#I have a direct view of it from my bedroom window

[snittygoop]

They’re trimming and cutting my favorite trees. Why must they take away my small joys 😞

[wickedghxst]

i miss my backyard. i miss my patio. i miss going outside to take the trash out.

[smileysuh]

fuck your ex

🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol & Kim Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “Cuddles don’t hurt either,” Mingyu muses, pulling you to his chest. “If we get to your bedroom and you decide you just want someone to be with, I’m not going to pressure you. I know I said the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, but, skin to skin contact - even if it’s not sexual - can be an amazing way to get over an ex too.”

tw/cw. Protected sex, unprotected sex, pussy eating, fingering, hand job, dry humping, grinding, foreplay, threesome, bathroom sex, using a shower head as a vibrator, multiple sex scenes, multiple reader orgasms, slight cum kink, Cheol cum’s on reader’s chest, size kink, dirty talk, praise, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 7.3k 

🍭 aus. Non idol au, cop au, poly au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I know cops are a touchy subject, but I've had this idea for months, and I figured it's fan fiction so hopefully it's just a fun au :)

Prologue

You’re so busy blasting nostalgic break-up music that you’re not paying attention to how fast you’re driving down the speedway. The loud Kelly Clarkson song drowns out your sorrows, but it doesn’t drown out the sound of the siren when a Police car lights up behind you.

“Fuck!” you scream, immediately turning down your stereo and pulling over onto the shoulder of the road.

Your heart is racing in your chest- being pulled over isn’t something you’re used to, and you fumble to roll your window down while two cops exit their vehicle and approach.

You wipe at your eyes, which are tearing up again, and you reach for your purse to pull out your license.

The man standing next to your window leans down to look at you, and you try to flash him a smile. His expression is cold, blank even. “Do you know how fast you were going?” he asks.

Now, your heart sinks. It’s such a direct question, and for some reason it makes you snap. You can feel tears begin to roll down your cheeks, your skin heating in embarrassment at having been caught doing something wrong.

“Officer- I’m so sorry, I don’t know how fast I was going- I just broke up with my stupid ex-boyfriend, and I was listening to some breakup music to distract myself from how I’m feeling, and I wasn’t paying attention-”

The second cop pulls up to your window, and the two of them exchange a glance while you cry and blab your reasoning behind doing something wrong.

“Are you headed home?” the second officer, whose nametag reads ‘KIM’, asks. 

“Yeah, I just went to get a bottle of wine, and now I’m going home to drink and watch movies and cry myself to sleep,” you admit, voice shaky.

“Have you had anything to drink tonight?”

“No, sir.” 

The first officer, ‘CHOI’, sighs, and you see him scan the surrounding freeway. “We’re going to let you off with a warning,” he says finally. “It’s late, there’s hardly anyone driving right now- you were doing the wrong thing by speeding, but it sounds like your day is already pretty shit as it is.”

“Really?” You blink up at him, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “No ticket?”

“No ticket,” Choi confirms. “But don’t get caught doing this sort of thing again.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“Good luck with your wine and your movies,” Kim nods, and with that, the two officers go back to their vehicle.

You wait patiently, watching them in your rear-view mirror as they pull out and drive past you. Only then do you release a deep breath.

One

“Oops!” You let out a squeak as you turn from the bartop and nearly run straight into someone. Your drink sloshes over the edge of your glass, coating your fingers in fruity liquid.

“My bad,” the tall man immediately apologizes, steadying you with a hand on your hip.

Your eyes meet, and your heart leaps into your throat. It’s not common to see men who are this attractive out and at bars-

“Wait, have we met before?” he asks, brows furrowing in confusion.

“I’d remember if we had,” you retort quickly.

The man cocks his head to the side, and after a moment of studying you, his face lights up. “Wait, I remember! You’re that chick we caught speeding two or three months back! The one who’d just had a breakup!” 

Your eyes widen as the memory washes over you. As you look up at this tall man, you realize he’s right. You hadn’t recognized him at first, without his officer hat and uniform he looks much more boyish.

“I’m Mingyu,” the large man says, holding out a hand. Without a second thought, you shake it,  which is when you remember your skin is still sticky from your spilled drink. 

“Shit, sorry-” you apologize. 

Mingyu only laughs. “You’re still a bit of a hot mess, aren’t you?”

“Unfortunately,” you agree with a sigh.

“Are you here with people?” he asks next, looking around. 

“Waiting on some friends.”

“Want to come join me and Cheol for a bit while you wait?”

“I really couldn’t-” you try to side step the question, but Mingyu insists, and soon, you find yourself seated at a table with the two sexy cops who had let you off with a warning three months ago. 

“This is the chick who was speeding, the Kelly Clarkson break-up one,” Mingyu introduces you to his buddy, and you watch recognition blossom over his face. 

“Y/N,” you correct, swallowing thickly. “My name is Y/N.”

“Seungcheol,” the stoic cop says, introducing himself. “How’ve you been?”

“Better than that night,” you admit, feeling a little off that they’re so interested in you.

“You’d be surprised how often we pull over girls for speeding after rough breakups,” Mingyu tells you, easing your anxiety a bit. “It must have been a pretty shitty split to have been driving the way you were.”

“It was bad,” you admit with a frown. “In fact… I still don’t think I’m fully over it.”

You’re not sure what’s come over you, what’s bewitched you to the point where you’re divulging your personal secrets to two strangers, and cops no less-

“Fuck your ex,” Seungcheol grunts, taking a sip of his beer.

Mingyu nods. “Fuck your ex.”

You swallow thickly, lifting your drink. “Fuck my ex.” 

You wish your voice sounded more confident, but Mingyu flashes you a smile regardless, clinking his beer to your cocktail. 

Your shoulders relax a little as you sip on your drink, and Mingyu begins asking you very surface-level questions. It’s clear he’s doing his best to make you feel welcome while you wait for your friends, who arrive after about fifteen minutes of chat.

“Well, my girls are here,” you announce.

“Shame, we were enjoying your company,” Seungcheol muses, and his words make your skin heat. He’s quiet, or at least, not as much of a talker as Mingyu is- 

“Hey listen,” Mingyu distracts you, pulling out a pen and paper, where he begins to scribble a few numbers, “you know what they say, the best cure to get over someone is to get under someone else. If you ever need one of us, or both, shoot us a text or something.”

You’re in complete shock as he hands you the slip of paper, wherein two phone numbers and names are written. 

“Are you…” you swallow thickly, looking between the men, “is this kind of behavior allowed from cops?”

Mingyu flashes you a wink. “We’re off duty.” 

Two

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you admit, opening the door to your apartment, allowing Mingyu inside.

He only chuckles, pulling you into a hug. You let out a breath, relaxing against his chest. Once you feel a little more settled he releases you, pinching your cheek gently, in a shockingly affectionate way. “You’re getting over your ex,” Mingyu says softly. “Everyone needs to take that step sometime, I’m just glad you reached out to me instead of some tinder dick head.”

“Yeah, cuz a cop is so much better than some online random,” you roll your eyes.

“I’m definitely better than some online random,” he agrees. 

“This isn’t very cop like of you,” you point out, watching Mingyu remove his jacket.

“I’m not just my profession,” Mingyu says smoothly. “I’m a hot blooded male, and you’re a cute girl who needs some rescuing.”

You cock a brow, amused. “Rescuing?” 

“Uh huh.”

“And you’re going to rescue me with what? Your cock?” You’re giggling already, and Mingyu joins in.

“Cuddles don’t hurt either,” Mingyu muses, pulling you to his chest. “If we get to your bedroom and you decide you just want someone to be with, I’m not going to pressure you. I know I said the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, but, skin to skin contact - even if it’s not sexual - can be an amazing way to get over an ex too.”

You can’t help yourself, you lean forward, going on your tiptoes to press your lips to Mingyu’s. He kisses you back immediately, cupping your cheek with one large hand. It’s a gentle kiss, the kind of kiss that tells you you’re safe, and you realize how right Mingyu is- maybe you just needed a companion, someone to distract you from how lonely single nights can be.

Even so, the two of you make your way to your bedroom, and you find yourself shockingly shy as you invite Mingyu into your bed.

You’re in comfy clothes, but Mingyu isn’t, and he toys with the hem of his shirt as you get under your covers. “Should I take this off?” he asks.

“Whatever you want,” you agree, watching him carefully.

“I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he explains.

“It won’t,” you tell him, in fact, you’re curious as to what he looks like under his shirt.

A minute later, you’re rewarded by getting a full view of Mingyu’s beautiful body. He’s all muscle, but it’s not the kind of muscle you gain just in a gym. No, Mingyu has a work hardened physique, what some might identify as practical muscle, and it’s clear he doesn’t skimp on food either. He’s perfectly built, you decide, as he gets into bed next to you, immediately pulling you to his broad chest.

You release a deep breath, one you didn’t know you’d been holding.

A large hand strokes along your back, and Mingyu gives you space to just be quiet and enjoy his presence. 

Finally, though, you get to the point where you can’t contain yourself any longer. You look up at him, and Mingyu mirrors the motion. It’s like he can already read you, and you wonder if that’s due to him having a lot of experience with girls, or psychological cue reading as a cop. Either way, he leans down to kiss you, and you melt into it, letting out a pleased groan.

Mingyu returns the sound with one of his own, his tongue gliding across your lip. You open up for him, shifting so you’re half on his chest while the kiss deepens. Mingyu’s hands find your waist, and he pulls you fully on top of him, your knees digging into the mattress on either side of his hips.

It’s been so long since you kissed someone, but your body easily picks up the natural instinct again. Mingyu is just so sexy- in no time at all, you’re wriggling on top of him, eager for stimulus against your already aching core. 

You find yourself completely relaxed, but completely on edge at the same time. It’s an odd contrast. Mingyu makes you feel comfortable, without fear, and yet- he also sets you on fire in the best of ways. Each touch is like electric shivers across your body, and you can’t help the way you’re moaning from just a bit of kissing and dry humping.

“Wait,” Mingyu’s voice makes you stop, and you pull away, looking down at him with confusion. “I think- before we fuck or anything, I think you should let me eat you out. I bet you’re tired of toys and fingers, and I want tonight to be about making you feel good.”

He’s literally prince charming. Like- how did you ever find this sexy giver. 

You swallow thickly. “We can do that.”

Mingyu kisses you again, and then he rolls on top of you, pinning you to the bed. You love the way his hands skim across your body, teasing across your waist and ribcage. 

“Can I take your clothes off?” he asks.

“Maybe… uh… maybe just my pants for now?” You’re not sure why you want to leave your shirt on, but that’s the boundary you’re comfortable with right now, and Mingyu doesn’t question it. He presses another kiss to your lips before sliding down you form, hooking his fingers in your sweatpants to drag them down your body.

The large man adjusts between your legs, peppering your newly exposed skin in soft kisses.

Your core is throbbing in your panties, and you bite your lip when his breath fans across your pussy.

“These off next?” he asks, looking up at you.

“Yeah.” The word comes out a whisper, your body tight with suspense.

Mingyu pulls your panties down slowly, and the cool air of the room on your exposed core  makes you twitch.

Large hands smooth up your calves and thighs, and Mingyu’s eyes meet yours as he closes the distance to your pussy. You hold your breath, waiting-

The first lick of your clit makes your toes curl, and you moan deeply, earning a smile from the man who’s clearly intent on devouring you.

“I kind of like being told what to do,” Mingyu explains, kissing your inner thigh. “So if you have anything you want me to do, just say something.”

“I will,” you promise, shifting your hips to get your core closer to his face again.

Mingyu takes the motion as a direction in and of itself, and he immediately puts his mouth back on you, but this time, it’s not a kitten lick. There’s no hesitation now, it’s clear you want this, and Mingyu dives in, pressing his tongue into your core.

You groan, thighs already shaking at how good it feels.

Your hands reach down, tangling in his soft hair, and Mingyu releases a moan of his own. The vibration from it goes straight to your clit, and you whimper. 

“You’re good at this,” you tell him, doing your best to be verbal, as it’s pretty clear Mingyu’s a verbal sex kind of guy.

He rewards your words by sucking his lips around your clit, flicking at it with his tongue.

“Can you…” you shift slightly, “your fingers-”

Mingyu adjusts, focusing on your clit with his mouth while a finger strokes between your pussy lips. He eases it into your wet core slowly, being gentle with you while ravaging your sensitive bud.

Your eyes close at the feeling, your head thrown back against your pillows. “That’s good-” you tell him, groaning when he slips a second digit into your pussy.

You can feel him smile against your clit, working his fingers up toward your gspot with each calculated thrust.

You’re supposed to be using Mingyu to get over your ex, but you can’t help the way you compare them- how had you ever thought sex with your ex was good? He’d never eaten you out like this- never prioritized your pleasure- fuck, you haven’t even had sex with Mingyu yet, and you’re already convinced it’s going to be mind blowing.

Releasing a breath, you focus on Mingyu, focus on the feeling building deep in your core. 

One thrust has Mingyu’s fingers hitting the exact right spot, and you let out a squeal of delight. “Right there- fuck- right there!”

Mingyu does as he’s told, repeatedly hitting the spot that draws you closer to your orgasm with record speed. His mouth on your clit is also pure pleasure, and before you even know it, you’re releasing a groan. “I’m gonna cum, fuck- don’t stop, please-”

Your words break off as your high slams into you, moans of ecstasy escaping as your body surges with pleasure. Your pussy is pulsing deliciously around Mingyu’s fingers and he works you through your orgasm like an absolute champ. He’s unrelenting, fully focused on drawing out your pleasure until you’re practically shaking.

Mingyu pulls away, and you let out a shaky gasp, opening your eyes to look down at the gorgeous man. His expression is one of pure lust, and you watch him wipe his mouth with the back of his palm. 

“You taste like peaches, baby,” he tells you, straightening onto his knees at the foot of your bed.

You don’t say anything, you only motion for Mingyu to come closer, and you grab the back of his neck, drawing his lips to yours so you can taste yourself on his tongue.

He moans into the kiss, and you writhe beneath him, hooking your leg over his hip.

Mingyu begins to grind down against you, and you can feel how hard he is in his jeans. You love that eating you out had that kind of effect on him, and you find yourself reaching down to cup his cock.

“Fuck,” Mingyu groans, breaking the kiss to breathe heavily, pressing his forehead against yours. “Are we going to do this? You can still back out-”

“We’re doing this,” you confirm.

“Okay, give me a sec.” Mingyu pulls away from you and you whimper at the loss. “Wanna take your shirt off now, while I take off my pants?”

“Yeah,” you agree, immediately working on the remainder of your clothing.

You’re naked in seconds, and you watch Mingyu step out of his jeans next to the bed. He’s produced a condom from his pants, and you watch with bated breath while he rolls it onto one of the biggest cocks you’ve ever seen in person- in fact, it might be the biggest cock, and your core throbs at the mere thought of it. 

“I’m on birth control, and I’m clean,” you find yourself saying softly, toying with the fact of unprotected sex.

“Me too,” Mingyu breathes. “But, it’s always better to be safe than sorry.”

Leave it to the cop to be safe, you guess that’s a good thing, but part of you sinks at the idea of not being filled with his cum.

Mingyu gets on top of you again, kissing you deeply. 

Your legs wrap tight around his body, and with pressure, you prompt him to grind down against your core again.

The feeling of his cock gliding between your soaked pussy lips is amazing- and you do your best to ignore the sensation of the condom. 

He kisses you for a long time, until you’re aching for him from the grinding, and finally, you can’t take it anymore. “Please,” you whimper, looking up at him. “I need you.”

“Anything you want, baby,” he says, pressing his lips to yours again while he adjusts ever so slightly, pushing his hand between your bodies so he can grab the base of his cock and line it up with your core.

He starts by rubbing it between your pussy lips, lubricating himself before pushing just the tip inside of you.

You moan against his mouth, shocked at the stretch. It’s clear from Mingyu’s gentle, controlled motions, that he’s used to giving grace for his size, and he slowly works you open more and more, sinking inch after inch of himself into your core.

His kisses are a wonderful distraction, and you focus on relaxing, allowing your body to open up for the large cock. 

When his front is flush to your own, his cock completely buried inside of you, you both release groans of pleasure.

The kiss breaks, and you pant against each others lips, opening your eyes to look at each other.

“You good?” he asks.

“Good,” you nod. “You can move.”

Mingyu lets out a shaky breath, and after a moment, he begins to fuck you. 

Each thrust is euphoria, his cock dragging against your inner walls deliciously. Mingyu begins to kiss you again, and you grab at his strong shoulders, clutching him desperately while he fucks you into your mattress. 

“You’re so tight,” Mingyu groans, lips moving to your neck. He licks at your sweet spot, and you shiver, wrapping your legs around him even tighter.

“You’re just so big-” you counter.

“Maybe a bit of both,” he admits with a chuckle.

You don’t mind that you’re in missionary, don’t mind that he fucks you stupid this way- it’s a very intimate position, and once again, the thought of your ex pops back into your mind. 

You realize, as the two of you get closer and closer to your highs, that maybe you weren’t ready for this- you don’t regret it, but you’re clearly not over your ex in the way you’d wished you would be at this point.

Maybe Mingyu’s just too soft, too gentle, too domestic- 

It’s not his fault, he’s being sweet to you, but maybe sweet isn’t what you needed, not really. It just makes you miss being in a relationship.

The two of you cum together, and you hate that you’re still distracted. You wish you could give all your focus to Mingyu, after all, it’s clear he’s completely zoned in on you, but it is what it is.

If nothing else, he’d distracted you for a little, given you perhaps the best dick and pussy eating of your life- and as the two of you cuddle up to fall asleep, it’s a small blessing at least that you’re not sleeping alone.

Three

You’re at a bar waiting for your takeout when you run into the most unlikely person.

Seungcheol is dressed in work out clothes, a loose shirt, sweatpants, and a baseball cap, but he still looks downright lickable. His strong shoulders- the handsome face only partially hidden by his cap- he’s so recougnizable, and it’s clear he knows who you are too, because he walks over.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” you retort, playing with the straw of your cocktail. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Didn’t expect to see you either,” he admits with a laugh, and you’re delighted at how his smile lights up his face. “You waiting on food?”

“Yeah, just a dinner order, figured I’d get one drink while waiting.”

He nods. “I’m waiting for food too. Just came from the gym, didn’t feel like cooking.”

“I get that,” you agree, looking down at your drink.

“You eating alone tonight?” he asks. “We could always just ask the kitchen to switch our orders, you know, get a table, eat here.”

“Are you asking me to have dinner with you?” you grin.

“If you’re up for that sort of thing,” he shrugs.

“You know what?” You let out a sigh. “Let’s do it.”

Seungcheol grins, and after talking with the bartender, you find him leading you over to a booth, having sorted everything out.

He’s got a beer now, and you’re enthralled with the way he looks while taking a sip.

He’s just so masculine- you’re extremely attracted to Seungcheol. He’d been kind of scary while dressed in work attire, but this gym outfit is much more your style. 

“So,” he starts, releasing a breath. “Heard you saw Mingyu last week.”

Your skin heats with embarrassment. “Oh, yeah.”

“Don’t be shy,” Seungcheol grins, reaching across the table to nudge your hand. “I don’t judge. He’s my best friend, and we talk, so of course he mentioned it.”

“And now… you’re having dinner with me,” you point out. 

Seungcheol shrugs. “Mingyu’s not the jealous type.”

“Are you?”

Seungcheol leans back against the booth, cocking his head to the side. He grins, and it’s one of the sexiest expressions you’ve ever seen. “I can be,” he admits. “It depends on the situation.”

You swallow thickly, reaching for your drink, in need of some sort of reprieve for the way your throat has gotten dry. “Do you and Mingyu do this a lot?” you find yourself asking.

“Do what a lot?”

“Go after the same girl?” you clarify.

Seungcheol takes a moment, and you can tell he’s deep in thought about how to approach this line of questioning. “It’s happened once before,” he admits. “Definitely not a regular thing.”

“Tell me about last time,” you suggest, interested in the story now.

“Not much to say,” Seungcheol shrugs. “He and I have been friends forever. In university there was this one girl, she wanted us both so we figured it would be interesting.”

“Was it? Interesting?”

Seungcheol flashes you a dark look, the kind of look that says ‘are you serious?’

“It was fun,” he says finally. “But, the conditions have to be perfect for sharing to work.”

You’re about to ask for more details, but your waitress comes over with your food, so you put your questions on the back burner.

Seungcheol had ordered a salad with four extra chicken breasts, and you stare at him in shock for a while.

“What?” he asks, taking a bite.

“I’ve just never seen someone order greens and four orders of chicken,” you admit.

“It’s good for you,” Seungcheol insists. “Protein.”

You look down at your rice bowl, letting out a sigh. 

“Bet you’re wishing you’d got what I got,” Seungcheol teases. 

“Never,” you laugh.

“Anyways, I bet you’re wondering about the conditions that make threesomes work,” Seungcheol sighs, returning to the topic at hand.

“I’ll admit, I’m curious. When you and Mingyu gave me your numbers, you did say I could have both of you if I wanted.”

“You still can, but I wouldn’t be shocked if you wanted to stick it with Mingyu. It wouldn’t offend me. He’s better with girls than I am.” You love how direct Seungcheol is about this, and it shows a good sense of self for him to be able to admit he’s not as much of a lady killer as his friend.

“Why do you think he’s better with girls?” you inquire.

“Most girls like that whole puppy dog thing. He’s a giver, and I respect that.”

“And you’re not a giver?” you toy, cocking a brow.

“More of a taker really,” Seungcheol admits, flashing you a grin. “If you’re interested in that sort of thing.”

“Honestly?” You let out a sigh, relaxing back against the booth. “That might be just what I need right now.”

Four

Seungcheol’s mouth is hot on yours before you’re even inside your apartment. He’s all teeth and tongue and grabby, greedy hands. But there’s something so exciting about him as he pushes your front door closed with his foot, wrapping you up in his strong arms and lifting you off the floor, prompting your legs around his hips.

There’s no talking, no assuring you that you don’t have to fuck-

You know you’re both here to fuck each other’s brains out, and it makes things simple as he carries you to your room.

To your surprise, however, he doesn’t take you to your bed. “Where’s your shower?” he asks, breaking the kiss to look around.

“Through there,” you point to the door to your ensuite, and Seungcheol follows your directions. Once in the bathroom, he sets you on the sink, and you flash him a questioning look.

“I showered at the gym, but still,” Seungcheol says, tearing his shirt off from the back of the neck. “I feel like shower sex is a good way to go about this.”

“I don’t usually like shower sex,” you point out.

“Well, you will with me, baby, trust me on that.” Seungcheol slips out of his sweatpants and briefs, his cock rising to attention. “Come here,” he instructs, pulling you off the sink.

His lips are feverish on your own, and he undresses you as quickly as he’d undressed himself. His hands grope your breasts, and he leans down to suck your nipple into his mouth while you thread your fingers through his hair.

“Now turn the shower on,” he commands.

You step toward the shower, following through- and you feel Seungcheol’s hulking, built body behind your own. His chest presses to your back, and his hands begin to explore your form while the water heats.

You tilt your head to give him access to your throat while one hand massages your breast, and the other slips down to your core, teasing through your pussy lips.

“Wet already,” he muses with a grin. “Mingyu said you’re a sensitive one.”

A tingle of sinful delight rushes through you.

You wonder how many details Mingyu shared- you wonder if Seungcheol’s been eager to get a taste of you for himself.

The water begins to steam, and with a nudge, Seungcheol prompts you inside. He joins you quickly, pinning you to the wall while his lips devour your own.

He breaks the kiss a short time later, looking up at your detachable shower head, then a grin spreads across his face. “Guess I can be a giver today, but don’t tell anyone,” he teases, taking the shower head off.

You’re not even shocked when he brings it between your thighs, wet pressure surging up against your clit while you squeal in shock.

Seungcheol bends down, capturing your nipple between his lips again.

“Fuck, this feels good-” you groan, gasping and grinding down against the shower head.

“I’ll let you cum first, because when it’s my turn, it’s my turn,” he warns. 

“Whatever you want,” you tell him, enjoying the way his mouth returns to your breasts.

He’s so rough, but it feels so good as the pressure from the shower continues on your clit. The dual feeling of his lips around your nipple, and the pressure on your sensitive bud has you getting close to the edge shockingly fast.

Seungcheol - like Mingyu - seems able to read you, and he adjusts, bringing a hand between your thighs. Two fingers slip into your wet core, and he focuses on applying the water to your clit while he begins to finger fuck you.

“Fuck,” you groan, clawing at the wall, trying to stay standing while he works you closer and closer-

“Want to see you cum,” he says. “Want to see you come undone on this fucking shower head and my fingers before I take what’s mine.”

Your stomach flip flops at the possessive tone, your breath coming out in a shocked gasp.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you, baby?” Seungcheol asks. “Tonight, you’re mine. Don’t want you thinking about Mingyu, or that stupid fucking ex of yours. It’s just you and me, and if I see you drifting, I’ll bring you right back here, with me, got it?”

“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing thickly.

“Such a good girl for me, grinding against my hand-” he groans. “I can see how close you are.” He leans forward, his lips ghosting past your ear. “I’ll admit though, I’m not a very patient man.”

Your skin tingles at his words, and you find yourself reaching for his cock, using the water as lubrication as you begin to stroke him off.

“That’s it,” Seungcheol says, voice low. “I be good to you, you be good to me, that’s the way this should be, don’t you think?”

“Uh huh,” you nod, closing your eyes as your abdominal muscles tense, warning you of your oncoming orgasm.

“Squeezing me so good, come on, baby, cum on my fingers.”

Seungcheol’s hand works even harder, digits stroking your sweet spot- and that’s all you need to be thrown over the edge.

You let out a strangled gasp, your orgasm slamming into you.

“That’s it,” Seungcheol groans, pressing his forehead against yours while he works you through your high. “Keep cumming for me, baby.”

You couldn’t stop even if you wanted to- your entire body is Seungcheol’s to control, and he prolongs your orgasm until you’re a shaking mess. 

You can hardly stand, but that doesn’t matter, Seungcheol puts the shower head back and simply picks you up. “I don’t have a condom on me,” he explains, sinking you onto his cock and releasing a hissing sound of pleasure, “so I’m just going to have to pull out and paint your chest.”

“Whatever you want,” you tell him, drawing his lips to your own as he begins to fuck you against the wall of your shower.

His fingers dig into your thighs, and he uses you to his own pleasure, fucking you like a mad man. He’s so strong- and you feel like some weightless doll in his grip. His lips are hot against your own, and his moans are some of the sexiest sounds you’ve ever heard.

There aren’t any thoughts in your head as he uses you in an animalistic, almost primal way, and you love every second of it, your sensitive pussy clenching tight around his aching cock.

“Fuck,” Seungcheol groans. “You’re pussy’s too good, gonna cum.” He pulls out of you abruptly, and you sink to your knees on your shower floor, looking up at him. “That’s a good girl,” he tells you, wrapping his hand around his cock and beginning to roughly stroke it. “Push those pretty tits up for me.”

You do as you’re told, watching Seungcheol- the way his bicep and abdominal muscles flex with each strained stroke of his rock hard cock.

He’s a fucking vision, and you don’t mind him using the sight of you to his own end- in fact, when he releases a strangled groan, throwing his head back as his hot seed shoots out across your tits, you kind of realize you love this. 

His large thighs flex, his entire muscular body alive as his orgasm washes over him.

He works himself through it, and finally stops, hand falling to his side while the other reaches out to press to the wall. He looks down at you, offering you that sexy smile. “Good girl.”

Five

You’d given it a week of thought, and now here you are, looking at both Mingyu and Seungcheol as they stand in your kitchen.

“Are you sure you want this?” Mingyu asks, ever the softie of the two.

“She wants this,” Seungcheol confirms, looking you up and down. “She’s probably wanted this since the moment you said she could have us both.”

“It’s a big step,” Mingyu points out.

“It’s the ultimate distraction,” Seungcheol counters.

You let out a sigh, opening your robe to reveal the lingerie underneath. “Let’s do this.”

Seungcheol moves first, stepping forward and grabbing you by the back of the neck, drawing your lips to his. You kiss him desperately, cognizant of Mingyu watching. It feels amazing to have the attention of two gorgeous men, and you feel downright elated as Seungcheol lifts you off the ground and begins to carry you to your room.

You watch Mingyu over Seungcheol’s shoulder, and he follows closely.

“How do you want to do this?” the taller one asks as you make it to your bed, where Seungcheol tosses you down.

“No condoms,” you respond.

Both men laugh, exchanging glances. “Baby wants to be full, huh?” Seungcheol asks.

“So full,” you agree.

“I think we can deal with that,” Mingyu grins. “Any other requests?”

You swallow thickly. “Whatever you want.”

Mingyu and Seungcheol look at each other again, and the taller one shrugs. “I’ll go first,” Seungcheol decides. 

“Sounds good to me,” Mingyu agrees.

The two nod at each other, and then they both begin to strip. They get down to their boxers quickly, and Seungcheol joins you on the bed first, making you face him on your knees as he captures your lips with his own. His hands are everywhere, massaging and groping-

A second set of hands joins the first as the bed dips, signaling Mingyu’s arrival behind you. His soft lips find your throat, and you moan at the sensation of two sets of mouths on you.

Their touch is everywhere now, but it’s clearly Seungcheol who pulls your panties down, rubbing your wet pussy while Mingyu works on your bra. 

“So wet for us,” Seungcheol groans. “She’s been wanting this for ages, Gyu- haven’t you, baby?”

“For too long,” you agree with a whimper, looking up at him.

Now it’s Mingyu’s turn to moan a sound of appreciation, and he pushes your bra off your body, hands immediately cupping your breasts. His fingers pinch at your nipples and you moan desperately, pushing your ass back against him-

Fuck, Mingyu’s already hard, his cock straining against your butt-

Seungcheol captures your attention again, kissing you as his fingers push into your core, crooking up to hit your sweet spot. 

You’re so wet- with each stroke, you can hear your juices on Seungcheol’s fingers, and it sets your entire body on fire.

It feels like nothing else you’ve ever experienced to be captured between these two gorgeous men- there are absolutely zero thoughts in your head, you’re so overtaken by this wordless need-

“Fuck this,” Seungcheol says. “I’m not huge on foreplay, need to fuck you.”

Mingyu snickers behind you, it’s clear which of the two men is better at patience, and you suppose that’s why the taller of the two men gets to go second. You can’t imagine making Seungcheol wait his turn, but that’s part of what’s so endearing about him.

“Here’s how it’s going to go,” Seungcheol sighs. “I’ll fuck you doggy, Mingyu can be under you, and as soon as I’m done, he can get his turn, sounds good?”

“Sounds perfect,” you admit.

Seungcheol leans close, his lips ghosting over your own when he says, “Then be a good girl and get into position for me.”

All three of you stip the last bit of clothing from your bodies, and you’re quick to get on top of Mingyu. He immediately kisses you, cupping your cheek as you grind down against his cock- you’re trying to be patient for Seungcheol, but patience, it would seem, is a strong suit that neither of you have. 

“If you put his cock inside of you, I’m going to prep your ass,” Seungcheol warns, and you pause your writhing on top of Mingyu. “That’s what I thought.”

Two hands roughly grip your hips, and Seungcheol pulls you up, off of Mingyu. A cock glides between your pussy lips, and Seungcheol smooths his palm along your back. “Be good for us,” he warns before slipping into your wet core.

You let out a moan, resting your head against Mingyu’s chest while he strokes you, holding you close. He nuzzles at the crown of your head, a gentle contrast to the man who begins fucking into you.

You’re kind of obsessed with the duality- the dichotomy of the two men is enough to keep you satisfied and on edge, enraptured with the act of making love in this way. 

It’s clear already that you’re kind of in love with threesomes- there’s just something about this, or maybe- there’s just something about Mingyu and Seungcheol.

Seungcheol’s hands are rough on your hips, pulling you back to every thrust, and you finally relax enough to be able to kiss Mingyu again. His lips are desperate against your own, and his cock presses up between your bodies- you can’t help but grab at it, stroking him off in time with Seungcheol’s thrusts.

“Fuck,” Mingyu groans, rutting up to meet you.

“You’re being too nice on him,” Seungcheol muses, and you can hear his smile.

Neither you nor Mingyu respond, too busy kissing to care.

It’s clear, after a few seconds, that Seungcheol doesn’t enjoy being ignored, because one of his hands snakes around your body, fingers finding your clit.

“Shit-” you whimper, breaking your kiss as pleasure surges through you.

“Knew that would get your attention,” Seungcheol says smugly, rubbing you even harder.

“You gonna cum for us?” Mingyu asks, lips attaching to your neck, one hand groping your breast while you continue to stroke him off.

“Yeah, I’m close-” you gasp, pussy tensing, clenching tight around Seungcheol, who groans deeply at the feeling.

You feel so perfectly taken care of, two men working your body closer and closer to the edge until your orgasm takes over. You release a strangled whimper, body surging with white hot energy that pulses through you like an electric shock.

Seungcheol lets out his own sound of pleasure, and his thrusts falter ever so slightly- then he goes as hard as he’s ever gone before. Each rut is skin on skin as his hips hit your ass, and you can tell from his rough panting that he’s just about to tip over the edge too-

He cums with a deep groan, and the sound makes your pussy flutter even harder as ropes of cum coat your insides, filling you perfectly.

You’re fucked practically stupid, reduced to animal instinct as you stay captured between two large bodies. All you can do is stay on shaking thighs, crouched over Mingyu, as Seungcheol finishes up and pulls out of you with a “Fuck.”

 “My turn?” Mingyu asks, stroking your cheek to get your attention.

“Yeah, fuck- fill me up even more,” you whimper.

“You got it, baby,” Mingyu grins, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before he reaches between your bodies, grabbing his cock to line it up with your pussy. He helps you down onto him, and you moan.

You’re still tight from your orgasm, but it’s substantially easier to take Mingyu after having just enjoyed Seungcheol’s girth- and the cum inside of you helps with the lubrication. You’re fully seated on Mingyu’s cock not a moment later, and you both moan from the sensation.

His lips attack your own, and you thread your fingers through his hair as he begins to thrust up into you.

You’re too weak to ride him, but from the way Mingyu bucks with the energy of a stallion, you doubt he cares.

“Fuck,” Mingyu groans against your mouth. “You feel so good, baby.”

“You feel good too,” you tell him, words shaky as they escape you.

“She’s cock drunk already,” Seungcheol muses, and you hear him heading to the bathroom to clean up while Mingyu has his way with you.

“Are you cock drunk, baby?” Mingyu asks, pausing to look up at you with lust filled eyes.

“So good,” you whimper.

Mingyu grins. “Definitely cock drunk.” He cups your cheek, drawing your lips back to his own. He rolls you over so you’re now on your back, and then he sits up onto his knees. “Can you get onto your side for me, gonna push your leg up to your chest and fuck you like that.”

You do as you’re told, shifting into the position. Mingyu grabs your thigh, anchoring himself as he begins to rail into you. He has more maneuverability in this position than when you’d been on top, and he hits as deep as anyone has ever hit before, making you whimper and claw at the sheets. 

“You look so good like this,” Mingyu tells you. “Being so good for us.”

“Mingyu-” you whimper.

“I know, I’m close too,” he promises.

Each thrust is hitting a spot that has your toes curling, and you’re quickly working your way to another high, pussy still sensitive from Seungcheol.

“Fuck,” Mingyu groans, digging his fingers into your thigh as he holds you open for himself. “Can’t cum till you do- fuck, wanna feel you squeezing my cock-”

“Gonna fill me up,” you whimper.

“Gonna fill you to the fucking brim, baby,” Mingyu agrees.

You close your eyes, so overwhelmed by pleasure-

“Let me fill you, come on, cum with me baby,” Mingyu urges, and that’s all it takes for you to explode on his cock.

He releases a grunt, fingers gripping you tight as he falls over the edge with you, fucking you roughly through your dual highs. You love how you can just relax as pleasure like you’ve never felt before surges through you- both men take care of you in their own ways, and this is what heaven must feel like.

But all good things must come to an end, and slowly, Mingyu’s motions begin to falter. He collapses half on top of you, breathing heavily as his lips eagerly seek yours out.

“Well aren’t you two cute,” Seungcheol’s voice makes you both laugh, pulling away from each other.

“Is that jealousy in your tone, Seungcheol?” you tease.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Jealousy doesn’t work if you’re planning to do threesomes with the same three people more than once.”

“Oh, are we doing this again?” you ask.

Seungcheol grins. “Baby, what do you think?”

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! Gyucheol is low key one of my most favourite pairings

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🔮 preview. “Bet you’re happy with yourself,” Seungcheol muses, bringing his hot mouth to your throat. “Making him cum untouched like that.”

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, threesome, fingering, pussy eating, breast worship, dirty talk, praise, slight cum kink, slight exhibitionistic foreplay, inklings of roleplay, groping, size kink, cumming early and in his pants, etc…   I petnames. (hers) baby.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.5k I teaser wc. 150

🌙 starring. Seungcheol & Mingyu x afab!reader

bonus

You’re standing at the bartop waiting for your drink when hands grab at your hips. You’re pulled back to a broad chest, and lips press to your throat, prompting you to tilt your head and grin. “Cheol,” you breathe, “what are you doing?”

“Keeping track of my prisoner,” he muses, grabbing at the orange jumper you’re wearing. “Can’t let my dirty little prison escapee out of my sight.”

It had been his idea to dress as cops and a prisoner for Halloween- and you think there must be some sort of rule against Seungcheol and Mingyu wearing their actual uniforms as costumes on a night like this- but fuck, they look so good in their navy blue.

You know you look good too, the orange jumper isn’t revealing per se, but it’s tight in the right places, and Seungcheol is feral for you regardless of what you’re wearing… or not wearing. 

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[eyeless-cunt]

KINKTOBER DAY 7

PROMPT: Stalking/Dub-Con

CREEP: Toby

Word Count: 2.3k

CW: 18+, Sexual Content, Stalking, Dub-Con, Kidnapping, Outdoors Sex, Creampie because I said so.

KINKTOBER '24 MASTERLIST

‘Why don't you ever wear that hoodie I left you? I'd love to take it off you. Let me fuck you in it?’

-xoxo, Toby

I gasp reading the note, my face heating at the mental image of him holding me down, bent over the counter with my ass in the air. I'm immediately brushing the thought away, knowing that even entertaining his notes could spur him on to leave other things. I find my eyes scanning the tree line outside of my window, but as usual they find nothing. He's never been that sloppy.

I finish making my breakfast, trying to just ignore the note entirely but doing a uniquely bad job of it. My eyes always flick back to it, curious not only about what he's written, but the man himself. I'd only seen him once, the sight of the large man alone out in the snow giving me shivers even now, months later. I had noticed his beat hatchets, and the nasty scar on his cheek that somehow only served to make him more attractive. It was clear something had happened to take off quite a bit of flesh near the corner of his mouth. Swaying while slowly eating my breakfast has my mind wandering to how he got it. The only guess I had was a gunshot wound maybe–what else could take that much off?

I remembered how his voice sounded, the way my name came out in a much different tone than everything else. The way he stared at me hungrily, as though our separation was only temporary. It made me feel like a prey animal. Remembering the richness of his voice had my stomach doing backflips against my will.

Truthfully, I had shoved his sweatshirt in the closet so it would never see the light of day again. It smelled of him, a scent that was more mouthwatering than it should be. I found myself having to fight not to bring it up to my face to breathe it in fully–a fact I'm ashamed of now.

A creak snaps me out of my thoughts, my head practically whipping in that direction. I set my empty plate aside, it being completely forgotten now. Is it him? I'm left wondering, my feet scurrying to the open window, head popping outside. I found nothing. Toby isn't here, he's either watching from somewhere else or busy with something else. In horror, I find my heart is sinking at the thought that it wasn't him. I'm frozen at the idea that I was excited to see him. As if those first few weeks after I had first seen and made contact with him weren't terrifying. As if the sight of him didn't have me trembling, the idea that a man had been the one stealing all my belongings had caused me great fear.

And yet now I found that at some point as my mind spent all day thinking about him, those thoughts slowly started shifting. When? When I left the first note, threatening him to give me back my clothes. I'd been so nervous but resigned, sick of losing things.

‘Toby. Give me back my stuff.

I'm running out of underwear, asshole.’

I hadn't signed it, and hadn't given him anything else. But he took it. The next morning a bag of my clothing and belongings I forgot even existed laid on my front porch. I felt so excited that day, finally victorious. I took it to my bedroom, spilling out the contents on my bed and finding a note from him at the bottom. My heart picked up as I reached for it, hands a bit shaky.

‘Sweetheart, I hope this package finds you well. However, note that you running out of underwear is only a better view for me. If you'd ever like to repay me for this favor, please bend over the kitchen counter while wearing that pretty skirt you like. No panties required.

-I miss you, xoxo, Toby’

My thighs clenched together as I read his note, a strange sort of heat filling me as I wondered how he'd react if I did just that. Would he stay in his hiding place and simply watch? I imagined the way his hands would look pulling himself out of his jeans, the bottom of his well worn shirt between his teeth as he stroked himself at the sight of me bare and on display for him. I couldn't help but wave the thought away, my thighs starting to stick together. That's when I noticed his hoodie laying on my bed. It smelled of pine, and somehow a garage. Was he a mechanic, maybe?

I felt my stomach flip, my hands fighting to not bring it to my face. Even better not to practically jump it. In order to keep myself in control I threw it into the closet, scared to hold it for longer than a few seconds. I won't note how I smelt my hands later, the traces of his scent almost sending me into the closet to touch myself with that hoodie pressed to my face. Shamefully, I’d left the room entirely, figuring I'd put all of that away later when my brain was stable.

Now, here I was staring out a window thinking of the few times I'd had contact with him. Missing him, almost. I couldn't believe myself, nor the thoughts he had racing through my mind. The note from this morning made me almost write him back. I was seriously considering it, although unsure of what to write and seriously considering my sanity.

‘You can certainly take it off of me–it’s in the closet.

Take it home with you.’

I bit my lip, wondering if he'd see the double meaning the same way I did. It felt desperate leaving this note, and a bit shameful considering my less than pure reasons for leaving it. Despite that, I set it on the counter. He would see it tonight when I slept.

Sure enough, I woke in the morning to no sweatshirt in the closet. It was the first thought on my mind when I awoke, barely opening my eyes before my feet hit the floor, wobbling over to the closet with a loud yawn. Nope, no hoodie in there. I tried to fight my slight disappointment, chastising myself. What else did I expect?

I turned around only to jump in fright, making eye contact with the exact man I was thinking of. My brain started moving hundreds of miles a minute, my heart practically beating out of my chest. I should be scared, right? So why was I actually more nervous than anything? I took a step backwards, my back hitting the wall.

He stood tall, his dark brown hair longer than I remember it. It was messy, reaching almost his shoulders. I took in the size of him, wondering just how exactly he would feel against me. His eyes laid on me, something I couldn't name burning in them.

“Toby…?” The words came out slowly, quiet, and shaking. He started walking towards me, the sight sending me searching for something to hit him with, figuring maybe he got tired of me and decided I was better off dead. He was on me before I could even move, hand placed on my lower back, his other holding my chin, lifting it up towards him.

“Yes, baby?” He smiled, the sight almost sending me to my knees. Now closer, I could see light freckles lining his nose and sitting under his eyes, some scattered elsewhere only less. My mouth opened and closed repeatedly, my brain unable to find the words. Suddenly, he grabbed at my clothing, pinching my...hoodie? Ah, I was wearing it. When did I? My head buffered, trying to make sense of what exactly was happening here. Had I...?

His hands slipped under it, his rough palms against my waist sending shocks all throughout my body. He felt my shiver and smiled, a look that screamed ‘I won’, filling his eyes.

“So,” his voice drawled out, deep and rich and almost enough to send me to my knees, my legs beginning to shake. “Should I take it off of you then? Or should I take it home with me? What do you think, sweetheart?” I felt my thighs clench, a wetness beginning to form against my wishes.

“I…,” I could barely get the words out, the way his hands slowly rubbed up and down my waist were making my head seem muddled. “Take it home.” I tried to give him a glare, but knew I failed.

“Sure, I'd love to.” He said it cheerfully, confusing me until I felt myself get lifted into the air, up and over his shoulder. I shrieked, startled. He was carrying me like a sack of potatoes through the house, leading out the back door with no hesitation.

“Toby, wait! What are you doing? I said the sweatshirt! Take it home! Where are you taking me?” Everything came out in rapid succession, my words finally complete and flowing. He only laughed, a hand slapping my ass and causing me to gasp. I felt myself growing wetter, ashamed but also about to lose my mind. He had my almost bare ass by his face, I slept in underwear. “Toby! I'm serious!” His walking continued, and I got another slap. I had to clamp my mouth shut, sure I'd moan if he kept it up.

“Are you serious? What a coincidence, I think I am too.” He said it amusedly, with trace amounts of sarcasm.

“Toby! Seriously! Put me down, this is embarrassing!” He made a questioning humming noise, as if confused about what made it so embarrassing. Suddenly though, he realized, his steps faltering as I heard him suck in a sudden deep breath. I felt my body heat as his pace quickened, figuring he'd probably noticed by now that only underwear laid under the long t-shirt I’d worn to bed.

“Sorry, you'll have to forgive me, sweetheart.” Forgive him? I open my mouth to speak, only to gasp instead, one of his fingers slipping my underwear to the side as he continues his walking pace. “Toby–,” I'm completely cut off, a finger slipping inside of me and making me moan, embarrassment flooding my body. I slap my mouth shut, clenching my thighs as he fucks his finger into me, the feeling causing me to shake with pleasure. I hear him sigh, the sound of it relieved as he pushes another finger into me, the noise it makes as it slides in downright sinful. I can't open my mouth to tell him to stop, pleasure coursing through my body like a typhoon. If I could move my hips at all I'd likely be rolling them into his fingers greedily.

He pulls them out to slap my ass again, slipping them back in and fucking me at a new pace. I can't help the soft mewls that force their way out of my mouth, blood rushing to my head faster than usual now. His thumb finds my clit, rubbing harsh circles into me like a man starved. I can't help but call out his name, causing him to stop and lift me back up over his shoulder, flipping me onto my stomach on the ground. I yelp as he yanks my hips up into the air, and suddenly what I know is his tip is pushing at my entrance, the feeling of him pushing inside causing my eyes to roll. I'm so turned on I can't help but open my mouth and moan.

I weakly protest, but I think he knows I don't mean it. Either way he doesn't listen, hips snapping to meet me, flush against my skin as he fucks into me at a brutal pace. He's breathing heavily and squeezing my hips, using them to push his dick into me harder, my legs spreading as I basically beg for more. My back is arched as I feel myself clenching around him, an orgasm already ripping through me at the feeling of him inside me.

He laughs, noting the way my whole body tenses as I basically whimper into the ground. Continuing, he thumbs my clit again and begins to build up another orgasm. I'm fucking my hips back into him at this point, completely unsure of how we got here but obsessed with him inside me all the same. I'm a mess at this point, his hand threading through my hair and pulling as he fucks into me. His pace remains brutal, and I wonder how he's still going.

I begin moaning as I approach another orgasm, toes curled in the dirt as my hips roll, his name escaping me now like a mantra. He drops to the ground overtop me, forearms on either side of my head as he pushes into me somehow harder. He's speaking to me, but I don't hear it, too focused on the wave that hits me as I writhe below him. I'm a panting mess, completely fucked out as I wait for him to finish, his last few thrusts burning me a bit as I ache. For some reason the burn is just as delicious, and I find myself whimpering as he pulls out, his cum pooling onto the ground and dripping onto my thighs. I remain in that position, clenching around nothing but turned on again as I feel the ache he left behind.

I moan as I feel him slap my ass again, my face still facing the ground. I feel him lift me, princess style carry this time. We don't say a word, and I rest my head on his chest, sighing at the warmth that envelopes me from his body heat.

[chalkscene]

tears of themis ⇢ YOU DECIDE TO SLEEP ON THE COUCH AFTER AN ARGUMENT

ft. luke pearce, artem wing, marius von hagen & vyn richter

you’re shifting restlessly on the couch when you catch your LUKE alarm keychain—handmade by luke himself—peeking from behind the armrest, “luke says he’s sorry.” you can’t help but smile at the sound of luke faking a small voice and whatever rage that filled you from your argument hours ago has now dissipated, endeared by the sweet gesture. “you’re gonna set off that alarm by accident,” you quip, the lightness in your tone encouraging luke to come into view. “you’re not mad anymore?” he asks, cautious yet hopeful. all his years of training and building a hard exterior to be a detective have nothing on you because in the warmth behind his hazel eyes that only you can bring out, you still find the boy you grew up with. the boy you’ve always loved. “i can’t stay mad at you,” you admit, on the brink of tears, “luke, i’m really sorry…” luke is quick to bring you in his arms, declining your apology because that’s what he does—he’ll blame everything before he’ll blame you. you’re unable to hold back a sob, prompting him to hold you tighter before he whispers in your ear, “let’s not do this again, okay?”

ARTEM is going over a recent case when he realizes it’s almost midnight. he’s usually one to pull an all-nighter but gnawing at the back of his mind is the argument he had with you today—you two haven’t spoken to each other since. after having decided to put off his work until tomorrow, he walks out of his home office to join you in bed but he finds you in the living room instead, your pillows and blanket already set up on the sofa. he can tell you’re aware of his presence from the way you’re deliberately not looking in his direction. still, he attempts to catch your attention with a soft call of your name. when you don’t reply, he carefully crosses the distance between the two of you. “we can’t fix this if you won’t talk to me,” he pleads. artem’s convinced his words have fallen on deaf ears until you finally speak, “i just don’t want to say the wrong thing again.” artem understands, thinking back to what started as a simple disagreement escalating into something it shouldn’t have and before you could stop it, you were both raising your voices at each other, saying things you didn’t mean. “i’m sorry about everything i said,” your voice sounds weak as it quivers and artem immediately wraps you in his embrace. “me too,” he tells you, “we can talk tomorrow. just come to bed.” when you nod into his chest, he presses a reassuring kiss at top of your head as he promises, “we’re alright.”

as MARIUS waits for you in bed, anxiety slowly eats away at him, the argument he had with you hours ago replaying in his mind. you should’ve walked in by now, he thinks, so he waits a few more minutes before getting on his feet and makes his way downstairs. he’s rehearsing his apology, muttering to himself to test the words on his tongue but it all flies out the window when he finds you asleep on the sofa. ridden with guilt, he decides to save his sorry’s for tomorrow when you’re both lucid for a proper conversation. marius is careful not to wake you up—gently slipping an arm beneath your head and looping the other under your knees to carry you to the bedroom. he’s tucking you in bed when you begin to stir awake. “sorry,” you hear him whisper, “didn’t mean to wake you up.” “what time is it?” you ask groggily, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “it’s late. go back to sleep.” he places a tender kiss on your forehead to lull you to your slumber before he shifts you on your side, his chest against your back as he slides an arm across your torso. “sweet dreams,” he mutters and you feel his breath on the nape of your neck. “marius?” “hm?” “i’m sorry about earlier…” “that’s my line, miss,” he quips, albeit sincerely. he gives your body a gentle squeeze as he pulls you flush against him. “i’m sorry, too,” he replies, “i never want you to go to sleep upset.”

you’re getting settled on the couch when you hear VYN clear his throat as he carefully places a fresh cup of tea on the table in front of you. “chamomile tea,” he states, “it will help you sleep better.” there’s the slightest caution in his voice but it’s enough to tell you what the tea is for—peace offering after your heated disagreement earlier. “thank you,” you mumble, gradually feeling the guilt bubbling in your chest, “you’re using reverse psychology on me, aren’t you?” there’s no bite in your tone but vyn’s eyes still widen at the accusation. “n-no,” he stutters and a giggle involuntarily escapes you, to vyn’s surprise. “i’m joking.” when you notice his body language go lax, you slowly reach for his hand. “and i’m sorry for the things i said to you,” you tell him, “i didn’t mean it.” “i know.” a soft smile curls on his lips as he interlocks your fingers together, “so am i.” you stay quiet for a moment, basking in his touch that you missed terribly before he speaks again. “if you still wish to be alone tonight, i don’t mind staying here.” you fight the urge to roll your eyes, aware of the fact that this is just him assessing your boundaries—vyn does mind and you know that—so you shoot him a dubious look instead to which he responds with a sheepish smile. “i suppose you’ve changed your mind?” you actually give him an eye roll this time. “you know you had me at chamomile.”

[wolfiesmoon]

But... there's only one bed! (WB edition)

umemiya, sakura, suo, kaji x gn!reader

you're on vacation with him, but uh oh, looks like your bedroom only has ONE bed, you know what that means😘 (barely proofread btw)

look at me reusing fic concepts because i'm a lazy btch (and proud), also don't expect this to be the last time you see this fic concept (let's just say i'm cooking some things up) also i do have a longer less silly wind breaker fic in the works dont u worry guys💋

ALSO I COULD HAVE SWORN UMEMIYAS SURNAME WAS SPELT LIKE UNEMIYA WHAT???? i got hit by the mandela effect

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 Umemiya Hajime

he's, like, a little too casual about it tbh

"Oh, looks like we'll be sharing a bed. Don't worry, I don't snore!" he smiles at you like an innocent child

you're not even sure if he views this the same way you do, is it kinda like sleeping with a sibling to him?

kinda bums you out since he's your crush and all...🤕

he keeps on wondering why you look kind of down for the rest of the day but you assure him it's nothing

(he makes sure to get you ice cream as a cheer-up gift anyways)

DONT WORRY THO, when it actually comes time to sleep he gets cold feet

in a "oh my god i'm suddenly rethinking this entire up until now platonic relationship" kind of way

"What's wrong? You don't snore, so what's the hold-up?" you decided to tease him using his own words, resting your cheek in your hand and smirking at him

(on the inside you're freaking out at your boldness)

you might as well have hit him with a brick because he "suddenly remembers he forgot something in the bathroom" and has to leave for a few minutes to cool down

you do end up sleeping on the same bed but neither of you can really fall asleep, you know 😁

the friendship never feels the same after that, but that's a good thing, right?

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 Suo Hayato

"Oh, that's quite the surprise." he says with that signature smile of his, not looking bothered at all

and honestly, you wish you could say the same for yourself

you're sure that you probably look flustered in one way or another right now

(and suo being suo can definitely tell)

"Would you like to talk to the hotel staff and request another room?" he asks innocently as if he's not enjoying himself

you'd like to say you don't get flustered as often as Sakura but when Suo's involved all that kinda goes out the window because you like like him

"No, it's fine... But it's just because I don't want to trouble the staff, though." you're lying so hard rn btw

you just want to have your main character moment and sleep on the same bed as your crush and who could blame you???

"I see, you're as considerate as ever." he says calmly

WAAAY later, when the lights are already off and both of you are lying on the bed, facing away from eachother bc you're too embarrased to even breathe in the same direction as him rn😥

"You just wanted to sleep on the same bed as me, didn't you?" he asks all of a sudden and it makes you jump

you pretend to be asleep tho bc there's NO WAY you're actually answering that

"You're easy to read. It would be a bad thing in a fight, but I still like that about you."

you're glad the lights are off because you're probably making the silliest embarrased face rn

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 Kaji Ren

he nearly splits his lollipop stick in half when he sees a singular bed

initially you'd be inclined to think he's really REALLY mad considering his red face and all, but you get the feeling that he isn't all that mad after all

he turns to you and curtly says he's getting another room but before he can leave you grab his arm and drag him inside the room

"This room is completely fine, what's wrong with it?" you smile at him innocently, knowing damn well there's nothing innocent behind your words

you're getting him to sleep next to you no matter what muehehehe😈

he wants to say something back to you and you can tell he does but he just puts his headphones on and clicks his tongue instead, his way of begrudgingly agreeing to stay

mission accomplished

later, when it's time for bed, he tries to make you sleep on the bed and sleep on the floor himself but again, you're not gonna let him

he gives up surprisingly quick and falls asleep facing away from you (can't reveal the fact he's blushing hehe)

OH AND ALSO, you'd better not bring up the fact he woke up with his arms around you or you're really gonna get it😡

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 Sakura Haruka

faints and gets taken to hospital bc his head hit the floor a little too hard

ok no i'm sorry, let's be a little less silly for a just a moment🤕

he nearly faints but manages to not do that in front of you (he must stay strong!!!)

however, that doesn't mean he's faring well by any means

bro looks like steamed lobster 🦞

"Sakura?" you wave a hand in front of his face but he kinda seems unresponsive rn

he attempts to speak but all that comes out is a weird gurgling sound

and BAM now his nose is bleeding, and he didn't even need to get into a fight to get it that way

you really have that power on him💪

"S...Sakura? Seriously, are you okay?" you try to place a hand on his shoulder but he flinches away to the other side of the room

"I'LL SLEEP ON THE FLOOR." it comes out a lot less natural and a lot more choked out than he intended

you oblige his request for his own sanity and giggle to yourself about how cute he is when he's embarrased throughout the entire day

when bedtime arrives, you ask him if he's really fine with sleeping on the floor and he nods so hard you're worried his head's gonna fall off

so you begrudgingly let him ☹️

you should really be more than friends, though you're not sure if he can handle a confession considering he almost overheated just from the thought of sleeping on the same bed as you

[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?” 

[thepastdied]

Some Fun

eddie munson × fem!reader smut

Summary: You are Dustin's cousin and meet Eddie for the first time. Things get hot.

Loud laughter erupted from the dining room, echoing throughout the Henderson home and up the stairs.

Your eyes snapped open, frantically looking around.

"What the hell.." You murmered.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and stretched. It was just about 6pm, though still fairly bright out on this summer day, and the sky glowed a beautiful orange that poured through your bedroom window.

You'd just gotten back from college over on the East Coast. Every summer you come back to your aunts house, where you will stay for the next few months before returning back to your university. She was like a mother to you. And Dustin, Dustin was like a brother.

You kicked the covers off of you and swung your legs off the side of the bed before slumping over to your dresser. You'd regretfully overslept, your nap only meaning to be a couple hours, and now felt more tired than you did after finishing those chores this morning.

You changed out of your sweaty clothes and pulled on some pajama shorts, a tank top, and fixed your hair. More laughter came from the first floor, and you scrunched your eyebrows. Mike is so obnoxious..

Your feet padded against the hard wood floor of the hallway as you made your way downstairs.

"Hey." You threw an effortless greeting at the kids without looking up.

You sighed and went into the kitchen to get a glass from the cupboard. Your eyes flickered over to the dining room, the table half in view, to see the boys who've grown up far too quickly chuckling with one another.

Lucas so happened to look over and smiled as he gave you a small wave. Mike noticed, and so did Dustin, causing them all to turn around.

"You look like a fucking zombie." Mike cringed at you.

Your jaw dropped as you scoffed and shook your head.

"Well, I did sleep for literally 4 hours." You pointed out.

"Thought atleast one of you little shits would have woken me up so I could get you dinner". You added in annoyance before moving to the fridge.

You rummaged around before finally retrieving the lemon you'd been looking for and moving back into the boys' view.

"Well, Eddie already ordered us pizza since you were too busy sleeping," Dustin said.

"Child neglect." Mike just had to throw at you, causing you to mouth a 'shut the fuck up' in his direction.

"Wait, who?" You raised an eyebrow at them as you grabbed a knife from the drawer.

A head appeared out from behind the wall, scaring the living hell out of you and causing you to almost throw your knife.

"JESUS FUCK! You scared- oh, wow, hi" You stared at the brown eyed boy who had a silly grin on his face and instantly blushed. 'oh wow' Really!?

He snorted out a laugh as he stepped forward, a heavily ringed hand sticking out in front of you.

"I, my lovely maiden, am Eddie. Eddie the Banished." His eyes flickered down at your body before locking back onto yours. "My last name is actually Munson.. not Banished."

The boys began to talk with one another again and you were grateful, considering you were making a complete fool out of yourself.

You reached forward to grab his hand as you shyly laughed.

"I'm.." You blinked a couple of times. His eyebrows raised and disappeared into his fluffy bangs in anticipation. You somehow forgot your name.

"-y/n." You blurted out.

He grinned widely, revealing his perfect teeth and deep smile lines, head lightly bowing as he held your hand before letting go.

"Well, we were just about to throw a movie on - if you wanted to join." He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and puffed his chest out.

You slowly nodded a few times, the gears in your brain having trouble working properly.

"This is a scary movie we are talking about, I hope?" You tilted your head in question.

"Is Children of the Corn scary enough for you?" He leaned his tall frame against the wall, one leg crossing over the other coolly.

You bit the inside of your cheek. Scary movies never really got to you. But if you get to sit next to him then.. suddenly, you find this movie terrifying.

"I should be able to hold myself together." You smirked up at him.

You turned around to go back to your task of cutting up the lemon for your water. Eddie didn't move an inch and instead raked his eyes down your body. You glanced over to him, his eyes fixated on your bare thighs. You cleared your throat.

"I can meet you guys in the living room?" You spoke without looking at him. You didn't want him to feel flustered about you catching him staring.

"Y-yeah, sure." He clumsily scurried to where the kids were.

You released a long breath and held your aching chest as he disappeared into the other room.

×

Eddie gave the kids pizza while you went to grab blankets for everyone. The larger couch in the living room has a pullout bed where the three boys stayed huddled together with the large pizza box in the center. You found it adorable, just like the old days.

"You need help up there?" Eddie calls up the stairs.

Your tongue sticks out from between your lips as you stretch your arms as high as you can to reach the top shelf of the closet.

"I'm- shit..!" Your fingers graze the corner of the blanket before your toes give out, and you slumped back onto your feet.

Eddie reaches the top of the stairs just as you slap your hands to your side in defeat.

"Please.." You sigh as you wipe the sweat from your forehead.

He chuckles and (unnecessarily) walks behind you, his chest pressed against your back as he easily grabs the blanket and tosses it over your head. You flail your arms and bunch it into your chest, sending him a playful glare, your hair messy and in your face.

"Eddie the Banished is about to really get banished." You lean forward and narrow your eyes as you blow the stray hairs out of your face.

"You are gonna banish me? Sweetheart, I'd like to see you try." He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and wiggles his eyebrows.

"Oh my god, what does that even mean?" You slap his arm at his supposed dirty remark.

He holds where your hand made contact and throws himself against the wall, sliding down until he is a heap on the floor.

"No- no! Please! Don't banish me- I'll do anything!" He pleads as he grabs your ankle.

Your hand covers your mouth as you giggle at his over the top theatrics. He is fucking insane..

"Eddie.. get off the floor." You shake your head in disbelief.

"That's what you want me to do? I was hoping it would be something more like... you know-" He pauses his pleas and whispers.

"Wha- Eddie, get up!" You reach down and grab his arm, as if that will do anything.

He wears a mischievous smile as he stands and shakes his hair. You close your eyes and breathe out before walking past him to go downstairs. The boys didn't seem to notice either of you were gone and as you rounded the corner to the living room Eddie grabbed your arm.

"Hey, you should sit with me." His eyes flicked between yours, nervous that you'd say no.

You nodded your head and continued to the living room, blinking a few times as you see each of the boys already had their own blanket.

"Where did you get those?" You pointed to each of them.

Dustin looked at you as if you were stupid and pointed go the door on the opposite side of the living room. "The closet."

You stared blankly as they continued their conversation and looked at Eddie. His tongue was in his cheek as he stared back smirking and patted the cushion next to him on the empty couch. A wave of anxiety hit you as you approached him and slumped down. Eddie came upstairs after you. He must have known the kids already had blankets. You stilled when his thigh touched yours as he spread his legs.

Dustin shut the lights and started the movie, the entire room being enveloped in darkness.

You looked down at Eddie's legs and felt your heartbeat thump in your chest.

And Eddie, he was looking at your crossed legs and didn't miss the way they were clenching together.

The past thirty minutes have felt like an eternity. You were practically dripping into your shorts.

Your eyes shot down as Eddie moved one of his hands to his thigh and rubbed his palm against his rough jeans, slowly working his fingers toward you. You jumped when his fingertips barely grazed the outside of your thigh. He turned his head to look at you as he did it again, watching your chest rise as you took in a sharp breath. You let him put his whole hand on your thigh and leaned your leg into the touch. His hair tickled your shoulder as he grazed his lips against your ear.

"Is this okay, sweetheart?" He rubbed his thumb in circles and moved his hand slowly toward the inside of your thigh.

You silently nodded and moved the blanket onto your lap, spreading your thighs just a little.

Eddie hummed as he sat upright again and looked over to where the kids sat. Your fingers grabbed his wrist before they were able to meet your pussy. He quickly looked at you, understanding your knowing look.

You sat like that for the remainder of the movie. His hand on your inner thigh and both of you excruciatingly horny, though unable to go further for obvious reasons.

"Welp. We're gonna go for a bike ride." Dustin stood up and stretched, the others following suit as he flicked the table lamp on. They began to grab the empty soda cans from the side table.

"A bike ride now? It's going on 8pm -"

Eddie ripped his hand from your leg and stood up, discreetly fixing himself in his pants.

"We can clean up here, shoo shoo. Be back in an hour so we can watch another movie, the night is still young my sheepies!" Eddie shooed them away with his hands and pushed them out the door, each of them giving eachother puzzled looks.

You stood from the couch as Eddie came back into the room and began throwing the trash away while he moved the remaining pizza to the kitchen. There was so much tension that it was unbearable.

"So.." He started. Geez.. now it's even more awkward.

You really, really needed him. Anything from him.

You raised an eyebrow at him as he moved to sit on the couch again, roughly patting his lap. "Come here."

You shifted on your feet and rung your fingers together. The way your legs rubbed together made you want to moan- that's how desperate you were.

He spread his legs out and licked his bottom teeth as you stood in front of him. You put your hands on his shoulders as you moved to straddle his lap.

"Fuck.." He breathed out as his hands gripped your waist and pulled you tighter to him.

You turned your head in embarrassment of the situation.

"Hey-" He moved one hand to your jaw.

"Look at me." Eddie's voice was soft. You did as he said.

"Would it be cool if I like.. kissed you?" He asked before he pursed his lips and scrunched his eyes shut. As if you'd say no?

You giggled at his bashfullness as your hands moved from his shoulders to his chest.

He opened one eye to peek at you and then shut it again to shake his head in a giddy manner.

"Eddieeee.." You whined.

He opened his eyes and lightly laughed before leaning forward and brushing his nose against yours. You smiled when his breath touched your lips, causing him to laugh. He mumbled an apology before moving one hand to the back of your neck and drawing you into a soft kiss. You pulled apart for only a second before he roughly pulled you flush into him, your gasp being silenced by his mouth.

Eddie's fingers raked down your back and to your ass, gripping you hard and moving his hips up into you. You moaned and rolled your hips. He tore his mouth from yours and let his head fall back, his hair dangling over the back of the couch as you sat up.

"Holy fucking s-shit" He moaned with an open mouth and then clenched his jaw as he groaned.

You throbbed when you saw his neck muscles tense up. His chest was hot under your hands as you trailed them down to his pelvis, where you snaked your fingers under his shirt. Your hips ground into him, his jeans giving just the right amount of rough friction to throw you over the edge. His fingers tightened on your ass when you leaned down, tits pressing against his chest, as you latched your mouth onto his neck. You moaned as you felt your slick gush against your panties.

"Woah that.. that's f-fucking good." Eddie shivered as you licked and sucked up his neck to behind his ear.

His dick was rock-hard under you as you rolled your hips against it. Eddie moved his hands in between your bodies as you continued to devour his neck, his breath quaking while he fumbled with his belt and undid his jeans.

Only the thin layer of his boxers was keeping his raw dick hidden from you. You sat up and wiped the saliva from your mouth with the back of your hand. Eddie's head remained on the back of the couch as he rolled it to the side to look at you. His hair was pushed back on one side revealing the dark marks you left on his neck. He probably has no idea. You smirked.

You palmed him through his boxers and could feel the wetness of his precum seeping through. He groaned from his throat and bucked his hips up into your hand.

"Please.." He breathed out, his adams apple bobbing as he swallowed.

You quickly stood up and removed your shorts, keeping the panties, before sitting back down. Eddie's mouth hung open while he watched your every move.

You positioned your clothed pussy over him and lightly dragged it along his boxers. You sighed in pleasure as the warmth of his dick met your pussy. You felt your slick slide between your folds as you pressed into him, letting your head fall back as you moaned his name.

"Y-you're.. oh god, you're so wet. You're gushing I can f-feel it." He pulled his head up and looked down where your bodies met. Your juices were seeping out of your panties and onto his covered dick.

"Wanna cum on you.." You mumbled, entire body heating up.

Eddie laughed from his throat and frantically nodded.

"And you will, baby. You're gonna fall apart just f'me, huh?" He put one hand back on your ass and another down to your pussy, running his fingers along the outside of your panties. "Fucking soaking.."

He held his hand in front of your face, sticking his glistening fingers together and separating to show the strings of your slick. Both of your breaths were hot and shallow as you continued to grind into him.

"Mm.. never tasted pussy before." He brought his fingers to his mouth and stuck his long tongue out, licking a long strip along his fingers as his dark eyes bore into yours and he moaned at the taste.

"Oh my god-" You choked out a moan and your nails dug into the skin of his waist as you began to roll your hips faster.

"Shit shit shit shit-" Eddie gasped and sat up, holding you by your waist and meeting his hips with each of your movements.

He mouthed at your collarbone and shamelessly moaned as you tangled your fingers in his hair at the nape of his neck. His teeth grazed your skin before he lightly bit down and messily kissed a trail up to your mouth. You bit and licked into eachothers mouths.

"Fuck yeah, just like that." He moaned into your mouth as your fast pace brought both of you closer to cumming. "Wanna-" He grunted as his movements stuttered. "Wanna come with you, sweetheart."

"Mhm.. mhm I'm close. R-really close." You kissed him deeper as he got more sloppy, one of his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you against him while another hand came to grab your face. His tongue was almost down your throat, not that you were complaining. You tore away from him and babbled incoherently, head falling slack to your shoulder as your hips jerked against his as you reached your high. A loud cry rang throughout the room as you arched your back and fisted his hair tighter, legs beginning to shake with over stimulation.

"Okay.. woah that's hot -kay.. okay, okay, okay- FUCK." He let out a long guttural moan as he flopped backwards onto the couch.

Spurts of warmth spread from underneath you, both of your juices mixing together. Your chest heaved as you looked him over. He panted as he looked at you, his hair wild and splayed out across the back of the couch, some sticking to his cheeks, and his face flushed and sweaty. He gulped and wiped his face with the sleeve of his Hellfire shirt.

"C'mere.." Eddie motioned you closer, smiling like a complete dope while trying to catch his breath.

You layed on him and breathed out a relaxed sigh as he kissed the side of your head.

"Next time.. maybe we could go in my room?" You speak quietly against his chest, his heart thumping loudly in your ear.

"Next time!? Goddam.. you'll be the death of me, baby. Of course." His chest vibrated at he spoke, belly shaking when he laughed.

You sat up enough to look at his face.

"So you liked it then..?" You leaned in and pecked his lips.

"Seriously?" He grinned widely, just as he did when you first met only hours ago.

"That.. was fun. Shit."

[deansapplepie]

What’s it, sunshine?

Alexandria Era

Summary: You have a secret and your boyfriend is just about to discover it.

Warning: None? Just one small mention of sex toys. Minors do not interact, 18+

A/N: It’s just fluff, I needed to indulge myself on some validating supportive Daryl. Maybe that’s what you need too.

It wasn’t a long time since you started dating Daryl Dixon, but there was a long time you knew each other already and still he didn’t know your biggest secret. How were you capable of keeping it hidden? Not even you yourself knew. Since the moment you two started dating, you both never spent time together on your room. It was always on his room, but one day you surprised him with a question. “Do you wanna come to my room tonight?”

He was very surprised, but he didn’t say anything about it, just confirmed that yes he wanted to go to your bedroom. So after dinner that was what you did. You both went up the stairs hand in hand, and when you got upstairs you visualized the door of your room, and in that moment you remembered how you had left your room earlier.

You were despaired.

You got your hand free from his and ran like your life depended on that to your bedroom. You practically jumped to your bed and took the item you had on it. While you decided about throwing it under the bed or out the window Daryl arrived at your room and you only had time to hide it on your back holding it with both hands.

“What’s it, sunshine?” He asked leaning on the door and observing you.

“Nothing.” You lied.

“Ya’re a terrible liar, ya know?” He asked you while he walked in your direction and sat on your bed to face you. “Is it a sex toy, or something? ‘Cause I dun care if ya have one.”

“It’s not that. Did you really think I’d need to hide something like this from you?” You said holding the object firmly behind your back.

“So what’s that that made ya run to arrive here and a cute blush mess?” He asked tilting his head while looking at you.

You hesitated. What if he thought it was pathetic and didn’t want to date you anymore? It took you so long to make his heart open to you and you didn’t want to lose it. “Ok, I’m going to show you. But you have to promise it’s not going to change the way you see me.”

“I promise sweetheart, pinky fingers and all that shit.” He said offering you his pinky finger, which you gladly took and sealed your deal. You didn’t know when he became used to the idea of making pinky promises, but you adored it.

You breathed deeply before bringing the piece to your front and his view. He let out a snort when his eyes saw what was that that you were hiding. A cute Black Sheep with bright blue eyes stuffed animal.

“Sunshine, ya did all that effort just to hide it?” He asked you, a smile on his face, a smile only you could get.

“Yeah, I thought you’d think this was childish and immature.” You answered holding the plushie in front of you.

“Com’ere.” He told you.

You got closer to him and when you were close enough he made you sit on his lap. “Ya dun look like a child to me, ya also don’t act like one. It’s ok to have things you like.” He caressed your cheek and put a strand of hair behind your ear. “How long have you been hiding it?”

“Since the road, after terminus. I found it in one of the houses we scavenged.” You confessed. “It was so cute and I have lost mine after the prison, so… I couldn’t resist.”

“Hmm… so you’re hiding it for a long time already. What was it you had back at the prison?” He started playing with your hands while he listened to you.

“A unicorn. That one was really difficult to hide.” You stated, it was bigger than your Black Sheep and you had to sacrifice some things from your backpack along the way from the Quarry to the Prison so you could keep your loved stuffed animal.

“That’s why yer backpack was bigger than ya?” He joked, it was a really big backpack but definitely not bigger than you.

“Yeah, I couldn’t give you a chance to see it.”

“Why’s that?” He asked now passing his hand on your plushie feeling the soft fur of it.

“Don’t act all innocent, you know you would judge and tease me about it.” You said while observing his hands. “I had a crush on you since… forever? I couldn’t let you see it.”

“Ya’re right. I was an asshole.”

“You’re still an asshole, a better one nowadays.” You joked, you knew he had changed, you knew the true him and still you kept this secret embarrassed of yourself.

“Does it have a name?” He took the tou completely on his hands and shook it in front of you while analyzing it.

“D. D.”

“DeeDee? What a funny name! Why that name?” He asked, in true he thought the nane was silly and you could be more creative.

“Daryl Dixon.”

“Why would you name it with my initials? D’ya think I’m a black sheep?” It kind of made some sense for him.

“It’s not bad being one. Also, it had bright blue eyes. Just like yours.” You pointed.

“I used ta have a brown Teddy Bear when I was small.” He confessed. “I liked it a lot. Momma gave me. It burned with the house and her.”

Your heart always ached when you heard him talking about what happened to his mom. He never told you if she was like his dad or if she was sweet and lovely, but loosing your mom is always something sad, no matter what. “And didn’t you get another one?”

“Nah… old man said it was fer gurls and he didn’t have daughters.” The memory pained him a little, the lost childhood, being the kid that was abused, hunted to feed the family and wasn’t even missed. Sometimes he wished his life had been different, but he knew that probably he wouldn’t have come this far if things hadn’t happened like they had.

“Maybe we should get you one.” You suggested, it was nice to see him with your delicate plushie on his hands, you could imagine him and a Teddy Bear.

“Nah, no need to. Now I know you have one, can ya share it with me?” It always surprised you that this big rough man could be so soft and caring.

“Of course, you can cuddle it whenever you want. But personally I’d rather have you cuddling me.” When you finished saying it, he engulfed you on his arms on a tight hug and covered your face in kisses.

Needless to say he made sure to bring you plushies and cute things whenever he find one.

Final note: I was going to add another little part, but I guess it’s good the way it is now.

Wanna be added to my tag list? Let me know. (Please tell me if you want to be tagged on everything or just specific series)

Everything Taglist: @lilyevanstan1325 @hayley1998 @shadowcitrine

[how-serene]

Really wish I could send from my sideblog but could I request Brahms Heelshire with the prompt 'are you here to kill me?' please?

You can take that in any direction you want, I love him so much, he's my dirty wall-lurking ratboy and I love it when he's cute but also unhinged lmao when I saw him in the tags of your requests post my eyes lit up like the 4th of July and I knew I had to give this a shot~

Hold On Tight, Love

Pairing - Brahms Heelshire x Neutral!Reader

Summary - Tired of waiting, Brahms finally makes contact with you.

Word Count - 1k+

Warnings - no use of y/n, brahms being a creep, non-con touching, he technically holds reader hostage

A/N - AGHH thank you for requesting him dear anon! I've been wanting to write for him for a while but wasn't sure on an idea. It's such a shame the actual actor had such little screentime. I hope I did your idea justice, enjoy <3.

Brahms balled his fists, steeling his nerves as he quietly approached your sleeping form. Even in the dark, he could still make out the faint outline of the comforter hugging your body. The floorboards were cold beneath his bare feet, as he continued to shuffle forwards. Outside, the wind howled, harshly blowing through the towering pine trees that surrounded the house. Their long branches clustered around the bedroom window, shielding a view of the stars splattered against a jet black sky.

The wooden floorboards creaked beneath his weight, yet they did not disturb you. Brahms' could feel his heart rattling within his ribcage, as he carefully kneeled beside the bed. Soft snores fell from your plush lips, as a heavy arm was slung over the porcelain doll. His viridescent eyes raked over your dozing form, watching as your chest slowly rose and fell. 

Somehow, over the length of your short stay, this had become a nightly ritual for him. Watching as dreams danced through your head, masked behind your resting eyelids. You were at peace, the day’s tension temporarily falling away for the night

He sighed, leaning his cheek against the edge of the mattress. 

You nuzzled further into the pillow, hand sliding forward to hang over the edge of the mattress. His breath hitched from the movement, wide eyes wandering over your outstretched arm. Your flesh was so tantalizing close to him now, almost as if your body had subconsciously reached out to him. His hand trembled, as his fingers creeped over the covers to hover over your curled fist. The urge to reach out and grasp onto your hand was nauseating. He had painfully waited, stayed hidden and out of sight for so long. Peering at you through cracks in the walls, and keyholes. Watching glimpses of your presence float through the house, unaware of his looming existence. If it weren’t for the echoes of your footfalls walking through the halls, he would have believed you to be a ghost. A fragment of imagination the house (and him) had conjured up out of loneliness. What if touching you revealed your existence to be nothing more than a dream, a phantasm he so desperately wanted to believe in? 

A faint whisper left your lips, ineligible and gone before he could begin to decipher it. The longer he stared at you, he could feel the simmering ache, buried beneath years of solitude, bubble up to the surface. 

‘What if…’ he pondered, hand timidly creeping over the cover. The pad of his index finger grazed over the skin, trailing up the bridge of your pinky. He shuddered, a wistful sigh escaping through his teeth. The edge of his nail dragged over the bumps of your knuckles, memorizing the interwoven lines embedded in the skin. He hummed quietly to himself, warmth pooling in his stomach from the sensation of your soft skin against his. Brahms absentmindedly watched as his fingertips danced and drifted over your hand, tracing faint shapes. His heart threatened to leap out of his throat, and present its pulsing, grotesque body onto the bed for you. 

Brahms palm gently swept up your bare forearm, like a sculptor tracing the curves of its creation. Although, he never could have created you. You were radiance itself, something bright and warm in the otherwise desolate house. The stain of your shadow now forever resided in the halls and corridors. How could you expect him to keep his distance? 

He must have been so caught up in his head, for the next thing he knew his hand was flung back. 

“Who the fuck are you?” You demanded, distancing yourself from him. Brahms slowly rose from his position on the floor, watching your movements behind strands of disheveled brown curls that hung over his eyes. You leapt to the other side of the bed, arming yourself with a lamp that sat on your bedside table. 

“It’s alright.” He assured, cautiously stepping around the bed. His voice cracked, the high pitched tone he dawned nearly slipping. “Please, everything’s alright.” 

You pointed the lamp at him, a pathetic attempt to guard yourself. He cooed, false words of reassurance dripping from his lips like honey. Brahms sounded like a lover, uttering words of comfort to his lover after waking from a nightmare. 

Even through your haze filled head, the adrenaline pumping through your veins was enough to alert you that you were far from safe. 

“Put that down.” He ordered, voice dropping a few octaves. The veil was thinning, and becoming harder to wear the more you shied away from him. 

You swung the lamp, throwing the shade off in the process. “Stay away from me.” 

Brahms frantically shook his head. “Please, don’t ask me to do that.” 

The lamp was hastily thrown at him, as you dodged his arms trying to swing around your frame. You climbed onto the bed, feet coming tangled with the disordered sheets in the dark room. He groaned, kicking the now broken object to the side.

Brahms wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You thrashed around in his secured hold, digging your elbow into his ribs. He groaned in discomfort, the pain only encouraging him to hold onto you tighter. 

“Let me go!”

He maneuvered to sit on the bed, bringing you down with him to sit on his lap. His burly arms entrapped you, cradling your struggling figure against his chest. 

“Dammit, who are you?” You asked again, eyes glancing up to meet his gaze. Your eyes swept over the porcelain like mask he wore, now being able to see it more properly up close. All movement ceased from you, as recognition flickered in your pupils. You peeked over at the undisturbed doll, peacefully resting against your pillow. The smooth, pale ceramic face eerily resembled the mask belonging to the strange man. 

He swallowed, the sweet fruity scent of your shampoo blurring his surroundings. The tip of his nose bumped against your cheek, cool porcelain causing goosebumps to form on your skin. He inhaled, letting out a deep guttural groan as the citrusy aroma of oranges wafted into his nose. You grimaced, and pulled back from him. 

“Are you…” You licked your lips, trying to mentally prepare yourself for the answer. “Are you Brahms?” 

He nodded, cheek rubbing against the back of your hair. A beat of silence passed between you two. 

“Are you here to kill me?” You quietly asked, tears brimming in the corners of your eyes. He could feel you trembling, despite being pressed up against his warm, sweaty skin. 

“No, no.” He soothed, beginning to rock you in his arms. “I could never do that.” 

His fingertips dug into your skin, trying to comfort you. 

The rest of the night was spent in Brahms iron steel hold, waiting anxiously for dawn to break through the line of branches covering the bedroom window. The doll, quiet and still as ever, watched as the night dragged on and on. 

Endlessly.

[hawkinshorror94]

Obsession

The detective lived in a house on the corner of 3rd and 2nd. It had 2 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms, nice for Detroit's standards. Her bedroom faced the abandoned house next door, thus she always left her curtains open.

The android could see her through the window, his processors, zoomed and focused in, watching and waiting. She lay on her bed in a prone position, a hand ghosting over her clothed cunt, the other pinching a perked nipple. Despite the distance Connor could hear the little gasp you made as your hand slipped over the lacy material. He found his own hand finding its way to his crotch, palming himself over the dark slacks.

The real show had begun now, his enhanced vision allowed him to see the fingers slowly twirling around your clit. Slow and deliberate, edging yourself oh so deliciously. Your pussy was so pretty, a small patch of hair on the mound and from his view it was already oh so creamy. Last week he'd watched in envy as a random hookup buried his face between your legs, a privilege. Connor longed to be able to twist his tongue inside of you to feel you gush all over his face. The thought made him blush and pull his cock out.

He spit into his hand and began stroking himself as he watched you slide the pink vibrating toy past your wet folds. Connor gave himself a squeeze and matched the pace at which you fucked yourself. Slowly, stretching the pretty muscles of your tight cunt out, Connor couldn't imagine a prettier sight and he saved it to his hard drive. When you quickened your pace, he did his too stroking himself hard feeling a building deep in his plastic body.

As much as he wanted to cum, he wouldn't, not till he could really be inside you. Feel you grasping at his shoulders and pulling him in closer. Maybe riding him with your head tossed back, breast bouncing in his face, God how he wanted to fill you full. He imagined his cum would look so pretty leaking out of you. Connor stopped himself right before his demise, but he focused on yours. He watched as your hips rose from the bed and your thighs quivered. The noises that filled Connor's auditory processors sounded heavenly. A mix of moans and gasps and with a strangled fuck, his view was cut off. Your legs closing around the toy as the throes of ecstasy overtook you. After a few minutes you threw the toy aside and sat up, face still blown with pleasure and hair askew.

For a brief second, Connor could have sworn you saw him. Could have swore that your eyes flicked in his direction, hiding away in the bathroom of the abandoned house next to yours. But you hadn't. You stood up and moved to the bathroom out of his sight. Connor smiled one day, you'd be his, but until then, this would have to suffice.

This is not the best, but I wanted to put it out there. This was inspired by some audios that @connors-cumsock released.

[joeyalohadream]

I wish you would write a fic where John convinces Gale to stay in bed for a bit longer to cuddle because they finally have the time and peace to do that ☺️❤️

Thanks for the prompt, lovely!

Used this an opportunity to escape the heaviness that is part two of my cooler fic. Here is a 2,790 word glimpse of my Cooler-verse Buckies, post-war. Where did they end up? How'd they get there? Don't worry about it, just enjoy some snuggles. 🥰

---

Bucky feels wakefulness gradually edging into the edges of his blissfully quiet mind. Gone are the moments of jolting to full alertness with a mission to complete, with danger waiting outside of a closed door. Never again will a young airmen shake his shoulder with a firm hand and inform him that he might die today. Never again will he scramble out of a bunk or off of a factory floor with bitter, irate German words chasing him to his feet.

He turns his head, the soft pillow smooth against his cheek, and he rides the slow ebb and flow of drifting back into the waking world. The sunlight shines in through their bedroom window. Their bedroom window that will never be closed with shutters from the outside. Their bedroom window that they replaced the glass panes of two days after they purchased the little farmhouse, ensuring an untarnished view and a crystal-clear entrance for the rays of light to filter through. Their bedroom window that is never covered by so much as a curtain to ensure that Gale can find the outside when he looks up, no matter what time of day he feels the need to see the open expanse of the world around him.

He squints behind closed eyes as he feels the rays of the early morning sun tickling the backs of his eyelids and turns his head back out of the light. The mattress wobbles in the rickety bedframe they haven’t had a chance to replace as the warm body occupying the space next to him shifts. A moment later, he feels a gentle pressure against his cheek and he can’t fight the smile that pulls at his mouth.

“Good morning, John.” Gale’s usual low voice is rough from sleep and Bucky feels the movement of his lips when he speaks, still pressed against his cheek as they are.

Soft lips trail to the hinge of his jaw and then the side of his neck and he shivers at the sensation, smile growing.

He finally opens his eyes and is greeted with one of his favorite sights. Gale, hair mussed and messy, falling over his forehead and sticking up in all directions in the back, eyes hooded but clear and blue and happy. Sleep soft and perfect and here in bed with Bucky. Because they survived a war and a prison camp and a march that did its level best to kill them both. Because they made it home and traveled to new places for fun, not for duty and finally settled. Because they’re in their bed, in their bedroom, in their house.

Bucky can’t help but reach out and cup that strong jaw. He lets his thumb stroke the apple of Gale’s cheek and he leans forward enough to press their lips together and watches those blue eyes slip closed before he closes his own. He keeps the kiss chaste, knowing how much Gale hates morning breath, Bucky’s as well as his own. He lingers for a moment before pulling back enough to rub his nose against Gale’s and gently knocks their foreheads together.

Leaning back first allows him to watch Gale slowly open his eyes and he’s greeted with the sweetest smile, and he just smiles back.

“Good morning, Buck.”  

Gale props himself up on his elbow and grabs the hand Bucky still has cradling his face. He turns his head enough to press a kiss to the inside of Bucky’s wrist before letting both of their hands, now clasped, fall to the mattress.

“You sleep okay?” Bucky asks him, keeping his voice low and quiet, not wanting to disturb the peace that early mornings seem to naturally bring these days.

“I did actually,” Gale smiles and seems genuinely happy at the fact. And Bucky is too. Because while outside forces will never be allowed into their home to wake them against their will again, neither of them can escape the inside forces that invade most nights.

“You too?”

“Me too,” Bucky tells him honestly. Because last night, they’d made love in the home they now owned and shared, and Bucky had fallen asleep happier than he’d been in as long as he can remember. And he knows these happy days are going to start outnumbering the unhappy ones and it makes a pressure in his chest ease at the thought.

“That’s real good to hear,” Gale squeezes his hand and then, much to Bucky’s dismay lets go of it and then sits up.

Bucky watches as he shuffles to the edge of the bed and gets both legs out from under the blanket. The softest blanket Bucky could find at the store on the second night of their road trip, back when Gale couldn’t shake the cold, no matter how far south they drove.

Gale plants his feet on the ground and starts to push himself off of the mattress and Bucky feels unreasonably not okay with that. He reaches out and tucks his fingers into the waistband at the back of Gale’s skivvies and makes a fist, holding tight to the fabric. His odd action is met with a raised eyebrow over a still too bony shoulder so he just grins.

“Tryin’ to get fresh with me Major?”

And while Bucky can’t deny the near constant state of arousal, always simmering somewhere under the surface, he feels around Gale, that’s genuinely not what he’s aiming for. Not right now.

“Seemed like the easiest way to keep you reaching lift off,” Bucky says around a grin.

He releases his grip on the fabric but moves his hand so his palm is curved around the smaller man’s naked hip.

“It’s time to get out of bed,” Gale rolls his eyes at him, but he doesn’t move away from Bucky’s hand.

“Why?”

Bucky almost laughs at the confusion on Gale’s face when he raises the question.

“What do you mean, why? It’s morning, Bucky.”

“So?”

“So? We have things to do,” Gale states like it’s obvious. Like it’s a fact. And Bucky will admit that it is true. They do have things to do. But they also just don’t, and he thinks that is a beautiful thing.

“Like what?” Bucky props himself up on his elbow and rests his chin in his own palm, tilts his head a little and gives Gale an indulging smile.

“You know what, Bucky,” Gale sighs out. “We were going to buy a screen door for the front of the house and paint for the spare bedroom.”

The spare bedroom that will be Gale’s bedroom when they have visitors. The spare bedroom that will never be slept in because they’re currently in their bedroom, that they share because they made it home and this is their life now. Bucky feels warm inside thinking about it all.

“And the hardware store and the furniture depot will be open all day,” Bucky points out, still smiling at Gale. “And if we don’t end up getting either of those things today, guess what?”

Gale narrows his eyes at him, but he’s starting to look more amused than annoyed.

“Those stores are also going to be open tomorrow.” Bucky squeezes his hip and then pulls on him, satisfied when Gale twists his body around so one foot is back on the bed. One down, one to go.

Gale folds his leg under him and looks down at Bucky with a question in his eyes.

“So, you want to do what? Go back to sleep?” There’s no judgement in his voice, just curiosity.

“Nah,” Bucky shakes his head. “Just want to lay in bed with you for a little longer. I was sleeping the whole time. I didn’t get to enjoy you in my arms.”

Gale’s cheeks color and Bucky cheers inside with a victory. The look Gale gives him now is nothing but fond. But he still doesn’t lay back down.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong, Bucky.” Gale huffs a quiet laugh out. “Just feels like we’re doing something wrong after how many years of having to be up and moving every damn day?”

“But we’re not doing anything wrong,” Bucky moves his hand from Gale’s hip to his knee. “Well, technically speaking, in the eyes of God and the law, we are constantly doing something wrong, but, hey, I won’t tell if you won’t.” He winks at Gale and feels himself swell inside at the laugh it forces out of Gale. A real one, one that has him bringing his hand up to cover it’s occurrence.

“You’re ridiculous,” Gale informs him, eyes light and unburdened.

“Ridiculously in love with you,” Bucky adjusts his grip, moving his palm to the back of Gale’s knee and leaning back to get leverage to pull. “And ridiculously ready to cuddle you for at least an hour.”

“A whole hour?” The mock disbelief brings a laugh of his own out of Bucky. It doesn’t take more than a tug before Gale gives in and is climbing back onto the bed completely.

“Where do you want me?”

Bucky grins and reaches out to maneuver Gale into the center of the bed, flat on his back. He lets his fingers dig into his side for a moment, delighting in the involuntary laugh that Gale barks out at the prod.

“You tickle me again and I’ll be on my way to the hardware store before you even get your pants on, John.”

“Okay, Gale,” Bucky smirks at him.

He pushes Gale’s thighs apart and kneels between them, looks down at the amusement on the other man’s face and then lays himself down directly on top of him. He feels Gale’s startled breathy laughter as he settles his chest onto Gale’s groin and hips and then turns his head to rest it with his ear pressed to Gale’s stomach. He frames Gale’s sides with his arms, fingers trailing a slow path up his sides.

“Keep those fingers away from my armpits if you know what’s good for you.”

Bucky chuckles but trails his fingers back down. He can’t contain the contented sigh that escapes as slender, calloused fingers start combing through his curls, twisting them gently around before scratching lightly at his scalp and then repeating the motion.

“Comfortable?”

“Mhmm,” Bucky smiles into the soft skin of Gale’s stomach.

He uses his middle and pointer finger to walk up Gale’s ribcage like a staircase. Months out of the Stalags, over a week off the road and settled into their own home and they still protrude unnaturally. An everyday reminder that Bucky almost lost him, almost watched him fade away right in front of him. Gale’s been slim since the day he met him, he built muscle through training and while he’s slowly getting some of it back, it’s taking longer than Bucky thought it would. Bucky’s frame filled out gradually, but quickly and it truly dismays him that it wasn’t going to be that way with Gale. He has so far to go, and Bucky is starting to realize it’s another battle they’ll have to fight together.

He curves the palm of his left hand around the bottom of Gale’s ribcage and stokes over the most prominent one with his thumb, a silent apology. Soothing it, letting it know it’ll be hidden away soon. He turns his head and places a kiss to the center of Gale’s stomach.

“I bought a dozen eggs at the market yesterday,” Bucky gets a hand to the mattress and scoots himself up until he can rest his chin in the center of Gale’s chest and see his blue eyes. He resettles his weight and smiles when he watches the way all of his features smooth out at the sensation of the pressure of Bucky’s large frame over his.

“I know you did, I was with you at the market,” Gale tilts his head. He moves his hand down to the side of Bucky’s neck, fingers playing with the curls there.

“When I’ve had my fill of cuddling with you, I’m gonna go downstairs and cook all of them for you.”

“I can’t eat twelve eggs, Bucky,” Gale laughs.

“I’m gonna fry some of the ham in the ice box. Ham and eggs, and some sweet rolls too.” Bucky watches as amusement dances in Gale’s eyes at his words. “It’ll be a breakfast feast, fit for a King.”

He feels Gale’s thumb start to trace the lines around his eyes, so he widens his smile to make them more pronounced. Gale loves those lines, he’d told him so while he was miserable and sick and terrified in the Stalag just a few days after he’d returned from one hell to another.

“I couldn’t eat twelve eggs and ham and sweet rolls even before the,” Gale trails off a bit, doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t want to talk about it. Bucky leans into his touch enough to let him know he knows what he means. “But I definitely can’t now.”

And Bucky knows that. He knows he can’t just feed Gale three overly square meals a day for a few weeks and call it good. He knows there’s more to it than that. That Gale’s relationship with food is different now, just like his relationship with solitude and silence and noise and countless other things is different now too. Just like his own relationship with whiskey and crowds and the woods and even a phone call is different now.

It doesn’t mean Bucky doesn’t wish he could make it all go away.

“I know,” Bucky tells him. “I just want to take care of you.”

“You do,” Gale’s voice is soft and serious and gentle, and it warms Bucky to his core. “You take care of me every minute of every day, Bucky. You’re the only one who ever has.”

And Bucky feels so proud of himself and so sad for Gale at the same moment. But Gale doesn’t look sad, he looks happy and content and very in love.

“You take care of me too,” Bucky breathes out. “Better than anyone else ever has.”

Silence settles around them for a few moments as they watch each other in the early morning light. The sun is warm on Bucky’s bare back and he could stay just like this all day. But he feels Gale’s stomach rumble against his own where they’re pressed together.

“Can I make you two eggs, ham and a sweet roll?”

“C’mere,” Gale tugs on his shoulder and Bucky goes easily, moth to Gale’s flame.

The way Gale holds his face, palm cradling his jaw makes him melt further into him. Their lips meet and Bucky’s the first to close his eyes this time. He props himself up on his hands, framed on either side of Gale’s head and lets himself enjoy the press of Gale’s plump, soft lips to his own. To his surprise, morning breath be damned, the tip of Gale’s tongue traces the seam of his lips and his hips grind down at the same the wet slide of their tongues kicks the simmering arousal in his gut up a notch.

He feels Gale is similarly affected and he smiles into the kiss as Gale tries to pull him down, pull him closer. Bucky rolls his hips one more time and then leans back, smiling down at Gale as the younger man lifts his head to chase his lips.

The frustrated pout Gale shoots up at him makes him laugh. He brushes the hair off of Gale’s forehead and then lets his lips follow his fingers, pressing a kiss right between his eyebrows.

He leans back and get his knees under him and in one fluid motion he’s up and off the bed, Gale’s pout turning more frustrated. Still adorable though.

“Where the hell are you going?”

“It’s breakfast time, Buck.”

“This was your idea,” Gale reminds him, still laying in their bed, still looking sleep soft and precious and perfect and like everything Bucky every dreamed of and had really feared he might lose. He wonders if Gale can see the love he feels for him in his eyes, in his smile, in his entire being.

“I’m gonna make you breakfast and we’re gonna eat it,” Bucky tells him, hands on his hips, a smile on his lips that won’t be leaving his face at all today. “And then I’m going to have you for dessert.”

Gale’s eyes widen a bit and a slow, pleased smile spreads across his face.

“We’re not going to get any work done today, are we?”

“No, we are not.” Bucky tells him with a grin, already imagining all the things he’s going to do to him in their bed.

“Sounds good to me, Major.”

[devondespresso]

FINALLY

after NINE. HOURS. (NOT including meals and sleep) ITS FUCKING DONE.

A complete floorplan of the entire Harrington house. Including too much thought about random, throw-away lines from characters and squint-to-see-it background glimpses inside.

plently of stuff in the actual house is altered or straight up ignored in favor of following the fiction logic and because I Wanted To. A lot of this is motivated by my headcanons for the Harringtons and how I'm writing them in my fic, but I'm also certainly not an architect so it's by no means perfect. It is, however, unreasonably canon compliant in the few bits we do see.

Thought Process (for context):

the darker shaded floor areas are lower than the rest, some bits like the garages having stairs and some areas like the sun and dining rooms list being like a step lower. Windows are marked with dashes along the outside, sliding doors are two thin lines slightly overlapping, stairs change color as they diverge from the level we're looking at, and furniture is eyeballed so don't look to closely a the scale.

not all closets are labeled, just the ones i figured could be confusing. Steve and the guest rooms have closets i promise.

the laundry room and pantry are not the same size but by the time i noticed i was exhausted. so pretend they're both more reasonably sized.

i don't know what the floorplan symbol for garage door is and then i forgot to look so the headlights point to where the doors are and you can see them clearly in photos so yeah.

The general layout is based on the idea that the Harringtons are or were into hosting dinner parties and business meetings in their home, especially as a young rich couple looking for respect in their circles (Mr. Harrington taking on his father's business and reinforcing that power, Mrs. Harrington climbing her own social ladder and building an image).

So the house is laid out with hosting areas towards the right with the office big and near the dining room because it's more than just a workplace, it represents him as a businessman. In canon the entryway and living room both have very high ceilings and no second-floor above them, so I'd imagine they're also aware of how the top floor looks from below, hence the fancy double/french doors to the master bedroom which is in plain view from below. Steve's room and the guest room are's nearly as visible.

As for the kitchen and sun/pool rooms, I see them more as secondary hosting areas that aren't used as the main location most of the time and are more this background setting to these events that still feel rich. The kitchen is massive and mostly for dinner-parties and Mrs. Harrington's social events.

The kitchen and main bathroom's placement is based on a line Steve said to Barb giving her directions to the bathroom: "down past the kitchen, to the left". With the massive living room on the left and wanting to keep the dining and office close by, i interpreted the "to the left" part being like "find the kitchen, then turn left". And with the rest of the area being open-concept, the bathroom would be the only normal door over there and easy to find. it's a bit of a stretch with just that line, but it makes sense to me with the rest of the context for the layout.

the basement is similar to this, though not as openly displayed so I imagine its for slightly closer friends. Theres a garage door down there so I figured Mr. Harrington might have a cool car he shows off, like he's letting people in on a personal detail about himself. There's also a guest room down there (the only one still considered 100% for guests, more on that later) for those people.

beside the basement garage, there was originally one main garage that holds two cars, obvious Mr. and Mrs. Harrington's cars. I imagine they bought the house before having kids, so a third one wasn't on the mind but after having Steve they added the front one (either turning the carport into a closed garage or they never had a carport and added a whole new addition, up to you)

Both garages lead to the same part of the house, and that area is the only one besides the water heater room that is purely function over effect. It still looks good like the rest of the house but it's not made to be fancy because guests would rarely need to be over there if at all and it's not noteworthy from other parts of the house.

In my headcanon, Steve's room used to be a guest room, staying his room from nursery to present with Mrs. Harrington renovating every now and then. Its one of those places in the house that doesn't have to look perfect for all to see, so she gets creative and has fun with it.

The upstairs guest room is also unofficially Mrs. Harrington's room, based on a line where Tommy mentions a fireplace in "his mom's room" instead of "guest room" or "parent's room" or "master bedroom". I belatedly realized this could be a solidarity thing with Steve hating his dad and calling the master bedroom his mom's room, but that was after 9 hours of this and im not changing it but there you go. In this version, I imagine she leaves the master some nights because her marriage with Mr. Harrington is failing (cheating and all, I wouldn't want to be in the same bed with someone who cheated either)

the master bathroom was an executive decision, just looking at the house in canon and not having enough space in my first attempts, i decided the triangle roof part above the dining and office could fit a master bathroom.

Feel free to use or reference this in your own fics! Feel free to block out my furniture or walls and make your own version. If you share my image please credit with an @ mention!! (again, 9 hours) (thank you fhalsfhd)

[ninii-winchester]

Behind Closed Doors (Part 2)

Pairing : Boss!Dean Winchester X Assistant!Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: fluff, mentions of sex, use of pet names (a-lot) not proofread.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Dean and Y/n arrived at their destination and Y/n was sure of one thing; A romantic getaway to the Bahamas is the epitome of paradise. Dean had booked a private beach house for their stay. The beach house was nestled along a secluded stretch of shoreline, offering unparalleled access to the ocean and breathtaking views of the horizon. The house design was seamless with its natural surroundings, with large, open spaces that invite the outdoors in. Expansive glass doors and windows frame panoramic views of the beach, allowing sunlight to flood every corner of the home. A spacious deck extended from the house, leading directly to the soft, white sand.

“You really went all out huh?” Y/n questioned as they both entered the beautiful house. Dean smiled proudly as she took in all the luxurious designs of the place.

“The best for my baby.” Dean said closing in on her and pulling her into his chest. She leaned back with a contented sigh, dropping her head on his shoulder, her arms resting on his’ at her torso.

“Thank you, Dean.” Dean shook his head at words, pressing his lips to the column of her neck, leaving soft kisses in his wake. His lips moved upwards, he placed a kiss below her neck and moved to her jaw.

“You don’t have to thank me sweetheart.” Dean replied tenderly. He is just happy to be here with her, to be able to spend some quality time without being interrupted by anyone. He turned her around to face him, bringing his hand up to rest on her cheek “What do you wanna do today?”

Y/n titled her head to the side, her lips turning into a little pout as she mulled over what she wants to do today. Dean found her extremely adorable when she was lost in thought and all he wanted was to kiss her senseless.

“Lunch then rest. A dip in the ocean in the evening, dinner and then stargazing?” Y/n listed off the day’s plan.

“Careful baby, your PA is showing.” Dean chuckled earning a swat on the arm. “I’m kidding. Sounds like a plan to me.” Dean leaned forward brushing his lips against her ear before adding, “Does the evening dip involve swimming without clothes?” Y/n smirked evilly at his question.

“Well you’re gonna have to wait and find out.” She replied making her way into the large spacious bedroom, with plush bedding and direct access to outdoor spaces, to enjoy the sounds of the waves at night.

Dean groaned at the image his mind conjured up, not being able to stop the dirty thoughts occupying his mind. He quickly followed behind her into bedroom, picking her up and throwing her onto the soft mattress making her bounce lightly. “Slight change of plans, sweetheart. I’m having dessert first.” He said pulling his shirt over his head, leaning down to crash his lips against hers.

“God, you’re insatiable baby.” She murmured against his lips making him grin. The two of them spent quite a few hours making sweet love to each listening to soothing sound of the waves crashing.

After a leisurely and quite late lunch with fresh seafood and tropical fruits enjoyed on the deck, overlooking the ocean, the two of them laid in the hammock enjoying the calm.

As the evening approaches and the heat softens, clad in her bikini and his swim trunks, Y/n and Dean step down to the beach for a refreshing dip in the ocean. The water was warm, the light golden as the sun started to descend. The two of them float in the gentle waves, feeling utterly connected to the beauty around them.

Dean splashed water at Y/n, a mischievous grin forming on his face as he declared for a friendly battle. She wiped her face, removing the water from her face before splashing him back. They continued to dodge each other’s playful swipes. Laughter fills the air as they wrestle, trying to pull the other off balance while feeling the cool rush of water against their skin. Dean managed to push her head underwater playfully drowning her. Y/n got back to to surface glaring her boyfriend who was busy laughing.

“I win.” Dean exclaimed doing an awkward victory dance in the water. She narrowed her eyes at him before an evil thought creeped in her head. Grinning mischievously she grabbed the strings of her bikini top and pulled it off completely, throwing it at his face, rendering him speechless. Dean’s eyes turned dark and lustful, although she was hidden by water from below her neck. “You little minx, come here.” Dean growled reaching for her but she swam away before sticking her tongue at him. Needlessly to say he caught her and the dip in the ocean become even more interesting than anticipated.

Later, as the sky turns to twilight, they had dinner—paired with a bottle of wine, savored under the open sky. The evening culminated in stargazing from the beach, lying side by side on soft blankets as the stars emerge, twinkling like diamonds against the velvet night. The peacefulness of the scene made it feel as if the entire universe is theirs to enjoy in this perfect moment of togetherness.

“Did you have fun today?” Dean asked looking at her. She teared her gaze away from the stars to look at him, she supported herself on her elbow, her head on the palm of her hand.

“This is best day of my life.” She whispered in the stillness of the night.

“Can I make it even better?” Dean asked sitting up and looked at him curiously. He looked at her expectantly and she nodded lightly urging him to go on. “Wait here, I’ll be back.” Dean said getting up from where he sat and disappeared into the house. A few minutes later he came back and he looked slightly nervous than he was before he left. He stopped in-front of her and held his hand out for her, which she grabbed without hesitation and pulled her up to her feet.

“Y/n,” Dean took a deep breath before continuing, “I never thought I'd find someone like you. From the moment I met you, I knew you were special. You made me feel things I never thought were possible. Every time I'm with you, I feel my heart race, my soul sing... and I know that I never want to be without you." Y/n let out a gasp as she realised what was happening. “You're my partner, my other half. Your laughter, your intelligence, your kindness... I could go on forever about how wonderful you are. Honestly I can’t even work properly without you, the company would’ve gone to shit if it weren’t for you.” Y/n chuckled wanting to tell him he’s exaggerating but refrained from interrupting him. “You make me the happiest man alive. And nothing in the world would make me happier than you agreeing to spend the rest of your life with me.” He retrieved a velvet box from his pocket, the box open to reveal a sparkling engagement ring. Lowering himself down on one knee he asked, “Will you marry me?”

“Yes! Yes, Dean I will!” She exclaimed with tears streaming down her cheeks. He quickly slid the ring in her ring finger. The engagement ring showcases a single, exquisite round brilliant diamond set in a sleek platinum band. Getting to his feet he smashed his lips to in a searing kiss, pulling her into him.

“I was gonna wait till the end of the vacation you know, incase you said no. But laying here with you, beside the ocean, under the stars, you were just looking absolutely breathtaking and I couldn’t help myself.” Dean said after pulling away.

“You really thought I would’ve said no?” She asked and he rubbed the back of head.

“Yeah, I mean I haven’t been the best boyfriend to you, we haven’t even been public-“ she quickly stopped him.

“It doesn’t matter to me, darling. As long as you love me I’m good. Though I think now might be the best time to tell your family.” She said showing him the ring on her finger. They’re engaged now, even if they don’t go public they should at least tell his parents.

“Absolutely, sweetheart. The first thing I’m doing when we get back home is telling mom.” Dean had decided to tell his mom about their relationship the minute he bought the ring. He was done hiding their relationship and he doesn’t give two shits what people might say about them. She’s his fiancée now and he’s going to show her off to the whole world. “For now, I just wanna make love to my beautiful fiancée all night long and spend this vacation with her.”

“You’re lucky she loves you.” She replied giggling softly.

“Damn right I am.” He said picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder making his way back to the house. “And she best believe I love her too.”

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@starkleila @suckitands33 @m3ntally-unstable @kanekilovelove-blog @candy-coated-misery0731

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@thelittlelightinthedarkess @enamoredwithbella @winchesterwild78 @myuhh8

@10ava01

[whatyadrawin]

The Fruit After The Flesh 18+ -Chapter 14

Minors DNI!

Masterlist

Approximately 4,989 words

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt (Headcanon) x AFAB reader

This chapters Warnings:  Sexual language and depiction of sexual acts, foul language, brief PTSD scene, mention of reproductive choices. This is Slasher smut, be mindful of that and use your discretion.

A/n: See the end of chapter for a special authors note since I dont want to spoil anything here. I feel pretty good about this chapter, the art has some sloppy work because I was passing out while working on them so please be nice, I hope theres no typos or weirdness in the edited writing either because I was also passing out for that. The censored image can be viewed raw on my google doc (By clicking that link you are consenting to seeing graphic adult imagery and you are over 18). Let me know if you want to be in the tag list. I update chapter progress on the masterlist whenever something changes.

Please enjoy this chapter! I worked very hard on it so reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated very much.

Tag List: @fan-goddess , @artxasa , @baybaybear1 , @amour-tae , @dij-ology , @jillian-mill

Chapter 14

                The day started with you getting a phone call from the contractor, he informed you that your house was fully repaired and ready to move back into; You immediately got changed and walked over, highly excited to see the finished work. You arrived quickly, opening the heavy wooden door where the smell of fresh paint and new wood filled your lungs. The sun’s rays lit up the rooms giving the home a cheery appearance, as if it was happy to see you.

You slowly made your way through the entrance to head straight for your room, when you passed through the doorway you felt a knot form in your stomach, the memory of the fire was making you feel fear as if you were experiencing it all over again. You let the anxiety hit you to really feel the emotions fully, you figured if you could handle the ghost of the past then you could strive to overcome it.

Within a few short moments, the feeling passed but the cortisol surge remained. You left the bedroom and sat on the couch in the living room exhaling deeply as you reclined. You looked out at the large storage container that you had yet to completely empty, it was costing you to keep it on the property and felt like a constant reminder of how new you still were to this country.

The entire day was spent emptying out the storage crate to fill up your home. Extra clothes and furniture found their place in every corner of the house, by nightfall you managed to get your bedroom and bathroom to look mostly normal again. The fire destroyed your bed and stained the wardrobes with soot, some floor lamps were melted and unusable as well as your window curtains.

-Looks like I need to buy a new bed and some furniture- You thought about how nice you could make your room, and what curtains to buy to cover the bedroom window with. -I think it might be good to invest in some security features too while I’m at it- Dover’s attack on you affected the way you felt when you were alone, it was now pertinent to have visibility from many angles and access to view them at any time in case someone tried to hurt you while you were unaware again.

After ruminating on your fears, you locked up and left the house, the moon was now high in the sky and you realized you hadn’t eaten all day. When you left and got to the end of your driveway, you saw headlights shining up the road heading in the direction of the Hewitts house. The driver gave a honk and when you squinted to look, you recognized the truck, it was Charlie.

He pulled up next to you and reached over to unlock the passenger door,

“Get in ‘fore you get ate by a coyote” he said through the open window.

You smile and hop into the passenger’s side of the truck; the seat is rough edged from wear and scrapes the exposed skin on your leg as you slide onto it. You shut the door and thank him for picking you up,

“Are there really coyotes around here?” You asked

He smirks, “Well now, ain’t a whole lot of wildlife really comin’ ‘round here no more.”

You wrinkle your brows, “Must be lucky then eh?”

He chuckles and raises his eyebrows, “Somethin’ like that”

You roll your eyes and give a tight-lipped smirk, you knew it wasn’t luck, if anything it was a whole lot of bad luck that accumulated on this land brought onto poor hapless victims taken from the outside world just to feed the starving Hewitts. This land really was a world of its own, it felt like you were existing in another universe, the remoteness didn’t help much with that either.

“What’s ‘at look for?” he was obviously trying to sleuth out your expression.

Your eyes widen and you quickly face the open window to prevent further incriminating looks,

“Nothing” you hope he would drop it, but he continues,

“You’re bein’ real suspicious ain’t ya? Somethin’ I should know ‘bout?”

You reply with a hint of annoyance in your voice,

“Oh my Goduh, nothiiiiiiiiing” -that should throw him off-.

Charlie laughs and changes the subject,

“You gon’ move back into Tilly’s house now that it’s fixed up?”

You continue to look out the window,

“Yeah, I have been bothering you guys long enough.”

He quickly replies, “You was never no bother girly, I know Luda Mae’s gon’ be real upset seein’ you less. She sure hates an empty nest.”

You didn’t think it would be that much of an impact, you felt like a total leech living there for as long as you did,

“I’m sure she will be relieved having less cooking and housework to do…she never let me help.”

Charlie laughs, “That woman? She’s been feelin’ like a mother again what with doin’ all the women’s work. Was always her happiest when she was carin’ for the boy. Obsessed with motherhood, guess it’s normal for womenfolk to think like that.”

You roll your eyes, you had become used to the way Charlie spoke about women in the time you lived with him, but it was still obnoxious to hear such outdated ideals in modern day.

Charlie puts his arm up on the bench seat, he gives you an inquisitive look, he asks,

“You think like her at all?”

You sigh, “Isn’t that a bit personal?”

He sucks his teeth and looks at the road, he continues,

“Shoot girly, it’s just a question.”

You remain quiet for a few seconds before responding, “No… it’s never really been a goal for me.”

“Huh.”

You replied, already feeling defensive, “What?”

“Just never encountered a ‘no’ from a woman regardin’ kids is all.”

Instinctively, you began preparing to hear the usual patriarchal bullshit thrown at women who choose a different reproductive path. You prepare the counter arguments in your head, you cross your arms and say,

“Ok, lay it out then, tell me how I’m going to change my mind someday or whatever. Let’s get it over with”

Charlie lets out a confused grunt, he turns to you laughing,

“Sweetheart, I couldn’t give two shits ‘bout you not wantin’ to get knocked up. Only reason I bring it up is ‘cus I heard some foolin’ around in the basement the other day.”

Your eyes widen and you tense up with embarrassment, he laughs again,

“Now don’t get yourself all twisted up ‘bout it, s’about time that boy got some tail.”

Your muscles relax a bit, you couldn’t help but blush at your seemingly private exploration being heard. He continues,

“If you n’ the boy are gettin’ that serious, I feel I need to warn you that he’s got no bullet with the blast”

Your nerves wanted out of this conversation, but your curiosity made you dig for information,

“How would you know something like that?”

“Tommy ain’t our blood, Luda Mae found him in a dumpster behind the meat packin’ shop she worked at back in the day. Was a large thing, that boy, t’was clear the momma didn’t want nothin’ to do with him so she tossed him like trash. He was uglier ‘n hell as a baby, not much different than now.” He laughs. “But he ain’t right, somethin’ in his dang blood made him grow into such a fuckin’ beast, made him stronger than any man I ever knew.”

The road was coming up on the house now, you wanted to know more, so you turned to fully face Charlie and asked,

“Being big and strong doesn’t make someone infertile…”

Charlie smirked as he parked the truck near the wheat field and shut off the engine, he leaned his head at an angle to look at you without turning his body,

“Girly, you remember we told you ‘bout the infection fuckin’ up his face?” You nod,

He continues, “He was in the hospital a few weeks getting’ medicine. If he was a normal kid he woulda died. The doctor told us he had some, uh… dang what’d he say now?” Charlie ran his hand through his hair as he thought, “I dunno what it was, somethin’ ‘bout his blood bein’ shitted up n’ to not expect any grandkids, specially with all the drugs they dun gave him. Luda Mae was real upset; I didn’t give no fucks long as he’d help ‘round the farm, and boy did he get useful.”

He got out of the truck and started walking to the house, you sat there mulling over the information you were given. -If he is infertile… No need for protection I guess- The thought of finally being able to safelyhave raw unprotected sex made you hot with lustful fantasies, sex was hard to fully enjoy when you always had the underlying fear of pregnancy looming over you.

You entered the house and made your way to the kitchen where you saw Luda Mae in a nightgown pouring from a teapot. She turned and saw you, a smile immediately formed on her lips,

“You been away all day dear, did you eat anything?”

You shake your head and walk closer to her, she continues,

“Just as I thought. I saved you some dinner in the fridge there, you can heat it up in the oven which is already preheated for you.”

She sets down the teapot and says,

“Did you get a lot done dear?”

You open the fridge and find a large plate filled with comfort food, you respond,

“Thanks for saving me dinner, you didn’t have to.” She smiles at you, and you continue,

“I got a ton of things done, I’ll be out of your hair once my bed arrives”

Luda Mae’s smile sank, you could tell she didn’t want to hear you were leaving. She saw you looking at her expression and quickly changed it back to a smile, saying,

“Well, that’s good for you dear, but don’t go feelin’ like you have to leave right away now. Take as much time as you need.”

You feel her hand gently placed on your upper back, she gives you some comforting rubs and you tell her,

“Don’t worry, I’m going to be over a lot. It’s just that the orchard needs someone there to care for it, and it’s a big job.”

She nods, understanding the need to get back to normal,

“Alright hun, you eat whatever you like and get some tea from the pot there. I’m headin’ to bed now but if you need anything, just knock on my door.”

You thank her again and she walks up the stairs. You see Charlie come in after her, he went straight for the bread buns in the basket on the counter.

“You headin’ to bed girly?”

You shake your head, he stuffs the bun in his mouth and begins to leave,

“thya ‘omarro” His words were muffled by the food he was chewing, you wished him a good night and listened to him walk up the stairs to his room, his footsteps thudding more quietly with each step.

You put the plate in the oven and let out a big sigh as you sat in the chair, you weren’t tired despite being busy all day. The thoughts of Tommy unloading his orgasms into you were energizing, you sat there feeling the ache between your legs gain intensity. -he must have gone to sleep by now, I better get changed out of these sweaty clothes-

You made your way to the bedroom and threw off your shirt and shorts, you took off your bra and exhaled in relief letting your breasts experience natural gravity again. You picked out a purple oversized T shirt that reached your knees, you felt immediately comfortable and paused before you left the room. -Might be fun to feel a little breeze as I eat dinner, everyone went to bed anyway- you quickly slipped your underwear off and tossed it near your bed, you blushed as you made your way to the kitchen giggling to yourself about the bold idea.

You step back into the kitchen and turn off the oven, you leave the plate in there to soak up the last bits of heat so it doesn’t have any cool pockets to ruin the meal. You turn and open the side door that leads to the porch, your bare feet touching the smooth wood floor. The moon was bright and lit up the land, you looked out at your home up on the hill, it was a barely visible white blob sitting lonely on the hilltop watching over the orchard.

You wondered what this town was like when it was busy, there weren’t many buildings around that you saw when you reached the gas station, but you also never drove up the road past the Hewitt house; as far as you knew, there was just tall grass and an evil man’s hiding hole.

The night air was refreshingly cool, it brushed under your shirt and tickled your naked body which felt invigorating. Back home it was rare if the nights were warm enough to stand outside half dressed, but you also didn’t have a large private porch to lounge in either.

Suddenly, a glow of warm yellow string lights lit up from the roof of the porch illuminating a large man standing in the doorway. It was Tommy, he bent down to avoid hitting his head on the doorframe and closed the door behind him. You were shocked to see him, and were now very aware of the fact that you were completely nude under this shirt, you almost missed the fact that he was shirtless.

You pull down your shirt to ensure it isn’t somehow lifting up and making your lower region visible,

“I thought you were asleep?” you ask

“Heard y’come in, wanted t’check up on ya” he spoke softly.

He moved next to you, putting his massive arms on the railing and leaning forward to look at the land. You felt nervous being so close to him with your secret hiding under the thin fabric of your shirt. -Why am I nervous? I was in a pond with him naked for gods sake!- Despite your previous escapades you still felt giddy at the thought of him discovering your hidden nudity.

You try to divert your nerves with conversation,

“Thanks for teaching me how to defend myself, it feels better knowing I might stand a chance now.”

He nods at you and smiles with his eyes, his dark mask hiding his damaged skin, you noticed his pushed back hair was wet and when he moved closer you could smell the fresh scent of a masculine scented soap, it was intoxicating. You shake your head a little to snap yourself out of it,

“S-so were you going to stay up here a while? I need to get my dinner out of the oven if you want to hang out as I eat.”

You quickly make your way to the kitchen hoping to escape his alluring scent, it was flooding your mind with wicked thoughts about his arms squeezing around you like a python while he fucked you. -god damn, why does he have to smell so good, and look so good, and be so fucking massive and hot!- You argued with your thoughts, you wouldn’t be able to try playing with him while Luda-Mae and Charlie were just one floor away, too risky, but you didn’t want to be obvious by pulling him downstairs.

You were wise to his antics, and you remember when he said “I’m gon’ start messin’ with y’now”he made sure you understood he was going to torture you with desire. He followed you into the kitchen barely being able to pass through the doorframe, you try to ignore him, you were onto him and wanted to see what he would attempt.

“I’ll get that for ya” he reached down into the oven without oven mitts and grabbed the plate without flinching, he sets it down on the table in front of you then reaches to get you a fork.

You touch the plate and it stings with heat,

“How didn’t that burn you?”

He shrugs, “Thick skin I guess”

He takes a seat next to you and hands over the fork, you thank him and begin to eat. He leans back in the chair and relaxes as he watches you, he then asks,

“That house o’ yers is done huh”

You nod, eating hastily not realizing how hungry you were. He continues,

“Y’gon’ move on out then?” His voice was vibrating the plate on the table from the low timbre.

You swallow the large ball of food in your mouth and reply,

“The orchard hasn’t been properly tended to in a while, I have to keep those trees alive and… Tilly made it a clause in her will.”

He crosses his arms and nods, leaning back and looking away,

“Won’t see much of ya ‘round then I s’pose”

You put the fork down and sit back, a serious look on your face, he looks over at you and notices the shift,

“What’s amatter?” he asks.

You look him in the eyes, “I wanted to run something by you actually”

He shifts in his seat and places one arm on his thigh and the other on the table while his torso was turned to face you,

“Y’can ask me whatever y’want”

A tiny smile hits your lips from his words,

“Well, Dover didn’t really teach me about caring for the trees. I figure I can read up on it and do my best to learn everything I can but…” You paused, you clenched the edge of your t-shirt bottom before finding the courage to push out the question, “I want to know if you knew anything about caring for orchards, and maybe, if you did… you could teach me the basics until I can do it myself”

Tommy was quiet, he put his hand to his chin and was deep in thought, you got nervous and added,

“Y-you can say no its ok, I know it’s a big ask since you already do so much around here, I just thought it would be nice to… spend more time together is all.”

He leaned back in the chair, it creaked under his weight,

“I’ll help ya. I dunno a whole lot ‘bout orchards but, I helped Tilly when she needed it, she taught me a thing or two”

You smile, “I’m really glad”

You got up to put the leftovers away, Tommy followed and stood up to open the fridge door from behind you as you placed the food back inside.

When he shut the fridge door, he kept is arms around you fencing you in. You spun around to look at him, he was towering over you, his steely blue eyes gazed at you through heavy lids. He moved his hand to gently caress your neck and trailed it under your jaw, lifting your face to look in his eyes.

“Y’don’t need no excuse to get me alone” his voice was smooth and enshrouded your mind making you feel a wave of arousal flood your body.

“Oh Yeah?” you speak in a breathy whisper.

He nods slowly, you touch the thick leather of his mask and say,

“What do I need to do to see your handsome face then?”

He hangs his head down and laughs, he lifts his head and brings it close to your face,

“Go ‘head then”

You excitedly remove the mask revealing his gnarled old wound that exposed his teeth through his cheek, the more you got to see his real face the harder you fell for him.

“Still likin’ what y’see?” he asks.

You smile and lift yourself up to his face, you look into his eyes and slowly move in to kiss his lips. He lets out a muffled hum as he kisses you back, you press in harder and lift your hands to cup his face, his stubbles was shaved off to a clean finish. You forgot how wonderful his lips felt, the kiss quickly became heated with passion, both of you began to breathe more hastily.

Tommy put his hands on the sides on your body, slowly moving them downwards until he reached where he wanted to. He wrapped his hands around your thighs and lifted you up onto his chest so your face was the same level as his, you stifled an excited squeal when your body lifted into the air so effortlessly.

He smiled and kept you in his arms while kissing you, you threw your arms around his neck to keep your body leaned forward past his bulky pecs to reach his face. You felt his hands move inwards towards your weepy slit. He was trying to get a more stable grip so you could sit comfortably, but when his fingers discovered no underwear, he stopped kissing you and gave you a devilish grin,

“What we got here?” he spoke through a chuckle

You blushed and bit your lip remaining quiet, unsure of what to say,

He kept tickling your labia with gentle flicks of his fingers, your breathing hastened and you suppressed a moan with your hand over your mouth,

“Bad girl, y’need to go to yer room huh”

You nod, “Put me there”

 He moves his mouth close to yours, but when you lean in for a kiss, he slowly pulls away grinning. He carries you through the porch door, entering sideways and leaning down to avoid hitting his head. He stops when he reaches the double door leading to your room, he turns around and places you on the railing of the porch which is wide enough for you to sit comfortably.

“Why did you set me here?” you ask.

“I aint givin’ in so easily” he grumbles through a smirk

“…do you want me to beg or something?” you laugh.

He gives you a smug look, “Maybe”

“Oh please, I can keep myself under control. No amount of flirting would make me want to be-“

He cuts you off by gripping your hips and pulling your body close to the edge of the railing top so you were flush against his warm torso. You huff defiantly until he presses his erection onto your cunt, your abundant juices coated the fabric of his sweat pants. You let out an unexpected moan and quickly cover your mouth to quiet it.

Tommy slowly rubs his stiff cock up and down the length of your lips, pressing in when his head met your hole just to tease you. He was grinning watching you hold your hand to your mouth as you hushed your whines. You so badly wanted to feel the skin of his dick move inside you, the cloth barrier was unbearable. He was enjoying the antagonization, his grip on your hips was firm you wouldn’t be able to escape even if you wanted to, he just kept pulling you closer to him until you gave in and said,

“Please, I want it” your words were like a song to him.

“Well, since y’asked nicely” he growled.

He threw you over his shoulder, making you giggle, and entered your room through the porch entrance closing the doors behind him as swiftly as he entered. He gently laid you on the bed gazing down at you while you writhed with arousal, you hesitantly spread your legs and lifted your shirt to reveal your lower half. Tommy got on the bed, it made a creaking groan under his massive weight. He leaned over you and placed one of his hands down between your folds caressing your entrance, you breathed in sharply and spread your legs further to let him have more access.

Tommy ran his fingers over your tender skin, his digits getting slick with wet the more he rubbed. You put your arms around his neck and pulled his face onto yours and kissed him, he moaned into your mouth and slipped his middle finger into your hole,

“Oh fuck” you whispered

His finger was almost as thick as an average man’s penis, and just as long. He slowly moved in and out of you, the calloused skin scratched your walls and bumped your g-spot sending your nerves into overdrive with pleasure, he feels your walls clench down on his finger,

“Y’got such a tiny lil hole” he says gruffly.

“Yeah? Why don’t you fuck it then” you command.

He pulls his finger out and runs his hand up your shirt skimming along your sensitive skin as he moves, he finds your breast and starts massaging the nipple making you moan with the electrical impulses that tickle your nerves.

“Y’want me bad huh” his tone was mocking.

You reply in a breathy tone “Please, fuck me”

Tommy pinches your nipple before he leans back and pulls his massive cock out from under his sweatpants, his erection was so full that he whined as he held it. Seeing his massive length was sending you over the edge with desperation. Tommy lowered himself down so his shaft lay on your clit, his dick was heavy and warm, the feeling of it on your swollen nub was making you feel drunk with desire.

He rubbed his length up and down your wet folds at an agonizingly slow pace, your wetness coating all along his cock making it glisten in the light of the moon. You tried to wrap your legs around his hips to pull him in but he quickly grabbed them with ease and pushed them all the way back so your knees were touching the sides of your chest.

You were so sexually frustrated with having him tease your greedy hole, you tried to raise your hips to entice him to slip inside but he remained steady.

Tommy saw how badly you wanted him to fuck you, he loved watching how your body beckoned him to enter it. He decided to have mercy on you and pressed his thick head on your hole, allowing you to slowly adjust to the width. He let out heavy sighs as your pussy began to slowly swallow his tip, the soft velvety feel of your lips made him moan deeply. The stretch of his girth sent waves of pleasure through your core and the vibration of his deep voice made it seem like you were mating with a beast.

You managed to slip halfway down his head before he couldn’t take much more and he began to slowly move his tip in and out. He was groaning, trying to control himself but your slicked entrance was beginning to bring out something feral from deep within him, he kept trying to slide more of himself inside but you weren’t opening up fast enough to allow him full entry.

You grab onto his wrists and dig your nails in, he was so wide that your poor little cunt couldn’t adjust fast enough to meet his lulling thrusts. You could feel a sting of pain with each movement as his width increased, the pleasure was overpowering the sting and you didn’t want him to stop. It felt like an impossible task to get even just the rest of his head inside, but you wanted so desperately to be penetrated by him, so you focused on relaxing your muscles to grant him deeper access.

He was quickly losing control over his movements and felt your vaginal walls loosening up, he fought the urge to just aggressively push in deep to get past the last hurdle. He was high on the feeling of your insides, his mind felt light and dreamy, as if his brain was swimming. He kept pressing in further with each forward motion until all of his head was finally inside you, he pulled out further before each hungry thrust to coat himself in more of your dripping sweetness.

“I want the whole thing, give it to me Tommy, I need it” you pleaded.

Tommy needed to get hold of his mind that was beginning to slip away, he had a strong carnal desire to just plow into you but he instead forced himself to remain still. You look up at him wondering why he stopped moving, your vaginal walls still pulsating around his tip from the incredible sensations it brought. He gives you a crooked grin and gently pulls out of you, then stands up off the bed and hastily puts his pants over his erection.

“What! Why?” you asked furiously

He laughs, “That’s payback, my angel”

Tommy walks out of your room and leaves you there a dripping, horny mess; You chuckled to yourself and flopped onto your stomach and yelled into your pillow. You now wanted to get past this cheeky stage and just start fucking like rabbits but you knew he was going to continue this provocatory teasing. It was time to pull out all your tricks and make it so unbearable for him to resist that he will give up messing around and give into his temptations.

Tommy got back into his room in the basement, his mask back on his face where it belonged. He was still fully engorged and now feeling pain from the intense pressure, he needed a release badly, but he also wanted to start practicing control over his desires. He was worried, he felt so close to just letting go and fucking you silly, he wanted to be fully present and aware if your needs when you two finally, properly, lay together.

He flopped on his bed and sighed; he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up for. The next time, he may not be able to pull away so easily.

Special authors note: I wanted to stray from the norm of Thomas constantly being portrayed as having a breeding kink (it can be hot don't get me wrong) because I know there are a lot of women who don't want to read breeding/pregnancy kink for various valid reasons and its fairly hard to find AFAB x Tommy smut where he isn't depicted in such a way. If you were expecting that, I apologize for disappointing you but I try to cater to the people who don't often get catered to because inclusivity is important to me when making adult content. So from here on out, the rest of the chapters in this series will be for the gals who don't want to think of that stuff when reading smut. Thank you for taking the time to read my fic, likes, reblogs, and comments are extremely appreciated.

-Next chapter

[sirenmoth]

Winter Nights

Kyle 'Gaz' Garricks x GN!Reader

synopsis: as the snow falls, gaz decides a walk outside is great idea

domestic fluff, fluff, gaz being cute, icky cute couple stuff, romantic dates, snow fight, snow fights

Sitting on the sofa, mindlessly reading a book you bought a few weeks back from a small bookshop you found while mindlessly wondering around the airport terminal as you waited to pick Kyle up. You were already a chapter or two in, but so far heavily invested in the story that you found it difficult to put the novel down. Kyle stood in the open end kitchen that linked directly to the living room, watching you as you read, curled up into a ball with a blanket over your legs, eyes scanning over the words feverishly. Staring at you with hearts in his eyes, taking in the scene while the kettle continued to boil.

You both bought this place a year or so ago when you agreed to take a step further into the relationship, it was an open floor plan, kitchen and living room linking directly into each other, the single bedroom at the far end had a balcony which Kyle loved to put his plants on during the summer to give them fresh sunlight, you were in charge of them when he was away, he called them his ‘children’ and his ‘pride and joy’, much to your dismay since it was you who made sure they got enough sunlight and water. One of the things that sold you on the flat was the windows, they gave a wonderful view of the city below and an even more breathtaking view of the night sky above, even if it was difficult to see the stars thanks to the strenuous lights that polluted the sky above, it was nice to image them glistening down from above, mapping them out in your mind.

The click of the kettle finished boiling brought you both back to reality, turning your head up to look at the man reaching for two mugs, softly smiling at each other as you went back to your individual activities, the quiet clicking of the mugs and teaspoons as Kyle readied your respective hot drinks and bringing them over to the living room, placing them down on the table in front on the sofa. You moved the blanket as an invention for him, which Kyle happily accepted, making a large scene on trying to get comfortable, “Kyle, stop it! You're going to make me lose my page!” you laughed while jokingly making fun of his antics, giggling as he huffed every time he wasn't comfortable.

“Give me a minute, love” Kyle jested back, overexaggerating on rearranging the fluffy throw blanket draped over you both while finding a good position for you both to lay in, “We need to preserve heat, and the best way to do that is by cuddling really close” he responds with a smirk “Can’t have my darling getting cold now” Kyle added, wrapping his arms around your waist, and he snuggled into your side, his back against the back cushions of the sofa, “What’cha reading anyway?” You looked down at him briefly, watching his eyes quickly scan the page you’re on, trying to grasp the plot. Mindlessly you answer “Some book I picked up on the way at the airport while I waited to collect you,” before you can get another word out, Kyle shoots up from his spot, eyes fixated out the window with childish glee, confused you turn your gaze in the same direction and being greeted by the white flurry of snow, dancing around in the wind. 

You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone move that fast, observing as Kyle ran straight for the entrance to the flat, grabbing both your hats, coats, gloves and everything else you might need to go outside right now, walking back he gestures for you to sit up properly while he kneels down, fixing on your shoes, tying your laces and then carefully pulling you up and off the sofa to fix on your coat, and pulling you towards the door, hot drinks and a warm night in already completely forgotten. 

"Excited, are we?" You joke

"I've been in the desert's blistering heat for months now, let me have this."

The streets were relatively deserted at this time of the day, a few people going about their business, walking under the pale yellow lights of the street lights. Both of you, hand in hand as you strolled in your self-made winter wonderland, basking in each other’s warmth and company.  The wind whipped around you, harshly kissing your skin, causing you to shiver from the assault. Kyle being the well-trained soldier he is, picked up on this, stopping you both under a streetlamp as he undid his scarf “you really need to keep warm” he muttered, wrapping the piece of fabric around your neck, bringing a section up and over your mouth and nose “there, nice and warm” Kyle smiled, looking at you before his smiled dropped, shaking his head and removing his gloves. “Seriously, how do you survive without me?” he joked, taking one of your hands and carefully slipping it into his glove before repeating the process with the other one. Smiling once again, Kyle took your hand and continued walking, commenting on how pretty the snow looked in the lights. 

Trying to return at least one of the items of clothing, but he always refused, claiming he was trained to withstand the cold and that he'll be fine. Keeping you warm was his priority.

An hour or so into your spontaneous date walk, you stopped pretending to be amazed at the scenery, looking out at the snow covered trees, but in reality it was a cover to prank your ever-so-loving boyfriend. Making sure he was distracted, you crouched down slowly as to not make any sudden movements, scooped up a handful of snow and formed it into a ball before tucking your hand with the weapon behind your back, you made your way back over to Kyle, nuzzling into his side, looking at him with bright doe eyes as a way to get his guard down, then quickly shoving the handful of snow down his coat before taking a few cautious steps back as you watched him react to your little prank.

 “Fuck!” he cursed as the cold slush hit his skin, spreading all over his back, igniting his nerves in a cold chill across this whole body. Kyle shakes his coat trying to get the snow out, glaring daggers at you as you laugh at your own joke. Smiling playfully, he kneels down to gather a handful of fresh, fallen snow in his hands, “Two can play at this game.” He says, throwing the clump of white frost at you.

It hits your arm as you quickly dodge the attack, you smile back and pick up your own snow missile to throw back, Kyle dodges your throw with ease, laughing at your so called 'weak attempt', only to be silenced as you throw another one, hitting him square in the face. For what feels like hours, you both dodge and weave around each other in both successful and failed attempts to hit the other with the cold flakes that are falling from the sky, picking up clumps of white slush and shaping them into crude ball-like shapes until your hands are numb and cold to the touch, cheeks hurting from smiles as laughter, faces red from the elements. The cold eventually started to seep in, settling against your bones, deciding it was best to head back before either of you got sick, or slipped and fell, like Kyle almost did, even if he claimed that never happened.

Once back in the warmth, Kyle shedded off his jacket, shoes and hat before helping you with yours. He moved quickly, disposing of the long forgotten, now cold, cups as you found some comfy clothes in the closet that'll hopefully help you two of you warm up quicker. Handing Kyle his of clothes after you’ve changed, sending him to change as well as you fixed two new cups of freshly hot tea, walking to the couch and placing the cups down carefully and retaking your position under the blanket, book in hand. Kyle joining you after a few and retaking his place against your side, arms wrapped around your waist and head resting in the crook of your neck, listening to you read aloud, his eyes trained on the snowfall outside, a faint smile on his face as he closes his eyes, your voice and the faint sound of wind lulling him to sleep.