Finally, you'd snapped. "Alright, Castellan" you'd declared, eyes blazing. "How about a little bet? If you can handle a full day of 'girl stuff,' I'll clean your cabin for a week"

The look of surprise on Luke's face had been priceless. He'd scoffed, of course, overconfident and utterly clueless about the sheer torture involved in waxing, tweezing, and mud masks. But fueled by his arrogance, he'd readily agreed.

Now, here you were, watching him squirm on your lap like a fish, a testament to his underestimation of the situation. A wave of satisfaction washed over you. It wasn't just about winning the bet, though that was certainly a perk. It was about showing him, in a slightly sadistic way, that there was more to "girl stuff" than he thought. It was about proving that self-care wasn't about vanity, but about feeling confident and comfortable in your own skin.

“As you wish, little baby”

Chris suddenly appeard in your vision, the satisfaction on his face plagged as if he was enjoying this more than you did. “You know, yn” he called out, you momentarily stopped, accidentally giving Luke a break. “Luke has a little hair situation going on under his arms”

“What!?” Luke blurted out. His siblings laughed again.

“He does?” you asked Chris, looking down at Luke and patting his head like a little kid.

“Oh, yeah” Chris smirked. “Maybe that could be the next step, don´t you think?”

“I´m gonna-” Luke tried to get up from his bed, hands reaching out towards Chris. He took a step back just as you grabbed Luke by his shoulders and pushed him down again towards your lap.

“I´m not done with you yet, tough guy. But Chris´ right. Get your hairy armpits ready”

ii. the waxing

You pulled out a box of waxing stripes. Luke, oblivious to the impending torture, was too engrossed in examining his newly sculpted eyebrows in the hand mirror you'd provided. A satisfied smirk played on your lips. The eyebrows looked fantastic – perfectly groomed without being overly feminine. Because yes, he asked you to keep them as close to their natural shape as possible.

“Shirt off” you declared.

His head whipped towards you, eyes wide with horror and disbelief. His half-brothers, mirrored his action, erupting in a chorus of whistles and catcalls.

"Excuse you?" he sputtered, h is voice a touch higher than usual.

"Damn," Connor drawled to you. "at least ask the guy out first"

You rolled your eyes. Luke shot him a withering glare, but beneath the bluster, you could see a flicker of nervousness.

You held up the waxing strips. “It´s time for your armpits, champion” you announced with a playful lilt in your voice. You began rubbing the strips together to warm the wax.

He whined, pulling his camp t-shirt over his head, revealing his well-toned torso, and throwing it over a nearby bunk. You stole a glance at his body for a microsecond, a slight red blush coloring your cheeks. His brothers were quick to start a echo of whistles.

He flopped down heavily on the bed, one arm raised awkwardly above his head. To your surprise, there wasn't as much hair as you'd anticipated. But that didn't diminish the sheer terror radiating from him. You stifled a laugh. "Relax, Luke" you said, your voice gentler now. "The tenser you are, the worse it'll be."

His brothers leaned in closer, their eyes glued to the scene unfolding before them. You carefully pressed the strip against his skin, smoothing it down with the practiced ease. He held his breath, his entire body tensing in anticipation.

You inhaled sharply yourself, then you ripped the strip off in one swift motion. Luke let out a yelp that would have made a banshee proud. His face contorted in pain, and his free hand clenched into a fist. His brothers erupted in laughter, their amusement fueled by his pain.

"Alright, alright" you said, trying to sound sympathetic despite the laughter bubbling in your throat. "Deep breaths, Luke. If you don´t relax, it´s gonna hurt more"

He glared at you, his voice laced with a hint of betrayal. "Easy for you to say."

Ignoring his grumbling, you ripped off another strip. A chorus of gasps filled the room, and Luke let out another yelp, his face turning an even deeper shade of red.

"See?" you said, holding up the strip adorned with a few stray hairs. "Not so bad, right?"

He wanted to murder you.

"Don't you use anesthesia for this?" he wheezed after a particularly harsh pull on his other armpit, his eyes watering slightly.

“We´re not babies, Luke” you replied, shaking your head. "Just good old-fashioned grit and determination. Besides, you wouldn't want to miss out on the full 'girl stuff' experience, would you?"

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity —at least for Luke—, you finished. His armpits were as smooth as a baby´s butt. His brothers, unable to resist themselves, reached out and slapped the freshly waxed skin, earning them a swift kick each from a now-furious Luke.

iii. the skincare

"Skincare? Seriously?" Luke asked, sitting down on your bed, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You all went to your cabin to continue his so claimed ‘girl´s day´. You would´ve paid to take a picture of your sisters´ faces when they saw you walk in with a bunch of boys following you behind.

“Just lay down, princess” you declared “I´ll bring my stuff”

He leaned back against the your pushy pillows, getting comfortable.

“First time on a girl´s bed?” Chris asked, earning a few laughs from his siblings.

“Shut up” Luke spat.

You came back with your washbag, full of different products that nearly gave Luke a heart attack. You had to assure him that this time, this wasn´t gonna hurt. At least not the first part, but you kept it a secret.

"Alright, beautiful” you teased. “Let’s get started. First thing’s first. “Cleansing”

You dipped a soft washcloth in warm water and began gently wiping away the dirt and sweat from his face. Luke closed his eyes, a look of unexpected serenity washing over his features. You noticed him get loose under your touch, a slight smile playing on his lips, and crossed his arms over his chest in a gesture of surprising compliance.

“Wow” he said. “This is actually quite nice”

"See?" you said softly. "This isn't so bad"

He opened one eye, a playful glint mirroring your own. "Not bad at all" he admitted, a hint of amusement in his voice “Guys, you should try this."

The Hermes´ cabin boys leaned in closer, their usual boisterousness replaced by a quiet attentiveness. They watched as your fingers moved with a practiced ease, cleansing Luke's skin with a tenderness they hadn't seen before. They saw you take some cleanser, and rub it softly against Luke´s skin.

They all exchanged glances, a new kind of curiosity flickering in their eyes. Usually, the sight of anyone touching Luke, let alone his face, would have elicited a barrage of teasing. But seeing you, your movements gentle and practiced as you gathered a gentle cleanser, they found themselves strangely mesmerized.

"Well, he looks chill" Connor added. "Could you clean my face sometime, yn?"

You chuckled, throwing a playful glance thorwn at him. "Maybe later, Connor. Right now, it's all about Luke's glow-up."

Next came the toner, followed by a light moisturizer. Luke remained surprisingly still, his eyes closed, a contented sigh escaping his lips from time to time. His brothers, bored by the lack of drama, started to get bored.

Just as you were about to get some eye patchs, your eyes drifted on a little tool inside your washbag; your blackhead remover. An idea came up to you.

"Alright, Luke" you announced, a hint of warning in your voice. "Time for the fun part."

You reached for a steaming hot towel and pressed it gently against his nose and forehead. He inhaled deeply, the steam opening up his pores.

"This feels so nice" he mumbled, his voice muffled by the towel.

A slow grin spread across your face. "Oh, it gets better" you said, an evil spark in your eyes.

You grabbed the blackhead extractor and, with practiced ease, began gently removing the unwanted blemishes.

Suddenly, Luke's eyes flew open, a look of pure horror replacing his previous serenity. "Wait! What are you doing?" he shrieked.

"Shh" you hushed him playfully. "Relax. These little guys gotta go. Trust me, it'll be better for your skin in the long run."

"But it hurts!" he whined, swatting your hand away with a surprisingly weak attempt.

"Just a little pinch" you reassured him, your voice a mockery he hated. "Besides, if you don't remove them now, they'll grow bigger and poppier, and that will hurt even more."

Luke opened his mouth to protest, but the words died on his lips as you expertly extracted another blackhead. This bet was getting a little harder to beat than expected. He winced slightly, then a defeated sigh escaped his lips.

“So, Connor” you called. “You wanted to be next, right?”

iv. make up

"So," you began, a sly smile playing on your lips as you settled into the chair across from Luke, "you think makeup is easy, right?"

"Shouldn't be that hard, I guess" he mumbled, trying to sound confident. Inside, however, his stomach churned with fear and worry.

You gestured towards your desk, which was now overflowing with an array of colorful tubes, palettes, and brushes – an arsenal of beauty products foreign to the boys' eyes. "Alright then," you declared, a playful lilt in your voice. "Here's a little game. I'll show you each product and you have to guess what it's for. Every one you get wrong? Goes on your face."

Luke's eyes widened in horror.

"Wait, what?" he sputtered, a nervous tremor in his voice. "You can't be serious!"

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "But Luke, you just said makeup was easy. This is your chance to prove it!"

"This is cheating" he mumbled, looking betrayed. "You never mentioned makeup in the bet!"

"Technically," you countered, holding up a finger, "it's still 'girl stuff’, as you call it”

A groan escaped Luke's lips. He shot a desperate glance towards his brothers, hoping for some kind of intervention. Charles Beckendorf, who allegedly decided to join the fun, just grinned towards him.

"Don't chicken out now, Luke" he said, arms crossed over his chest. "You can always give up on the bet and let her win”

Luke glared at his friend, silently cursing the day he ever agreed to this ridiculous wager. He sighed dramatically, slumping back on the bed. "Fine" he mumbled, defeated. "At least try your best to make me look decent."

“That´s not gonna be on me, dear”

You couldn't help but laugh at his misery. You reached across the desk, picking up a sleek black tube with a silver cap. It felt cool and smooth in your hand.

"What do you think this is?" you asked, holding it up for him to see.

Luke squinted at the tube, his brow furrowed in concentration. He recalled seeing something similar in movies, actresses applying it with a flick of their wrist. An idea flickered in his mind.

"Eyeliner?" he ventured, his voice laced with a hint of uncertainty.

You arched an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Huh, correct”

You set the eyeliner aside, a mischievous glint returning to your eyes. Next up, you picked up a thin, wooden-looking tool with a pointed tip. There was a small, round piece of what looked like colored chalk attached to the end.

"Alright," you announced, "round two. What is this?"

Luke studied the object carefully. It did resemble a pencil, but the colored tip threw him off. He wracked his brain, trying to recall anything similar he'd seen in the vast array of makeup products on your desk.

"Uh… a pencil?" he finally ventured, his voice lacking conviction.

You burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the cabin. Tears welled up in your eyes quickly, blurring your vision slightly.

"A pencil, Luke?" you wheezed, wiping a tear from your cheek. "It’s a lip liner"

Luke's cheeks flushed crimson.

"Lip liner?" he echoed, his voice barely a whisper. "For what? Do I need to draw on a bigger mouth?" He gestured to his own lips, a hint of self-consciousness creeping into his voice.

You shook your head, stifling another giggle. "No, no need for a bigger mouth. Lip liner helps define the shape of your lips."

With a shake of your head, you said, "Now the fun part begins. Bring those lips here, handsome."

Luke leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his face hovering a few inches from yours. The air got filled with a strange tension, probably because his brothers walked closer so they could get a better look. His breath hitched slightly as your fingers brushed against his skin, sending a shiver down his spine.

“You´re lucky this is the same shade as your natural lip color” you whisper.

“Yeah” Chris adds. “Maybe you should wear it more often, handsome” he reaches out his hand to squeeze Luke´s cheeks, but he´s quick enough to slap his hand away.

“Shut up”

The minutes that followed were filled with a more lighthearted energy. You continued the game, Luke surprisingly getting a few things right – foundation, and even a surprisingly good guess on a shimmery eyeshadow palette.

But he wasn't without his misses. The concealer, a light, creamy formula designed to camouflage blemishes, ended up being applied liberally under his eyes, leaving him with a ghostly pallor that had his brothers doubled over in laughter. Then came the blush. A delicate peach shade, turned his cheeks a comical shade of fuchsia thanks to your deliberately exaggerated application with a fluffy brush.

His brothers, fueled by this new display of comedic gold, howled with laughter. Charles, wiping tears from his eyes, wheezed, “He-, he looks like a baboon in heat”

"Oh man" Travis howled, clutching his stomach. "This is even better than the armpit wax"

Next came the eyelash curler, that strange-looking contraption that promised to create dramatic, fluttery lashes. The moment you held it up, Luke's eyes widened in suspicion. He snatched it from your hand before you could ask him what he though it was.

"What the hell is this!?" he exclaimed, his voice laced with a mixture of disgust and fear. "You girls like torturing yourselves with these things?"

You reached out and gently took the curler back. "No torture involved" you replied. “And since you know absolutely nothing about it…"

He tried to look defiant, but a flicker of uncertainty betrayed him. "I know what it is" he mumbled, avoiding your gaze.

"Oh really?" you challenged, raising an eyebrow. "Then what is it?"

You handed him the curler and watched as he fumbled with it, his big hands clearly not designed for such delicate work. He eventually gave up with a defeated sigh.

"Okay" he grumbled, handing the curler back to you. "Do your worst."

The final touches were a disaster, a glorious, hilarious disaster. Every fiber of Luke's being screamed in protest as you handed the brushes over to his merciless brothers.

“Come here, Lookie-Pookie” Travis cooed, his voice dripping with mock sweetness as he leaned in with a thick brush loaded with sparkly eyeshadow. Luke recoiled, swatting his hand away with a glare.

"Don't touch me!”

“Come on Luke, give us those pretty little lips. We need to make sure they're nice and kissable” Beckendorf joined, opening a little lip product tube he wasn´t sure what it really was.

Luke wanted to melt into the floor, his face burning hotter than the volcanic eyeshadow now smudged across his eyelids. The audacity, the betrayal! His own brothers, the supposed bastions of masculinity, were gleefully participating in this humiliation.

“Maybe some of this highlighter will make him look prettier”

He couldn´t believe his own brothers knew what highlighter was except for him.

As he looked at his reflection in the mirror, a mix of horror and amusement washed over him. He never thought he'd feel so violated by makeup. But somewhere amidst the frustration and embarrassment, a strange sense of camaraderie bubbled up. His brothers, usually his biggest tormentors, were doubled over with laughter, tears streaming down their faces. And you, the leader of this whole mess, were practically glowing with barely suppressed mirth.

Despite himself, a smile tugged at the corner of Luke's lips. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all. Sure, he looked like a technicolor disaster, but the shared laughter, the fun, it felt strangely… good. He glanced at you, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Gods” he breathed, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "This is the best day of your life, isn't it?"

You couldn't help but laugh, a genuine, unrestrained laugh that filled the cabin. "Hell yeah it is" you replied as you offer him make up wipes.

v. the reconcile

Night had fallen, painting the sky with shimmering stars. The campfire illuminated the campers´ face, its flames dancing higher as the Apollo cabin filled the air with joyful camp songs. Laughter mingled with the strumming of guitars and lyres, creating a symphony of pure summer camp bliss.

The fire itself danced in response to the campers' emotions. It roared a little higher with every burst of laughter, dimmed momentarily during a quiet story, and flickered with a playful intensity as the Hermes boys, fueled by their mischievous exploits, recounted their version of the day's events.

You sat by the fire, poking a marshmallow with a stick, watching the scene unfold. Their narrative, of course, focused heavily on your supposed "torture" of Luke. Specially the Stoll brothers; they painted a picture of you as a ruthless makeup artist, a waxer who pealed Luke´s skin off and left his face shining like marble. Meanwhile, Luke simply sat there, a faint smile playing on his lips.

You noticed the Hermes boys regaling other campers with their story, punctuated by bursts of laughter. And yes, you didn´t like to admit it but, you'd lost the bet. Technically. But watching Luke handle their teasing with surprising grace, a hint of amusement in his eyes, filled you with a strange satisfaction.

You were there by yourself for a few more minutes. The camp sounds filling your ears as you tried your best not to stuff your face in all the toasted marshmallows your sisters offered you. Your hands felt tired, because yes, even though what you did was not too much for you to handle, Luke squirmed and behaved like a worm covered in salt, which only made your work harder.

Just then, a figure settled in front of you. Luke. He held two sticks, each crowned with a perfectly toasted marshmallow. He offered one to you, his usual smirk replaced by a genuine smile.

"Truce?" he asked, his voice laced with a playful challenge.

You couldn't help but grin, accepting the marshmallow with a playful jab. "Truce"

He sat beside you, the marshmallow on his stick disappearing in one swift, hungry bite. Suddenly, you leaned in closer, feigning seriousness. "Oh dear" you said, your voice laced with mock concern.

Luke raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "What is it now?"

"You've got a blackhead. Right, there" you declared, pointing to a non-existent imperfection on his nose.

His eyes widened in mock horror. "No way! I´m not letting you touch my face again" He swatted at your hand playfully, but you were quicker.

"Hold still, you wriggly worm" you teased, pretending to grab his nose. A playful fight ensued, a flurry of limbs and laughter. You managed to land a swipe at his cheek with a gooey bit of marshmallow.

Finally, breathless with laughter, you both settled back down, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the quiet camaraderie. As you bit into your marshmallow, a comfortable silence settled between you.

"So, about that bet" he began, wiping his marshmallow-streaked hands on his cargo pants.

You turned to look at him, still chewing on another marshmallow and a piece of melted chocolate. "Yeah?"

"I don't want you to clean my cabin" he explained.

"Why not? I lost the bet" you replied, surprised by his sudden declaration.

He looked at the sky, a hint of pink dusting his cheeks. "Yeah, but… We're kind of a mess, actually. I would feel bad if you did it alone."

"Aww, Castellan, are you worried about little ol' me?" you teased him, squeezing his cheek playfully. He blushed a deeper shade of red, looking positively flustered.

"Maybe" he mumbled, avoiding your gaze.

"Okay, here's a deal" you continued, trying to cover your own blush. "I'll clean your cabin, but you have to help me. I really don't wanna get into dirty-underwear-business."

Luke considered this for a moment, then a grin spread across his face. "Deal. But I'm warning you, there might be some things you shouldn´t even try to touch with bare hands. And I mean Travis´ and Connor´s bunks”

From a distance, a group of campers — a mix of Hermes, Apollo, and Hephaestus cabins —watched your exchange with keen interest. The playful teasing, the way your hands brushed as you made your deal — it was all too much for their already overactive imaginations.

"I bet you fifteen bucks he's gonna ask her out by the end of the week" an Apollo camper, Lee, declared.

Chris snorted. "That's weak. Twenty bucks says he does it tonight."

hiiya, just thought I could write something different to what I usually do. hope you enjoyed <3 🩷

[shibaraki]

TO BUILD A HOME ┊ TODOROKI SHOUTO

synopsis: todoroki shouto is the ideal roommate. he is tidy, quiet, considerate, and one of your dearest friends. you almost wished he were a tactless slob. it would certainly make navigating your feelings for him easier.

tags: GN reader, friends to lovers, pro hero shouto, quirk support engineer reader, living together (and they were roommates!), mutual pining, fluff, alcohol, other character interactions, domesticity, jealous shouto, a little angst, minor oc, love confessions, making out + frottage

wc: 14K+

a/n: I wrote a little bonus sequel for this au about their first date which you can read here !! [+4K]

Shouto’s home strikes a dissonant note with you.

You’re a statuesque centrepiece in his living room, staring out his tall standing windows, paneled wall to wall and making for a beautiful view of the city. There’s a soft shine to it, iridescent from corner to corner. A privacy film to block any view into the apartment from the outside, you’re guessing.

Despite your closeness you’ve never had reason to visit until now. There’s far too much space for one man, you think. Jarringly, it’s as if you’ve stepped into a studio display. A picture perfect bachelor pad— but really, what bachelor pad needed three family sized bedrooms?

It feels awfully lonely.

Shouto heaves the last of your boxes onto the kitchen island with ease. The muscles in his arms flex under his loose shirt, fabric briefly tightening. Unfair, you think. He hasn’t even broken a sweat.

Back straightening, you watch Shouto roll back his shoulder and rub at the joint. The movement causes the hem to lift and flash a pale swath of skin, his shorts hung low on his hips. The weight in your arms is somehow heavier with his eyes turned onto you.

“You can set it down,” he says, his tone full of warm mirth. The disbelief must be written plain on your face. Your fingers tighten on the corners as he walks over. Tilting his head, the red strands that have been haphazardly pushed back into white slip over his forehead. You watch his gaze dart over the label scribbled onto the card that reads ‘toiletries’.

“I know. I’m just…” your jaw shifts and you swallow, a frown etched into your brow. “I don’t know. Got a little lost in my thoughts”.

“Feel free to change whatever you like,” his mouth curls into a small smile, scar wrinkling by his eye. You are taken by just how happy he looks to have you here. Shouto seemed the type to appreciate his own space. “I want you to be comfortable”.

“Whatever I like?” you echo teasingly, shucking the box up in your embrace and bumping his shoulder. “Famous last words. Maybe I’ll decide to renovate your other guest room into a mini workshop”.

Shouto exhales a quiet laugh. The air around him is displaced by an ephemeral wave of heat that seeps through your sweater; it cools back to room temperature as quick as it came.

“I wouldn’t oppose it,” he says, and your breath catches. Reaching to poke at the box, he adds, “Do you want me to help you unpack?”

You begin to shake your head. “No, no. I can do all that, don’t worry,” you demurred nervously.

“It wouldn’t be a problem”.

Memories of all the things you managed to salvage in the wreck flicker across your mind's eye. Mugs and plates, a few clothes, oil stained tools and various other inappropriate things you’d rather die than have him accidentally discover.

But he’s staring at you like a restless puppy. You relent, “Maybe you can put away the kitchen stuff then”.

After Shouto retreats you are left adrift to navigate the narrow corridors. The room he directs you to has the biggest guest bed and it shares a wall with his own room. You shuffle in, processing your surroundings. Your linens are freshly washed, tucked in tight at the corners, and they smell like him.

You lower another box on top of the bed and sit by the headboard. The mattress yields. Admittedly it is much more comfortable than your old bed used to be. Soft, you sink into a foamy embrace, smoothing a hand over the matching pillowcases, then reaching up to the shared accent wall.

Reality has hardly set in for you yet. It’s been four days since you lost your home, most of your earthly possessions along with it, and the life you had spent years building. The villain that managed to frisbee a car through your living room had been apprehended but not before destroying half the city block.

Shouto immediately volunteered his own place. You have been close friends for years now, having met during your second year at UA as a support course student. You’d worked with Yaomomo on redesigning her costume for your portfolio and managed to worm your way into their quaint friend group.

Your initial crush on him all that time ago burgeoned into something you’re too anxious to put a name to. When he first suggested you live with him while the city fixed everything you’d wanted to refuse. So far lack of proximity has been your only saving grace.

But you really had nowhere else suitable to stay. A hotel would be too costly in the long run. Your other friends are scattered across different prefectures and those who are in the city are too far from work.

Shouto practically sparkled when you agreed, plucked right out of a shoujo manga.

You remember this as your fingers curled into a loose fist and gave the wall a quiet knock. All the tension accumulated in your shoulders relaxes at the dull sound. “Atleast it isn’t thin,” you mused.

There’s a large closet adjacent to the bed, deep enough that you could crawl inside comfortably. Windows that stretch above your head and overlook the busy streets. You notice that same iridescent sheen, alongside a large blind connected to the control pad fixed by your doorway. They roll down as you fiddle and remind you of those old school projectors from the pre quirk era.

The walls are almost entirely bare. Your imagination drifts to the countless books and photo albums you managed to bring, envisioning them taking up the empty space. It makes you wonder what Shouto’s room looks like. You squash that thought.

When you rejoin him he stands with his back to you, blades shifting under the material as he plays with a small round object held between his fingers. Closing the distance you realise it is one of your stress balls.

His expression is entirely relaxed, bright with a little child-like satisfaction. He pulls at the flexible rubber, rolling it under his thumbs, flattening in between his palms. Your novelty mugs are lined up in the open cupboard right beside his own, entirely forgotten.

As not to startle him you call out gently, “Hey”.

Your voice stalls his movement. Shouto pivots and meets your eyes; they widen as you laugh, amused by his forced nonchalance. He clears his throat, “Hi. Are you happy with the room?”

Humming an affirmative, you sidle up next to him and poke at the ball. “It’s fine, thank you. Nicer than my old place”.

Redirecting his attention to the ball, he squeezes it so hard the foamy rubber protrudes through the gaps in his fingers and lets go, smiling as it retains its original shape. “I liked your old apartment,” he murmurs. “It suited you”.

“Because I’m a mess, you mean?” drawn back into Shouto’s orbit, you lean against his left side. He mirrors your weight until you are like two pillars braced against one another, standing uselessly in the middle of his obviously unused kitchen. Your heart aches recalling all those nights he spent at the agency doing unnecessary overtime. Maybe he just hadn’t wanted to come back here.

“No,” Shouto huffs lightly, passing the ball hand to hand. He doesn’t elaborate. Instead he bumps you with his hip, “Come with me. I’ll give you a tour so you know where everything is”.

You are guided back to the genkan; it’s gorgeous, modernised with a calligraphy feature wall that breaks up the light colours. There is a narrow door leading to a coat room and two white cabinets under a granite countertop housing a small decorative bowl painted in Deku’s colours. Inside are your keys and his, the chains entangled.

Very quickly you realise Shouto doesn’t even know where ‘everything’ is. He opens the cupboard doors hesitantly, in a way that suggests he had no idea what is in them. One filled by his shoes and slippers, the other left empty.

The coat closet holds a few jackets you only ever see him wear in winter. He pinches the waterproof puffy sleeve between finger and thumb with a curious sound. Quietly, “I forgot that I had this”.

“You wore it once and Bakugo said you looked like an ugly toasted marshmallow”.

“That’s right,” a smirk pulls at his lips, mouth thin to restrain his laughter. You dip your chin to hide how infectious it is. “He hated it. Maybe I should take it with me tomorrow and wear it around the agency”.

“Please don’t. He’s coming to see me later in the day and I need him in a good mood”.

Shouto glances at you from the corner of his eye, sunlight reflecting through the blue iris. You would recognise that air of mischief anywhere. “I mean it, Shouto!”

“The day after, then”.

“As long as I’m not in the line of fire,” you snort, itching absentmindedly at your forearm where the skin feels tender. Probably bruising after carrying everything up. “Antagonising Pro Heroes should be listed as a hobby on your wiki page”.

You fall in line with his footsteps once more and keep pace until he stops by another door. There’s a laundry room and a separate toilet by the genkan, first door to the right. Upon opening the door the white toilet lid lifts.

You gasp and clutch his bicep, far too excitable to register how firm it is. “You never told me you have a happy toilet. What the hell, Shouto?”

Still nestled in his palm, you notice Shouto squeezes the stress ball until the foam is straining under the stretchy skin but you say nothing of it. He swallows and echoes your words, “A happy toilet?”

“Yeah, ‘cause it's happy to see you! Isn’t it cute?”

He turns with his cheek between his teeth, exhaling a warm puff of air through his nose. “Yeah,” Shouto rasps. “It’s cute”.

The entrance leads to a hallway, opening at the end to an open plan living area and kitchen. A black and white palette, dark stained wood flooring from room to room. You stand by and watch fondly as he opens every half empty drawer. The sectional couch is a welcome splash of colour— deep royal blue, huge, L shaped and plush, facing a 60 inch TV held up by a cabinet with a few books and photographs inside.

You toe at the fluffy grey rug laid out under the coffee table. His place is spectacular, sure, but it isn’t Shouto. While left unspoken it seemed you both knew that. There’s an abashed pinch to his expression that’s endearing, yet sad; you thought he might be embarrassed by how threadbare his home life appeared to be.

“You ever use that thing?” you ask, pointing to the TV. Predictably, Shouto shakes his head.

“Not very much. These days it feels like I only come here to sleep,” he leans over to pick up the remote from between the cushions and balances it on the arm of the couch. “Every few months Uraraka and Midoriya will visit to order food and watch movies with me. You can use it whenever you want”.

The bathroom is opposite your bedroom doors. He taps his own in passing but does not open it. You step into a bright, white tiled room with a double vanity sink and murmur in awe. Above are ceiling lights that give a soft glow, giving it a warm toned hue. Behind a glass door is a bowl shaped bathtub, big enough to fit two.

“Damn…” you whisper, running your fingers over the control pad connected to the tub. There’s a big bath cover propped by the wall. “A sauna button, too?”

“Not that I need it,” he muses, standing by the doorway, hands loosely interlocked as he observes you navigating his space. Intuitively, you get the sense that this is the beginning of a true paradigm shift. His offer had been the fork in the road and your agreement took you down a path soon to be irreversible.

You could survive seeing him at work or out with the mutual friends you shared. You’re not sure how you’ll weather the domesticity that comes with living together.

The reflection in the mirror shifts awkwardly and you grimace at how hard you’re trying to act like a normal human being. This is just Shouto: your good friend and longtime supporter. Just the man you might possibly be in love with.

“We should probably talk about ground rules and stuff,” you begin, hoping it’ll wipe that gentle look off his face before you say something stupid.

“Ground rules?” Shouto pushes off from the door frame with his back straight. He tilts his head, sight following you closely as you scoot past him back into the hallway.

“Like a chore rota and stuff. Rules so we can live in harmony or something. And you still need to let me know how much I’m paying you”.

“But I don’t want you to”.

You pause mid step and turn to stare at him in soft incredulity. “Why not? It’s only right I contribute”.

Steadfast, he holds your gaze and bluntly says, “I have a higher income than you. There’s no need for you to pay me rent”.

“Way to rub it in”.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you laugh at the rare wobble to his voice and knock your hands together as a sign of forgiveness. His eyes squint into a smile. “It just feels unfair for me to ask that of you”.

The hallway falls dim as clouds gather, casting shadows that make the private bubble you’re in seem that much smaller. “But I want to,” you reassured him. “Come on— forty percent?”

“Thirty”.

You hold out three fingers up on the right and five on the left. You try again, “Thirty five?”

“Thirty,” he doubles down, covering the entirety of your left hand with his own. You feel his thumb skim your inner wrist and your resolve breaks.

“…Fine”.

Shouto grins boyishly and you do not acknowledge the flutter in your stomach.

The first few days are cautious despite your desire to behave as normal. At night you found yourself acutely aware of Shouto’s presence behind the bedroom wall. Your senses latched onto every muted bump and creak; the quiet drew thoughts you so valiantly avoided the surface and you could do nothing besides parse through them.

It made sleeping difficult.

You’d wondered if Shouto was having the same issue but the drowsy gait and hair plastered to one side of his head only ever spoke of a good night's rest. He wears loose silk pyjama pants to bed, low on his hips and an inch or so longer at the leg so they always caught under his heel as he walked.

Seeing him relaxed and fumbling like a fawn before his morning tea felt as if a big star was fizzing in your chest. It’s strange, in a tentative way, not an uncomfortable one.

The dust settles and a chore rota is scribbled out on a white board and pinned to the refrigerator with a worn All Might magnet. Your hours are less hectic so you offered to do the weekly shopping. Shouto volunteers for the laundry— his sister set the machines up for him when he first moved and he hasn’t moved the dials since— and taking out the garbage. Together you build a precariously clumsy peace, a mimicry of home.

Things started to change.

A kaleidoscope can take on an entirely new pattern with just the subtle turn of the lense. Weeks lapse. You stopped asking for permission and he no longer sought reassurance that you were happy. Existing parallel to one another, your lives fit seamlessly, though not without effort.

You’ve never known him to be a tactile type of guy— back when you rushed to hug him at graduation he’d brandished his diploma like a weapon before noticing it was you. Now, Shouto playfully hip checks you in the kitchen, he sits closer than he needs to on the couch and texts you at random throughout the day. He brings you a treat if his route overlaps your commute, keeping it hot in his left hand. He even greets you by the door on the rare occasion he finishes a shift first.

Your heart is fatter than ever and you aren’t quite sure what to do with it or where to put it down. After the city has rebuilt your apartment block and deemed it safe you’ll be returning to a normal you don’t recognise anymore.

You’re finalising the upgrade for Dynamite’s summer gauntlets when your phone buzzes on your bench. The vibration carries it closer to the edge and you scoop it up before the inevitable fall, cursing at the oil smeared around the case. The screen lights up.

shouto : 1 minute ago

There’s an image attached with no explanation. You are met with the open skyline, dense clouds of every shape and size dotted across a blue canvas. Shouto’s arm is in the shot, finger pointed towards one cloud in particular.

You squint at it. Zoom in on your phone, tilt it to the side, flip it in the editor and outline it— and nothing rings a bell. It’s a white blob. 

Another notification drops down at the top of your screen. You wipe your hand against your overalls and open it. 

shouto : just now 

ヾ(=^・ｪ・^)

Your nose wrinkles as you glance back to the photo. Granted, it does have two pointed edges that could be interpreted as cat ears if you squinted. Maybe. This isn’t new — he burned his toast three days ago and took a picture simply because it looked vaguely feline. 

you : delivered 

aren’t u supposed to be on patrol? 

The message turns to ‘read’ quicker than expected. You panic and click off the conversation, setting the phone face up on your workbench and reading from your locked screen. Lately, despite living together and seeing one another every day, Shouto seems to have more to say to you than ever. 

shouto : just now

Divine intervention. We should get a cat. 

The use of ‘we’ pings around your head like a pinball. Ever since the initial dubitation smoothed out he's become much more flippant about things— treating your situation as though it were permanent. 

An intern shuffles into the workshop with a thick binder. Not one of yours, you realise. One of Mei’s. They blink curiously as your phone buzzes again, loud where it clatters on the hard surface, and you bite down on your inner cheek, hard, keeping your feelings at bay. 

When handed the papers you breathe in recognition. They’ve been coordinated into two groups, and you’d know that logo anywhere. “The costume applications for the upcoming UA students! I wondered why they hadn’t come in yet”. 

“Yes, for 1A and 1B. Hatsume-san said these ended up on her desk,” they said, gesticulating nervously, “and that I— I should give them to you?”

“Well If not for you I’m sure these would’ve ended up buried under all her discarded prototypes,” you demurred, offering what you hoped was a reassuring smile. “Thank you”. 

Abruptly, your phone gives another violent jerk and disrupts the moment. The intern squeaks, rigidity returning to her posture, and scurries out with a rushed goodbye. You sink into your arms, forehead pressed to the cool metal. Surely you aren’t that scary.

Turning the screen, you read the texts and sigh fondly.  

shouto : 4 minutes ago

An older cat would be nice. 

shouto : just now

Should we order tonight? 

My treat. 

Your gaze lifts to find the time at the top of the screen. It blinks back at you, the hour changing. Not long until you can head out. 

you : delivered 

it isn’t a treat for me if it’s more cold soba. give me variety or give me death (งಠ_ಠ)ง

The cursor flickers. Your thumb hovers over the keyboard, hesitating on the final letter. Something so minor that feels bigger than it has any right to be. 

“Stop being ridiculous,” you mutter, sending it before your mind can change. 

you : read 

be safe ok? I’ll see you at home. 

When he doesn’t reply you figure he’s returned to his job, thus you return to yours. 

Dynamite was once again trusting you with his gear. Bakugo had been extraordinarily protective over his initial design in highschool. Great bulbous things strapped to each wrist, grenade-like appearance, so big that his arms became pendulous and swung away from his body as he walked. The shoulder strain was immense. 

You fought tooth and nail to get him to accept your adjustments. Now every summer you remodelled the gauntlets to be lighter and ventilated, and in winter you added in insulation and flexibility. 

Respectively, the gauntlets still weigh a lot without additional stored nitroglycerin. You lift, bending at the knees and groaning as you lower them both down into a protective case, slotting into foam padding for protection. No doubt they’d end up rough on the first day but you still wanted them to arrive without a scratch. 

Evening draws near. Closing the lid, it gives a satisfying click. You fiddle with the lock pad and calibrate it to open only for Bakugo’s thumb print before lugging the case to the built-in vault in your workshop, where it’ll be kept over the weekend. 

Mei’s lab is directly opposite your own. Despite the dense soundproofing and reinforced steel concrete the jarring screech of a saw echoes throughout the hallway. You press your hand to the towering door, muscle fibres wracked by vibrations. Bidding her goodbye would be futile— she’s been working on a new patent for months now. The rest of the world fell away when she got like this. 

Heading through to the main lobby, you greet those passing by with a nod, exchanging hurried words. It was always as though time didn’t exist here. People worked all hours, any hours. Flexibility was a point of pride for your company, and seeing someone eat breakfast after midnight wasn’t uncommon. 

You preferred a regular schedule. Routine keeps you moderately sane. A cool breeze gusts through the sliding doors as you duck into the street; you hiss at the immediate change in temperature. Patting down your coat pockets you dig out your phone, sending a one-handed text to Shouto while you slip in your earbuds. 

Cacophonous bustling of the streets now muffled, you scroll through a playlist and click at random. An upbeat melody carries you to the station, scooting through the throngs of people and tapping your card at the barriers. 

You pick up the pace, scurrying onto the train right before the doors close. A stranger glares, looking over your dishevelled state with judgement. You find a narrow corner, left standing on the far end of the carriage, squashed up against the window to make room for other passengers. 

Conscious about the volume. you turned down your music a tad and sank into the confines of your coat. Shouto’s apartment is miraculously closer than your old one, meaning the commute is much shorter, and your time spent in bed is much longer. Three stops pass and the sky begins to bruise. Purple hues blend gently into red, the sun a fiery hearth on the seam of the horizon that blinks abruptly between the passing buildings. 

When you reach home Shouto still hasn’t texted back. You bend to arrange your shoes, coat hung beside his terrible winter puffer. The floor is cold under socked feet, pottering through to the living room in search of the TV remote. 

You flinch as the newscaster's voice blurts out of the speakers. Shouto must have left it on the news channel this morning. Watching the scene unfold on the screen you feel your heart climb your throat. 

Shouto is a hero— a number of your friends are. Villain fights are not only inevitable, they’re a requirement. The truth of it doesn’t make reality any easier to swallow. Uravity is a welcome sight. She’s fighting diligently alongside Shouto, up against multiple villains seemingly working in tandem to destroy the area. 

You always thought villains were a good example of how versatile and powerful even the most innocuous quirks can be. Topspin can morph their limbs into a whirling top, and with years of training has gained the ability to form small tornados using momentum. Another you recognise is Cryo, a woman capable of making her body intangible similarly to Lemillion— though she is able to freeze you temporarily if she phases through your body. 

There are others, too. Criminals you don’t recognise. It’s been a long time since a big group tried to organise in this manner. You worry at your lip, bracing against the back of the couch for support. What you find most concerning is they don’t seem to have a goal. Just mass destruction, plain and simple. 

“Come on,” you think anxiously, nails digging into the cushion as you watch Shouto brace a falling building with his ice, creating an emergency slide for those left inside to escape. You’ve always marvelled at his parallel processing skills— Deku, too. Their thoughts must be running a million miles a second. 

The cameras switch to highlight the other heroes and you realise you’ve been holding your breath. You exhale, physically deflating, feeling the weight of your phone in your pants pocket. Clean up would take a while once the battle is won; curry night is off the table. 

That’s fine. You could forgive it as long as he came back in one piece. 

Evening sinks into night. Shouto comes home after you’ve retired to your bed, though you aren’t asleep yet; you took to staring at the ceiling, waiting for a call from the hospital that you hoped wouldn’t come. 

The distant sound of his boots hitting the floor has relief flooding through your system. You strain to listen as he makes his way through the apartment, deliberately quiet. You hear him head straight to the bathroom. The echo of running water muffles after the door closes with a soft click. 

You check your phone once more, scanning over the recent updates and not finding much. You consider leaving him alone. Villain fights are hard on the body and the heart. Shouto likes space to process things before he speaks on them, and so you don't want to overstep. 

That sentiment dissipates steadily. Five minute intervals that feel like hours. Shouto is in the bathroom for a long, long time. You are seated on the edge of your bed with the covers pulled back when he finally comes out. 

Warm light streams beneath your doorway. Muscles clenched, you daren’t move an inch as a stretch of shadow moves across. Shouto stands outside your room and you stare, silently urging him to knock and give you an excuse. 

After a beat, Shouto turns away. He flicks off the bathroom light and shuffles down the hallway, away from his own bedroom. Your feet tentatively touch the floor and you slide off the bed with hands held out, careful not to knock into any furniture on the way. 

Goose pimples raise across your forearms. You’re in sleep shorts and a ratty old shirt on a cool spring night. No wind and no clouds, the moon hung high and bright. You have never seen the city so eerily still at this hour. 

The air always retains the warmth of his body for a while, and you feel it lingering when you step into the hallway. 

Voice kept to a whisper, you softly called for him, “Shouto?” 

You find him sitting in the middle of the couch. The blinds are up, moonlight flooding in. Shouto is a solid silhouette outlined in white. 

“Did something happen?” 

The fight ended up dragging on for a while, so you’re in the dark. Details about casualties were steadily being released to news outlets as the heroes dug through the remaining rubble. You’ve yet to hear of any deaths, civilian or otherwise, which is a relief. 

He lifts his head, “I’m fine. Sorry if I woke you”. 

“You didn’t,” Shouto’s gaze follows as you shuffle towards him, footfalls loud on the hardwood floor. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

The silence is suffocating. Your vision adjusts to the darkness, stuck on the downturn of his mouth and pallid eyes. “We’re friends right? Friends share their burdens,” you try again, awkwardness leaking out with every syllable. “I’m here for you”. 

He looks away. There’s a dark, disquieting bruise blooming on his jaw. Subconsciously, Shouto presses a finger onto the bruise and the blood beneath it recedes, paling and returning like the tide. 

You don’t sit too close— worried proximity might be suffocating. The couch arm is firm under you, feet propped on the seat cushion. Shouto wets his lips, as if to alleviate the gravity of his words. 

“A group of school children were in the theatre when it collapsed,” he rasps. His hand curls into a tight fist, sparks of fire diminishing between his knuckles. “They were young. No older than ten”. 

“You blame yourself”. 

Turning to you, light casts softly across half of his face, pooling in his left eye. “I was a second too late and now—” he stops, the words caught in his throat. 

“Because of my mistakes those children are stuck with the traumatic memory of being trapped under all that rubble. I... I could hear them screaming”. 

You gulp and slide down onto the couch, guided by the urge to touch him, “Hey. But you got them out safely, yeah? They’re okay, Shouto”. 

His eyes crinkle a bit, if only a trick of your own, and you take it as permission to reach over. One by one you unfurl each finger, massaging your thumbs into his palm to smooth away the crescent marks. 

“We got them out,” he amends quietly, taking a brief pause to find the right words. You spend it appreciating the nicks in his skin, scars and rough edges, proof of his tenacity.

Shouto closes his hand around your own, staring dolefully at the point where your bodies meet. You see it for what it is— a request for comfort — and your palms kiss as you realign your fingers, holding on tight. 

“You know what I think?” 

He hums, curiously peering up through his damp bangs. 

“Those kids? They won’t just remember the bad stuff,” you smile, as tender as you feel, “I think they’ll remember how at ease they felt when Hero Shouto opened the way with his ice to save them. And now they know a hero will always come”. 

The strain bleeds from his bones and his expression opens up in quiet wonderment. “Really?” he asks, his voice small, mouth finally curling. Your heart gives a squeeze. 

“Really,” you affirm, knocking your knees together. Shouto’s smile widens, chin tucking to hide it. “Are you hurt anywhere?” 

“No. Just bruised up,” he says. An idea clicks into place. 

“Good. I’ve got something we can do to make you feel better,” you scramble to your feet, weight shifting as Shouto’s stare lingers on your bare legs. It feels as though the moon is casting a spotlight, and you resist the urge to pull your shorts down. 

“What is it?” 

“Mug cake!” you exclaim happily, bringing your hands together. Adding an afterthought, “and a movie, too. One you haven’t seen yet”. 

Shouto tilts his head, amused, but stands with you all the same. You notice then that he's changed into a pair of sweatpants, cuffed at the ankles. The t-shirt he’s wearing has a Pinky logo branded across his chest in bubble font. 

“Mug cake?” he repeats. 

“Cake in a mug,” you ribbed, poking at him. You start toward the kitchen. “Come on, it’ll only take like five minutes, tops!” 

“Do we have cake ingredients?” he muses, following close behind. You flick on the recessed light over the stove and root through the cupboards, trying to ignore the natural warmth of his body beside yours. 

“We have everything,” you insist. “I would know. I do the shopping, remember?” 

Hovering unnecessarily close by, Shouto leans back against the counter and observes you with fondness as you list off the ingredients under your breath. It shouldn’t be so magnetising— you can feel something in your chest being drawn in, as though you were two unlike poles meant to come together. 

Meeting his gaze, you look away and try to tame your giddiness. “Quit staring and find me two big mugs”. 

You breathe a little easier when he does as you ask. Two large ceramic mugs are placed on the counter— a hideously priced vintage All Might mug gifted by Midoriya, another with cat ears on the rim and a tail curled into the handle. 

“Will these do?” he murmurs. You startle at the closeness of his voice, nearly dropping the teaspoon in your hand. 

“Yeah,” you clear your throat. “Yep. Thank you”.

He nods, satisfied. “Tell me what else to do”. 

You grab another teaspoon and hand it to him. The joy in his eyes gleams, so pleased at the opportunity to help. “First we need to put four teaspoons of flour and caster sugar in our mugs, then add two teaspoons of the cocoa powder. You follow?” 

Shouto mirrors each action, always glancing back to your movements to check he was doing so correctly. It is unbearably endearing. 

“Now we add an egg in each— one sec,” the fridge light bursts through the dimly lit kitchen, and you squint, grabbing two eggs from the tray. You give him an egg. “Now crack it into the mug and stir”. 

You’ve ended up with the All Might mug. Using it is nerve wracking; all you can think of is how expensive it was, but the cat mug is Shouto’s clear favourite. Gently, you tap the egg on the counter. A hairline fracture forms on the shell. You push your thumbs in, prying it apart over the mix, letting the whites drizzle. 

Shouto is… faring well enough. There’s clear viscous liquid all over his fingers, and his shell is broken in three, but the yolk made it in. 

You laugh quietly at his sheepish expression as you pass him some tissue. He wipes his hands, leaning to observe while you add three teaspoons of milk and vegetable oil. “Where did you learn to make these?” 

“During my apprenticeship,” you admit. Graduation hadn’t led to immediate incredible offers like it had for Shouto. You needed to get your foot in the door first, which meant working awful hours with shit pay and little recognition. “I was trying to save up back then, so I ate a lot of crap like this”. 

“I’ve never tried it,” he says, repeating the steps as you had shown him. Your fingers brush with a pass of the milk. “I wasn’t allowed treats as a child so I guess I didn’t develop much of a sweet tooth”. 

“That’s just like you,” you grin, tearing open the bag of chocolate chips and shaking them in his direction. “Always gotta drop depressing lore in the middle of a nice moment”. 

The truth about the Todoroki family had been outed during your first year, right before the war. It’s a subject Shouto can joke about now that time has mostly healed over those wounds. Granted, his relationship with his father was cautious at best, and his older brother was locked away in a private facility for a good few decades, but things were better. 

“Did you hear me?”

You blink, startled out of your reverie, “What?”

“I said I have plenty more material but you zoned out,” Shouto raised a brow, dipping into the bag of chocolate chips and sprinkling them over his cake mix, “Where did you go?”

“Ah…” you take his mug and set it beside yours inside the microwave, turning the dial to the two minute mark. “I was just thinking I kinda want to kick your dad’s ass”. 

Your heart leaps. You will never be sick of Shouto’s laugh; it’s like hearing his soul. The sound is rich and warm over the loud hum, glass plate turning, mixture bubbling. 

“Don’t worry about that,” the laughter tapers off into an affectionate murmur, body naturally leaning into you, “he’s been kicking himself for years now”. 

“Good—!” the microwave pings, and your soul jumps out of your skin. “Jesus. Why is it always so much louder at night?” 

The mugs are still hot. You press a kiss to your stinging fingertips and step aside; Shouto takes each cake out one at a time with this left hand wrapped around the mug. “Show off,” you pout. 

A sweet aroma fills your senses. They’ve risen well. You lightly scratch the top with your spoon, pleased by the firmness. “We did pretty good,” you chirped. 

“Smells good,” Shouto notes, cradling his mugcake to his chest as though something precious. “Are we watching a movie?”

“Yeah. Let’s pick while it’s still hot”. 

You cast a fleeting look at the counter before you walk around the kitchen island, putting the minor mess to the back of your mind. Bouncing back onto the couch, you run your free hand down the cushions in search of the remote. 

“Where’s the—” Shouto sits to your right and passes it to you. “Did you pull that out of thin air?” 

“Yes. I have a third quirk called ‘remembering where I put things’,” he grins, dodging the half hearted swat you send his way.  

“You’re a real comedian. Just for that I’m picking what I want to watch”. 

Infuriatingly, Shouto looks happy about that, “You know what I’d like anyway”. 

In the end you choose Ponyo because he had not yet watched it— a fact you deemed criminal. You watch his expressions soften at the vibrant scenery, idly pushing the tip of his spoon into the cake. He scoops out a piece and brings it to his lips. 

You try not to beam when he visibly freezes, eyes widening with his spoon held in his mouth. Slowly, Shouto starts to chew. He makes a happy little hum. Three words crossed your mind, travelled down to your heart and diffused throughout your body. You feel them restless in the tips of your fingers. You don’t say them. 

Only then do you let yourself eat yours. The spoon sinks into the sponge, a faint waft of heat bursting from the centre where the chocolate chips have melted. It’s just the right side of fluffy. 

Comfortable silence hung over your heads, masked under the clinking of your spoons against the mugs. 

After the soft thud of an empty mug meeting the table, breaking through the quiet, Shouto speaks. 

“Bakugo mentioned you today,” he says. “Asked me to pass on a message”. 

You hum to indicate that you’re listening. “He said ‘hurry the fuck up or kiss my sponsorship goodbye’, verbatim”. 

“I’m not sure I like those words coming out of your mouth,” you laugh, shoulders shaking with it. Shouto tips his head back, lips twisted to hold laughter of his own. “What a bullshitter”. 

Bakugo liked working with you too much to pull out. Even if he didn’t, the man was a hard nut to crack and refused to trust anyone else with his gear. 

“Are you almost done? Working on his gauntlets, I mean”. 

“They’re finished,” you responded, cheek resting on the heel of your hand. Shouto repositions his hips, turning his body to face you in your periphery while you watch Sousuke and Ponyo eat ramen. “Good and ready for the summer. Now he won’t level half the city when he sneezes”. 

“Thank you for your hard work,” comes his mirthful reply. “Oh, and Uraraka says hello. She wants you to go to the get together tomorrow night”. 

“You know I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about, right?” 

He huffed a laugh through his nose. A soft sound that has satisfaction singing through your veins. “I wasn’t planning on going so I forgot to mention it”. 

You run your tongue along your molars. There’s still a lingering chocolate taste. “You aren’t going to go?” you ask, tone trended downwards, plainly implying your disappointment. It wouldn’t be so odd. While you’d befriended Momo and some of class B before ever meeting Shouto, you’re not sure you want to be there without him. 

“I will go if you do,” he eyes the way your shoulders relax at that, attentive to a fault. “They can pick on you instead of me”. 

You roll your eyes with exasperated affection and arms crossed over your middle. “Tomorrow?” mhm. “Is it at that place Denki likes?” mhm. “Thought it might be. Guess I can be your buffer for a few hours”. 

“I’ll let them know,” Shouto murmurs. Colour dances across his skin, shadows moving with the picture on the screen. Ponyo dunks her head into the depths alongside Sosuke and the room is suddenly awash with vibrant blue, and you witness an unwelcome epiphany cross his mind. 

Stated like a huffy accusation, he says, “You know, you’ve worked on most of my friends gear, but never mine”. 

“You never asked,” you reminded him. “And you had connections in my industry already because of your… Endeavor. But I would’a jumped at the chance to get rid of that first costume you designed”. 

Cheek pressed to the cushion, he smiles. “What, was the glacier too much?” 

“It was so ugly Shouto,” you bemoan, leaning closer with your dramatic outburst. “The worst part was it covered up half of your pretty face. Now that’s just bad for branding”.

A soft intake of breath. Shouto’s lips part and you are caught in his awestruck stare. His voice deepens as he asks, “You think I’m… pretty?” 

You swallow and muster up an easy grin, nudging his thigh with your foot. “Everyone thinks you’re pretty, you goof”. 

His eyes lower, pensive for a moment, and then flicker back to the movie. Ponyo is sleepy, and the boat has shrunk, and Sousuke has big tears rolling down his cheeks. 

You can’t help thinking it was the wrong thing to say. 

Eventually the noise settles into static; the kind that makes the shadows seem a little darker, dense branches spreading across the ceilings and walls into a daunting canopy. You burrow into your hoodie, pulling the collar up over the bridge of your nose as Sosuke and Ponyo are reunited with his mother in a vast underwater paradise. 

The earlier exchange weighs on you. Stealing a quick glance at Shouto, you feel your anxiety chip at the expression on his face. Somewhere there, beneath the scar tissue and laughter lines and eye bags, is a small boy watching in awe. 

Neither of you speak until the film comes to an end. Your head bobs along to the final song, drawn into a bubble of nostalgia. Through the thick of it, you hear a whisper. Shouto says your name and there’s barely any strength behind it, uncharacteristically timid. Blinking away the haze, your eyes adjust. You can see an inviting, wide open embrace, his left arm now outstretched, the intention clear. 

Shouto looks right back. Your vision has sharpened enough to make out the small smile on his face. You crawl across the couch cushions and curl under his arm, turning your cheek to watch the credits play out.  

“You looked cold,” he belatedly adds. “Is this ok?”

You hum in agreement. Compared to his body heat, you’d say it had been freezing. Despite all the hard earned muscle over the years Shouto is pliable when he’s relaxed, doughy, and he yields when you begin to adjust your shared position. 

Swallowed by warmth, you guide his arm down to cinch around your waist and nestle against his chest. You can feel his heart beating like a wing beneath your palm. 

“Better?” he murmurs, breath tickling your ear. A final shiver dances the length of your spine as the faint tremors dwindle and your bones thaw. Fatigue creeps up, making your eyelids heavy. 

Quietly, “Better”. Then you mumble, “And I do think you’re pretty, Shouto”. 

“Hm?”

“Was bein’ a bit of a coward earlier,” you continue, a sleepy drawl to your words. A yawn pulls at your jaw, nose flaring with it. You think you could sink right into him, like a hot bath. “Shouto’s pretty… all… all the time…”

Your weary eyes gave in to the rhythmic stroke of his hand, consciousness drifting away. Soft dreams undulate, drawing you in, pushing you out. There’s a familiar face. They turn into your palms when you cradle them. Your stomach clenches at the sudden weightlessness and you grasp at their shirt, worried you might float away. 

When you wake up you are in your own bed again. It returns to you in fragments— Shouto’s arms around you, his rumbling laugh, the tangible intimacy that had hung over your heads. Realising he must have carried you to bed you turn over to groan into your pillow. 

Eventually, what draws you out into the open is the smell. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you pad out into the living room, searching for Shouto. Leggings, your mind whispers. He’s milling about the kitchen in his workout clothes; a little pair of shorts overtop and a green hoodie. 

“Morning,” he says, placing a small plate onto a tray. You notice two bowls have already been prepared. “I made breakfast”. 

The greeting dies in your throat when he looks up. A stream of dewy morning light illuminates the room, reflecting on the pale surfaces, creating an ethereal view. He combs his hair back with his fingers, tucking the longer strands behind his ears. Your gaze strays from the bruise on his jaw— now turning a sickly shade of green— to the food on his tray. 

“Wow,” you mumble, feeling hunger twist in your stomach. “This actually looks edible. What’s the occasion?” 

It’s a traditional breakfast. A bowl of rice, miso soup with some vegetables, a rolled egg and a plate of grilled fish. Shouto sets a pair of chopsticks down. “No special occasion. I just wanted to cook for you”. 

“God. You are so…” you wave your hands at him, too overwhelmed by the sudden flush of tenderness. 

He blinks, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes. “You just gestured to all of me”. 

“I just woke up and there’s a prince using my shitty old rice cooker. Forgive me,” you remarked groggily. It feels as if your entire being is a soft spot that he won’t stop prodding at. 

Gathering the tray in your grasp you avoid his stare and make way to the dining table, his quiet chuckle close behind. You sit, unnerved by his presence and fighting off dregs of sleep. The seat is cold under your thighs. “Thank you for the food,” you murmur. 

Chopsticks tucked in the crook of your thumb and finger, you pick up a rolled omelette. The egg tastes sweeter than expected— mixed with more sugar than required, you think, but it’s good, and you finish in the next bite. 

“Are you not leaving for work?”

Shouto hovers across from you; his hands rested on the back of another chair, and stood silently. “How is it?” he deflects. 

Your teeth sink into a tofu cube, umami flavours bursting on your tongue. You hum your approval, making a show of it. “It’s delicious. Thank you, Shouto. Really”. 

Over the years you’ve come to learn that Shouto reacts to praise in subtle ways, and often smiles without his mouth. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice and see it in his spirited stride. You watch as his shoulders straighten. He’s alight, peacocking his pride, and you’re not sure he realises it. 

“There’s a secret ingredient”. 

You pause mid chew, swallowing thickly. “If you say love I’m moving out”. 

Shouto tempers his amusement with a shake of his head. Stray hair falls forward to frame his cheeks.  The chair reclines back on two legs as he leans. “My mother told me that making a meal for someone is a simple way to show gratitude,” he continued. “Thank you for taking care of me last night”. 

Heat simmers under your skin, all buzzing energy and jitters. The sincerity is disarming. Had this been a dream you would’ve kissed him. 

Shoving another tofu cube in your mouth you chew it down to fine paste, vying for time to formulate a coherent sentence. “Don’t thank me for that,” your initial playfulness softened to reciprocate some of his vulnerability. “I know I’m not a hero but I’ll always be there for you in whatever way I can”. 

Whatever his response is, you don’t hear it. Shouto murmurs inaudibly, eyes falling closed with a long exhale. Your only respite is the warmth in his gaze when he looks back at you. “I need to leave now if I don’t want to be late. But I’ll see you tonight?”

You hum an affirmative, nodding around the white rice pinched between your chopsticks. It falls apart gently on your tongue. Covering your mouth, you say, “I’ll be there”.  

Shouto steps away with some finality, readjusting the hem of his shirt. The fabric hangs loose around his hips, emphasising how tight his shorts are. You mentally kick yourself. 

“I’ll text you, then”. 

The day passes frustratingly slowly after Shouto leaves. You technically could be sifting through the new student’s designs, but all you can think about is how charged the atmosphere had been this morning. Retiring back to your room to scream into a pillow or two, you eventually find yourself getting ready. 

Shouto let you know he would be going straight from the agency. He had clothes in a locker here— casual, some jeans and a sweater, which at least allayed the fear of being underdressed.  

You pull on one of your nicer jackets, holding the lapels close to your chest as you step out into the cold evening. Dark cumuli gather in sparse clumps across the darkening sky; as mercy has it, the wind is pushing them in the opposite direction.

The place isn’t far. You don’t frequent it very often but liked it well enough despite management being a bunch of rich guys playing dive-bar dress up. The low ceilings, vintage mismatched furniture and dim red lights created an intimate atmosphere. 

People loved the idea of finding a hole in the wall that nobody else knew about. The catch was everybody knows, but not everybody can get in. 

Flashing above the door in green neon lights is a sign grimly reading ‘The Love Shack’. The first thing you notice is the strong woodsy smell masking the faint scent of alcohol. There’s a floral tinge to it that you have trouble pinpointing. 

You head inside and greet the bouncer standing by the entrance. He’s a big guy, standing around 6 feet 9, mutton chops swallowing a great deal of his face. Resting on his bald crown are a pair of comically small sunglasses. 

Before he can ask for your name it is being hollered across the bar. A few heads turn and you dip your chin to shield from prying eyes. Uraraka is bounding over, Mina hot on her coattails. The pair topple into you with canorous laughter clear over the music. 

“You’re here!” Uraraka effused, grabbing at your shoulders and shaking them. “I haven’t seen you in so long! Shouto has been keeping you all to himself”. 

Mina slumps against you, echoing Ursraka’s words with a slurred whine. “Holy shit. Are you guys already tipsy?” unsteady on your feet you try to keep them upright. 

“No,” Mina tittered, pink lips jutting into a pout. She pokes at your cheek. “You’re just too sober!”

You startle. Another hand, large and hot, splays at the small of your back. The bouncer grunts and encourages you in the direction which they came from. That appears to spur the girls on— you’re dragged to the far end of the bar, a wide booth nestled just around the corner, hidden from view. 

You’re met with a chorus of cheers. Kirishima, Jirou and Shinsou beckon you forward. Bakugo is nursing a pint, offering you a wordless nod. Momo shakes her head as Denki attempts to climb out and greet you despite being trapped by the table, patting his back when the effort is fruitless. 

“Alright, alright. I missed you too,” you grin, helplessly charmed by your friend's excitement. Uraraka ushers you into the booth. You scoot up beside Momo, the group packed in like sardines to make room. 

Mina bends to press a wet kiss to your hairline. It leaves behind a sticky impression of her lips. “Let me go grab you a drink, babe!” she chirps, skipping off toward the bar and immediately draping her upper body over the black countertop to wave the bartender over. 

The conversations resume, an easy atmosphere settling over your group. Though you aren’t entirely from their world they do well to involve you, asking for your thoughts, trying to make you laugh. Jirou blushes under the red lights when you bring up her latest album, sending you an appreciative grin. Mina returns holding an impressive amount of drinks, her fingers slipping dangerously on the condensation. 

You are one strawberry daiquiri in. There’s a muted yet pleasant buzz under your skin, no doubt aided by the good company. Still, you cast an anxious glance around the room, curious about Shouto’s absence. A soft tap to the knee draws your attention. 

Momo turns to whisper in your ear, “Shouto said  he’ll be here on the hour,” answering that unspoken question. Your cheeks fill with an indignant breath, embarrassed by your own transparency. 

“We aren’t attached at the hip, you know,” you rasp childishly. It’s a lie— you’ve lived with Shouto for only three weeks and you have already forgotten where he ends and you begin. Momo laughs, hiding it behind the back of her hand. 

“Could’a had me fooled,” Bakugo interjects, scoffing behind his drink. The glass tips and he drains the last of it. “Your name is all I hear outta his mouth these days. Starting to think he doesn’t know any other words”. 

You hold up an accusing finger, “Quit reading our lips, dickhead”. 

The other bares his teeth, gums and all. He moves his hands in recognisable patterns at a deliberately slow pace, as if talking down to you. ‘Fuck you’ he signs. 

“Oh!” Kirishima claps abruptly. You startle, almost knocking over your drink. He’s so big that it rocked the table. “Check this, Bakugo. I’ve been learning more signs, you gotta tell me if I’m doing ‘em right!”

“Fuck do I look like to you?”

“Like my handsome best bro,” is his smooth reply. Cheeks red as his hair, a cocksure grin flashing his sharp teeth; Bakugo softens, clicking his tongue in feigned annoyance, betrayed by the twitch by the corner of his mouth. You think Kirishima is like an overgrown stray that manipulated Bakugo into being his human. 

Whatever he clumsily signs must have been obscene, because Bakugo roars with laughter.

“Who the hell taught you that, shitty hair?” 

The hour comes and goes. Rings of water collect under the glasses. Shouto is five minutes late. You displace the group, accepting Uraraka’s loose lipped complaints as she is forced to scoot back out the booth. Pinching the fat of her pink cheek, she’s placated by the promise of another round on you. 

“I’ll come with,” Shinsou offered with a lazy wave. 

“Thanks,” waiting for him to get to his feet, you smile. You liked Shinsou well enough. Working as an underground hero meant you didn’t get to see him too often. 

You approach the bar. The man working behind it has gossamer insectoid wings on his back, sprouting from two long slits in his fitted shirt. They glint in the light, colours refracting iridescent, reminding you somewhat of a church window. 

He comes over as he catches your eye, wiping down the sticky surface. You’re honest enough to admit he’s handsome. Rugged with a baby face, hair falling over his forehead in loose curls. There’s an easy air about him, and when he flashes a crooked grin you feel the alcohol a little too thick in your veins. 

Tattooed forearms brace against the bar and he leans into your magnetism, “What can I get ya?”

“They’ll have the same as last time,” you reply. “I think the tab should be under Kaminari’s name?” 

He nods, eyes skimming over your form, “Won’t be long”. 

You turn to find that Shinsou is staring, kissed by a reddish glow. His mouth downturns into a smirk. “I don’t think he even noticed I was here,” he drawls. 

Defensiveness prickles over you. “Don’t think anyone has,” you lightly knock your arms together. “You’ve been quiet tonight”. 

“Not my scene,” Shinsou sinks forward, propped up by his elbow, and rests his chin in the cradle of his hand. His heavy lidded eyes never stray. “But I can’t say no to free drinks”.

The barman works the taps in your periphery but you remain focused on Shinsou. There’s a new scar across his cheekbone, right where his persona mask ends. Another over his mouth, a thin line of rough tissue that cuts through his five o’clock shadow. The mass untameable hair on his head has been cut shorter, tapering around his neck. 

“Leech”. 

“Look who’s talking,” his smirk widens. You watch his gaze slide over your head and dread swirls in your stomach at the gleam in his eye. “I think your nepo baby boyfriend just got here”. 

“Not my boyfriend,” you hiss under your breath. He holds his laughter between his teeth. “And don’t call him that!” 

Shinsou laughs into his palm, low and rumbling. You hear the fond invocation of your name as the heat of another body appears at your back. Met with brilliant teal and stormy grey, Shouto greets you both apologetically. 

Perking up self consciously, you say, “You made it!”

“Hi. Sorry, I got caught up and lost track of time”. 

You’re happy to see him. He’s in fitted jeans and a dark button up shirt over an old black turtleneck. Heterochromatic eyes slide from your smiling face to Shinsou’s own disinterest, then drawn to the drinks that have steadily begun to accumulate on the bar counter. 

“Ah, let me get you a drink—” you wave over the guy who served you, though it is hardly necessary when he’s already observing. He saunters over with a pint of lager, setting it beside Mina’s garish rainbow concoction. 

“Everything alright?” 

Squinting at the messy kanji on his name tag, you think you can make it out. Kei, it reads. “Would we be able to add another to the tab? Our friend just made it”. 

For some reason Shouto crowds in closer, the cool press of his left side seeping through your shirt. Kei barely pays him any mind. “No problem,” a cold flush crawls across your back when he winks. “Anything for you. What’ll it be?” 

“I’ll have a highball,” Shouto interjects. You frown at his sudden sharp demeanour, and lean your weight back in hopes of comforting him. The air warms up. 

Kei’s enthusiasm fractures imperceptibly, “Alright. Let me get started on that for ya”. Shinsou snorted, his head dipped to his chest and shaking; you think you aren’t nearly drunk enough for whatever this is.

“Shit. You really are petty,” Shinsou speaks up after Kei departs to the other end of the bar. “I always thought Midoriya was exaggerating”. 

“Petty?” you echo, squinting at your roommate with a soft pout. Shouto fixes his gaze to the bottles lined across the wall and looks as though he wants the earth to swallow him whole. 

“Highballs are tedious to make,” Shinsou turns his back to the bar, leaning against it with his drink in hand. “You definitely chose that on purpose”. 

“I didn’t,” Shouto monotoned. “I like whisky”. 

“I’ve never seen you drink whisky,” your voice lilts into suspicion. Shouto narrows his eyes, pointedly avoiding yours. A terse beat passes, and you inhale with defeat. “Oh, whatever. Go say hi to the others while we bring the drinks”. 

Shouto blanched. “I can help—”

“I’ve already got a big strong man here to help me,” Shinsou scoffed. There’s an umbrella resting on the lip and a purple straw in his mouth. You put a hand on Shouto’s bicep and squeeze, “You need to let Momo know you’re here before she sends out a search party”. 

The contact visibly placates him. You watch after him as he makes his way to the booth. Slurred over the low music, he turns the short corner to be met with a cheer in much the same way you had. 

“You two are ridiculous,” Shinsou murmurs, amused exasperation clear in his tone. Splitting the drinks into two groups to carry, you ignore his remark and the fondness swirling in your chest. 

Kei appears and sets the highball down. A tall glass of liquid gold, three carved ice cubes fizzing at the bottom, a lemon garnish on the rim. “Thank you,” you tell him, pleased when he reciprocates your sheepish grin. 

You let Shinsou take it— your hands are already full and slipping. The others have pulled Shouto into the booth and sandwiched him between Denki and Mina, whose distinct voices are overlapping as they try to get a word in. 

Denki stops mid sentence as Shinsou slams the drinks onto the table. You do the same, albeit much more carefully. He lists them off one by one, sliding the glasses over to their persons. Shouto’s comes last. 

“And in a surprising turn of events we have Todoroki with a japanese highball”. 

Shouto accepts the drink with his right hand and a straight face, ignoring the harmonious ‘ooh’ that reverberates around the booth. 

Bakugo points his pinky at him, “And since when do you drink whisky?” 

Petulantly, Shouto mutters, “Since now”. 

Ultimately deciding to pull up a chair, Shinsou sits at the head of the table while you are squeezed on the end beside Bakugo; he side glances, raising his brow in acknowledgement. 

“Dude, now that we’re all here, let's have a toast!” Denki exclaims, literal sparks of joy bouncing from his crown. Everybody groans. 

“I’ll hear your toast bro,” Kirishima lifts his pint, the wonderful enabler that he is. Shouto meets your gaze across the table and raises his own with a shrug. 

“I, uh…” Denki shrinks under the pressure. “I dunno what I was gonna say”. 

“To a quick death,” Shinsou proposed, halfheartedly holding his sake in the air. 

“Hear hear,” muttered from beside you, Bakugo’s eyes fell closed. You snickered, alcohol weakening your inhibitions as you hook your chin over his shoulder. He allows it. 

Momo voices her disapproval and tips her glass, “To good health”. 

“To Chargebolt,” Jirou adds, a grin splitting her cheeks, laughter already bleeding into her words. “Seen him at his best, seen him at his worst, and still can’t tell the difference”. 

“Oi!” 

“To a livable minimum wage!” Uraraka hiccups. All the blood in her body seems to have rushed to her face; expression comically determined, betrayed by her spasming diaphragm. Everyone lifts a glass. 

The night crawls on. Another round, then two. Kei refills your glass, never without a flirty comment. You feel thawed from the inside out, a silly smile fixed to your lips. Your cheeks hurt from laughing, from the too-forceful kisses given by Mina, the rough pinch of explosive fingers. 

You might as well be engaged in a game of musical chairs; the only one refusing to surrender his spot is Bakugo. Jirou and Momo slink away somewhere private— ‘private’ being behind the vintage jukebox right by the bathrooms— and Kirishima scoots over to wrap you up in a side hug and pushes all the air from your lungs. Uraraka drapes herself across your front. Shinsou surrenders as Mina sits in his lap. Being with them is as innate as breathing. 

Maybe you didn’t fight a war together but they still embraced you as their own. And Shouto watches with that terrible, awful, shoujo twinkle in his eyes; you flush hot whenever you catch him, inundated by the desire to reach across and kiss him.

Your pulse is quick and movements slowed. A pleasant buzz circulates around your body. After the third round Shouto begins insisting that you stay put. “Okay,” you conceded tipsily. “Tell Kei I said hi”. 

Shouto leaves with a vaguely constipated frown. 

Bakugo cackles and refuses to tell you what was so funny. Momo returns to the sight of you clinging to the stubborn hero’s arm, cursing his name. “What are we laughing at?” she muses. You notice a few things first: there’s a fresh bruise on her neck, a button on her dress undone, and a glass of water in her grasp. 

Disheveled Momo is a rare treat. You’d tease her about it, if Bakugo did not immediately jump at the opportunity to tease you first. “Just gearhead and halfie being oblivious idiots,” he surmised. Another snort bursts from his nose. “‘Tell Kei I said hi’. Shit. Should’a seen his face”. 

“Bakugo,” Momo chides, attempting to disguise her own amusement. “Go easy on them”. 

He clicks his tongue, shaking you with a rough shrug of his shoulder. “You should tell him how you feel and fuck already”. 

Your mood tumbles, dampening as you sulk, “Shouto doesn’t want me like that”. 

“Yeah, right. And vice prez didn’t just get fingered by the jukebox”. 

“Bakugo!” Momo’s voice is stronger this time. She whips her head toward the other patrons and back, embarrassment flooding her cheeks. “I did not get… fingered,” she protested with a sharp whisper. 

“What’s that?” you feign ignorance, drowsy and loose lipped. “Momo got fingered?!”

Making Bakugo laugh feels a little like winning the lottery; having him throw an arm around you as he does it leaves you dizzy with accomplishment. You curl into his side, shoulders shaking. You mouth an apology across the booth and Momo stretches to take your hand, stressing her forgiveness. 

Shouto shatters the jovial atmosphere. He returns stiffly, his glare set in stone, and places a drink you did not order in front of you. After a quick sniff you realise that it’s water. 

“Once you’ve drunk that we should head home,” he says. It’s posed as a suggestion but you hear the instruction. Not wanting to irritate him any further, you begin to sip. 

Momo’s brow pinches with worry. “Is everything alright, Shouto?” 

He breathes harshly through his nose, coming out in a puff of cold air. ”Yes, everything’s fine. I’m sorry to cut the night short, Momo,” his face softens. “It was good to see you”. 

Astonishingly, Bakugo says nothing. His arm snakes from around your back. You finish the water with a big gulp, resurfacing for air. “Done,” you wipe the back of your hand across your lips. 

Shouto steadies you while you awkwardly scoot around the booth. Momo gathers you both into a hug, her kind hand stroking the length of your spine. “Text us when you get home”. 

“We will,” you promise, saluting as you’re gently pulled away. “See ya on Monday, great explosion murder god dynamite, sir!” 

The others have dispersed amongst the small crowd. You mourn not being able to say goodbye to them all. Shouto cinches around your waist and guides you to the door. You can’t complain— instinctively sinking into the embrace, surrounded by his cologne— but you do wonder what the hurry is. 

You waded through the mass of people until you both finally made your way out into the open air. The breeze encourages you closer to his front, cold and refreshing in your lungs. Already you feel as if some of your drunken enthusiasm is dissolving. 

“Shouto?” his pace slows mercifully, coming to a stop underneath a streetlight. The bulb blinks in five second intervals, dousing him in sickly orange. “Are you mad?” 

A warm hand hooks your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye only to avoid looking back. His lips part to speak, and when nothing comes they close. “I’m not mad,” he intoned quietly, thumb skimming over the line of your jaw. Your breath catches. 

He seems so… guilty. 

“I think you are,” you observe, wrapping your fingers around his wrist. You bring his hand down and intertwine it with yours. The alcohol must be making you brave. “But if you’re not ready you don’t need to tell me”. 

Some colour returns to his skin. Shouto huffs a disbelieving laugh. “You’re so—” cutting off that train of thought, he tugs you forward and wraps you into a hug. The crook of his neck shields you from the cold, and for a few short moments all you can hear is your heart beating in your ears. 

“…Have you ever felt like there are things you want to say but there’s something that always stops you from expressing them?” 

You take note of how his grip tightens, warm nose squished into your cheek as if he thought you might run. Shouto is nervous— rather, he’s making himself vulnerable to you. “I have,” you murmur. 

He bows his head to burrow into your shoulder, “Then, would you give me the chance to say them?” 

What you hear is: will you be patient with me? 

“Now?” you ask gently. The light overhead flickers again and your vision swims. You’re realising now that his impulsivity might simply be because he’s drunk. “Don’t you want to talk at home?”

Shouto shakes his head. “If I say it now you can change your mind and go back”. 

That’s worrying. You chew nervously on your bottom lip, “…Okay”. 

You expect him to let go but he doesn’t, though he does loosen his hold, as if giving you the chance to leave. Following a deep inhale, Shouto solemnly admits, “That guy at the bar. Kei. He asked me to give you his phone number”.  

“He did?” 

“Yes,” he says. 

“So where is it?” 

Dread and fatigue curdled in your stomach. You hear the moment Shouto swallows his caution. The atmosphere sours as he admits, “I burned it”. 

You step back, leaving his arms limp at his sides. He looks betrayed. Like you’re testing the strength of a promise you don’t recall making. This was not a good time nor place to talk about this. 

“My feet hurt,” his eyes widened in confusion. “I’m cold and I’m drunk and my feet hurt, Shouto. I want to go home”. 

The request registers slowly. You watch his face fall, gathering a facsimile of a smile. “Okay. Then let’s go home”. 

Your chest aches. You want to cry. You scramble for his hand and squeeze it tight, hating the despondent tone in his voice. “We’re too drunk. We’ll talk about this in the morning,” and that seems to lessen the rigidity in his bones. 

From then on, the walk is done in heavy silence. Your thoughts are muddied and loud, emotions bouncing back and forth between resentment and uncertainty. 

Underneath all of it is a seedling of hope that you daren’t nurture. 

The atmosphere clings, following you all the way home, suffocating as you stand a metre apart in front of your respective bedrooms. You bid him goodnight, hand lingering on the handle. Anticipation sits like a stone in your chest. 

You lie in bed waiting for him to knock. 

He doesn’t. 

Next time you open your eyes you wince at the throb behind them; it pings around the inside of your skull and you groan into your pillow. 

There’s movement in the apartment. Shouto had always been an early riser. Cold relief washes over you at the confirmation that he was here. Last night filters through your mind. One scene after another you try to make sense of it all. 

Kei had been genuinely flirting— you didn’t really think to take it seriously at the time. It was harmless fun, and you figured he was just the type that enjoyed teasing. 

Shouto must’ve realised it early on. That was the reason he stepped in and kept you away from the bar. But that didn’t line up right with the reality you knew, because the only reasonable explanation for his behaviour would be that— 

You shoot upright, kicking off your covers, and immediately feel it rebound. Thumbs pressed to your temples, you massage firm circles into your skin until the pain dulled. 

Holy shit. Shouto was jealous. 

A strange blanket of exhaustion settles back over you, as though your muscles have atrophied. You slide down the headboard and stare up at the marks on the ceiling, all sprawled out like dropped skeins of yarn. Suddenly your bedroom was a refuge from an inevitable relationship altering conversation. 

Shouto had been jealous of a man vying for your affection. Your Shouto: gentle, placid, considerate, patient, funny, beautiful Shouto. 

“Fuck,” you whisper into the emptiness. You can hear the coffee machine brewing in the distance. You’re torn between screaming into your hands and jumping on the bed. 

You settle on getting up. Slowly. It’s clear you had been drunker than you thought; your pyjamas are on back to front. You tremble as you slip your arms through the sleeves and right the collar, padding over to the door. 

Shouto wanted to talk last night and you stopped him. Guilt gnaws away at you. All that courage was shot down. Pretending to forget about it isn’t an option— you had to do this. 

The plan to be stealthy is squandered by the hinge on your door. A harsh squeak reverberates through the apartment. You huff, lowering from your tip toes, and walk towards the kitchen. 

Another body enters the hallway. Shouto turns on his heel and nearly drops his mug as you almost collide. Reflexes hammered into him, he catches it in one hand and manoeuvres you away from the hot splash with the other. 

“Shit. Did it burn you?” he breathes, bringing your hand up to his mouth. A chilly puff of air blows over your skin and you shiver. 

You clear your throat and try to find your voice. “I think you got it. Thank you, Shouto”. 

The sound of his name pulls him out of his reverie. You try not to feel hurt when he drops your hand like hot coal. “Sorry,” casting a forlorn look at the half empty mug and the small coffee puddle at his feet. Lips pressed into a thin line, he says, “I was bringing you some coffee. Thought you might need it”. 

Delicate tendrils of steam dance and dissipate into the air. You gently cup your hands around his and receive the mug, a small smile pulling at your mouth. His eyes are keen and searching as you take a drink. 

“I definitely needed it,” you tell him between sips. The coffee paves a hot path down your throat to your stomach— the warmth spreads, seeking to fill the spaces between. All the earlier fear is washed away.

The time you spend observing one another feels like a short eternity. You watch hope visibly thread into his features, brighter; the way he always should be. 

Softly, you ask, “Do you think we could talk about last night?”

“Yeah,” the word comes in a whisper. Head inclining, Shouto nods in one slow motion. Then, louder, “I should clean up, first. Where do you want to…?”

“Where?” you repeat. The thoughts in his head are written plainly across his forehead and you longed to rid him of them. Tilting and raising your brows suggestively, you tease, “Bedroom?” 

Shouto gives an amused huff and the remnants of caution are blown away like seeds in a dandelion clock. His steps are lighter, a subtle bounce to them. Light filters into the living room and your spirit is buoyed by giddiness and wonder. 

What had you been so afraid of? 

You wait in the crook of the L shaped couch, legs curled beneath your body, facing the tall standing windows that overlook the city. Your headache has lessened into a quiet echo. 

While he mops up the coffee you finish off the last drops in your cup. You take a moment to appreciate your surroundings. The emptiness you once felt in this room no longer exists. Blankets strewn across the cushions, small crochet coasters, pictures put into frames, books left face down to save the page, things out of place— it felt so lived in. 

It felt like home. 

You sit up when footfalls approach. Shouto is pretty in the late morning light, under eye shadows and all. “Did you even sleep last night?”

“Not much,” he confesses. His weight shifts before he finally decides on sitting beside you, turning to mirror your posture. “I thought I might’ve messed things up”. 

You stretch to put your mug on the coffee table and his eyes follow attentively. “Shouto, you didn’t mess anything up,” he wrings his hands together in his lap, searching your face for dishonesty and finding none. “Though you probably shouldn’t have burned up that guy's number”. 

“Probably,” he affirmed. The hair on his left side is pressed flat to his head. You count the creases on his cheek, stopping at the healing bruise on his jaw. The movement of his full mouth draws you back, “I am sorry for that. It was childish of me and I took away your choice”. 

You hum, shuffling closer on your knees. Shouto’s expression is beautifully open, and you understand it, because your heart beat is thrumming just the same. “Next time, give me the number so I can ask you to burn it myself”. 

Shouto’s fiddling halts. It’s a relief. You thought if he pulled at that hangnail any more he might unravel in front of you. A crease forms between his brows, “What?” 

“I don’t want anyone else’s number. I…” losing some of your strength, you close your eyes for a second. Inhale deeply, continuing on an exhale, “Last night, you were jealous”. 

It’s not a question. Shouto nods, his hand making an aborted reach for your own but thinking better of it. 

You slide your palm against his. Your fingers fill the spaces between his knuckles. Shouto holds on tight and you ask,  “…Why?” 

A nail traces random shapes into his skin. You watch him watching your finger, mouth curled into a small, wobbly smile. He steels his resolve, an internal monologue you aren’t privy to. With spine tingling cadence, he says, “Because I’m in love with you”. 

You’re not sure what you anticipated. There isn’t much that could prepare you for such a long awaited admission— for something you’d only daydreamed about hearing. The hunger in your heart rears its head, seeing his words as permission to want. To take. 

Shouto carries on, incognisant to your plight. “I made peace with my feelings a long time ago. It’s not something I wanted you to worry about”. 

“You’re doing it again,” you tell him. “Deciding things for me”. 

“I don’t want you to make peace with them. I want you to share them. With me,” Your eyes meet as he peers up. There’s a stray kiss curl by his temple, white and soaking up the sun. He shudders when you twist it gently around your finger. “I love you too, dummy”.  

Heat prickles at the back of your neck, feeling the shift in atmosphere. “Oh,” is his eloquent reply. A slow blooming grin pulls at his mouth as the reality sets in. 

“Yeah. Oh”. Giddiness bubbles in your chest like water in a wellspring and you let go to cup his face. Shouto leans into the cradle your hands form, eyes fluttering closed as your thumb skims over the scar tissue. His ears are warm. 

Guided by fleeting impulses you press a quick kiss to his left eyelid, and he sucks in a shaky breath. You move lower, nose bumping his cheek, to press another to the corner of his mouth. 

“Is this okay?” you whisper, feeling like you were on the delicate precipice of something incredible. His mouth turns to chase yours, bicoloured eyes peeking beneath his lashes. 

“Kiss me,” he murmurs, and it comes like a puff of steam. “On the mouth this time”. 

Your lips tremble as you try not to laugh, aligning with his. You kiss him, petal soft and gentle, and feel it when he smiles. Tentative, derived from uncertainty and unfamiliarity. 

Shouto’s cool fingers slide around the nape of your neck, holding you in place. Don’t go anywhere. You answer in kind— hands sliding down to his chest to guide him back into the cushions and feel his heart racing as you settle your knees either side of his hips. You barely part for air, and Shouto follows your lead. 

“Again,” he mumbles. 

The intensity grows. Shouto kisses like it’s his last. Strong arms wrap around your waist, wandering hands mapping out the topography of your body. Somewhere between, your tongue dips into the seam, biting his bottom lip and plucking a whine right from his mouth. Heat flutters low in your abdomen; hips squirm between your thighs, his chest pressed to your own. 

“Shouto,” you groan, pushing harder, needing to be closer, threading into the soft hair at the back of his head. Fingers curl into the fat by your hips, they pull, rocking you into his lap. Invigorated, Shouto nips at your lips. Arousal spikes through you at the cool exhale— his tongue slides over your own and along the grooves in your teeth, wet and cold. 

“Fuck, is that—” you pant, head falling back as he begins to leave a trail of hot kisses down your throat. “S’that your quirk?” 

He hums an affirmative. The sound is resonant, deep in his chest and satisfied. Smug. You feel the impression of his smile against your jugular. Static fills your brain. Your thighs clench, rutting forward to relieve the ache between your legs, imagining all the things his mouth could do. 

At some point you part to catch your breath. Your foreheads come together, sharing awed laughter. Shouto cheeks are pink and there’s a soft smile on his swollen, kiss-bitten lips.  His hand moves to cup your jaw, rubbing small circles into the cheekbone.

“We should… slow down…” his chest heaves, eyes swallowed by his pupils. They fall to his lap, right where you’re pressed to his cock. You file away the lazy slur in his voice and wonder if that’s where all his blood went. “…I want to do this properly”. 

Figures that he would have more willpower than you; though you get the sense if you pushed, he’d give, and every surface in the apartment would see you laid out. Gathering your thoughts is made much more difficult as he kneads at your thigh, heedless to your struggle. 

“Okay baby,” you murmur, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to his brow bone. His ears turn red and you’re alight, “You like that?” 

Shouto tucks his grin against your shoulder. Like before, he locks both arms around your back and holds you close. You comb your fingers through his hair, overlapping white and red, a long tender moment passing. 

“You love me,” he whispered apprehensively. Then again, thick with wonderment. “You love me”.  

It’s unbelievable to him— and that’s unbelievable to you. Shouto is easy to love, moreso than anyone you have ever met. All clandestine glances, soft spoken words and inside jokes; a book of every witty little thing you’ve said, keeping your words close, giving importance to the things you enjoy; he’s gag gifts and thoughtfulness and open arms, the reason all your hot drinks never go cold, he’s the cream that never melts. He’s home. 

You cradle him to your chest with no intention of letting go. The sun crawls higher, casting a warm blanket over your shoulders. 

“I do,” you reply. “How could I not?” 

[janaispunk]

nights are so starry, blood moonlit

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

word count: ~1.4k

summary: Javi and you are neighbors. And friends with benefits, in a way. Things become… heated.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), smoking, mention of alcohol consumption, able-bodied reader, Javi pulls reader’s hair, dom!Javi, sub!reader, unprotected p in v (it’s never stated in the fic but i headcanon that reader is on birth control), rough sex, dirty talk, Javi is a menace, a hint of angst and feelings because it’s me and if they’re not fucking while denying their feelings it’s not my fic okay

a/n: written for @iamasaddie’s moodboard writing challenge that was SO fun, thank you aly <3 this literally poured out of me, i wish writing would always feel like this 🫠

beautiful moodboards by @hellishjoel 🫶🏻

dividers as always by @saradika-graphics 🫶🏻

find my full masterlist here and follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates!

It’s the hottest day since you moved to Colombia, and probably the hottest that you’ve ever felt in your life. Sweat is all over your skin, pooling on your spine at the small of your back and making your dress stick to your damp body.

You groan as you open the door to your flat, the still air inside the small space somehow even more suffocating than you felt outside. You kick off your shoes and walk over to the fridge, letting the coolness wash over you for a few seconds while you just stand in front of the open door, your eyes almost slipping closed at the sudden reprieve from the sweltering heat. With a sigh you eventually grab a water and reluctantly shut the door again, pressing the cold bottle against your neck as you step out onto your tiny excuse of a balcony, hoping to catch at least the smallest bit of a breeze.

It’s just as hot outside and you flop down on the single plastic chair that you have and fumble for a cigarette, when you notice your neighbor on the balcony next to you. Javi looks as gorgeous as always, as you begrudgingly have to admit to yourself. While you’re sure that you look like you’re on the verge of a heat stroke, his shirt clings to his body in a way that makes your mouth run dry. As always he has one too many buttons undone and the perspiration on his chest has you dreaming of licking the sweat off his skin. He catches your stare and quirks an eyebrow at you, an amused smirk playing around his lip.

“You’re home early,” he drawls, leaning back against the railing.

“So are you,” you note, raising an eyebrow in return. “Slow day at the office?”

He closes his eyes for a moment. “Quite the opposite.” His scowl makes it clear that he doesn’t want any follow up questions and you shrug, busying yourself with unscrewing your water bottle instead.

A moment of silence passes between you before he raises his voice again.

“You free tonight?”

It’s a question that you’ve heard many times before, or some variation of it. You’re not a thing, Javi and you, not really. It’s just nice, to have a little company sometimes, in a city where, after months of staying here, you still feel like you barely know anyone. It’s fun. Stress relief. No strings attached.

You want to protest at first, thinking about how it’s about a thousand degrees, how you already feel the sweat on your skin again and you’re not even moving. But then you picture another lonely evening in your apartment, another bottle of wine drank in solitude while watching some crap on your small TV.

You look up at him through your eyelashes, mirroring his smirk from earlier.

“Yeah. Sure.”

Now you’re bent over the back of his couch, his cock roughly pounding into you as your skin feels sticky against the leather, moans falling from your lips with every thrust.

His fingers are digging into your hips and he’s pulling you against his body relentlessly, the intensity of his thrusts never faltering. His lips had been on yours as soon as he pulled his door open, pressing you against the wall and hands grabbing at your ass beneath your dress. You had basically thrown yourself at him, the rough way he handled your body only adding to the fire that was already burning through your veins and had wetness pooling between your legs.

He had skimmed over your underwear with his fingers and pulled back when your hips bucked against his touch, a chuckle rumbling in his throat.

“Missed me that much?” he had grinned in that smug way of his that made you want to roll your eyes.

“No,” you had grumbled, somewhat unconvincingly, threading your fingers through the dark hair at his neck and slotting your lips over his again, the coarse hair of his mustache scratching against your face and his tongue in your mouth until all that mattered to you was feeling him closer, feeling all of him.

He had taken you right there, with your panties pushed to the side and the neckline of your dress pulled down to reveal your tits to him. He had mouthed at the sensitive flesh while his cock plunged into your pussy, stretching your walls, making you whimper at all the sensations that washed over your body.

You were close to the edge when his movements slowed down, his breathless pants hitting your damp and heated skin. Your eyes had widened in mild surprise, taking in his flushed features, his hair turned into a sweaty mess by your hands.

“Need a break?” you had teased. “You’re losing your touch, Peña.”

You could almost see the way his eyes turned darker and his features hardened before he slid out of you and yanked you away from the wall, walking you into his living room.

That��s how you ended up where you are now, his cock hitting you from behind, reaching so deep inside of you that every thrust makes you see stars behind your eyelids.

“Fuck! Javi, please,” you manage to whine as your breath is repeatedly punched out of your lungs. You can already feel your orgasm, it’s so close, you can almost taste it on your tongue, a band waiting to snap.

“Losing my touch, huh?” he growls from behind you, reaching up to grab a fist of your hair, pulling you upwards while his other hand finds your tit again and pinches your nipple. His grunts in your ear drive you insane with want for him.

“N-no, I’m sorry, fuck-”

The different angle and the quick shot of pain from your breast set your body on fire and you clamp down hard around him as your orgasm breaks free and waves of pleasure crash over you. You think that you’re shaking in his hold, babbling an incoherent string of thank yous and his name while he fucks you through your high, never relenting in his thrusts, even when your orgasm subsides and you’re twitching away from the overstimulation.

“You’re gonna give me another one,” he demands, losing the grip on your hair and pushing your body forward again.

“Javi, I can’t, please,” you try to protest, but he sneaks a hand between your legs, slides through the slippery wetness and finds a home on your clit, rubbing slow circles over the sensitive spot. A shudder runs through you at the sensation.

“You want me to stop?” he asks, his tone making it abundantly clear that he already knows the answer.

“N-no,” you admit, your hips pushing back against his again, your body desperate for more.

“Then quit your whining and do as I said.” His voice is raspy; you know him well enough, have fucked him often enough to know that he’s close. His fingers on your clit speed up. “Give me another one.”

Before Javi, you wouldn’t have thought it possible to come that quickly twice in a row, but you’ve accepted some time ago that he has a power over your body that you’ll never understand.

It feels like only seconds until the sensation of his cock dragging through your pussy and his fingers on your clit build up again and bring you to your peak once more. You pulse around him, hoarse moans leaving your mouth while his hips still and he spills himself deep inside of you, his moans mixing with yours.

He pulls out gently and helps you into a standing position, leading you to sit on his couch and cleaning you up quickly.

You never linger after your visits to his place, always quick to slip back over to yours. It’s too much intimacy, too raw, just- too much.

It’s what you do now, heaving a sigh as you lean back against your closed door. You splash water on your face, trying to cool your body down. You’re gonna need another shower, feeling like you’re drenched in sweat, but first, another cigarette.

When you step out onto your balcony for the second time that day, Javi is already there on his side, still shirtless, blowing smoke into the dark night. You sit down on your chair and prop your feet up on the railing, the one that he’s leaning his back against, eyeing you.

Neither of you talk, but it’s nice, you think, not being so alone.

thank you so much for reading! if you liked this, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment, it always makes my day <3

[peachesofteal]

soap x cypher masterlist Soap/female reader You missed a check in / 18+ / Your Sergeant commits a war crime for you, hurt/comfort

"It's alright, Cy. It's jus' me. Ghost is standin' watch at the door."

He smoothes the bar of soap over your shoulder, easy and slow, telegraphing his movements the same way he'd try to calm a spooked horse, pressing into their flank with gentle, reassuring pressure. I'm here, his fingers tell you. I'm right here.

"What do ye mean, they missed a check in?"

Laswell, to her credit, is very calm. Always collected in the face of danger, turmoil, and she gestures to the screen, where a blueprint has been replaced with a map.

"They were due in at this checkpoint at 1300."

"Any contact?" Price tilts his head, studying the satellite imagery.

"No. The security detail's gps is showing stationary, but the other vehicle has started to move off course, north." Johnny feels sick. The other vehicle, the one Laswell is talking about, is the one you are in. The one carrying the two analysts and some cut rate american sergeant.

His chair clatters to the floor with bang, fists clenched so tight they shake.

"We'll get 'er, Johnny." Ghost promises, and Price nods, waving them out the door.

"Let's load up."

"I- I don't want to." He doesn't need a clarifying question to understand what you're talking about. He understands you. That's all he'll ever need.

"You dinnae have to. Keep 'em closed for me then, aye? I'll take care of everything." You're still wearing your pants, and your boots, even though the shower is washing water down your body, soaking them until they stick to your skin.

You whine. There are no words spoken, but you fingers twist in the pockets, the belt loops, and he knows.

"Alright, alright. Let's get these off then. I'm going to undo your button and zipper." He murmurs softly, stripping them down your ankles, goosebumps sprouting from your skin as the water splashes against you, raining down onto his hair. His clothes are soaked, stuck to his skin like tar, each flick of his wrist or pull of his arm heavier than usual. He kneels, one knee between your feet, and begins unlacing your boots. "Gonna take yer boots off, now. Then we'll get ye out of everything." You nod. "We'll get ye washed up in no time, get ye into some comfy clothes." He glances upwards, ensuring you heard him, and then taps your calf one by one, urging you to lift a foot at a time as you hold onto his shoulder for support. "There ye go, good girl." He praises once you're nude, rising back to his full height, bar of soap still in hand.

"Johnny." Your press into him, face in his neck, fisting the front of his jacket, trying to burrow yourself beneath his skin. It’s all wrong, how you drift so aimlessly into the ether of somewhere else, lost in the present, in the incendiary magma of a memory he wishes didn’t exist.

"Shhh, wee sweet. I've got ye. I'm here."

"Ye get yer filthy fuckin' hands off her RIGHT NOW." Johnny screams, gives the command at the top of his lungs, Kyle shooting him a nervous look over his scope.

"There's no need to get upset-"

"Shut up." Ghost grunts. "Let the analyst go, an' maybe we'll keep you alive as a prisoner." The woman shakes her head, and then shoves you forward, closer, but no father away from the barrel of her gun that rests right at your temple.

"She's my only leverage now." The body of your co-worker is crumpled on the concrete, blood spilled around him like a halo. Johnny's vision dims red.

"Ye dinnae ken who ye've got in your hands." He warns, a click echoing across the room.

Someone is trying to argue with Simon, just outside the door. Johnny can hear it, the frustrated tenor of someone who's about to make a terrible mistake, the irritated grumble that gets silenced immediately by Lt's bark, more than enough persuasion for them to move on to the next floor's showers.

"Cy?" He murmurs, but you don't respond, face still tucked in his clavicle. You've stayed there, curled up against him, letting him clean you, dirt and blood all washing down the drain as you kept your eyes closed and he re-inspected you for wounds. "I'm goin' take ye back to my room." He holds your upper arms, moving you in step with him, directing you out of the shower and onto the mat, where he reaches for the first of many towels, ghosting the texture across your shoulder, then your cheek, before using it as intended, wrapping it around your body and reaching for the next. It's all he can do now; take care of you, get you clean, get you comfortable, hold you while you sleep and stare at the ceiling, recounting every second of today, fixating on the pieces that could have gone wrong, that could have ended your life and lost you to him, forever.

"Cold." Your whisper redirects his attention. Reminds him of his focus.

"I know, is a wee bit, isnae it?" He brought a sweatshirt, one of his, and once he's got you mostly dry, he taps. "Arms up, wee sweet." When your head pokes through the hole, he smiles, even though your eyes are still closed. "There she is, mo ghraidh." Your pointer finger strokes over the middle of your forehead, circling as if you're outlining a target, and then traces up his neck, over his jaw and across his cheek, patting his lips. They curve beneath your touch, eager to do your bidding, pleased by your silent request. "Of course I'll give ye a kiss, Cy, give ye whatever ye want, always."

"Time's up. What's it gonna be?" Price demands, and the gun digs into the side of your head, forcing you downward at an odd angle, panic plainly displayed across your face.

"Johnny." Your voice sings like an off key chorus, an echo of voices too twisted, too shrill.

"It's alright Cy, nothin' is goin' happen to ye." The woman with the gun laughs. It's decadent, believable, like she truly thinks she's going to get away, or take you with her. "I'm goin' to kill ye." He promises. "Whether it's now, or later. It'l be me, wringing out yer last breath."

Her hand moves to your throat and squeezes.

It's enough. More than enough.

"Guess it'l be now, then." And with no announcement, no more second chances, no more second guessing- his finger pulls the trigger.

“You killed her.” Your whisper trembles in the dark. His muscle involuntarily tenses, and relaxes just as quickly, sinking into the mattress, pulling you tighter into his arms.

“An’ I’d do it again. I’d do it a thousand times over to save ye.”

[flemingsfreckles]

Better Boyfriend than Him (18+) pt. 5

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Read the 4 previous parts here

Warnings: SMUT (18+) frat boy Jessie vibes, oral sex (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), masturbation, sexting but not really

WC: 5.6k (she’s a little long)

A/N: I got a little carried away and this one ended up a little long.

Jessie 🦖: feel free to dream about me tonight when you go to sleep

Jessie 🦖: or when you’re touching yourself, I don’t mind ;)

Those texts started back at you as you looked at your phone. You couldn’t help but follow both of her texts, about thinking about her while you touched yourself and while you dreamed. You got home and almost immediately moved into your bedroom.

For a second, you debate taking a photo to send to Jessie, show her what she was missing by claiming she doesn’t fuck on the first date. You weren’t sure if that was too forward now that the mood seemed to shift from just sex to something more between the two of you. You decide to meet your idea halfway. You take your phone, open the camera and slide your right hand under your panties, just cupping your hand around yourself, not trying to get yourself off yet.

You snap a photo, before pulling back your phone to admire it. It just showed your bare stomach, starting at just above your belly button showing your hand creeping into your underwear, your legs spread. It’s telling enough without showing her anything too explicit. Without thinking too much about it you put it in a message to Jessie and hit send.

You: glad you don’t mind ;)

Jessie 🦖: holy shit

Jessie 🦖: I should’ve gone against my rule of not fucking on the first date

Jessie 🦖: maybe I can change my dating rules and fuck on the second date

Jessie 🦖: I don’t even date I don’t know why I have “rules”

The last text makes you laugh to yourself. Satisfied with her reaction, you get back to what you were doing. You hook your thumbs into your panties and slide them off your legs. Your hand returns between your legs, you slowly slide a finger between your folds, feeling how wet you had become at the thought of Jessie. She didn’t take much to get you worked up.

A couple minutes and a lot of thoughts about Jessie later, your orgasm takes over, lasting a few seconds, a whisper of Jessie’s name coming from your mouth. Sure, an orgasm was an orgasm but doing it yourself wasn't nearly as satisfying as letting Jessie do it.

Having followed one of her two instructions to think about her, you figured you may as well follow her second text and fall asleep thinking of her. Getting up you move to the bathroom, washing your hands before getting ready for bed.

Before you climb into bed you send her a quick goodnight text, you don’t get an immediate response and assume she has already fallen asleep. When you lay your head down on the pillow, thoughts of Jessie fill your mind. You wished she was next to you, her arms wrapped around you, holding you tight. Instead of listening to your fan, you wish it was the sound of her breathing putting you to sleep.

The next morning you’re woken up by a call from Jessie.

“Hi.” You’re half asleep when you answer the phone, voice still full of sleep. You clear your throat after hearing how your voice sounded.

“Hey, want coffee?” She sounded far too awake on a weekend, as if she had been up for hours already. It was Saturday so you both didn’t have any commitments to attend to. You glanced at the time, seeing it was still early part of you wanted to go back to sleep, fall back into your warm bed and into your dreams of Jessie. But seeing the girl in person would be even better, even if it meant dragging yourself out from the warmth of bed.

“You already know the answer to that.” You never turned down coffee.

“Okay. Can I pick you up in 20?”

“Is this your way of asking me on a date Fleming?”

“Maybe? Is that okay?” Her voice changes as she asks for confirmation.

“Yes, that’s perfect. I’ll see you in a bit.” Before you let her respond to you, you hang up and the line goes dead and you scramble out of bed throwing on a pair of jeans and pulling out a sweatshirt. It was cold out and you wanted to just throw on sweatpants and you would have on a regular trip to coffee with Jessie. Except now this was a date, you had to look nice.

You get distracted by brushing your teeth and hair, tidying up your room a bit. You end up forgetting to finish getting dressed. You had half a mind to make your bed, knowing there was a chance you’d be bringing back a guest later.

You hear, said expected guest, come through the door as you were still getting ready. Cursing yourself for not being ready you continue to rush around cleaning while yelling a greeting to her.

“Hi Jess!”

“Hi, can I come in?” You can hear her voice coming through your bedroom door. You open the door instead of answering. You’re only half dressed but you don’t care. Her eyes draw to your chest for a second where you had on a simple bra, nothing compared to the one you had worn the other day to tease her, she then looks up to your eyes. She realizes she was caught looking and just gives you a smile and greeting.

“Hi.”

You raise an eyebrow at her, “Are you saying hi to me or to my boobs?”

“Who says it can’t be both?” She argues your point. She’s wearing a red flannel over a plain sweatshirt and jeans. You half wish she had shown up in sweats and given you an excuse to also put them on but you also were pleased to see she was treating this as a date.

You grab your shirt and finish pulling it over your head and down your torso. “Considering someone doesn’t fuck on the first date, I don’t think you have the right to say hi to them.” You finish by throwing on your sweatshirt and walk past her out of your room and into the living room.

The two of you decide against walking to the coffee shop, usually you would if it wasn't too far but with the temperature and wind, you decided to hop in Jessie’s car and drive. A few minutes into the drive, Jessie’s hand comes across the center console, finding its place on your thigh. That’s new, you think to yourself but you don’t comment fearing you’ll scare her into moving her hand.

You walk into the coffee shop, it’s quiet, the majority of college students not yet awake at this hour on a Saturday. You both ordered your usual coffees, Jessie adding an extra shot of espresso to hers before offering to pay. It wasn’t uncommon for her to buy your coffee or for you to buy hers, you both traded off paying, it was easier than ordering separately. Knowing this was a date made watching her offer to pay feel different.

Watching Jessie as she sat across from you you could tell something was up with her. She wasn’t one to add extra caffeine into her coffee besides the standard, claiming anymore made her feel like she was vibrating. She usually wasn’t one to be up before 10 on the weekends. It was noticeable she was zoning out as well, staring off behind your head for periods of time before snapping back to focus on the two of you. She leaned back in her chair covering her mouth as she let out a big yawn.

“What's up with you today? Late night fucking your other girlfriend yesterday?” The sentence comes out more serious than you intended, your attempt at sarcasm completely missing.

“My other girlfriend? Are you claiming to be my first girlfriend?” She’s got one eyebrow raised at your sentence.

“Um. I didn't mean it like that,” You definitely didn't mean to call yourself her girlfriend, sure it had crossed your mind but now was not the time for that conversation. “I just meant that we’re dating.” That didn't help the point you were trying to make, you realize how much of a fool you were making of yourself. “Not that we're dating, like officially dating, but we’ve done on dates, well one date, besides today, this is two. I just meant, it was a joke.”

“Okayyy.” Jessie looks as if she's about to laugh. “Are you good?”

“Perfect, just we’re not girlfriends, I didn't mean for it to come off that way, I know we aren't anything officially.” If this was happening with anyone besides Jessie you would have ran out of the coffee shop by now and never shown your face again.

“We could be?” The words come out of Jessie’s mouth as both a question and a statement. For a second you think you must have heard her wrong. There’s no way miss ‘i dont date’ was already willing to commit to the girlfriend label after one official date.

“What?”

“Yeah that's actually what kept me up last night. It was you, not my other girlfriend.” she kicks you softly under the table. “I was just thinking. Thinking about you, well us.” She pauses, taking a sip of coffee, you can tell she has more to say. Staying silent you just watch her, giving her the space to talk.

“I’m going to need help though, I still really don't know what I’m doing as far as dating. I can't promise that I’ll be perfect, but I couldn't stop thinking about you last night and I haven't had that happen in years. And I’m still scared, not of you, just of how badly she messed me up, and I know you're not her, but I think I’m ready to try again.”

You knew what Jessie meant, bringing up her ex girlfriend and how she had messed her up. For the first few months of your friendship you never heard much about the girl, Lauren. Jessie would occasionally reference her ex, but never giving much detail. She finally spilled all of the details to you on the couch after a long night of drinking. Jessie told you all about the girl, how she was her first everything. First proper date, first kiss, first relationship, first sexual experience, first person she brought home to meet her parents, first and only person she had said I love you to, first person she pictured a future with, and ultimately her first heartbreak.

Lauren was older by a year and when she went off to college, they agreed to do long distance. It lasted for a couple months, going well, facetime calls and texts keeping the couple in touch and happily in a relationship. Or at least that's what Jessie thought until she took a surprise visit to see her then girlfriend. Jessie told you how Lauren had not seemed super excited to see her but she was still young and naive and thought nothing of it. She noticed Lauren’s behavior was different but figured that's just what happens when you go to college and get a taste of adulthood. Jessie only learned the truth when the two found themselves in bed later that day and Jessie removed Lauren’s shirt to find her then girlfriend covered in hickeys. It quickly came to light that Lauren had been cheating on Jessie since quite literally the first day she arrived at school. Their relationship ended following a screaming match between the two, breaking Jessie’s heart and wrecking her ability to trust people and future partners.

When she went to college a year later, Jessie wanted nothing to do with relationships, only wanting to have the same “fun” her ex had behind her back for months. She started sleeping around, enjoying her no strings attached lifestyle for the first few years, until now.

“I don’t expect you to be perfect.” Reaching across the table you put her hand on hers. You didn't want her to think you had insanely high expectations for this relationship. “I expect you to be how you already are, that's why I like you in the first place, because of how you are already, you don't need to change anything just because we change this from friendship to relationship. Except maybe more kissing than when we were just friends.”

“Okay.”

“So are you and I-”

“Does that me we-”

You both start your sentences only to fall silent once the other starts talking. You just sit and look at each other, waiting for the other to speak.

“Go ahead.” Jessie gestures toward you.

“So are you and I, like, dating then? Are we girlfriends?” This felt like the least romantic way you could be asking her to be your girlfriend but you weren’t sure Jessie would be interested in some form of big gesture to ask her.

“That’s what I was going to ask.” Part of you is relieved hearing she was on the same page. She didn’t date, you didn’t want to make her feel pressured.

“Is two dates too soon? I mean for someone who doesn’t date, that seems fast.”

“I don’t know, is it too fast?” Jessie gives you a shrug when she asks.

“I don’t know. It’s confusing. Because I already know you so well, so it feels different.” It was true you didn’t have to do all the pleasantries like you normally would on the first few dates. You didn’t have to ask if she had siblings, where she grew up, what major she was, what her favorite food was. All those details were already ingrained in your brain and that was nice but it was throwing off the usual dating timeline.

“I mean you said we could just do this how we want to, trial and error and all.”

“I’m gonna let you take the lead, if you want to make this formal, say we’re dating, that we’re a couple, I’m comfortable with that. But I’m also comfortable if you’re not ready for that, that’s okay, we can just keep doing what we’re doing.”

Jessie takes a second to ponder your options. Her hands spin her empty coffee cup around, she’s looking down at it. It’s as if she zones out for a minute, her eyes not blinking as she stares down. After what feels like an hour to you, she gives her head a shake and blinks a couple of times before looking up at you from across the table.

“I’m ready to make it formal.” She gives a soft nod with her response.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

You both sit, grinning at each other from across the table. You’re filled with a warm, glowing feeling looking at her. Someone who was just your best friend a few weeks ago had suddenly become so much more than that, it was perfect.

You finish up for coffee, putting out your hand to take Jessie’s empty from her. You throw out your empty cups and return to the table.

“Do you want to come over for the rest of the day?” It’s silly to ask, Jessie probably already assumed she’d be coming over like she usually did but you felt the need to ask her anyway.

With a nod and a quiet “yes” Jessie stands up, grabbing her keys from the table and follows you out of the coffee shop and to her car. Almost immediately after sitting down in the car, Jessie’s hand is back on your thigh, this time it sits more on the inside and higher up. Her hand on the ride to coffee had sat in a more appropriate location, more of a reassuring touch. Now her hand gripped your thigh in a more possessive, bordering sexual manner. You could feel her fingers flex and tighten on you as she drove.

When you got home you told Jessie you were going to change, not wanting to be in jeans all day. You throw on some soft shorts, made out of an old pair of sweatpants that you had cut. They weren’t the most flattering for your figure but they were comfortable. When you emerge from your bedroom Jessie is on the couch. She looks up at you, giving you a glance head to toe and a quick smile. You move over to the couch, picking up a book on the way over.

You sat in a comfortable silence with Jessie on the couch, your calves and feet placed comfortably in her lap. She sat on her phone, probably playing some mind numbing game, while you read. It wasn’t anything special but having the peaceful morning with her was the best start to a weekend you had had in a while.

With a sigh Jessie put down her phone, her hands coming to rest on your shins instead. Peering over the book you look at her, confused if the sigh she gave was one of content or unrest. She looked relaxed, looking forward out the window, a small smile on her face, so you went back to reading. You were only able to focus for a couple more paragraphs before you felt her hands start to move.

Not wanting to give her the satisfaction of how easily she could affect you, you kept your eyes down at the text in front of you. You weren’t able to actually focus on the words but you could pretend for a bit. Jessie’s hands crept up, making it past your knees and onto your thighs. She was having to lean over slightly in your direction to keep moving her hand upward.

She shifts again, taking away one hand and leaving the one closest to you, her movement allowing her to have even further reach, dipping between your shorts and your skin.

“Jessie,” you say as her hand creeps up your thigh even higher, her fingers finding where the edge of your underwear sat in the crease of your thigh and hip.

“What?” She gives you a smile playing dumb.

“You know what, don’t play dumb with me, I know you’re trying to tease me, so just do it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” As she says it she lets her hand slide into the inner most part of your thigh, her pinky moves out to slide across your core with feather light pressure you barely even notice her movement.

“Your girlfriend is asking you to fuck her, are you going to do something or not?”

Uncharacteristically, Jessie’s face turns bright red at your comment. Her hand freezes against you.

“Um, yeah, right.” You notice an uncertainty in her voice, her eyes no longer meet yours, she looks off behind your head to the wall.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah just, girlfriend, isn't something I’m used to hearing.”

“If you’re having second thoughts about this, we really can wait on labeling it Jessie. I don't mind waiting. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s just new for us. Not bad, just different. I haven’t heard that word used since… Lauren.” Jessie lets her name fall from her lips as if it’s poisoned, she says it quickly and quietly.

You cringe slightly at the mention of her ex, not really an ideal thing to be brought up when she’s got her hand touching your pussy through your panties.

Jessie must have noticed your reaction to the mention of Lauren. “Sorry I don’t mean to keep bringing her up, it’s just the only comparison I have.”

“No I know, it’s okay, I understand, just I don’t want to necessarily hear about another girl you’ve fucked while your hand is between my legs.”

“I’m sorry, let me make it up to you?” As she says the words she moves her head, letting her lips meet your neck, placing open mouth kisses down from just behind your ear to where your neck meets your shoulder. Your mouth falls open at the feeling of hers on your neck, a breathy sigh leaving your body.

Jessie stands up from the couch, pulling you to stand with her. She turns to face you and picks you up, her hands roughly gripping the back of your thighs as she moves the two of you to your bedroom. She places you softly on the bed, climbing to place herself above you.

She’s hovering close, holding herself up on her forearms so her face is just inches from yours. She hovers above you for just a second before sitting back and moving her hands to your shirt.

“Off?” You loved that even though it was very clear you wanted her, Jessie still took the time to check with you before she would undress you or do anything to your body.

You sit up, throwing your arms up above your head to let Jessie know you wanted your top off. You get your arms out of the shirt and while Jessie pulls it over your head, your own hand moves to your back finding your bra clasp and releasing it. You slide the straps down your arms. Jessie’s hand comes up, resting the valet of your breasts and she gives you a push, making you lay back down. She moves her hand to cup your chest, her thumb and index finger making their way to your nipple, giving it a soft touch before a firm pinch. Her other hand moves to support her body and she moves back to being face to face with you, she just looks at you, a cocky smile on her face.

“Kiss me!” Sick of her teasing you decide to just tell her what you want. She obliges, bringing her lips to yours in a searing kiss. It doesn’t take long for her tongue to brush against your lips. You feel her grind her hips against yours, causing a moan to find its way out between kisses.

Wanting to take a bit of control for once, you gently bite on Jessie’s bottom lip, pulling away from the kiss, her lip still between your teeth. You give it a firmer bite before releasing it, letting it pop back against her teeth. Her fingers pinch your nipple harder out of reaction to your bite.

You open your eyes to see her surprised reaction.

“That was hot.” Her eyes are wide as she stares down at you, her own teeth now biting her bottom lip.

“Just giving you a taste of your own medicine.” You try to give her your best innocent look, as if you didn’t know you were turning her on.

She switches her hands, giving your other nipple the same treatment. Feeling a loss from her hand, you bring your own hand up to your chest, mimicking her actions on the nipple she had abandoned.

“No.” Jessie is quick to grab your wrist, pinning it to the pillow above your head. “You don’t get to touch right now, let me please you.” She moves down so her lips brush your ear. “You can show me how you touch yourself another time.” That sends a wave of heat through your body, the thought of showing Jessie how you had touched yourself all the times you thought of her. You get lost in the thought of that fantasy for a minute before you’re brought back to reality with Jessie’s mouth closing around your right nipple, her hand still playing with your left. She stays focused on your chest, biting, squeezing, kissing, sucking until you’re practically thrusting up at her with your hips, desperate for contact. You knew when she took off your shorts there would be a noticeable wetness in your underwear, you could feel it dripping from where you needed Jessie the most.

“Someone’s getting impatient.” Jessie laughs to herself, you give her a scowl, but she gives in, her hands finding where your shorts sat on your hips and she hooks her fingers in the waistband, looking up at you for consent. You lift your hips, nonverbally telling her to take them off. Much to your disappointment she only starts to remove your shorts. She has them just at your knees when you figure you may as well ask.

“Take it all off please.”

“Wow, really impatient aren’t we?”

“Yes, I need you Jessie.”

You hear a soft mutter of “fuck” leave Jessie mouth, you’re not entirely sure she meant to say it, more that it was the reaction to you using her name. You’re not sure she’s going to give in, her hand stalling where they held your shorts. She starts moving again, finishing pulling off your shorts. Before you can protest that she left your panties, the thumbs are in the waistband of them, pulling them down quickly.

Once she finishes removing your underwear she sits back. Her hands find your inner thighs and she spreads your legs, leaving you fully exposed under her gaze. As if she hadn’t just exposed your dripping pussy, she looks away from where you desperately needed her. Jessie’s hands come up to hold you right above your waist. Her thumbs caress the skin where they sat, rubbing back and forth. Her gaze is all over your body, looking at every inch of your exposed skin.

“You look so pretty like this.” You feel a blush start at your cheeks and move down your chest as she studies your naked body. She’d seen you like this before, but it felt like the first time she was really looking at you, seeing you. There was a different admiration in her eyes, mixed with the lust you had come to know. “All mine.”

“Only yours.” You tell her when her eyes make their way up from your navel to your chest and to meet your own gaze.

Jessie pulls her hand from your waist, letting her fingers trail a path down to the apex of your legs. Despite your legs already being open, you spread them further, encouraging Jessie to touch you.

“Fuck, baby.” The noise comes out deep and raspy from her mouth as Jessie’s fingers finally feel between your legs where your arousal had pooled. Jessie then looks at you, her fingers stalling their movements, her voice returning to her regular voice, not the same husky voice form before. “Is baby okay? We didn’t really talk about that.”

“Yeah, I like it.” You did, you liked it when she called you her’s a second ago and you liked the pet names.

Jessie fingers get back to their movements. She moves two fingers down to your entrance, gathering some of your slick and pulling it upward before she starts circling your clit. Her touch has you throwing back your head against the pillow.

“You’re so fucking wet.” Jessie hums in your ear and her fingers continue to tease your clit, circling around it and down to your opening.

“All because of you babe.” You groan back in her ear. It was true, you were never this wet when you touched yourself, or when anyone else had ever touched you, you were only like this with her, because of her.

Each time she would move her fingers toward your entrance she’d dip into you, just barley letting her fingers inside before she’d pull back and move up to where you were most sensitive.

Getting impatient again, when her hand makes the move back down to your entrance you try grabbing her hand, trying to push her fingers further inside of you.

“What are you doing?” Jessie stalls her hand, she was stronger than you and as much as you were trying, you weren’t able to overpower her and her fingers remained just outside.

“You’re taking too long.”

“You could’ve just said something.” You rolled your eyes at her, you knew she was joking, you hadn’t explicitly said you wanted her fingers in you but you figured the displeased moans every time she pulled back and the bucking of your hips when she’d get close was enough to give the hint.

You go to make a smart comment back but as you open your mouth, two of Jessie’s fingers slide into you, she pushes in until her fingers are fully inside. Instead of a sentence, a loud moan comes out.

“Is that what you wanted?” Jessie moves so that she’s laying between your legs now, her cheek resting on the inside of your thigh, her eyes look between where her fingers were buried in your pussy and where your mouth was hung open, your eyes closed in pleasure.

“Mmhm.” The murmur is all you’re able to get out, overwhelmed from the sudden sensation of her fingers opening you.

Jessie begins to move her fingers the same methodical curling she had done to you before. Already worked up from the teasing you knew it wouldn’t be long before you were clenching on her fingers. You have your eyes closed, focusing on the feeling of her fingers, both trying not to cum too quickly but also wanting to let the feeling fully take over your body.

With your eyes closed you don’t see Jessie moving to place her mouth on your clit, you only feel it once her tongue is lapping against you. Instinctively your hand moves to her head, gripping her hair as you sit up slightly to look at her. Her eyes are closed, as if she’s fully concentrating on making you feel good. The sight of her so focused between your legs makes your stomach clench and you feel yourself tighten on her fingers.

“Jessie, please.”

She hums in response against your pussy, that’s all you need as you feel your legs tense and your grip in her hair tightening.

“Fuck babe.” You groan as you cum on her fingers and lips. Her fingers continue pumping inside of you, working you through your orgasm until your own fingers come to push on her wrist silently telling her you were done. She slowly pulls her fingers from you, you watch as a string on your arousal connects them to you for a second before it breaks. Looking at you then to her fingers Jessie spreads them slightly, you can see the wetness that connect her fingers. She makes sure you’re watching as she brings her fingers to her lips, sucking them slowly between her lips.

It’s an erotic sight, your newly named girlfriend, sucking off her own fingers that were covered in your orgasm. It stirred something deep inside of you. You wanted to fuck Jessie, you wanted to return the favor, you wanted to be sucking her arousal off your fingers, but you weren’t sure how.

You weren’t sure how to ask, and even if you found the courage to ask, you weren’t sure what to do. You had always thought about sleeping with a girl, girls were hot, you were attracted to women, you just had never gotten around to acting on it, the fear of being considered a “virgin” as far as sleeping with women had kept you from trying any casual hookups. But now you were dating Jessie, that was different than a casual hookup.

While you were too busy hyper fixated on your lack of sexual experience with women, Jessie had made her way up to lay next to you. She was watching your face and you were staring off to the wall.

She placed a kiss to your forehead. You could smell the strong smell of yourself still on her face. She pulled back looking down at you. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you thinking about?” Here it was the perfect time to bring it up, she was asking, there was no pressure, no expectations.

“Nothing.” That was the easy route, not telling her, letting your concerns and fears stay in the back of your mind. You could fake like you knew what you were doing.

“Seriously? You weren’t allowed to lie to me when we were just friends, we’re dating now so you’re really not allowed to lie to me.” She knew you too well, knew when you were lying, she knew when you were overthinking.

“Are you ever going to want me to touch you?” For the second time today your words come out not in the way you wanted. You meant to ask differently, in a way that was less accusatory, less hostile.

“Oh.” Jessie looks like she regrets pushing on the lie before. “I, yes, I just, I haven’t let anyone touch me besides…” you get the hint that she was referring to Lauren as she lets her sentence trail off.

“Oh.” You don’t mean for it to come off negatively, that was just your initial reaction.

“Yeah, and then after her I just, I didn’t want to trust anyone with my body like that again, I was, I’m worried about giving that vulnerability to someone just for them to ruin me again, to betray my trust.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” It’s all you can think to say. You now felt like a dick for wanting to see her naked. While you were too caught up in never having been on the giving side of sapphic sex, here was your girlfriend with more real, genuine concerns.

“It’s okay, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it, I just couldn’t bring myself to. It’s embarrassing.” Her eyes move from your face to the blanket covering the both of you.

You reach a hand out to her cheek. “It’s not embarrassing babe.” You place a kiss on her nose. “We can do this at whatever pace you want, you just tell me.”

“Okay.” Jessie gives you a halfhearted smile.

“I’m going to go shower, is that okay?” You start to move from the bed, still completely naked. You’re about to move into the bathroom when you hear Jessie speak up from behind you.

“Can I join you?”

[wileys-russo]

washing machine malfunction II m.earps x reader

based on this request here washing machine malfunction II m.earps

"taking footage to scout with are you?" your best friend teased as you filmed a clip of the game, smacking her knee and sending her a playful glare. "no! proving to mary i sat through the entire game." you quipped back, sending the video to your girlfriend and pocketing your phone.

"oh sorry are we not up to your standards? do you only watch games at old trafford or wembley now?" your best friend cooed pinching your cheek sharply. "yes actually, or at least where they have actual toilet blocks and not portaloos." your face scrunched up with disgust.

"hey if you'd like to donate some money toward that we'd be very grateful, not every womens team gets funding you know." your best friend huffed as you frowned and squeezed her knee.

"i'm only teasing. you know i'm happy to be here, just wish i was watching you yell at people on the pitch and not at me for once!" you sighed as the girl scoffed and smacked you, she was normally the captain but was out in a boot having sprained her ankle last week.

"so where are you coming on the table?" you clarified, eyes set back on the match unfolding in front of you. "third, but its only the fourth round of the season. lots can change!" the brunette admitted as the two of you fell into a comfortable silence.

"okay no offence to you and your entire team but your keeper kept you all alive this game, it should be 5-0." you whistled as the second half started to wind down.

"of course you favour the keeper, what a shock!" your best friend drawled sarcastically with a roll of her eyes as the whistle blew for full time and a 0-0 draw.

"hey just because my girlfriend is a golden glove holding, bbc sports personality of the year winning, world cup finalist and champion of europe with a tram named after her doesn't mean im bias to keepers!" you grinned holding your hands up as your best friend rolled your eyes.

"oh but you don't brag about her right." the girl mocked with a pout as your grin grew. "only to those who have no choice but to listen, i'd like to see you try and run away from me." you gently nudged your toe against her moon boot as she shoved you.

"you know you could always play with us next season! reallyyy make the girlfriend proud, i can see mary being a very loyal wag." the girl teased as you laughed sarcastically. "you couldn't afford my salary." you shrugged with a click of your tongue.

"more like we couldn't afford your two left feet and lack of hand eye coordination." the girl snickered gesturing for you to help her up. "yeah that too." you had no choice but to agree with a grimace, tugging her up and carefully helping her down toward the barrier.

you stood by as she gave a speech, commending the girls on their efforts as your phone buzzed and you looked down with a smile seeing it was a few messages from your girlfriend.

"god you're so in love its disgusting, get a grip!" you glanced back up and pocketed your phone, playfully punching your best friend in the arm as you waited for her to finish speaking with some of her team, having driven her to the game.

"you can tell us all about what we did wrong at training! stop making your poor mate wait around for you to run your mouth." the keeper from the game warned with a grin as she joined the small huddle you were in.

"you were perfect as per usual, only feedback is maybe score from the box next time? make the game a little spicy!" your best friend teased the taller girl who rolled her eyes. "no seriously you played great! that dive in injury time was textbook and that penalty save? world cup stuff." you complimented with a wide smile.

"and she'd know, her girlfriends played in one so thats high praise." your best friend interjected shoving your head playfully. "wait seriously? talk about a dream!" the girl exhaled with a whistle and a grin.

"well then since you clearly have a good eye for talent-" the girl paused to tug off her jersey, handing it to you with a grin before hugging the girls goodbye and heading off. "we best be off to, i'll see you all monday. i'll bring my whistle!" your best friend teased as the girls groaned, you waving goodbye as the two of you headed off to your car.

"i'd be leaving that in the car if you know whats good for you." your best friend nodded to the jersey on your back seat as you pulled a face and started up the car. "what! why?" you laughed as you drove off.

"umm because your girlfriend is a world class keeper and you just took a keepers jersey from someone else." your best friend hinted. "mary won't care! she's all for more girls wanting to be keepers and she loves the womens game." you rolled your eyes as your best friend only hummed, swiftly changing topics.

~

"maz? baby i'm home!" you called out as you let yourself in, unwrapping your scarf and hanging it up on the hook. "two seconds love!" you heard your girlfriend call out from the laundry as you took off your shoes.

"hello beautiful!" the brunette appeared with a grin, placing down a basket of clean laundry on the sofa and opening her arms as you melted into them. "you smell nice." you mumbled into her shoulder making the taller girl laugh.

"ah yes the wonders of soap and shampoo!" the keeper teased, kissing you hello before pulling away. "and she's doing laundry? house wife in the making over here!" you teased, smacking her playfully on the bum with a wink.

"oi! watch it cheeky." mary warned with a point, sitting down on the sofa as you leant over the back of it to peck her lips several times. "whats that babe?" mary noticed the jersey tucked into the back of your pants as you walked into the kitchen.

"oh! well the keeper of saf's team is like insane for the league level they play. i'm serious it could have been like twenty to nothing if she wasn't on her game. we were talking after the game and she gave me her jersey!" you shrugged, dropping the item onto the counter as you rummaged through the fridge, missing the look which crossed your girlfriends face.

"oh? thats nice." mary replied bluntly as you glanced at her with a small frown. "yeah it was." you shrugged it off, grabbing it and tossing it into the dirty basket of laundry.

"how was your afternoon?" you changed topics, grabbing out the stuff to make you and mary a cup of tea. "yeah fine, went shopping with tooney and had to make a last minute excuse to leave because she takes forever! so on the rare chance she asks, you're deathly ill and needed me back home." mary groaned dramatically, head thumping back against the sofa.

"like worse than you and thats saying something!" mary tutted as you made a noise of offence. "hey! if i have to sit in a sports store for two hours while you try on every fucking pair of gloves known to man and then buy none of them, you can carry my bags and sit on a comfy little waiting chair while i try a few outfits." you warned seriously as your girlfriend held her hands up in surrender.

"especially when some of those 'outfits' i spend hours trying on are for you." you hinted, handing her the mug of tea as a smug smile settled on the keepers lips.

"mm yeah we haven't been that sort of shopping for awhile, you free tomorrow baby?" mary grinned wolfishly as you flipped her off and settled into the section of the sofa that wasn't covered in laundry and flicking on the tv.

~

"change, put this on please babe." mary tugged on the bottom of your shirt, dropping a new item of clothing onto your head. "urgh mary!" you huffed, pulling it off and sending her a glare as she grinned at you with a mouthful of toothpaste.

"why do i need to change?" you noticed what she'd given you and asked with a knowing smile. "i don't like that shirt." mary shrugged pointing to your current top with her foot as she sat up on the counter brushing her teeth.

"its your shirt!" you laughed with a shake of your head. "then i want it back, so change." mary ordered, leaning over the sink and spitting. "what if i don't want to wear this?" you egged her on, holding up the jersey inbetween your fingers like it disgusted you.

"then go pick another one, theres about twenty or so in there you can choose from." mary shrugged nodding to her side of the closet where the jerseys she'd chosen to keep over the years hung proudly, rinsing out her mouth and stepping out of the bathroom.

"mmm i actually think i might go put on that jersey from today, saf's team just played so well." you stripped off your top and took a few steps back, watching your girlfriends eyes drop immediately to your chest.

"you know on second thoughts love i actually don't think you need to wear anything at all." you laughed as mary tackled you to the bed, attacking your face with kisses as you squealed and pushed her off. "you hate that i took that girls jersey today don't you?" you moved to sit on top of her with a grin.

"no!" mary rolled her eyes, reaching out for you as you grabbed her hands and pressed them into the mattress. "yes you are, admit it. you hate it, the thought of me wearing someone elses kit!" you teased with a smirk, pressing down her hands harder.

"okay well can you blame me? you're my girlfriend and you wear my jersey. nobody elses!" mary huffed with a frown as you smiled and leant down to kiss away her pout. "you're such a baby, its adorable." you mumbled against her lips.

"i am not! god you're such a wind up." mary pulled her hands free and flipped the two of you, hovering over you now as she ducked her head and started to gently kiss at your neck.

"and tomorrow the washing machine is going to malfunction and that girls jersey will sadly be gone."

[munsoninthedark86]

We'd Catch The Rainbow(Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader)

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, creampie finish, swearing, mentions of smoking weed, use of the word "daddy" pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader word count: o.7k a/n: well, here is a little something after being gone for so long. I hope I'm not as rusty as I think I am. Also requests are open!

He pumps into you, his mouth hot and wet as he leaves open-mouthed kisses on your neck and bare chest. It feels like it’s been so long since you two have had this privacy and intimacy. All it took was a little weed and that look in your eyes. That’s when Eddie had guided you to the nearest bedroom. Your clothes came flying off along with his own.

“Shit,” he moans against your sweat slicked skin. “Missed my baby girl so much.”

You both look down to where he’s pumping into you, his cock filling up that tight cunt. He’s almost too excited by all of this. He slows down his pace, his ringed fingers coming up to press against your face as he cups your cheeks. You let out a muffled moan when his tongue slides into your mouth. It’s been way too long since he’s fucked you.

“Missed you too, my Eddie bear.”

He laughs softly at your cute nickname for him. You’re always so sweet and so kind to him. That’s what attracted him to you at first. Your kind and sweet nature made him crazy for you. You showed him softness he hadn’t felt in years. And now with you under him, your legs wrapped around him, he’s falling for you all over again. Who would have thought a few months away while you were gone on summer vacation would make him so needy for you?

Your hands reach up to brush some of his hair out of his face, and he leans in to kiss you. His kisses always leave you so breathless. Your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest. He laughs again when he nips at your bottom lip and it makes you squeal. He loves hearing those cute little noises coming from you.

“You’re driving me so fucking crazy, baby.” He growls in your ear. “Shouldn’t have let my little cutie go away on vacation.”

His big hands push your knees towards your chest, burying himself even deeper into your tight cunt. You’re both left panting and gasping as the new position brings you both different sensations. You feel even more full of his cock, if that’s even possible. Your mind starts going blank as Eddie begins snapping his hips harder and faster. It’s like he can’t get enough of you even if he tries. He wants to be so deep inside of you. It’s the only way he feels like he can be completely close to you.

“Wish I didn’t have to go,” you breathe out as he slams himself into you. “But ‘m back now, honey…”

He drives himself into you over and over, relishing in the way your pussy squelches from being so wet. He looks down to see how there’s a creamy, frothy ring of your juices coating the base of his cock. It’s almost pornographic to him to watch himself fuck you. It’s better than any video he’s ever seen. It’s better than any picture he’s seen in a magazine.

“You’re fucking squeezing my cock so good,” he whimpers. His balls are drawing up as he feels his orgasm nearing.

Eddie doesn’t want this to end just yet. He wants you to cum as well. He knows if he works this out just right, you’ll both fall off the edge together. You watch through hooded eyes as he brings his thumb to his lips and licks it. Then he presses it to your swollen nub, rubbing it at the same pace as he fucks himself into you. Your eyes roll back in your head as you feel the fire in your belly being stoked even more than before.

“That’s my good girl,” Eddie praises you. “Cum on my cock, babygirl. Come on, cum for daddy.”

That’s all it takes for you to fall off the edge. Your gummy walls begin contracting around him as you cling to him. Your voice is shaky as you moan and whine his name. Eddie throws his head back as the pleasure washes over him as well. His orgasm hits him hard, making him grow weak in the arms and legs. He has to hold himself up as best as he can as his cock throbs inside of you, painting your insides white. 

Slowly, he comes to a stop and he rests his head on your chest. You begin playing with his hair and rubbing his back soothingly. You never want this moment to end. It’s a beautiful silence despite your ragged breaths as you try to catch your breath. Eddie chuckles softly as he finally lifts his head and kisses you so deeply and so sweetly.

“Damn baby,” he says between pants. “You know I’m not going to let you go for a long time, yeah?”