#I’ll post other content soon to make up for it I promise

[egghead7enthusiast]

[brunchable]

THIS, is your boyfriend, Mom? [4]

Pairings: Beefy Bucky Barnes x Our savage wittle boi Lucas x f!Reader.

Summary: The family went on a camping trip with Lucas' cousins. Warning: Lucas fell into a river but is unharmed.

A/N: I will just keep posting Step-Dad Bucky content, this doesn't really have set plot, just cute and funny moments while Bucky navigates how to be a Dad. ALSO, note I am still trying to fix the tag list for this.

The stars had just begun to shine as you, Bucky, Lucas, and a few of his cousins sat around the campfire, laughter filling the air as the kids toasted marshmallows and dared each other to make the strangest marshmallow combinations.

After a while, Lucas and his cousin wandered over to you, their faces lit with excitement. “Mom, can we go skip rocks by the river?” Lucas asked.

You nodded, giving them a warm but serious smile. “Alright, but don’t go too close to the water. Stay safe.”

They nodded, promising to be careful, and you watched as they bounded off toward the riverbank, their giggles mixing with the sound of the flowing water. Bucky was sitting next to you, his gaze steady on the kids as they skipped stones, trying to beat each other’s number of skips.

Everything seemed peaceful.

But after a few minutes, you overheard Lucas’s cousin daring him. “Bet you can’t skip one from way up close,” his cousin said, pointing to a spot near the edge of the water, where the bank was muddy and slippery.

Lucas hesitated, glancing back at you and Bucky, then shrugged, puffing his chest out a little. “It’s not even that deep. I’ll be fine.”

In that split second, he took a bold step closer, right to the edge, and threw his rock. But as he shifted his weight forward, the muddy bank gave way, and he slipped, his arms flailing as he tried to keep his balance—only to tumble forward into the icy water.

“Mom! Help!” Lucas screamed, panic overtaking his voice as the river’s current tried to pull him in.

His cousin tried to reach him, stretching out his arm, but the water was too strong, and Lucas was quickly losing his footing.

In that moment, Lucas looked up, his breath catching as he saw a figure racing toward him with unwavering speed and determination. Recognizing Bucky’s shape, he reached out instinctively, the word spilling out in sheer desperation.

“Dad!”

Before you could take a step, Bucky had already shot up, sprinting to the river with a look of pure terror etched across his face. Reaching the boys in seconds, he gently but firmly shoved Lucas’s cousin back toward you, his voice low and firm. “Get to your mom. Now.”

“Lucas!” you screamed, your heart pounding.

Without a second thought, Bucky stepped into the river, his boots sinking into the cold, swirling water as it tugged insistently at his legs, urging him to stay back. But he moved forward, steady and sure, his eyes fixed on Lucas as if the world held nothing else. The river pressed against him, but he barely noticed, reaching Lucas in a few strides, wrapping a solid arm under the boy’s shoulders, and lifting him up with a fierce certainty. Holding Lucas close, Bucky turned and waded back to shore, his grip firm, his gaze steady, as if he were carrying something infinitely precious.

As soon as they were safely on dry ground, Bucky knelt down, gripping Lucas’s shoulders tightly, his jaw clenched, his eyes blazing with anger and fear.

“What were you thinking, Lucas?” he snapped, his voice sharp and unwavering. “Didn’t your mother tell you not to go near the edge? Do you understand what could have happened if you’d fallen in deeper?”

Lucas glanced up at Bucky, then looked over at you. The sight of you standing there, tears streaming down your face, struck him like a punch to the chest. His mother, the person he always wanted to keep happy and safe, was crying because of him.

Lucas looked down, his face pale, but tried to stammer out a response. “I-I… I didn’t think it’d be that slippery…”

Bucky’s hands tightened on his shoulders, and his voice grew louder, thick with emotion. “Exactly. You didn’t think! What if the current had pulled you in? What if you’d been swept away before I got there? What if… what if you had gotten hurt or worse?” Bucky’s voice wavered, but his tone stayed stern. “This isn’t a game, boy. You could’ve been lost to that river in an instant.”

Lucas’s cousin, standing nearby, shifted nervously, his face turning pale as he realized the seriousness of the situation. Bucky’s sharp gaze flicked toward him, his tone still unrelenting.

“And you,” he said, his voice just as firm as before. “Why would you dare him to go closer? Do you understand how dangerous that was?”

Lucas’s cousin looked down, guilt spreading across his face as he mumbled, “I’m sorry, Bucky… I didn’t think anything bad would happen. I just… thought it’d be fun.”

Bucky’s expression didn’t soften as he spoke, his tone filled with disappointment. 

“Fun? What if he’d fallen in and the current was too strong? What if I hadn’t been here in time? You don’t push someone to take a risk like that, especially near the water. You’re supposed to look out for each other, not encourage recklessness.”

The weight of Bucky’s words began to settle over both boys like a heavy blanket. The “what ifs” replayed in their minds, each one sinking deeper, and they both suddenly felt small and helpless under Bucky’s fierce gaze.

Lucas’s voice shook as he whispered, “I… I’m sorry, Bucky. I didn’t mean to make you and Mom worry. I just wanted to see if I could do it…”

“Wanting to prove yourself doesn’t matter if you’re putting yourself in danger. Bravery doesn’t mean being reckless, Lucas. Do you understand that?” Bucky’s stern expression didn’t waver as he looked down at Lucas, still gripped by the terror of almost losing him.

Lucas’s shoulders slumped as the weight of his mistake settled over him like an unwelcome shadow. Tears spilled down his cheeks, and his voice broke in a whisper, “I’m really, really sorry, Bucky. I didn’t mean for it to be this bad… I just didn’t think.”

Bucky’s expression shifted, his face softening as he caught the guilt in Lucas’s tear-filled eyes. He let out a quiet, unsteady breath, the last of his anger dissolving like smoke. He pulled the boy into a fierce hug, an instinct older than words, holding him close as if, in that one embrace, he could keep the world and all its dangers at bay.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” Lucas’s voice was muffled against Bucky’s chest, his small hands gripping Bucky’s shirt like it was his only tether to safety.

Bucky’s arms tightened around him, one hand moving up to cradle the back of Lucas’s head. “I know, kid. I know you didn’t mean it.” His voice was soft but steady, filled with something deeper than mere forgiveness.

He stroked Lucas’s back in slow, reassuring circles, feeling each shaky breath. “You scared me, you know? Really scared me.” The words were simple but carried a weight only Lucas could feel, pressing gently on his small shoulders.

Then, Bucky pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, brushing a tear from Lucas’s cheek with his thumb. “Listen. You don’t need to prove anything. You’re already enough, just as you are. And I need you here with me. Promise me you’ll remember that.”

Lucas nodded, a fierce, wide-eyed sincerity in his gaze. “I promise.”

Bucky’s lips curled into a small, warm smile, and he ruffled Lucas’s hair gently, his voice barely above a whisper. “Good. That’s my boy.”

There was a pause, a quiet weight to the moment. Then, Bucky gave Lucas’s shoulder a soft squeeze, his tone light but carrying an unmistakable note of resolve. 

“Now,” he murmured, a hint of mischief flickering in his eyes, “go apologize to your mom and get yourself cleaned up. You’ve given her enough to worry about for one day.”

× × × ×

The campfire crackled softly, casting a warm glow over the clearing as the night deepened. The kids were finally asleep in their own tent, their quiet breaths rising and falling in a rhythm of exhaustion and dreams. You stayed by the fire, arms wrapped around yourself, lost in thought as you watched the flames dance.

Bucky came up behind you, draping a blanket over your shoulders and pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. You smiled up at him, warmth spreading through you beyond the blanket.

“Thank you,” you murmured, reaching for his hand. “For what you did for Lucas today.”

Bucky shook his head, brushing it off. “It’s nothing,” he said softly, settling down beside you. But as he looked into the fire, a quiet chuckle escaped him, his eyes crinkling with a mix of disbelief and something almost… tender.

You turned to him, curiosity in your gaze. “What are you thinking about?”

He glanced at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, his eyes still reflecting the firelight. “He called me ‘Dad,’” he said, voice soft with wonder.

You nodded, your own smile widening. “He did.”

Bucky’s eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief as he leaned back. “Think that’s going to cost me the dad fee?”

You laughed, a warm sound that felt like it belonged to the night. Bucky grinned, clearly pleased to lighten the mood, and his hand found yours as the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the fire crackling as the stars watched over.

After a moment, Bucky’s gaze softened, and he leaned in, closing the space between you with a look of pure adoration. His hand cradled your face as his lips brushed against yours, warm and lingering.

Just as you melted into the kiss, a small voice pierced the quiet.

“Oh, wow. Seriously? Now?”

You and Bucky broke apart to find Lucas standing outside his tent, hands on his hips and an exaggerated look of exasperation on his face. “Guys, it’s, like, bedtime. Some of us are trying to sleep here without… that in our minds.”

You stifled a laugh, and Bucky sighed, glancing at the sky as if asking for patience. “What do you need, kid?”

Lucas rolled his eyes dramatically. “Well, I was going to the bathroom, but now I’m scarred for life. So thanks for that,” he added with a smirk, gesturing toward the trees. “I’ll be back—try to keep it PG, alright?”

With that, he turned and shuffled off, muttering loud enough for you to hear, “Can’t believe I had to see that.”

When he was out of earshot, Bucky shook his head, chuckling softly. “That kid…”

You bit back a grin, leaning into him with a sigh. “So, where were we?”

Bucky pulled you close, a smirk on his lips. “Somewhere between dad fees and permanent interruptions, I think.”

× × × × 

Back home a few days later.

It was a quiet evening, and Bucky had been waiting for the right moment, nerves humming beneath his calm exterior. Lucas was sprawled out on the living room floor, building a small LEGO fortress, completely focused. Bucky took a deep breath, gathering himself, and then sat down next to Lucas, watching him for a moment before speaking.

“Hey, bud,” Bucky said softly, ruffling Lucas’s hair.

Lucas looked up, his face lighting up. “Hey, Bucky! Want to help me with the fortress? It’s almost done.”

Bucky chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe in a sec, kiddo. I actually wanted to talk to you about something… something important.”

“Okay… what’s up?” Lucas tilted his head, curiosity sparking in his eyes.

Bucky took a deep breath, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement.

“So… I’ve been thinking about your mom,” he began, his voice gentle. “She means everything to me, Lucas. You know that, right?”

Lucas nodded, a small smile forming on his lips. “Yeah, I know. She loves you, too.”

Bucky swallowed, his heart pounding a little harder as he reached out, resting a hand on Lucas’s shoulder. “Well, I was wondering… how would you feel if I asked her to marry me?”

Lucas’s eyes went wide, his mouth falling open in surprise. He looked down, taking it in, before glancing back up at Bucky with a raised eyebrow.

“You mean… you’d be my dad?” he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of sass. “Like, officially? You’re not just trying to get a tax break or something, right?”

Bucky laughed, the tension easing out of him a bit. “No, not for a tax break, kid. I genuinely want to be there for you and your mom. I want us to be a family.”

Lucas stared at him for a long moment, his face scrunched up in thought. Then, with a small, knowing smirk, he said, “So… you’re asking me for permission? Wow, you must really like us.”

Bucky chuckled, ruffling Lucas’s hair again. 

“Yeah, I am. It’s important to me that you’re okay with this. You’re the most important person in her life, and if we’re gonna be a family… I want you to know that you’re part of this decision.”

Bucky’s eyes widened, like he’d just been struck by the weight of Lucas’s words. For a moment, he could only stare, his heart swelling with an unexpected, overwhelming sense of joy. He felt a lump form in his throat, and before he could say anything, he pulled Lucas into a tight hug, holding him close.

Lucas’s face softened, and after a brief pause, he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s neck in a tight hug. 

"You don't have to ask," Lucas whispered, his sass melting to something sincere, "I already know you're my dad."

As he closed his eyes, a tear slipped down his cheek, but he didn’t care. “Thank you, Lucky,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “That means more than you know.”

When they finally pulled back, Lucas wiped his eyes, his grin returning with a mischievous edge. “But… you still have to do it right. Like, you know, get down on one knee and everything. And maybe a big sign that says, ‘Will you marry me?’ in case you mess up your words.”

Bucky laughed, nodding. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m going all out. Your mom deserves the best.”

Lucas nodded, looking proud. “Good. She does. And you better not make her cry… unless they’re the good kind of tears. Otherwise, I’ll have to come after you.”

Bucky chuckled. “Only happy tears, kiddo. I promise.”

Lucas gave him a firm nod, his eyes sparkling. “Good then it’s settled. Now, are you going to help me finish this fortress, or are you too busy planning your big proposal?”

Bucky grinned, feeling the last of his nerves slip away as he settled beside Lucas, picking up a LEGO piece. 

“Alright, kiddo, let’s finish this fortress. Gotta make sure it’s strong enough to withstand all the big plans I’m about to set in motion.”

Lucas gave a mock-serious nod. “Good idea. Wouldn’t want you bailing on me halfway through.”

Bucky chuckled, nudging him gently. “Hey, I’m in this for the long haul. Fortress-building included.”

They both settled back down to work, side by side, focused on finishing the fortress together, each piece clicking into place as easily as their bond had over time.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Quickie?

Summary: Reader wants to sneak in a quickie before the BAU takes off again.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x FBI fem!reader

Category: fluff, suggestive (16+)

Warnings/Includes: suggestive content, secret relationship, reader works at FBI but not BAU

Word count: 1.7k

a/n: this is much more positive than the last post :)

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You and Spencer have been secretly seeing each other for a few months now. Since you work in a different department, you don’t get to see him as often as you’d like, and you never have the chance to join him on cases. 

The moment you see the news that the BAU is heading out on another case, your heart sinks just a little. You understand that Spencer’s job is demanding—he’s always chasing criminals across the country, putting his mind to work in ways that save lives. But it doesn’t make it any easier when he’s gone for days at a time, leaving you to miss him in silence.

With a quiet sigh, you pull out your phone and type out a message:

Meet me upstairs before you go?

You don’t have to say where. You both know. The fifth-floor office—empty, forgotten, your little sanctuary within the walls of the FBI. It had started as a joke, just a place to escape prying eyes when work got overwhelming, but over time, it had turned into something more. A safe space for the two of you.

The reply comes almost instantly.

Give me five minutes.

You don’t hesitate, pushing away from your desk and making your way to the stairs instead of the elevator. The anticipation sits heavy in your chest, a mixture of excitement and something almost desperate.

By the time you push open the office door, Spencer is already there, leaning against the desk, his messenger bag slung over his shoulder. His eyes soften the moment they meet yours.

“You’re fast,” you say, closing the door behind you.

“I wasn’t going to waste any time,” he murmurs, already reaching for you. His hands find your wrists, pulling you closer as he stays seated on the desk. His touch is warm and grounding, even through the layers of clothing.

Your fingers drift up to the collar of his cardigan, playing with the fabric as you let yourself relax in his presence. “I hate that you have to go.”

“I know.” He sighs, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I hate it too. But I’ll call you as soon as I land.”

You nod, though it doesn’t really make it easier. “I just wish we had more time.”

His hand moves to your waist and tightens ever so slightly. “Me too.” There’s a pause, a hesitation in his expression, before he adds, “I think about you all the time when I’m gone.”

Your heart stutters at his confession, a warmth spreading through your chest. “Yeah?”

Spencer huffs out a soft, shy laugh. “Yeah.”

You can’t help but smile, reaching up to brush a lock of hair away from his face. “Then you better come back to me in one piece.”

You lean in, pressing a sweet kiss to Spencer’s lips—soft, slow, something that feels like a promise. When you pull away, he stays close, murmuring against your mouth, “Always.”

Something about Spencer’s breath ghosting across your lips sends a shiver down your spine. The soft pink hue creeping down his neck is so endearing that it stokes a fire deep in your stomach, pooling heat beneath your skin. You lean in for another kiss, slow and deliberate, savoring the way he melts beneath your touch. One hand threads gently through his hair, fingers curling lightly at the roots, while the other traces delicate patterns against his chest, nails just barely scratching over the fabric between you.

Spencer gets lost for a moment, his mind short-circuiting as he tries to process the reality of you—of your lips on his, of your hands in his hair, of the way you look at him like he’s something to be devoured. It still feels surreal, like a dream he’s half-convinced he’ll wake up from because someone as beautiful as you want him like this doesn’t seem possible.

But then reality crashes back in—the fluorescent hum of the office lights, the distant chatter from the floors below, the ever-present risk of someone walking in. His fingers tighten briefly against your waist before he forces himself to gently push against your shoulders.

“Wait…wait,” he murmurs, his voice breathless and uneven as he tries to collect himself. “We can’t do this here.”

Your lips are already trailing along his neck, warm and teasing, and the way you hum against his skin makes his resolve waver.

“Do what?” you tease, your voice laced with mischief as you press another slow, deliberate kiss just beneath his jaw.

Spencer exhales sharply, his head tipping back slightly before he forces himself to lean away, his cheeks flushed as he fumbles for words. “Um… this.”

Your fingers curl at the nape of his neck, holding him close, your voice dipping into something dangerously sweet.

“What are we doing, baby?” you whisper, letting the words linger between you, daring him to say it.

Spencer’s breath stutters as he struggles to find the right words, his hands hovering uselessly over your hips as if he can't decide whether to pull you closer or push you away. His face is already flushed, the color creeping down his neck and disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt.

“I—I’m… Y/N, I’m going to… uh, get—” He swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tries and fails to look anywhere but at you. Finally, he forces the word out in a near whisper as if saying it any louder might make it worse. “Hard.”

A slow, knowing smile spreads across your lips as you tilt your head slightly, fingers still tracing lazy patterns along his chest. His honesty is endearing, his nervousness downright intoxicating, and the way his voice wavers only makes the fire in your stomach burn hotter.

“Oh,” you murmur, feigning innocence as your hand moves just the slightest bit lower. “Is that a problem?”

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut for a brief moment, exhaling sharply through his nose like he's gathering every ounce of self-control he has left.

“Yes,” he says, though it sounds more like a plea than a protest. “We’re at work.”

“And?” you press, leaning in just enough to let your lips ghost over his jaw.

He shudders, his grip on your waist tightening. “And… I can’t walk out of here like that.”

“Who says you’ll have to leave here hard?” you murmur, your voice dripping with mischief, your fingers still dancing lightly over his chest.

Spencer’s breath hitches, his body stiff as your words' weight settles over him. His pupils dilate, and for a brief second, you see the internal war flashing across his face—temptation battling with logic, desire against reason.

“Y/N…” His voice is barely above a whisper, shaky and uneven, like he’s already losing control. His fingers dig into your waist as if anchoring himself, but it’s no use—you can feel him unraveling beneath your touch.

Still, he shakes his head, his resolve clinging to the last fragile thread of professionalism he has left. “No, we can’t—not here.”

But his voice lacks conviction, and the way he’s looking at you, lips parted, breath shallow, tells you he wants nothing more than to give in.

You pout, tilting your head as your fingers trace slow, lazy circles against his chest. “Not here?” you echo, feigning disappointment. “That’s a shame… I was really looking forward to helping you with your little problem.”

Spencer exhales sharply through his nose, gripping your hips a little tighter like he's trying to physically keep himself in check. “It’s not—” He swallows, glancing toward the closed door like he’s calculating the risk. “It’s not a little problem.”

A slow, knowing smile spreads across your lips as you press closer, feeling the way his breath stutters at the contact. “Oh?” you tease, letting your hand trail just a little lower—not too much, just enough to make him squirm. “Is it a big problem, then?”

Spencer groans, tilting his head back in exasperation. “Y/N…” he warns, though his grip on you doesn’t loosen. If anything, it tightens.

You press a quick, teasing kiss to the underside of his jaw, feeling the way his pulse hammers beneath your lips. “I just think it’s kind of unfair,” you say innocently. “You’re about to leave for who knows how long, and I won’t even get to see you. The least I could do is make sure you’re… comfortable before you go.”

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut for a moment as if trying to gather every ounce of restraint he has left. “You are not making this easy.”

You hum, dragging your nails lightly over the fabric of his shirt. “You told me you didn’t want it to be hard.”

His breath catches, and he glares at you, but there’s no real heat behind it—just frustration laced with something darker, something wanting. “You cannot say things like that.”

“Why not?” You bat your eyelashes at him. “You’re the one who admitted to getting hard at work.”

Spencer groans, dropping his forehead against your shoulder like he’s conceding defeat. “You’re evil.”

You giggle, threading your fingers through his hair and scratching lightly at his scalp. “But you like it.”

He huffs out a breath against your neck, warm and shaky. “Unfortunately.”

You grin, pressing a lingering kiss to the side of his face before pulling back just enough to look at him properly. “Relax, baby,” you whisper, smoothing your hands over his chest. “I wouldn’t actually do anything here.” You lean in, your lips brushing against his in the softest tease of a kiss. “I just like making you squirm.”

Spencer exhales a laugh, shaking his head, but you can see how his eyes have darkened and how his fingers are still gripping your waist. “Yeah,” he mutters, his voice lower than before. “I noticed.”

You smirk, pressing one last playful kiss to his lips before pulling away completely, smoothing out your shirt like nothing had happened. “Well,” you say cheerfully, stepping back toward the door. “Have fun on your case.”

Spencer stares at you like he’s still recovering as if he’s not entirely sure if he should be frustrated or turned on. Probably both.

“You’re evil,” he repeats, though the way he’s looking at you says he wouldn’t have it any other way.

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[norrisainz33]

f175 || ls18

☆ summary: you and lance attend the f175 event

☆ pairing: lance stroll x reader

☆ fc & warnings: dua lipa and suggestive! you are responsible for the content you consume

☆ requested: yes!!! thank you for the request 🫶🏻

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ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

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user1: effortlessly gorgeous

chloestroll: pretty princess

ynuser: i wish you were here 😫

chloestroll: i’ll see you soon bb 😘

user2: OHMGMEKGKOEY ARE YOU GOING TO F175?!

astonmartinf1: can’t wait to see you tonight 💚

ynuser: promise to only get my good side in photos?

astonmartinf1: you don’t have a bad side y/n!

lance_stroll: that’s my beautiful girl 😘

ynuser: my handsome man!!! i can’t wait to see you in your suit 🤤😍

lance_stroll: and i can’t wait to see you in that dress and also….. out of it 😏

ynuser: could always see the second in your fancy dressing room at the O2

lance_stroll: don’t tempt me

ynuser: but what if i want to 🤨

lance_stroll: then by all means

user3: ho is you an angel

user4: watching the red carpet of that weird event for you and you only

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user6: stunning!!!!!!!!

fernandoalo_oficial: sorry for stealing your man 😉

ynuser: i’ll forgive you but only this time!!

fernandoalo_oficial: lawrence is the better chauffeur anyway 😏

ynuser: hahaha i’ll tell him you said that

user9: no bc you’re gonna mog everyone so hard on that red carpet idk why anyone else is even bothering to show up

lance_stroll: goodness gracious you are stunning

ynuser: thank you babyyyyy!!

lance_stroll: i wish they would let me ride with you instead

ynuser: i know sweetheart but this evening is for you and nando to show off!!!

lance_stroll: and you know i hate it… these sorts of things make me so anxious

ynuser: i know baby but lawrence and i will be right behind you! you’ll only have to be without me for a few short minutes

flavy_barla: i’m going to start drooling

ynuser: thanks for helping me pick the outfit out baby girl

flavy.barla: happy to darling 🤍

user10: not them sending you in the safety car but ig they gotta keep the people’s princess safe huh

chanelofficial: beautiful! we are so glad you trusted us to make your outfit for this evening 🤍

ynuser: and thank YOU for the perfect outfit 🫶🏻

user11: is it wrong to say i’m more excited to see you than the liveries

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peoplemagazine: we had the pleasure of talking with y/n y/l/n and lance stroll tonight at f175. y/n talked about how excited she is for this season: “theres just so much to look forward to! lance and the entire aston martin team have worked so hard over the break and i am really looking forward to seeing that work pay off. i am so incredibly lucky to get to have a front row seat for all of this - from learning about the car back at the factory to supporting the love of my life in making his dreams come true - i am just so lucky.”

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user12: is someone cutting onions

user13: petition to make y/n the head of strookie nation

user99: Y E S

user23: petition signed. i want mother to represent us

ynuser: i’ve been summoned and i love that we’re calling ourselves strookies. i’m so in

user13: asdfghjkl she’s ONE OF US

user14: why is that so sweet i’m sick

yourbff: people magazine?! oh ynuser you’re famous famous

ynuser: dream come true for real

user15: the way y/n talks about all the people back at the factory so fondly 😭🫶🏻

user18: most supportive and kind partner award goes to y/n fr

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yourbff: y/n/n this is unhinged

ynuser: i stand with my cancelled wife (myself)

lilymhe: screaming how much champagne did they give you

ynuser: not enough honestly. this was all organic

lilymhe: never change y/n/n

lance_stroll: not the sirens and the gun shots

ynuser: the helmet and the suit have done something unspeakable to me

lance_stroll: noted 😏

ynuser: you know what tate said about sports cars….. i’ve been thinking…..

lance_stroll: y/n i’ve told you this! there is no way we can both fit in my f1 car

ynuser: one day i’ll get you to say yes to this proposition just wait lancey

lance_stroll: whatever you say princess

estebanocon: i watched you giggle and post this from 2 tables away

ynuser: you saw nothing pls 😔

alexandrasaintmleux: mon ami stand up

ynuser: i can’t 🧎🏻‍♀️

chloestroll: i’m gonna scroll now….

ynuser: yeah that’s fair

yourfriend1: and this is valid af

ynuser: THANK YOU!!

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liked by lance_stroll, boss, chanelofficial, alexandrasaintmleux, chloestroll and 453,234 others

ynuser: the amr25 is almost as hot as lance 😍🤤 thanks for an incredible night f1 and to my ladies at chanelofficial for dressing me!

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user18: the head of strookie nation has spoken 🗣️

astonmartinf1: she is a beauty 😉

ynuser: you got that right admin

user22: aston had the best reveal hands down

chloestroll: *almost as hot as you

ynuser: *almost as hot as YOU

user24: now let’s pray that she’s also fast 🤞🏻

lance_stroll: you flatter me

ynuser: just spitting facts!

estebanocon: simping on main now too??

flavy.barla: at least this was tamer

yourbff: definitely could’ve been worse

ynuser: guys please

user32: 👀

user33: you are so real for this y/n/n

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: sooo happy to be getting all these lance requests 😭😫 likes and reblogs appreciated!! thanks for reading 🤍

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[heartsbyani]

𑁍ࠬܓ yours to hold , always and forever

[ 정인 ] ✷ . . 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍.

۫ 𖨂 𓈒 𝑏f!jeongin ₊ ‎ ‎ 𝑔n!reader g. domestic fluff , established relationship. I,2OOw. ⎯⎯⎯ L𝒾BRARY . 𓋜 . cw. suggestive , kisses , close proximity , intimacy. ✦ requested drabble. ! ࿐

yani's note ✿ my first iyen fic, call it a debut >< i love this man sm. my first skz bias !! so back w these ot8 headcanons, posting minho ver. soon !! a nerdy!jeongin fic is resting in my drafts, almost completed........... do what you want with that info.. ;) comments, likes, req/asks and reblogs are always appreciated ! send in a reply or an ask if you want to be in my mastertag, or my individual series' taglists. happy reading, darling <3

the sheets are tangled around your legs, warmth settling into your skin as you slowly come back to yourself. the dim light from the bedside lamp casts a golden glow across the room, highlighting the soft rise and fall of your boyfriend's chest as he lies beside you, his hair an absolute mess, his lips a little swollen.

you’re still catching your breath when you feel his fingers brushing over your arm—gentle, absentminded. he’s quiet for a moment, but you can sense his eyes on you.

“…you okay, baby?” his voice is softer than usual, devoid of its usual teasing edge.

you hum, tilting your head slightly to glance at him. “mhm.”

that’s apparently not enough to satisfy him. jeongin shifts closer, propping himself up on one elbow as he studies your face. his brows knit together slightly, lips pursing. “that’s not an answer. do i look like hyunjin-hyung to you? i need details.”

a small laugh escapes you. “hyunjin slander at a time like this?”

he huffs, nudging your cheek with his nose. “answer me properly.”

you sigh, smiling. “i’m okay. i promise, iyennie.”

his fingers ghost over your waist before pressing in, massaging slow, careful circles into your skin. “did i hurt you?”

“no.”

“are you lying?”

“no, jeongin.”

jeongin squints. “you would lie to make me feel better, though.”

you roll your eyes, shifting to swat weakly at his chest, but he catches your wrist before you can. “i’m serious, i feel good.”

a slow, pleased smile spreads across his face, all dimples and soft edges, and his grip on your wrist loosens, allowing him to intertwine his fingers with yours. his other hand continues kneading at your hip, working out any tension that might be lingering.

his touch is warm. so warm. you never quite get used to this—how he goes from the teasing, quick-witted maknae who dodges his hyungs’ affections like his life depends on it, to the jeongin who looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

you nuzzle closer, pressing your forehead against his collarbone. “you’re being so nice to me.”

he scoffs. “i’m always nice to you.”

“lies.”

he clicks his tongue, leaning down to nip at your shoulder lightly before soothing the spot with his lips. “do you want me to be mean to you? fine. i’ll stop giving you the best massage you'd get at a spa for a fortune.”

“wait, no—”

“too late.” he starts to pull away, but you immediately wrap your arms around his waist, clinging onto him like a koala. “such an ungrateful person i've to deal with..”

he chuckles at your actions though, giving in way too easily as he settles back down beside you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. his hands find your back this time, rubbing slow, languid circles against your skin.

for a while, it’s quiet, save for the occasional sighs of contentment and the steady rhythm of your breaths. then, jeongin speaks again, voice a little hesitant.

“…was i good? for you, i mean?”

your heart clenches. you pull back slightly to look up at him, brows furrowing. “you’re actually worrying about that?”

“i need to know the feedback to my valuable actions, hello?”

you bite back a grin, choosing instead to thread your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. his eyes flutter shut for a second before he blinks back at you, expectant.

you kiss the tip of his nose. “okay, boyfriend, you did pretty good.”

he exhales, relief washing over his features. then, because he just can’t help himself, he smirks. “of course i did. i’m the best at everything.”

you groan, shoving his shoulder. “why do i even bother?”

he laughs, pulling you even closer, wrapping his entire body around you like a human burrito. his lips find your cheek, your temple, the shell of your ear. “because you love me.”

your stomach flips, but you feign nonchalance. “debatable.”

his jaw drops. “excuse me?”

you let out a dramatic sigh. “if you keep talking, i might have to rethink everything.”

“you little—”

you yelp as he suddenly flips the both of you over, trapping you beneath him. his weight is comforting, his warmth all-consuming. he glares down at you, but there’s no real heat behind it. “take it back.”

you shake your head, biting down on your smile. “make me.”

jeongin narrows his eyes before he starts peppering your face with kisses—sloppy, exaggerated, completely unlike his usual reserved self. you shriek, trying to push him away, but he doesn’t budge, laughter spilling from his lips as he presses kiss after kiss onto your skin.

“okay! okay, i take it back!” you wheeze.

he stops, grinning triumphantly before pecking your lips one last time. “that’s what i thought.”

you roll your eyes, but your heart feels full. he nestles into you again, pressing his face against your neck as his hands resume their slow, soothing motions against your back.

“sleep,” he murmurs, voice muffled.

you hum, eyelids growing heavier. “don’t let go?”

his arms tighten around you. “never.”

you shift slightly, trying to get comfortable, but the second you move, jeongin groans dramatically.

"stop moving," he grumbles, tightening his hold around you like a vice.

"i'm trying to get comfortable, you idiot," you mumble against his chest, wiggling a little more just to be annoying.

he lets out a suffering sigh, his hand gripping your waist firmly to keep you still. "you're already comfortable. stay close."

"i am close," you argue, but he's still holding you hostage against his chest.

"not close enough," he says, nuzzling his face into your hair, voice muffled. "you're my personal pillow now. deal with it."

you snicker, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his back. "i don't recall signing up for this job."

jeongin clicks his tongue. "oh, you did. the moment you started dating the finest member, you unknowingly signed an invisible contract stating that you're responsible for keeping me warm at all times."

"that’s ridiculous."

"you're ridiculous."

you groan, rolling your eyes. "you're impossible."

"and yet, you love me."

"regretting it more and more with each passing second."

he gasps in offense before dramatically tossing a leg over yours, effectively caging you in. "well, too bad. no take-backs. you're stuck with me forever."

you sigh, shaking your head. "i really should’ve read the fine print."

jeongin huffs, leaning down to nip at your jaw before pressing a soft kiss to the same spot. "too late."

you pretend to sigh in defeat, but the truth is, you're warm, content, and maybe a little too in love with the boy wrapped around you.

a comfortable silence settles between you both before jeongin speaks again, voice quieter this time. "…you're really okay, right?"

you press a reassuring kiss to his collarbone. "really. and you?"

he scoffs. "of course. i’m the best at everything, remember?"

you snort. "right. how could i forget?"

he hums, smug, before hugging you even tighter. “good. now sleep.”

"only if you let me breathe, yang."

"not happening."

you sigh, but you don't fight it. instead, you press even closer, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek.

and soon enough, with the warmth of his embrace and the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat, you drift off.

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger @woozarts @katsukis1wife @bddaramjis @reignessance @peskybirdysya @honeyybbuubblleess @ellemir2404 @4ng3l-ch1ld

!! please let me know under this post, or this one, if i forgot you in the taglist, my inactivity made me lose track, i'm really sorry !!

[croworro]

Making out with Charlie in the kitchen of a friends house at a costume party with music in the background….

Charlie Slimecicle x Reader drabble: Costume Party

OH MY GOODDDD. No because the way I was just thinking about this because I saw the photo of Charlie as beast boy again!!!

I only briefly proofread this before posting so oops

Warning: making out at parties, alcohol, suggestive content

Ted had been asking you to go to this party for weeks

“You need to get out more!” He said dramatically during one of your FaceTimes

You guffawed at him, but eventually gave in once he virtually pinky promised to keep you company all night and drive you to the party

He had the biggest shit eating grin when you finally agreed

“Don’t make me regret this!” You scolded him and he held his hands up in surrender

You honestly didn’t put much thought into your costume, you had a raven costume from a Halloween in previous years that had been a hit hanging in your closet

It was the perfect mix of hot, recognizable and low effort

You paired it with dark makeup and some knee high black books, and damn diva you ate

True to his word, Ted picked you up and drove you both to the party

When you finally made it to the party it was overwhelming

The house was huge

Every inch of it was covered in Halloween decorations that honestly all together probably costed more than your rent

The house just screamed YouTuber money

As soon as you entered the house Ted disappeared, “I’ll find you later!! Byeeee!! Have fun!! Mingle!” He yelled over his shoulder as he disappeared into the crowd of people

You spent about half an hour dodging over enthusiastic partygoers, sipping on some sort of alcoholic seltzer, and attempting to make small talk over the music

You managed to make a bit of small talk with others but it was impossible to hear with the bass of the music that shook the entire house

You were starting to wonder why you let Ted drag you to this

Sure you recognized most of the people here but you weren’t particularly close to any of them

You found refuge in the empty kitchen, the only spot in the house that the bass didn’t seem to reach

You sipped on your drink and leaned against the counter

The idea of just calling an uber was becoming more and more appealing by the minute

As soon as you pulled out your phone, the kitchen door swung open

In walked Charlie, calling over his shoulder to someone in the other room as he entered the kitchen

His eyes immediately landed on you and his expression shifted to pure delight

He was dressed as beast boy, his green face paint was slightly smudged and his hair was extra messy from the green hairspray

He strode across the kitchen and stood right in front of you

“Oh my god hey! What are you doing here?” He said with a large grin, his voice a familiar mix of teasing and surprise

He didnt even notice your costume at first and was just solely zoned in on you

Because damn you looked hot

Then he realized

“OH MY GOD! You’re raven!”

He took a step back to really take in your costume

“You had to know I was gonna be beast boy!” He exclaimed and accusingly pointed a finger your way

“ totally, I hacked into your brain and planned this months ago” you replied dryly

He just laughed, the sound just so warm and effortless

“I mean I don’t blame you, I would wanna match with me too” he teased while leaning against the counter next to you

The two of you easily slip back into your familiar banter

Ted had introduced you two a while back and you had hit it off right away

Charlie was handsome, funny, and charming but at the time you had been introduced he had been in a relationship

Now that he was single, you dynamic changed

And it was especially different tonight

Might have been the costumes, maybe it was the energy of the party, or maybe it was just him

So many accidental subtle touches

Brief moments where your hands touch that makes your stomach flip

“You really pull off the whole raven vibe” he complimented during a lull of silence in the conversation

his tone was playful but his gaze lingered a moment too long causing your face to flush

A couple of people wander into the kitchen and compliment you on how great you guys look together

before you can protest Charlie pulls you closer to him by your waist and thanks them

Someone snaps a cute photo of the two of you in your pose

Once the others in the kitchen leave the atmosphere in the kitchen shifts

Charlie’s hand is still rested on your waist

He leans in a little closer to you, his voice soft

“You know, I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight. But I’m glad you came.”

Instead of responding, you leaned in

It was a short hesitant kiss, you pulled away quickly

But before you can say anything, Charlie responds quickly

He pulls you closer with both hands on your waist kisses you, this time deepening the kiss

You pressed yourself closer to him

His hand on your waist tightened slightly and the other ghosted up to your cheek, his thumb resting gently on your skin

The kiss is a bit clumsy but overwhelming earnest, like he can’t believe this is happening

And honestly neither of you can believe that this is actually happening

Charlie turns you so your back is to the counter

The counter digs into your back as Charlie moves forward, leaving no space between your bodies

His fingers slide from your cheek to your hair, tangling in it lightly as he tilts his head for a better angle

His breath hitches slightly when your hands find their way to the back of his neck, pulling him even closer

The kiss becomes more feverish

This is the moment you both have been waiting for

His lips move against yours as if he can’t decide whether to speed up or slow down

Eventually you both break apart for air, your foreheads resting against each other as you try to catch your breath

Your hands stay firmly placed on one another

“Wow” his voice dazed and low “that was -uh- wow”

You both laugh softly

Charlie’s eyes never leave yours, he’s staring at you like you’re the only person in the world

Just as Charlie leaned in for another kiss, the sound of the kitchen door creaking open startled both of you.

You pulled back slightly "I knew it!" Ted's voice cut through the moment

"Charlie, you look like you were just attacked at a goth makeup counter”

Ted then turns and looks at you “ and you look like you’re auditioning for shrek 5”

You instinctively reach up to touch your face, realizing your fingers came away faintly green.

Your face burns with embarrassment

Charlie just shrugs and replies “what can I say Ted we just got really into character”

Ted just cringes and says something along the lines of “gross” underneath his breath before retreating from the kitchen

As soon as Ted leaves you both melt into laughter

“Well that was mortifying” you comment as you use a napkin to try and wipe the green face paint off your cheek

“Could have been worse.” Charlie said while chuckling, gently taking the napkin from your hand and wiping your cheek himself

He finishes wiping your face (not that it helped much)

“So where did we leave off?” He says lowly as he leans in closely to your ear

You shiver as you feel his breath against your ear

“How about we go somewhere where we won’t have to worry about getting caught again?” You suggest

Safe to say charlies never bought and uber quicker

I’m actually obsessed with Charlie as beast boy was so fucking cute, I wanna makeout with his stupid green face 😭

[fan-goddess]

Come run your hands through my hair

Authors Note: This took a while.... sorta took a break from writing due to low motivation and personal life stuff that took over my wellbeing these last few months. Still, i hope by posting this I get back in the writing spirit!

This request was inspired off an artwork created by @slytherincursebreaker who’s an amazing artist so I recommend looking at them! They’ll blow your socks off! (It won’t let me link the post annoyingly so I’ll add the link in a reblog of this post!)

Taglist: @slytherincursebreaker, @theconclavescitadel @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @omgbrcat @blue-serendipity @arcielee

Warnings: Suggestive content, babies, reader is mainly gender neutral but some female descriptions may have been dotted throughout, (if i miss any let me know!)

When Aemond first allowed his hair to reach his waist all those years ago in his teens, he had no idea how much of a hassle it would be to keep it like that.

Though to his surprise, it wasn’t the maintenance what forced him to reconsider all his hard earned work. If anything, he spent too long maintaining it, putting all sorts of products from all sorts of places as far as Essos or even Winterfell.

But no. Instead, It was his own daughter, who was the one forcing him to reconsider it all.

“Hermione, please loosen your grip. Kostilus ñuha byka dārilaros, ivestragī jikagon hen ñuha ōghar."

“I don’t think she understands Aemond. In Valyrian or common tongue.” You tease, leaning forward to take your daughter from your husbands arms.

It takes a mighty tug from you however with how strong she held onto Aemonds silver locks, and the fact that as soon as she was in her muñas arms, she began to pout and wet her eyes with the promise of further tears and a mighty tantrum if she isn’t placed back into her kepas arms as quickly as possible.

And of course, being the father wrapped tightly around his daughters finger he was, Aemond quickly takes her right back so he can hold her tightly against his chest and soothe her.

“Shhh it is alright byka dārilaros…” Aemond coos, rocking her in his arms as she begins to slowly calm herself down and close her eyes. “Kepa would never let anything happen to you or to muña. Sleep byka dārilaros, and we shall awake tomorrow with a smile. And if you're extra good in the morning, we can arrange a playdate with your cousins.”

“You’re so good with her.” You cannot help but comment, moving forward so you can lay your head on his shoulder and hum in delight as Aemond tilts his head to lay a delicate feather-like kiss against your skin.

As soon as Hermione is fast asleep against Aemonds chest, he takes her to the nursery and places her carefully in the crib, placing the stuffed direwolf teddy your brother had made for her in her arms before turning away so he can turn on the moon themed nightlight Hel had gifted you and leave the room with you.

The two of you make quick work of clearing the house up after a hectic day of Hermione and uncle Aegons unique chaos, and as soon as the last wooden block is put back in its rightful place, the pyjamas were put on and the lights dimmed as the two of you made quick work sleeping peacefully in each others arms.

Though it seems the peace last only that night, since that next morning, Aemonds hopeful words that Hermione would wake up with a smile came with a price it seemed. As while yes, Aemond was delighted that his precious daughter was giggling and acting like the angel he knew her to be, she somehow managed to do all that while yanking at his hair so badly he truly feared for his roots.

"Ow! Hermione don't pull daddy's hair- OW! you have a strong grip there Hermione!" Aemond forcibly smiled while he tried to hide his very obvious winces and groans of pain, all in favour of keeping his sweet girl happy.

"Aemond, do you need any help?" You try to ask, wincing yourself when you see Hermione actually manage to take a strand or two out with her bare hands and flutter down to the floor below.

"Nope!" He says, very strained, you would say. "When is Helaena getting here with the twins by the way?"

"About an hour. Why? Can't fend off the ferocious princess?" You tease, walking up to the two and swooping said princess into your own arms. Thankfully, it seems today she's decided to tolerate her munas presence as she lightly grabs at your own hair and puts it in her mouth for a nibble. She only tugs on her favourite hair it seems.

"A knight can only do so much." Aemond eventually admits, sitting up properly as he rubs at the places where Hermione tugged at the most.

"You do know you can say no to her right? She's our princess. Not an evil witch my sweet knight." You grin, sitting down next to Aemond and giggling when he gives you a sweet kiss on your blushing cheek.

"And you're the delectable queen whose sworn protector can never get enough of..." He murmurs, kissing your cheek once more and chuckling as he feels the heat difference from moments before.

To be honest, you almost managed to forget about the princess in your arms until she begins to giggle again, still with your hair between her lips.

"Is that right nuha dārilaros? Is muna a queen?" Aemond coos, both you and him smiling proud as she excitedly wriggles in your arms with her hands in the air as if to give a wholehearted agreement. "Well, our princess is never wrong!" He smiles.

"Never." You grin back, pulling in Aemond for a quick kiss that he reciprocates immediately with zero hesitation. If there wasn't the familiar sound of the doorbell followed by the sweet noise of excitement from Hermione, you no doubt would've continued.

Which, after Helaena strapped Hermione in the back with the twins while her frankly cute as heck girlfriend sat in the front and drove off, is exactly what you did.

The two of you practically molded against each other as two became one. Your hands couldn't keep themselves away from touching his chest and fiddling with the long smooth silky strands of his hair. Before in the past, Aemond almost had a particular fondness for you touching and delicately tugging at his hair, with it being a sensitive area for him after all.

Yet when you do this now, instead of being met with that soft sigh of his that drives you insane with need, you're met with a painful whine that forces you to practically leap to the other side of the couch in surprise and fear for your lovers well-being.

"What's wrong Aemond?!" You quickly ask, moving forward again to take his face in your palms.

"I think Hermione might've played a bit too hard with my hair this time ñuha jorrāelagon." He says, rubbing at the spot with his palm. For a minute, Aemond is calm as he appears to think about something. Then he turns to you with his eyes furrowed like he usually does whenever he's in deep thought on something. "Do you remember that idea I had last week? The one I had on Tuesday after we put Hermione to bed?"

You had to think about it for a second given how vague he was being, but when you remember exactly what he was insinuating, you couldn't help but gasp in disbelief. "You cannot be serious!?"

"I'm afraid I am. As much as I love our princess, I don't think my hair can take it anymore... and besides, You can do it. Which does put me at ease."

"By the sakes of the gods fine! I'll try to find my hairdressing kit somewhere in the rubble of the junk room!" You sigh, giving Aemond a final peck on the corner of his lips before moving in said junk room, knowing you'll no doubt be taking about an hour to find the kit you bought a year ago on a whim but never ended up using.

Still, no better time than the present!

After eventually finding the darn thing though, you got Aemond set up in the bathroom on your dresser stool. A spare sheet was draped on the floor to catch the fallen hair, with another round Aemonds shoulders to keep his clothes/skin hair free. You set the bag of hair products and equipment on the ledge by the sink, and let Aemonds hair free as it ran down his back and over his left eye.

"Aemond are you sure about this...?" You carefully ask, catching his eye as he looks at himself in the mirror.

"Yes, I know it's hard but it will grow back. It's just hair Stark." Aemond finally says, his face looking unusually cold as he uses the nickname he gave you from years ago before you were both dating.

"Oh it's not that, it's our daughter. You know she'll throw a fit." You try to explain, yet that doesn't seem to faze him one bit. You suppose looking at him with how he's glaring at his reflection, now you can understand exactly why his nickname in high school was 'The Iceberg'.

"You're being silly Stark, let's get this over with." Aemond scoffs, firmly glaring at you that to most people would seem cold and slightly scary, exactly like how the infamous iceberg would've been. But to you, it's just like something you'd see off one of those grumpy cat videos you see on your social media for you page.

There's not much it seems you can do about it, given how experienced you are at dealing with Aemonds annoyingly stubborn nature. So you simply sigh and under your breath murmur a few words before you begin cutting.

"I tried to warn you..."

By the time Helaena had texted you to let you know they'll be dropping Hermione back off at yours and Aemonds house, Aemonds hair has been cut significantly shorter.

"It's shorter than Aegons..." You can't help but sigh, mourning his long hair as you run your fingers through its remains. "What am I even gonna be able to hold anymore? Nothing I tell you! Nothing!"

"It was for the best!" Aemond tries to reassure you, though with how you can clearly see his lips jutted in a pout, you can't help but feel reminded of Hermiones own. It seems you finally figured out where she gets her grumpy side from. Speaking of Hermione...

As soon as Aemond opens the door to thank Helaena for the sudden play date, her eyes immediately widen in shock and horror. So wide in fact you can't help but begin cackling like a witch in the background. Aemond though is just focused on his little princess, so he ignores her and the original task he was supposed to do, leaving you to thank Helaena properly while you try to calm down your laughter.

"What the fuck has he done to his hair?!" Helaena murmurs, keeping her volume careful given that Hermiones only recently begun to mimic words, as discovered by her Uncle Aegon only the day before...

"Hermione keeps grabbing it." You explain. "She even managed to pull some strands out so Aemond just had enough and demanded I cut it for him today. Trust me, we all mourn the curls... Hermione no doubt the most. I should probably go witness this so I can tell him the I told him so within the moment. Still, thanks so much for the day! We can discuss having the twins over next week okay?"

"Yep sounds good! Text me Hermiones reaction in detail later!"

"Will do! Thanks again Hel!" You say as you close the door and honest to the gods speed walk to the living room, just in time for the show...

You can see Aemond smiling hopefully at Hermione, who's just perched on his lap looking up at him in confusion while they both sit on the sofa.

"Hermione, what do you think of daddy's new haircut?" He says, still looking hopeful at his precious daughter. That is however, until her face begins to contort into one you and Aemond both recognise well. A face of pure and utter sadness as tears begin to run heavy down her cheek and her voice releases a loud screech of sorrow.

"No nono! Don't cry! Hermione!! Daddy's here, it will grow back!! Don't cry!!" Your poor lover begs while your daughter still weeps for the loss of her favourite past time, and for in a way, her daddy himself.

"I told you that our daughter would throw a fit..." You say, watching as Aemond turns to you with a face of pure desperation while Hermione still shrieks in his arms.

"Please my love. Help me." He begs, his eye full of despair as he's forced to watch his beloved little princess weep before him. So like the amazing parent you were, you strode over and took Hermione in your arms and cooed at her until she was just hiccuping and looking at you with wet cheeks.

"Did you not like the strange man sweetie?" You teased, giggling as you saw Aemonds look of pure betrayal directed solely at you. Still, you had to feel bad for him, so as you bounced Hermione in your arms you took her back over to Aemond who looked back at her with a hopeful expression.

"It's kepa sweetie!" You tried to convince, but with how her eyebrows seemed to furrow in the most adorable looking scowl, you don't think she was exactly ready to believe you right now.

"Don't you dare say it..." Aemond groans, his own eyebrows furrowed exactly like the baby in front of the two of you was doing.

"I told you so!" You sing instead, giggling as he rolls his eye next to you. "You're gonna have to wait for her to get used to you all over again Aemond. I'm sorry, but you did take away the most definable feature of yours from her!"

"Ah yes, cause our daughter has met so many men these days with one-eye..." He grumbles beside you, causing you to laugh softly as you kiss the side of his face in an act of comfort he leans into gratefully.

"Well, you were always praising our daughter for never taking notice of it when you first showed it to her."

"Sure sure blame the victim..." He grumbles, wistfully sighing once more as he makes eye contact with his glaring daughter. "I love you byka dārilaros, know that." He tries to kiss the top of her head in a final act of affection, but to your greatest amusement and Aemonds greatest horror, Hermione uses her scrunched up fists to hit the side of Aemonds face away with a mighty yell.

"Told you. Gonna need to get her used to you..." You say, moving Aemond closer so you could kiss the area between his furrowed brows. And from the way they felt against your lips, you knew you'd need to give him plenty of affection until Hermione miraculously remembers one morning that she has a daddy with short silver hair.

-----------------

Valyrian translation bit (literally one sentence): Kostilus ñuha byka dārilaros, ivestragī jikagon hen ñuha ōghar - please my little princess, let go of my hair

[warping-realities]

Hey, everyone! I finally wrapped up my exams, and they totally wore me out. I’m beat, but I’m still writing. I wanna drop the last two parts of 'All For The Family' and a collab with a great author sometime this month. Not sure if I can pull it off to soon, though, 'cause I’m getting my copy of 'Wind and Truth' in a few days, and Brandon Sanderson kinda runs my life when a new book drops. But still, I promise I’ll carve out some time to write. I’ve got a few requests I already promised, and they’re on my to-do list. In the meantime, since it’s the end of the year and all, I’m gonna post my TOP reads for 2024. For a lot of folks who follow me, it might be a bit redundant since the community’s pretty small and everyone knows each other. Still, I think it’s super important to give a shoutout to the talented work of our peers.

There are plenty of other authors who could be on this list, but the reason I picked these isn’t really about technical quality (even though all the stories here have that) or character development or anything like that. I chose the ones I kept coming back to for a good jerk off time, and I think that’s the best compliment I could’ve made.

https://www.tumblr.com/misctf/761180964545282048/welcome-to-the-crew

2. https://www.tumblr.com/johnbrand/759696210870321152/on-my-level?source=share

3. https://www.tumblr.com/occamstfs/753779017476374528/no-such-thing-as-a-free-ride

4. https://www.tumblr.com/artificial-transmutations/755889125138333696/give-in-to-the-midnight-grind?source=share

5. https://www.tumblr.com/octuscle/762410259709100032/gringo-life?source=share

6. https://www.tumblr.com/misctf/762360921396035584/make-it-make-sense

7. https://www.tumblr.com/persuasivetfs/761223291721678848/our-lady-of-sacred-contentment?source=share

8. https://www.tumblr.com/mrrharper/760719766371581952/neighborhood-association?source=share

9. https://misctf.tumblr.com/post/764947252712292352/the-haunted-house-ii

10. https://occamstfs.tumblr.com/post/742797879298654208/wouldnt-it-be-funny

11. https://coyotes-rules-of-change.tumblr.com/post/754435332243668992/mirror-mirror-on-the-wall-whos-the-hungest-one

12. https://www.tumblr.com/johnbrand/753917203927236608/kickin-it-straight?source=share

13. https://www.tumblr.com/occamstfs/752238892162465792/shaka-screen

14. https://www.tumblr.com/mrrharper/752571069276258304/cocky-and-proud-by-accident?source=share

15. https://www.tumblr.com/persuasivetfs/763085618193547264/our-lady-of-blessed-contentment-part-3?source=share

16. https://www.tumblr.com/johnbrand/763806000845324288/onlyfags?source=share

17. https://www.tumblr.com/misctf/763153913556975616/already-in-costume?source=share

18. https://www.tumblr.com/occamstfs/751876469060501504/influencing-goes-both-ways

19. https://www.tumblr.com/occamstfs/762023318718169088/man-of-your-dreams?source=share

20. https://www.tumblr.com/mrrharper/746864955063762944/this-is-how-you-sell-gym-memberships?source=share

21. https://occamstfs.tumblr.com/post/746439247184166912/road-raging

22. https://misctf.tumblr.com/post/768507472040394752/welcome-to-the-crew-home-for-the-holidays

23. https://www.tumblr.com/johnbrand/762340550721634304?source=share

24. https://www.tumblr.com/captainmalewriter/764646484419493888/unconscious-desires?source=share

25. https://www.tumblr.com/joshslater/743264131379068928/stained?source=share

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 9

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: this wasn't my planned update but here we go.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your grandmother is where she always is. In her chair reading her book. She doesn’t look up and you don’t bother saying a word. She’s getting exactly what she’s always wanted and she doesn’t even realise it. She’s getting rid of you. Another thing you’ve done for her that she’ll never acknowledge. 

You go into your room and look around. You sit on the bed and examine each wall. You’re not going to miss this place, just your freedom. There is no illusion left around Andy. He’s shown how far he’ll go to make his will your own. You don’t expect him to ‘take care of you’ as he keeps promising, not in the way it sounds. 

You huff and hold your head. You’re not going to sleep. You don’t have time to. You have to figure out what to take with you. What do you tell your grandmother? She won’t care either way, will she. She’ll finally have her empty nest. At least someone will have what they want. 

You don’t have much to your name. Your switch, your headset, controllers; that’s the expensive stuff. Your clothes are mostly used, easily replaceable. You’re not really worried about dressing up. 

You spend the hours going through every little nook and cranny. You’re not sentimental, you don’t have much that it more than material. Only a box of keepsakes from the few years of your life; a friendship bracelet the neighbour girl gave you before she moved away, some meaningless award you won in grade school for attendance, and the only thing left to you by your parents, besides resent; a baby sweater you wore when they thought they could love you. 

You fit everything you’re taking in a single bag. The rest you box up and drag out to the curb. In the early hours, the house is quiet and you try not to make too much noise. Your grandmother’s snores stir from her room. She’s blissfully ignorant just as always. 

You strip the bed and put the sheets and blanket in the wash. Hopefully you can switch it over before you go. You wipe down the furniture with a wet cloth and dust the corners and the empty closet. You’re covered in sweat and breathless by the time you have the entire space barren. You’re so tired you’re dizzy but closing your eyes only brings Andy’s voice to mind. 

There’s a creak and you raise your head as the ripples dissipate. Your grandmother slouches as she clings to the door handle and scowls. She looks around the room and her grey brow twitches. 

“Eh, what’re you doing?” She growls, “making all this noise.” 

“Leaving,” you shrug. 

“Leaving? To where?” 

You’re dumbfounded she’s even asked. You sit up and show your hands, “gotta go back to school soon anyway so I’m going to crash with Kara. I’ll leave money on the table when I go.” 

“Oh.” 

That’s all she says before she goes. She believes you only because she doesn’t care enough to doubt you. You hang your head and sigh. You can’t help but think of what Andy said. You hate to admit it but he’s right. There’s no one else who wants you. It doesn’t make him a better option, just the only. 

Thinking makes your head hurt. Or maybe that’s the lack of sleep. You check your phone and wrap up the charging cord. Morning already. Nearly 7am. You spent hours clearing out your old life; a life that was never really living. 

There’s a message waiting for you. Two. Both from Andy. The first is a good night you never answered and the second from just twenty minutes ago, asking if you’re awake. You send a thumbs up. That’s all you can handle right now. 

The call comes almost as soon as the message sends and the check mark turns blue. You answer without hesitation. Your so numb to the inevitability of it all, there’s no sense in avoiding any of it. You just want this over with even though you know it won’t be. 

“Morning, sweetheart,” Andy purrs from the other end. Your throat clenches and your cheeks tug into a frown. “How are you?” 

You go to speak and cough, your mouth dry. You clear your throat and rub your forehead as it throbs with the effort, “awake. Packed.” 

“Oh, honey, you sound tired.” 

“Mm,” you hum flatly. 

“I couldn’t sleep either,” he says, “I couldn’t stop thinking of you.” He pauses, waiting for the lies you won’t give him. “Well, when do you wanna head out? Do you need a little more time?” 

“Ready,” you utter. Not really ready but resigned.  

“Sure, sweetheart, I’ll just get myself together and be over in twenty minutes, how does that sound?” 

Why is he asking you like you have a choice? You garble an agreement and hang up. You put the phone down as you sit on the naked mattress and stare. Your head is swimming with fatigue. As you close your eyes, the fear returns. You’re really doing this. 

You fold over your lap and whimper. It’s over, not that it ever really begun. Not that you were ever really expected much. You just wanted to be your own person, have your own space, make your own way. For once in your life, you just wanted to be you. 

Andy isn’t going to let that happen. You don’t know him but you know he wants you to be something you aren’t. Whether it’s delusion or cruelty, you don’t know, but you know something isn’t right. It can never be right. 

You get up and unlock your phone. You key in a message with the last of your strength; ‘meet me at the corner’. You don’t think she’ll bother herself but you wouldn’t want your grandma to see the truth. You’re not sure she’d even care enough to judge you. 

You come out as she grumbles into a coffee cup. You roll your bag behind you and grab your jacket from the hook by the door; a light canvas one you wear in the mornings when the dew chills the air. She stares at the television as the news blares at her. 

“Here,” you take out the little bit of cash you have left to your name and place it on the table at her elbow, “I’m... going now.” 

“Erm,” she grunts and slurps the coffee. She doesn’t even look at you. Should you tell her you’re not coming back? You leave your keys with the money 

You just turn and pull your bag after you to the door, stopping only to put your shoes on. You open the front door and step out into the soft hues of morning. It would be a beautiful day if the world hadn’t gone gray. 

Your bag wheels scratch the pavement behind you, the whole thing jostling at the end of the long handle. You head down to the corner and park yourself on the curb, waiting as your eyes rove the area. You take it all in; the fences, the hedges, the cracked birdbath, and the few welcome signs on doors. 

The low whir of an engine approaches. You know without looking it’s him. But you do. You have to face it. 

“Hey,” Andy steps out as you stand on the curb. “Let me get this, sweetheart.” 

He reaches back inside the car and hits a switch. The trunk opens on its own. Is it pathetic that you’re kind of impressed by that? You’ve only seen trunks that you open with your hands. He lifts your bag inside easily and taps another button, the hatch closing slowly behind him. 

“Come on, you look beat,” he touches your shoulder and you flinch, curling inward as you shake his hand away. “I brought you a coffee. Not the hotel brew, the good stuff.” 

You numbly follow him around to the other side. He opens the car door and you stare at the interior. You take a breath and grab the trim of the door and haul yourself inside. You drop heavily into the seat and your head bounces against the rest. 

He lingers. You feel his gaze on you. He’s expecting something you can’t give him. Not yet. You don’t know if ever. You let out a murmur as he leans in to kiss your cheek. You fight not to show your disgust. 

“Just relax. I’ll drive, you get some sleep, sweetheart,” he caresses your arm. You don’t react. Not a look, not a flinch. 

He shuts the door and walks along the hood. You watch him through the windshield. He’s wearing one of those suits. Dark navy slacks and white shirt with a black tie. You let your head loll and see the matching jacket folded neatly in the back seat. 

He gets in the car, his weight felt in the axle. He hits the button to wake the engine and buckles his belt. He glances over. 

“Hey, safety first.” 

You huff. He's acting like the dad you never had. You click the seat belt into place and turn your face to the window. He inhales deeply and lets it out slow before he puts the SUV into gear. 

“You say goodbye to grandma?” 

“Mm... mhmm,” you grumble. 

“She’ll miss you, huh?” 

Your lip curls and you hide your face as you focus on the houses rolling slowly by. Why is he playing this game? Did he not throw her apathy in your face to get here? 

“Did you bring your switch? We could play some at the hotel,” he offers. 

You close your eyes and ball your fists. It takes everything you have left not to scream and hit him. It’s like he’s rubbing it in. He won! He won! 

And you lost. Just like always. 

“What about Kara?” You ask crisply. 

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re hoarse. Try some of the coffee,” he reaches to flick the top of a travel mug. You narrow your eyes as you follow the gesture. The purplish pink metal is topped with a white plastic lid. On the side, the outline of a game controller is patterned on the multicoloured finish. “It’s a good brew. Only a few places I’ve found have it. I’ll take you to the shop back home once you’re settled.” 

You’re not arguing with him. You’ve seen how far that gets you. You take the cup and pop the tab on top. You take a tentative sip as you feel the heat within. 

“I added some sugar,” he says. 

“I don’t like sugar,” you snap the lid shut and put the lid back. 

“Oh, sorry, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “guess we have a lot to learn about each other.” 

“Kara,” you insist again. 

He sighs and taps his fingers on the wheel, “I called last night. They’re holding her so we can pay the bond.” 

We? He’s not subtle. You sniff as your back racks with the sort of achiness that comes from being so tired. 

“I’ll talk to them. Get the charges knocked down. If anything, I can get them piled onto that boy she keeps around. He’s trouble, if I’ve ever seen it--” 

“Seen?” You echo, “have you... seen him?” 

He hesitates and his cheek dimples under his dark beard. He stares at the road ahead as his lips move as if he’s talking silently. Finally, he answers. 

“I only wanted to make sure you were safe. I know better than any that hanging out with the wrong crowd can get you into a lot of trouble--” 

“No, Andy, tell me. Were you watching her too?” You sit up with effort. 

“You should sleep, it’s a long drive,” he girds. 

“Andy, tell me--” 

“I had too. You cut me off and I had to be sure you were okay,” he insists. “And you weren’t. Not really. Sweetheart, things are going to be a lot better. Together. You just can’t see it right now because you never--” 

“Oh, I know what I’ve never had,” you fall back and slump against the door, “you don’t need to keep reminding me.” 

A roiling silence fills the compartment. He exhales again and slows as his blinker clicks noisily. He turns onto the next road as you feel his anxiety. Or maybe it’s your own. 

“I’m sorry. I only want...” he trails of as he measures his words, “I want to take care of you. To give you all that stuff. I don’t want you to feel bad.” 

“I’m tired,” you snip and fold your arms. 

“Right,” he says tensely, “yeah, get some sleep. Easier to talk after.” 

Talk? You’re done talking to him. He only says the same thing over and over again.  

[blue-slxt]

Kinkmas 1

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

A/N: Merry Kinkmas! I'm so excited to participate in another event like this! Just as a heads up, a lot of my pieces this time around are shorter than my Kinktober ones. I still hope that you enjoy them though! All characters are aged up!

Kinkmas Masterlist

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Na'vi!Reader x Ao'nung

Warnings: Cockwarming, Poly Relationship, Anal Penetration, Teasing

You were so incredibly full. It was one thing to have a mate that always wanted to be near you, but your situation was a bit unique with your two mates. It wasn’t unusual, but the two of them always wanted to be up under you at all times. Even when you slept at night, neither of them were satisfied with simply holding you. It wasn’t close enough for their liking. They opted instead to sleep with both their cocks buried to the hilt inside the welcoming squeeze of both of your holes. 

Ao'nung stayed nestled behind you, one hand resting lazily on your thigh. His light, steady breathing is only interrupted by the occasional kiss he gave you on the nape of your neck. Neteyam rested in front of you keeping you lovingly pressed into his chest. He kept a hand on your waist while his hips were angled upwards to press further into your gummy walls. 

Being pressed between both of them left you in a tangled mess of limbs thrown messily over each other.

It was hard for you to even think about sleep with both of them keeping you filled like this. Every little move let you feel both of them rubbing inside of you. 

You knew Ao'nung was a deep sleeper. There was no way you would be able to wake him with how content he was right now. 

“Teyam” you whisper.

Luckily, Neteyam was a much lighter sleeper than your other mate. He hums a response lightly to you, still keeping his eyes closed. 

“Teyam…’m so full”, you whine trying to grind your hips on him, but all that does is push you back on Ao'nung’s cock and stretch you open more. A staggered breath escapes your lips feeling the increasing pressure. 

“I know, yawne. But we need sleep tonight.” he coos gently at you. Despite you being able to feel how his dick is twitching inside of your fluttering cunt, his face is still calm as ever. 

“But Nete…need you to move…please”

“I’ll tell you what, if you sleep tonight, I’ll make sure to take extra good care of you in the morning.” he slowly drags himself out of you to just the tip only to push inch after inch back into your waiting walls. 

You bite your lip trying to stifle a moan.

“Can you do that for me, tìyawn?” He says cupping your face with his hand and rubbing his thumb along your cheek. He finally opens his eyes half way to look down at your desperate, blushing face. 

You are nothing short of gorgeous. If he weren’t so exhausted right now, Neteyam would absolutely have his way with you just like this. But he hopes that his promise of morning relief will be enough to satiate you for now. Luckily for him, you nod your head in agreement, making a small smile settle on his lips. 

“That’s my good girl”, he kisses your forehead and settles himself to try and go to sleep. 

Even though you agreed to wait until the morning, you still know sleep won’t come so soon. So you resign yourself to a long night of staring at the wooden posts of your marui until your body gives out, but Ao'nung’s voice quietly whispers in your ear, “Want me to help you out, paskalin?”

Taglist: @minnory @sussybaka10 @celess0 @funkyflamingo01 @itchaboi-itchyboy @loaksulluyswife @myloveforyouisforever @neteyams-wh0re @the-mourning-moon @wakanda-forever-andotherfandoms @zafrinaxyz @neteyamsyawntu @pandoraslxna @xylianasblog @hotdsworld @teyamsatan @sulieykte @neteyamsoare @neteyamswillow @cryinginthemoonpool @plooto @eywaite @quaritchsluts @jakexneytiri @luvv4j4ybe11 @eywascall

[avawritesthings]

casual | alexandra saint mleux

[smau] ex!alexandra saint mleux x reader (barely featuring charles leclerc)

summary - in which alex left you for charles, and you couldn’t help but think: was it just casual?

contents/notes - not sure if anything like this has been done already, but i thought i’d give it a go! theres not a lot of alex x reader fics on here so i thought i’d make one :) (can we pretend the timelines line up so they got leo back in 2023? thanks 😁)

masterlist

🌙 alexandrasaintmleux

liked by yourusername and 11,248 others

alexandrasaintmleux summer lovin’ ☀️🌺👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩🤍

view all comments

user23 Gorgeous girl 🤍

liked by creator

yourusername my favorite girl 🤍

alexandrasaintmleux je t’aime ❤️

yourusername lovingly and completely yours mon bebe

alexandrasaintmleux 🤍🤍🤍

user24 WHAT THE-

March 28, 2021

🌙 alexandrasaintmleux

liked by yourusername and 20,103 others

alexandrasaintmleux Around town 🌷

view all comments

yourusername had the best day ever mon amour, pls come over tonight!

alexandrasaintmleux Do you even have to ask! i’m already there 🫶🏼

comments are restricted

February 6, 2022

🌙 alexandrasaintmleux

liked by yourusername and 18,272 others

alexandrasaintmleux Paris, Art, and my girl yourusername 🫶🏼 what more could a girl ask for 🖼️☀️

view all comments

user78 they were actually so cute ..

user24 whoever yourusername is had alex wrapped around her fingerrrr whatever they had going on i want !!!

yourusername don’t leave for monaco!! stay with me and paris foreverrrr alex

alexandrasaintmleux mon ange you know i wish i could 😢 i’ll be back soon i promise 🤍

yourusername i’ll hold you to it bebe, pinky promise?

alexandrasaintmleux pinky promise 😘🫰

user52 this is the last post w that girl … i wonder what happened omg

December 2, 2022

alexandrasaintmleux posted on their story !

December 28, 2022

🌙 alexandrasaintmleux

liked by charles_leclerc and 78,394 others

alexandrasaintmleux Little Leo 🤍🫶🏼✨

view all comments

user39 the first post without mystery girl…

user99 weird to see an alex post with leo instead of mystery girl .. chat what happened

charles_leclerc ❤️

liked by creator

user63 Leo looks so cute today !!!

alexandrasaintmleux 🫶🏼🫶🏼

user63 SHE RESPONDED 😧 alex tell us what happened with mystery girl !!!!

francisca.cgomes pretttyyy 🩷

liked by creator

March 21, 2023

-

texts between alexandra and y/n .

March 23, 2023

-

fin.

(open to making a part two, maybe! if you liked this, pls lmk!!!! these were fun to make xo)

[drluvsick]

Hello mate, how are you doing?

So, I've been following you for a while, and I couldn't help but notice your latest post, soooo, I have a request for you~~

You can ignore it if you don't want to do it, don't want to bother you :'D

So, it's a Muichiro (the Sweetest) x reader, that Reader always had a long hair, and they always treasure it, like alot, never letting people touch it, only Mui of. But one day, they just show up with a hair cut, and Mui is like "???", when he asks why they did it, they just say " oh, a demon cut it, so I thought it would be nice make a new hair cut "

Sorry about my poor english, I'm better at speaking ;-;

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 (𝐍𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊) — 𝐦𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐨

muichiro loved your long hair. he loved the trust you gave him as you only allowed him to touch it. so imagine his surprise when you come back to him with a totally new haircut and some new insecurities. 📝 f! reader in mind; small hurt/comfort! this ask is adorable, don’t worry, your english is fine! :] NOT PROOFREAD

word count : 739

“thanks for volunteering to soothe the knots…” you kept your position as still as you could manage, muichiro behind you as he ran his fingers through your hair.

“you always do this for me,” muichiro pointed out, “it’s only fair that i repay you for that.”

you could practically feel his soft smile against your skin, the close proximity making butterflies swerve through your stomach and clouding in your heart. you hummed in contentment.

he continued talking. “plus, i like your hair. it’s…it gives off this sort of…comforting feeling.”

“is that so?” you smiled at his action of trying to form his words into a proper group. “i have to go soon.”

“mission?” you caught the small pout in his voice, although very subtle.

“yep, being sent in to help some mizunotos. it’s always the start of being a slayer that catches you off guard.” you sigh at the memory of your own start.

muichiro sighed for another reason. “just don’t go risking your life for whatever group you’re assigned to assist.”

“no promises, but i’ll try my best,” you got up once you felt muichiro’s fingers leave your hair. you then felt him back hug you.

“stay safe.”

“love you too.”

then he let go and waved you goodbye.

so many emotions swirled through you at once, making a wave of nausea swim through your senses.

relief. you were alive, and so were the people you were sent to protect (still heavily beaten up, but surviving nonetheless).

guilt. you could’ve prevented some of their injuries. but then again, it was a large group.

sadness and anger. after so many years of growing it out, it got snipped in a second. your hair, now cut short into a messy (but manageable) new haircut. you wished you were the one to decide when to have your hair chopped rather than some insignificant third party.

insecurity. would muichiro still love you the same? your hair played a part in your beauty, and you knew that muichiro thought you were beautiful. but that was before, when your hair was still long. what about now? would he still find you as attractive as before?

it was a little stupid, being so caught up in the fact that muichiro may like you less because of your hair. but a small thought still nagged at you, and it stayed until you decided to drop by mitsuri’s place.

you could guess her reaction vividly, and surprise, you were right on the money.

“(y/n)!! oh my gosh, you cut your hair?!” mitsuri screamed, “it was so—!!”

“demon cut it,” you simply replied, “i was busy protecting the others.”

mitsuri’s shocked face turned to one of excitement. “you have to let me style it! short hair’s going to look so pretty on you!!” she gushed, taking your hand and pulling you through the halls into her room for a hair appointment.

you dearly hoped she was right.

you stared at yourself in the mirror. if she ever got to retire from being a hashira, she’d definitely excel in a side career of hair styling.

“you look absolutely gorgeous, (y/n)!!” mitsuri squealed. you smiled and thanked her, turning around as she wrapped you in a bear hug. and then you were sent off to show muichiro.

your mind was swirling as you made steps to his place. he’d probably be training right now, wouldn’t he? after a bit of walking, you found him.

“muichiro!” you called out. you could practically feel his whole demeanor shift from monotone to absolutely shining. he snapped his head your way before evident shock was applied on his face.

“(y/n), what happened to your hair?” he worriedly asked, knowing well enough that you wouldn’t have cut it by yourself.

“demon,” you tried to smile, “it didn’t hurt me much, thankfully.”

he didn’t speak for a few seconds, making you fidget in your spot under his stare.

“it fits you,” he finally said, “your hair, i mean.”

you look at him, your heart picking up pace. “really?”

“yeah,” he smiled, taking your hands and softly kissing your knuckles. your heart melted. “everything fits you.”

you pulled him in, kissing him on the lips. and as he ran his fingers through your now shortened hair, just like how he used to before, you realized that no matter what you looked like coming back to him, he’d always look at you as his one and only.

overluvsick | please do not repost, translate, and/or claim my works as yours !!

[chukys-mouthguard]

broken memories - pt. 2

sequel to kinda tempting

3k words | loosely proof read

genre: fluff/angst

featuring: mat barzal x female reader x matt rempe

warnings: mentions of loss of pregnancy

previous chapter

It had been a month since you had broken the news to Matt about your baby. He was temporarily living with Jonathan Quick as he continued his offseason training to prepare for camp. The two of you kept in touch, often checking in on one another as you both navigated the stages of grieving.

You still talked on the phone at least twice a week, things remaining very cordial between you, which you appreciated. Never wanting to lose Matt entirely, hoping that you could remain friends despite everything.

Mat Barzal on the other hand, wasn’t being much of a friend as he’d yet to return any of your texts. Including your text you’d sent the night of the fight with Matt when he packed his things and left.

While you understood he was engaged and happy with someone else, he did promise that you could still reach out to him whenever you needed. Yet maybe that was simply a meaningless comment of comfort at the time, not something that held any true intent behind it.

You had finally started to feel like your normal self, getting fully back into work and preparing for the upcoming season. The organization pleasantly surprised you as they did not intend to fire you despite your relationship with Rempe, of course now that wouldn’t pose a problem. But you were happy that you could stay with the organization after you had become so sure this would be where you stayed for the foreseeable future should you and Matt have had your baby to raise.

Checking the time you had a little over an hour left in your work day, figuring you’d use the time to go get some footage of the recent renovations of the locker room to start making a few posts for the socials.

As you exited the elevator your phone was buzzing in your pocket, an image of Rempe brightly filling the screen. A smirk found its way across your lips at the sight of the photo. It was after his debut stadium series game, his eye black slightly smeared as he flashed a goofy smile at the camera. You’d never forget the excitement surrounding that day, but more importantly meeting Matthew.

“Hello Matthew Rempe, how can I help you?”

He chuckled at your sing-song tone as he greeted you. “I am actually getting in the car, just leaving training. But, I realized I need some stuff from the apartment, well your apartment. Can I swing by?”

Heading into the Rangers locker room you pulled your work phone from your pocket, snagging some photos and a few videos to ensure you had plenty of content to use in editing.

“Um, yeah sure. I’m finishing up here at MSG within the hour, then I’ll be heading home. I would say I can be there in like an hour or so? If that works for you?”

“Yeah, I’ll probably hit traffic on my way so that would be fine. I’ll see you soon!”

“Sounds good, see you in a bit.”

-

Dropping your bag on the island you headed down the hall to throw on some comfy clothes, which ended up being some shorts and a Rangers t-shirt that Matthew had left behind. You figured this wasn’t an item he was in need of so he wouldn’t mind you wearing it.

Before you could even get fully settled in from work there was a knock at your door.

“Matthew Rempe, what in the world is this?”

You eyed the boy as he carried in a box of food, setting it on the island as he wrapped you in a quick hug.

“Well, I knew you probably hadn’t eaten dinner yet. And it could be like old times, when we’d get our favorite takeout place for dinner.”

You smiled at the gesture, thinking back to how Matt’s diet surely took a turn throughout your pregnancy once the craving for Chinese food kicked in. Weekly Matt found himself bringing home whatever dish it was you craved, but he never once complained. Well, that is except for when you ended up with a better fortune in your cookie than he did.

“You really didn’t have to do this, I could’ve just made some leftovers or something.”

He shot you a playful smile as he held up the container of steamed dumplings.

“Really? You’d pass on dumplings for leftovers?”

You licked your lips as you stole the container from his hand, moving around to the other side of the island as you pulled out some plates and silverware. Passing some to Matt so he could serve up his food before the two of you found your familiar spots on the floor at your coffee table.

“So, how are you doing? Everything good?”

Nodding your head you reached for a napkin, wiping your mouth before you answered him.

“Yeah, starting to feel like my normal self again. It was a little rocky there for a bit. But, I’m starting to feel good. Able to make it through the workday without crying, which is a big plus. How about you?”

He also nodded, adjusting how he sat on the floor as he rested back on his hands.

“Yeah, same here. I mean, I still have my moments where I do the why me sort of spiel. But I would say I’ve gotten past a lot of the frustration and anger I felt for a while. And training has been freaking amazing, I’m so excited for camp. I’ve been working so hard, the boys are really impressed.”

The smile on his face as he told you about his offseason training schedule warmed your heart. A smile formed on your lips as you saw how excited he was, talking about some of the different workouts he’s pushed himself through. Matt was like a kid in a candy story as he talked about the upcoming season. He’d already come such a long way from the rookie you met at the stadium series.

“I’m really proud of you Matt, and I can tell you’ve been working hard. I can see it for sure!”

“Oh, so you were checking me out eh? The biceps are looking pretty good if I do say so myself.”

He shot you a wink as he flexed his bicep for you, making you roll your eyes playfully as you reached over to steal a bite of his sesame chicken.

“Seriously? Some things just never change I guess.”

He slightly chucked as you shrugged your shoulders. Stealing Matt’s food was always something you’d do after telling him you didn’t like his order. Which would always lead to a silly argument once you’d stolen almost half of his chicken from his plate. Leaving him with mostly rice and veggies, which were obviously not the reason for him ordering the dish. But he never complained, always happy as long as you were.

That was something you’d always appreciated about Matt. He was selfless, always willing to sacrifice anything for you, to put himself in difficult positions for you. But you always felt like you couldn’t give him the same, your heart being pulled in the opposite direction for a guy who clearly had moved on from you like it was nothing.

You hated that you’d hurt Matt, of course losing your baby wasn’t anything you’d ever done intentionally. But to know he still felt as though it was never him in your heart, that you were solely with him for your daughter and not because you liked him enough on his own, it hurt. Because maybe you were both wrong, maybe somehow things could have worked. Had your relationship not began the way it did, if you had simply walked away once you knew Mat had cheated. Maybe you two could've had a happy ending, rather than him moving out with you both left to pick up the pieces separately.

“Y/n!”

Snapping from your thoughts you looked up at Matt, his hand holding out two fortune cookies.

“You pick first, remember?”

It was always tradition for you to pick your cookie first, Matt’s rules. He said that your intuition was better than his, and most of the time your fortunes did suit each of you perfectly.

Taking the cookie on the right you playfully smiled, the two of you ripping open the packages as you each cracked open the cookies. Pulling out the small piece of paper, you read your fortune to yourself, biting your lip as you looked at Matt, seeing him already looking back at you in anticipation. He could see the tears welling in your eyes, immediately moving to your side to comfort you. His arms holding you tight as you cried, trying to pull yourself together as this wasn’t supposed to be a night for the two of you to be sad.

“What did it say?”

You took a deep breath as you sat up, wiping your tears as you read the message out loud.

“If you want the rainbow, you have to tolerate the rain.”

You softly chuckled, now realizing it seemed silly to cry over such a cliche message. But as you looked up at Matt he was fighting his own tears, sniffling as he tried to pull himself together.

“I think that was exactly what you needed to hear right now. Like I’ve always said, your intuition is a hell of a lot better than mine.”

He gave you a smile as he stood up, collecting the dishes and taking them into the sink as he began to clean them off. You then tossed the throw pillows back onto your couch before joining him. Taking a seat on the counter as you watched him dry the dishes before placing them back in the cabinet.

“Well what about you?”

He tossed the dish towel over his shoulder as he turned to look at you, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter.

“What about me?”

“Your fortune!”

“Ohhh, let’s see, where did I put it?”

Typical Matt. He’d always put his fortune on the table, or in his pocket, the most random places thinking he’d lost it only to find it twenty minutes later.

“Here it is!”

Stuck to the bottom of his sock, that was a new one.

He playfully cleared his throat as he read from the tiny paper.

“A lifetime of happiness is in front of you.”

His eyes flashed up to meet yours, the words ringing in your ears and making your heart skip a beat. Though surely Matt didn’t see it that way, probably interpreting the fortune to be an overall meaning of the future, not literally right in front of him.

He simply shrugged as he placed the dish towel back onto the counter, “guess I’m gonna have to wait for happiness I guess. Unless, right in front of me.”

Looking down he stared at the sink, then flashed his eyes to you.

“This, washing dishes. It’s my future. Is this a sign that camp isn’t gonna go well for me?”

You rolled your eyes, practically falling off the counter at his god awful joke. Searching the apartment for your phone as he continued on, trying his best to make you laugh, which you always appreciated.

Looking at the screen you saw a multitude of text messages, all from none other than Mat. You’d immediately set your phone down, rejoining Matthew in the kitchen as you had no desire to talk to Barzal. It had been a month since you saw him, and you were not in the business of being friends only when it was convenient for him.

“Well, this has really been great, for the both of us I think. But, I gotta grab my stuff and head out. I’ve got an early training session tomorrow.”

Playfully you frowned at him as he headed to your previously shared bedroom, pulling a few things from the closet as he tossed them into a duffle bag he’d brought. Then he moved to the bathroom, and finally ended up in the living room grabbing a few books from the shelf.

“If you ever wanted to come over, not just when you need to grab some of your stuff, you can do that too you know?”

Matt softly smiled at you, appreciating the fact that you were open to still hanging out with him despite everything that happened. He felt awful for the way he left things, for accusing you of not necessarily having feelings for him or ever seeing yourself with him. It was pretty harsh when he thought back on it. And he wished things could’ve played out differently. But to even get an open invite from you to spend time together after the things he’d said, he felt that was a step in the right direction.

“I know that now, and I will definitely keep that in mind.”

He wrapped you in a hug before heading out the door, out of habit kissing your head before awkwardly apologizing. To which you’d told him you didn’t mind, it still felt so normal for him to do so. He promised to text you once he got home, but told you not to wait up as he might hit traffic on his drive and you need your rest for work in the morning. He truly did know you way too well.

Heading back into the living room you heard your phone buzzing on the coffee table. A photo of you and Mat Barzal filling the screen, one you’d apparently never changed after your breakup.

“Hello?”

“Hey, um, is everything okay?”

You scoffed at his somewhat annoyed tone as you took a seat on the couch, pulling a throw blanket over your legs as you spat back at him.

“Like you care? It’s been a month since I saw you and this is the first I’ve heard from you. What about the five other days I’ve tried reaching out? You didn’t care until now?”

He sighed on his end of the call, realizing he’d come off wrong, trying to apologize and start over as he explained himself.

“Well, you’re right. I should’ve responded sooner. But, Ava was in town, I couldn’t have her seeing me talking to you. But, I mean I texted you back now. You’re the one ignoring me now.”

He playfully chuckled, though you were not amused, Mat always thinking he could use charm to move past any wrongdoing.

“First of all, what good does texting me now do if I reached out weeks ago? Maybe I needed you then. And second of all, I wasn’t ignoring you. I was busy. Matt came over to grab some of his things and he brought dinner.”

Mat’s line of the phone went silent, eventually you’d heard him take a deep breath before he spoke.

“So, the guy packs up his things and walks out on you, but suddenly you’re hanging out and having dinner together? Are you two broken up or not?”

His tone was annoyed and angry, though you weren’t sure why considering he was happily engaged, which you didn’t think you needed to remind him of but clearly he’d forgotten.

“Last time I checked, you’re happy with Ava. So why do you care so much? I’m not allowed to have dinner with him? He and I were literally going to have a child, you think that everything between him and I just goes away overnight because I’m no longer pregnant?”

You found yourself laughing, the conversation seeming silly to you. There was no need for you to explain yourself to him, but part of you felt like you owed him something. After all, you did the same thing right back to him that he’d done to you.

“There was never anything between you two! Stop trying to pretend like there was. I get it okay, I fucked up. I should have never cheated on you. Do I think it gave you the right to do the same to me, no. But I could see how I pushed you into the arms of someone else. What I won’t let you do, is try to tell me that even for a second there was something between you and him. He got you pregnant after one night, and you two had to be together for your baby. That’s not love, that’s nothing close to what we had. So don’t you dare try to say it’s anything similar.”

You tried not to take his words personally, knowing they were coming from a place of hurt as he’d clearly not gotten over everything that happened. Rather just tried to mask it all by jumping into an engagement he clearly wasn’t satisfied with. But you weren’t going to just accept the things he said, letting him act as if there were never any feelings felt between you and Matthew.

“Mat, you have never once been in the same room as us. You’ve not been around Matt and I, you don’t know the feelings that are there. You don’t know how we feel towards one another, so you can’t tell me how I feel or how I don’t.”

“How you feel? So what, you still supposedly like this guy? After he packed his shit and walked out on you during one of the hardest moments of your life, you still have fucking feelings for someone like that? You’d want to be with the guy after all this?”

“Well I stayed with you during your shitty moments didn’t I?”

The comment was harsh, but you didn’t care. Mat always thought he could do no wrong, that the way he spoke was justified, and you were sick of him trying to make you feel bad, regardless if you’d hurt him or not.

“Why do you fucking care so much Mat? Must I remind you, you’re engaged! You chose her! So why could you possibly care so much if I still have feelings for Matt or would consider trying to do things the right way with him?”

The line went silent, and it felt as if minutes had passed before Mat finally confessed to you why’d he become so frustrated with you admitting you might truly have feelings for Rempe after all.

“Because I called off my engagement.”

[strawberry-nugget]

Pairing: Kirishima Eijiro x Reader

~You swore you were done with Eijiro Kirishima when he shattered your heart and left you to pick up the pieces. At Mina’s birthday party, her and Ochaco are desperately trying to get you to avoid him. This is what happens when both of you you let your feelings linger though; you find each other no matter what. And, not surprisingly, you both give in.

Tags // Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, smut, unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering, kitchen sex, shower sex, dr*g use (reader and Kirishima smoke together), alcohol, slight angst througout, Ex!Kirishima, dacryphilia

All CHARACTERS ARE 20+

Word Count: 25.5k

One last look at the screen of your phone is all it takes before you decide to tap that dreadful post button. 

It’s an itch you can't scratch, the nervousness you feel now that you’re posting on your story with only one person in mind, but you tell yourself it's only partially because of him.

Kirishima is the type of person that needs to be punched into next year and certainly not to have someone post a hot story for him on instagram. You indulge, first and foremost, only because the thrill of being able to tell your friends you got him back is exciting.

Definitely not for any other reason.

There's incoherent screaming from the girls all over their apartment and the sound of blow dryer eventually comes to a halt when Mina marches in the bathroom, angry about the time her phone screen displays.

“Just tell me you'll be ready soon”

“I’ll be ready in five” 

Mina curses under her breath at Ochako’s response. 

Tonight is her party, after all, and she's at least an hour late so by now it really doesn't matter that she's having it at Sero’s place; it's much bigger than the apartment she shares with Ochako, much bigger than yours and it has a rooftop. Who wouldn't want to host their or any party there? 

“Ugh whatever, what. Ever.” She shakes her head, bopping her pink ponytail from left to right. “How much time ‘till you're ready?”

You eye her, lip gloss in hand, frenzied about the lipliner you're sure you did not just lose in this mess of a sink you've created, searching left and right, bumping into everything in your way.

“Girl, how can you post a fucking story on instagram when you’re not ready?”

“Uhm”

“No okay,” she shakes her head again, silently rejecting her nerves, truthfully promising herself that she's trying to stay positive “uhm, what shoes are you wearing?”

You glance at her, before Ochako manages to slip once more into the bathroom as well, crowding the space just enough so that you feel pressured to answer both her questions. Chest heaving and breasts almost slipping out of the front of your dress, you open your mouth, words ready to bubble out, when Ochako asks you to move enough so that she can put on her own lipstick.

“Uhm.. heels?” you gulp. “And I'm ready, I just.. I can't go there without that lipliner and you know that.”

Mina stares at your feet and you're so sure she's going to make a comment any second now. Yet ever so sweetly, she opens her lips with a response so peculiar that she doesn’t ever let out. She presses them together instead like she never flapped them open to speak, eyes fluttering close for a second that's enough to make your heart want to jump out of your chest.

Is she on to you? What does she know that you don't want her to know?

“Sero has been calling nonstop. That's all.” she sighs. “We’re supposed to be throwing my party and I'm late. I hate to be late.”

“I know,” You mouth it quietly. Carefully. Even if it's Ochako’s fault for running late to show up, you feel guilty. Even more so that your secret goal of the night is to get back at -or with- Kirishima. 

“So please just get ready, you can post to your heart's content when we’re there. ‘Chako, you too baby girl.”

“Nah, I don't need to post anything tonight, Izuku will be the first to see me either way since he’s picking us up!”

Damn you’d actually be happy too if you could say that so casually. But Ochako and Izuku have been dating since high school, so they’re not flaunting anything—other than the fact that she’s crazy and head over heels in love with her man since her teens. Mina has been perfectly adjusted to her beloved city girl life. Wanted by everyone, touched by none. She doesn’t need to be in love to have a good time, unlike you. And in a way, you're too jealous of both. 

In a nice way nonetheless. 

“I did like your story. I'm sorry I keep mentioning it like that. You look hot.” Your friend smiles at you as she's fixing her ponytail in the mirror next to Ochako. 

You go to thank her, as you see her feel just a bit of guilt, past Ochako and the perfume that she’s spraying, when your phone goes off and your screen lights up with the first notification of the night since you posted. Both your eyes and hers land on the notification, as your phone lay in front of her on the sink. 

You feel amber orbs are on you, horrified, perfectly overdrawn lips pursing in agony. You try to mouth something like ‘sorry’ to her, but your excitement is too hard to hide.

How do you explain to your best friend that the man who dumped you over someone else, asked you for space and had you bedridden for like a month with all your crying, the man you blocked on all socials and whose phone number you deleted—the man you swore on your life you wouldn't take back even if he came crawling, whom you were supposed to avoid at all costs tonight, just reacted a fire emoji to your story? 

“Oh my god.” She speaks, too quietly for your own sanity. She's fuming. “You don’t actually want to come to my party. You want to meet the founding father.”

Ochako turns her head and cocks an eyebrow.

That horrible, heavy feeling is back in your chest again. They're so going to kill you. Your friends are actually going to murder you. 

Over still being head over heels and absolutely down for Kirishima that is.

“Oh you mean this lipliner, i just found it,” Ochako shoves the lipliner in your face and Mina instantly gets the chance to snatch your phone. You latch onto her immediately “What founding father are we meeting… When did we decide to go to church?”

Both you and Mina look at Ochako and shake your heads, still fighting over your phone.

“Please, Mina listen,” you cry out, trying to get a grip at your phone. “He's the one. I'm telling you–”

“Kirishima?” Mina scoffs, "Are you insanely delusional? After all that’s happened?”

“Wait, who's the one? God’s the one?”

“Chako what the actual fuck! Lock in please. Kirishima just messaged her!”

Ochako yelps your name. “Oh my god. No!” Mina shakes her head, simply to agree with her and you pout, almost -almost- embarrassed that they found out. They've done their absolute best to keep you away from Kirishima, from hangouts to parties, they've been splitting the group for months to keep the two of you away and up until now they've been very successful. 

But definitely not successful enough so that you don't find out Kirishima has broken up with his girlfriend. They've tried to be slick. They've tried to keep it a secret kept away, so very well and so far away from you, but you inevitably overhear it—Mina doesn't know how to work on her apartment's new intercom yet, and you have good ears, when you want to. 

All their efforts to keep any information about Kirishima’s break up go to the deepest level of hell, on vacation, and they take you with them because when you hear it slip out their mouths your heart skips so many beats that you think you're actually dying. 

You unblock him on Instagram. You make your profile public. You manage to post a story the next time you meet with your shared friends and tag them and they all repost it. And Kirishima adds you again. 

You haven't thought of even mentioning it to your friends because you're supposed to never, ever take him back, but it ultimately comes down to tonight. Your phone in Mina's palms. 

She's probably going to shove it down your throat. 

Instead of actually fleeting to the most brutal and criminal action one can come up with though, Mina hands you your phone, sighing. Her fingers linger on the back of your hand. 

“We'll keep you away from him. Promise. ‘Chako we have a mission”

“You have no actual mission. I'm a big girl. I can take responsibility.” you say, and Mina almost holds back her laughter. 

“Honey the responsibility shouldn't be having to apologize for sleeping with him, but rather it should be avoiding him. You won't do that. So me and Ochako are going to do it for you.”

As. If

You pucker your lips when Ochako nods, happily. The next ten minutes are spent on wearing shoes and running down the stairs from the third floor in heels. Mina forgets to lock and curses under her breath as she reaches for her keys and runs back up. 

Ochako settles in the passenger’s seat of Izuku’s car and you settle right behind her, strapping yourself with the safety belt while greeting an Izuku who already has a mouth stuffed with his girlfriend's tongue. He greets back, politely, slightly flushed; his hands haven’t even left the steering wheel but Ochako’s are palming his cheeks.

Mind you, she practically lives with him. 

Before you even have the chance to cringe, or have a whole back arching shiver run through your whole body, Mina slams herself right next to you and her door follows asuit. Izuku complains with a muffled “Please, slower.”

“Oops, im sorry”

Sero’s house is a 15 minute drive from Mina’s and for the first 5 minutes of it, the atmosphere in the car is unbearable. Mina is frantically typing on her phone and thanks to her privacy screen you can't peek -not that you’re not sure what's going on- and Ochako is fixed on holding Izuku’s thigh while his muscles flex everytime he presses the gas to his car. You’re too scared of Mina’s murderous face, so you keep staring at her, back and forth, while trying to get your mind off how nervous you are.

Your thoughts of being salvaged are cut short at the next red light. Izuku’s hands on the steering wheel flex, thumbs only holding onto the leather cover for a second and he eyes you through the mirror.

Uh, oh.

“So.. Kirishima, huh? You haven't seen him in a whil-”

Mina is quicker than his mouth, his words, even his feet when he steps on the gas again and the light that turns green. You simply flinch when you somehow find yourself with muffled ears, eyes wide, hearing almost impaled apart from the fact that you can hear her screech. 

“Oh my god! NO! Kirishima does not exist to her. Absolutely not, she's not seeing him!”

“Mina calm the fuck down!” you yell, ripping her hands off your ears while Ochako purses her lips together awkwardly to stare at Izuku.

“Izuku baby, he messaged her”

He stares and stares and stares, with wide eyes and mouth open wide enough or a fly to crawl in. And then he blinks like he’s never blinked again. Rapidly.

“Girl you invited him.” you say, mimicking Ochako’s awkward smile, lips pressed together in a thin line. 

Your friend doesn't respond, she too blinks like it's her first time blinking and you feel that awful feeling that Kirishima is to you and your close friend group as it creeps up to your chest. It bubbles and boils like tea in an electric kettle, it messes up your stomach so much that the one shot that you and Ochako had before leaving is about to leap up your throat like it needs to jump off a cliff. 

But it’s not like you said something out of lane. What you said was more than justified, because you don’t understand why everyone still hangs out with Kirishima after how he treated you —you do; he’s an amazing friend, truly— but you've long come to accept that you would eventually have to show up to parties you were both invited to.

There’s not a second in which you think that Mina didn’t actually want you to come to her party and only invited you out of sheer pity, just so you wouldn't get mad at her for leaving you out of it.

She loves all her friends and wouldn't discriminate, you tell yourself, but in this case had she really been serious about you avoiding him, she could have skipped inviting Kirishima.

Nonetheless, by the time Izuku parks his car outside of Sero’s house, Mina is looking at you only with kindness. Izuku mentions something about Bakugo cooking to the three of you and Mina assures him she’s going to thank him first things first.

You hesitate as you step out of the car; the hot night air brushing against your skin raises peculiar goosebumps and your nervousness is through the roof. Mina loops an arm around your shoulders, her grip firm. Just enough to remind you she’s not letting you out of her sight. Ochako bounds ahead with Izuku, hand-in-hand and all bubbly, and you're sure they're off for her boyfriend to manage to greet Bakugou first, leaving you alone with Mina’s quiet resolve.

“This is going to be fine,” she murmurs. It’s almost convincing. “you’ll ignore each other and it’ll pass in no time”

You just wish you had her certainty. Instead, your phone burns in your hand like a live wire, and despite yourself, you unlock it and open Instagram for the upteenth time tonight. Kirishima’s notification still oozes in anger, like he’s mocking your very own resolve to momentarily act indifferent towards it. You lock your phone as fast as you open it and Mina has never been happier about an action of yours tonight so far.

“Do not let him ruin this for you,” she says firmly “Tonight is about me, not you thirsting over bad decisions.” and then she laughs, like it's the only thing she could actually do after such a sentence. 

“Thirsting is a strong word,” you mutter, but it’s too late. Mina’s already dragging you toward the front door, where the bass from the party’s music thuds so loudly you can feel it in your chest. “It's more like, i really, really love him”

She laughs again, not wide eyed, but out of sheer embarrassment for you. She shall not get angry at you just yet. Perhaps it's just your pregame speaking. For the annoyance and disgust for those feelings you just uttered for the world to hear and hold are too much, too unnecessary.

The moment you step outside, the energy of the party hits you like a wave —music blasting, bodies moving, laughter ringing out from every corner. Sero’s place is lit up in string lights and cheap party decorations, a mix of chaotic vibes and casual elegance that only he could pull off. You wonder if he decorated the place with only his own personal preferences or if Mina actually had anything to do with it, since it’s her birthday party after all.

It seems like everyone is immediately stuck on her like glue, pushing different sizes of bags into her hands while hugging her. You greet everyone you can lay an eye on, politely, like your typical best friend at a birthday party. It's just too fortunate you know most people in here, it’d be an awkward pain in the ass if you didn’t, especially with how everyone is trying to get as much of Mina as they can.

It’s soothing to see that she’s so loved.

“Hey, you made it!” Sero Screams over the music, a red solo cup in hand and a broad grin on his face, grabbing both you and Mina by the waist—god, that mustache he grew has him thinking he’s smoother than water. “Looking sharp as always.”

Mina kisses both his cheeks while he plays with her ponytail and you notice a strange tension in the air that you don’t want to admit. She looks like she was just swept by his waterfall.

In turn, you muster a smile as you hurriedly look for Ochako in the crowd, hoping it’s enough to mask your nerves. “Thanks”

Mina asks him where Bakugo is by whispering it in his ear and covering her mouth with her hand, yet Sero is neither smart nor sober or subtle enough to do such a thing as she does, so he points at the blond with his finger.

“Thats rude, don’t point at him”

“Huh?”

“Ugh whatever” She sighs and fortunately the tension between her and the ravenette spreads thin, slowly. “You! Stay put with Sero”

You swallow hard as your sweaty hand is momentarily left to your own premises, empty of hers, as she’s off to find Bakugo too, just like she announces and you're left alone with Sero, scared to even look at the direction that she’s heading towards. But only while she turns to look back to check you. 

He who shall not be named, is right next to his blond friend. Your stomach flips. He looks good —extraordinary good, with his red hair, that white fitted t-shirt and that stupidly charming grin that’s burned into your memory. He’s looking like you couldn't get enough of him even if you had a mouthful. These thoughts are, though, forbidden. So you avoid even batting an eye at him. It’s infuriating how easy he makes it look, existing in the corner of a rooftop that you are also on, at your best friend’s party, so casually. 

Sero, who’s obviously noticed the trail of drool running down your mouth at the red head's sight, leans in conspiratorially, lowering his voice to speak to your ear. “Heads up. He was asking about you.”

Note to self. Avoid Sero for the rest of the night! 

Before you can spiral further, Mina reappears, slipping a drink into your hand. You smell it subtly, recognizing the scent as cognac. “Sero, leave her alone. She doesn’t need your running commentary.”

Nonetheless the topic of conversation is changed faster than light, and you share a laugh or two with Sero, you grab another drink, then Mina wants you to help her with putting away her gifts, then you're off to grab another drink.

Bad idea?

No, not really.

Not when your third drink is going to be just beer. You absolutely will not get drunk this way because in your case, beer should be considered a chaser for the two drinks of cognac you had. 

So, you don't even trip on your way to the makeshift bar. 

On the other edge of the table that serves as a bar, Kirishima and Bakugo are hot on a conversation and you edge closer when you notice the redhead looking at you, ever so aware of your presence. 

Bakugo greets you, Kirishima doesn’t, so you greet Bakugo back before he somehow, immediately disappears into the bunch of the people that are at Sero’s rooftop. Typical. The two of them have this uncanny, wordless way of communicating, and it’s more than likely that this sudden departure is part of some unspoken plan. 

You try not to care, shake it off, try to focus on your drink, but your head buzzes too loud, whether it's because you're so close to Kirishima for the first time tonight or the cognac, you don't even know. 

When you turn to look at Kirishima again, he's not at the spot he was seconds ago and assuming he's gone like his friend, you sigh in relief, for that was so close. So narrowly avoided.

Just when you feel like you can get your drink and run towards Ochako, life slips away from your poor body. It's him, closing in, muttering something. To you? Yes, to you and god you can’t hear him over the music or the sound of your heart palpitating and spilling all your stress to block your eardrums. 

You're sure you look like an absolute clown —this isn't even a Halloween party thus it's so not justified, your clownery is woefully out of place— with your wide eyes and pursed lips. Hadn’t you baked your lip liner you're sure with all the pursing you’re doing you could actually be able to look worse. Oh great. Now he's towering over you, he’s just so close that you can't ignore him anymore even if you want to. 

You’ll have to be forced to speak to him. And you shouldn’t have worn these heels because your knees are wobbly -jello even- and your breath is short. On top of that your head is ringing and that really sharp pain under your left breast is trying to poke right through your dress like a blade. Perhaps this is what a stroke feels like. Or, or, a heart attack. 

You shouldn't be feeling like this. You should be thinking of all the times you’ve cried over him, the times you’ve laid on the floor of your bathroom asking yourself what you did so wrong in telling him you love him that he never said it back. You just shouldn’t be thinking that he looks fucking good, while he’s looking at you like you’re his pray.

Maybe Mina should have killed you in her bathroom, or in the car. So you wouldn’t be anticipating every step that led Kirishima to you in this very instant.

“Bakugo made the canapes so you should-”

Kirishima’s hands are almost hovering above your naked waist, you’re almost a puddle and the world is seconds away from disappearing underneath your feet when Mina stomps in between you. She hip bumps him away with a gracious sway and a devious smile.

“Excuuuuuse me” She laughs, you giggle too, while being dragged away from him. 

One breath in and one out eventually make your heartbeat normal. Even while stalling soundly after your friend, your feet are dragging like dead weight.

You will be just fine; Mina will not leave your side, even when you try to slip away. For how dare he approach you without a warning on casual intentions. How could he not even inform you that you're at the basis where you ignore the last few events that have occurred between you? 

At least Mina has some common sense when looking out for you. 

You look at her and she looks back at you and she’s got that disappointed motherly facade that's painted on her features that you can’t bring yourself to like. 

Come to think of it, whether you had or hadn’t wished she could come to your saving there’s a coil spinning ever so slightly in the pit of your stomach about it— it’s fixed by her expression right now. You can't even begin to describe the feeling inside you, can’t still place it in the rage of emotions you recognise. But you're willing to let it simmer to a simple boil in the pits of your stomach for now. Tuck it away until you find a word to title it with. 

A chit-chat with someone else, a smoke with Sero and a swirl on the side of the rooftop that everyone uses to dance and Mina corners you on the edge of the railing between Izuku and Ochako before disappearing into the crowd. Beer in one hand and Ochako clasped in the other you dance awkwardly to a pop song that she knows all the lyrics to. Mina still looks sour, maybe a little less than before though. 

She whispers something to Ochako and you know who it is about, without even having to guess. A thoughtless, drunk mind such as yours right now can only be occupied by facts such as the one before your eyes. The one being whispered about you amongst your friends and another fact that is standing a few feet away from you. 

Desperate eyes fall on desperate ones and you share a look with Kirishima -all you can do apparently- that Ochako doesn’t notice, though she's turned in your direction, as she closes her eyelids and shoots her hands in the air to dance, draggin your poor hand with her. 

This is a plea to dance, but you stand motionless like a wooden pencil. Balanced. You’re not going to dance when Kirishima watches you, because you don’t quite enjoy looking ridiculous in front of him. 

Your stomach takes another twist when you sip some more of your beer. 

He shoots you a silly expression, one you’re accustomed to, one you’ve seen so many times. Averting your eyes, refusing to ruin your mood further, you’re back to your setting; Ochako, Izuku and a Mina that’s back with shots that she obviously shouldn’t have carried on her own, because they’re spilling everywhere. You don't know when she left to go get them, but a glass is shoved in your hands hurriedly. 

You down it and your hands are sticky. 

It’s so hot outside that your skin feels heavy, your dress is sticking to you in the most overstimulating places on your skin.

You find Kirishima watching you when you comply with the itch in your chest to just check on him again and your stomach is doing flips about it—coils that were previously burning in it be damned and all. He’s. Watching. You.

You wonder if it’s just the alcohol, the summer weather, or if you’re genuinely burning alive under Kirishima’s gaze. 

It's almost unbearable, really, that he’s close enough to breathe the same air as you, and yet here you are, locked in this tug-of-war with your own impulses. Fight or flight, or just stand there, paralyzed, pretending you have better things to do with your friends than simply admire the way his stupidly perfect jawline catches the light. It has to look like you’re having fun.

If only you could manage to slip away from your friends, bent on this newly found desire within you to properly greet him. 

You want to play in the scenario of ignoring everything that's happened so far just to fake being kind to him. The shot you had isn't helping at having any clear thoughts at all. 

A good excuse to leave on your own would be to ask for more shots, but you doubt that three people would go fetch them, they'd either take you with them or they would just send the less drunk right now to do so. In this case, Izuku. Which leaves you with two people sworn to keep you away from your red headed target. 

It seems like every plan you come up with sounds absolutely useless before this cerberus that your friends have formed into, transforming your gaze into a deeper level of despair with every thought you throw away from your brain. 

Mina will absolutely not let you leave on your own, unless, if it's to see someone else. You try to think fast, past the buzz inside your head. 

Maybe Jirou, since she's the DJ for tonight. Why wouldn't you want to request a song at your best friend's party? 

Seeing that your new idea is so brilliant you're off without announcing it, slipping through people, shot glasses that clank against each other and a yelling Bakugo who serves as a beacon for Kirishima’s location. Can't lose your favorite man if his best friend is so loud. 

They're so close to where Jirou is, right next to her booth and they're chatting with Kaminari, so until they notice you charging to their direction you straighten your pose and run your hands up and down your dress, in case you need to smooth any wrinkle. It’s not like your walk is as proud as you're hoping it is, given the fact that you have a buzz and there's a ton of people that you have to slip in between, but at least every step gets you closer to your target's location. You'll keep the hot girl facade on as long as you can, though. 

The first sign of your arrival -even if you yourself consider the distance between you too big, still- is that Jirou smiles when she sees you and instantly yells your name. Kirishima, Kaminari and Bakugo look at you at the same time, but it's only Kaminari that smiles along with his girlfriend. 

Jirou hits him softly with her elbow, signing to him to step in the booth so she can come to you and he immediately plugs his headphones in the aux the same time Jirou pounces on you. 

“I haven't seen you all night! How are you?”

“I'm okay” You say, opting to glare at Kirishima for only a second. “I'm on Minachako arrest!” He stares back. 

“Ohh,” She pauses to think, and her thoughts land her just behind her back “Eiji?”

All your friends know you. Too well for your own good. It's almost making your skin crawl. 

“Yeah”

Jirou looks at you like she actually understands you. With lips pressed in a thin line on the side of her face and eyebrows furrowed in what resembles pity; she places her glance back and forth between you and the redhead. 

“You could talk to him”

“Oh absolutely not, it's okay, we did greet each other”

There it is; your million dollar, Oscar worthy performance. You pretend to be so nice about it, yet, you speak loud enough so that Kirishima cocks an eyebrow in your direction, smacking his lips. You need to smile in triumph now that your plan has worked.

“But” She pauses, unsure if what she wants to tell you is correct “he's right there. Come on”

“It’s complicated,” you mutter, turning back to Jirou and taking a long, burning sip of your drink.

“Complicated,” she repeats, deadpan. “Yeah, no kidding.”

“Right,” she drawls, rolling her eyes. “like it's totally normal behavior to stare at someone like you want to eat them alive but not actually say anything. Y'all need to grow up. Both of you”

Your eyes dart to Kirishima before you can stop yourself. He’s still there, still looking, and it feels like the moment freezes when your gazes collide. The playful smile that tugs at the corners of his lips is like a match to a gasoline-drenched nerve.

You look away first.

‘Grow up.’ That's such bullshit. You're both all grown up. Grown ups make humiliating choices all the time. 

You deadpan Jirou, pouting your lower lip. She raises her hands in mock surrender, but there’s a knowing glint in her eyes that you hate.

“I just wanted to request a song though”

“Kay! Denki! Song request!”

You don't dare tell her you only used her as an excuse to get to Kirishima and you definitely can't tell her you're so glad you found him there. So you turn to Kaminari, looking somewhat like a wet dog, as if he would ever let you leave this down had he not been drunk and tell him the first song that comes to your mind. 

Your request is a transition away and your body is pressed next to Kirishima's faster than you can process. Should it actually feel so awkward to be a winner? 

Despite the eternally painful awkwardness of your body language, you could kiss Jirou on the mouth for playing devil's advocate right now. She simply smiles in a way only she thinks is subtle, because truthfully everyone sees, but you're so past the embarrassment of your intentions being known. 

In a way that's smoother than water, she grabs Bakugo and pulls him to her, for a hug, and both you and Kirishima chuckle when he whines and tries to throw her hands away from him, to no avail. 

Had you been Kaminari, you'd cry your eyes out daily at how good a relationship she's got with Bakugo. 

“He's still acting like this?” You ask, for no one but Kirishima to answer. He's the only one who listens to you nonetheless. 

“Well you do hang out with him, you know him.”

Ouch. 

You've expected a remark like this from him, coated in irony so it's not like he catches you off guard with his tone. It's the context in which he speaks his words that's infuriating. Your face grows sour, in realization of his complaint, lips pouting when you think you also hate it that the two of you share most of your friends. 

And yet, instead of actually barking back like you'd always do, you roll your eyes at him, completely consumed by that well known feeling that is him making you mad. The shaking, the weak knees, the empty feeling in your stomach; you've not felt that in so long that it seems like you're able to experience emotions again. 

Εven if that's not something you want to dwell on, given that there are a thousand negative emotions and a lot of crushed healing journeys hidden behind it, you choose to only look at him again - since that’s the only thing you can both physically do for the night, back turned against Jirou and Bakugo, finally, so you can inspect the people dancing on the rooftop, once you decide Kirishima is not a sight for sore eyes.

He meets your eyes with a tilt of his head even if his body is turned facefront and towards his friends. None of you notice how quiet Jirou, Denki and Bakugo are, and even if you did, you both would consider that it’s only because you can’t listen to them over the loudness of the music.

There's a peculiar shift in the air between you, something that screams for salvation like a prey, trapped in a beast's sharp mouth. It's just the nuisance of the two of you, the tenderness of a moment that shouldn't exist outside of shared memories. 

Yet here you are, same as him, totally engulfed and engrossed in the twilight of it. 

The nature of the pull that's still evident between the two of you blooms and spurts seeds of painful flowers in your lungs. 

You lick some of your lipgloss, longing for a taste that's sweeter than the bitter feeling in your chest and it's no use; the poison that’s dripping within your insides is contributing to the ignition of a fire that no cherry flavored lip gloss can put out.

You put so much effort to just say “I won't do it anymore then” just for his voice to overlap yours. 

“Dance a little”

Your dislike for what he spurt out is too evident in your face, but your expression softens when he wiggles a hand underneath the railing your chest has weighted on, to pull you closer to him.

Does his hand have to feel so warm?

You’re stuck side to side with Kirishima and your small audience is left speechless; Bakugo averts his eyes, mouth all wide before he shoots Jirou’s hands off him, ready to walk away again, but you don’t notice, you wouldn’t even if you could, not when Eijiro’s palm wraps so smoothly around your waist. There’s nothing to see, not even for Jirou, in your small corner. Your lack of interest in your surroundings confirms that.

He gives you a shake, the smallest one, to just introduce some movement to your body and you follow his lead blindly as he handles you in front of him, back pressed against his chest. It’s so smooth that you let yourself go, ignoring that silly voice in the back of your head that tells you you’re going to embarrass yourself if you dance with him.

Big hands rest on where your hips start, at the curve of your waist but they don’t apply pressure. He sways with you, bobs his head when you do and you don't seem to remember that he never dances either, hell you don’t even remember you don’t.

It feels so good to just link your body like this with his, with his breath cooling your neck. If it wasn’t the middle of the summer and you weren't dripping in sweat you would dare to move even more. For a few more moments, you let him move your body the way he pleases as the music moves him.

Your buzz is delicious right now, so much that you can’t even decide if what's going on is actually true. Your hips work, finally, beyond his hands and you’re grinding against him, before you even realise it.

The monster that resides deep within your thoughts awakens your lust and eats away every possible thought that could lead you to rejecting his touch.

The tips of Kirishima’s fingers dig into your hip bone, snatching a handful of satin clothed skin and he presses you impossibly onto him. You whine your hips to his, eyes closed, ignoring the twitch between your legs when he rests his forehead to the crook of your neck just so he can muster up the courage to move his hands in exploring a body that’s so well known to him.

In a big effort to try and show him that you want him too, you wrap one arm around his head, touching his face, the back of his neck, the dimple on top of his shoulder through his shirt. 

From that moment on it's like you’ve unleashed a beast.

The thin, elastic band of your underwear softly snaps against your skin -is this too fast?- and you can't think of anything other than how firm the pads or his fingers are -were? always have been?- over your dress. Your stomach sinks inside your skin and bones.

This is you slowly giving in to him again. Empty headed. Teary eyed. Pressed onto him for dear life.

You barely feel the vibration of your phone, too engulfed in this moment of finally getting what you want and for a while it’s easy to ignore it, like it doesn't happen. It never even rang. But your eyes shoot open when you come to your senses, a few more rings in.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Mina.

You split yourself from Kirishima so fast, it could actually sound like ripping paper in half. Like velcro on shoes. 

“What?” He asks, brows furrowed. He looks like a child whose christmas gift has been ripped away from his hands by his sibling. His hands even maintain their hold on you. 

“Fuck i gotta go! Mina will kill me”

“You could—wait! I wanna talk!”

You look at him exactly how he deserves with the nonsense he’s speaking, in disbelief and confusion. Talk? Even if you did stay to talk, Mina would find you, anywhere. You’re still contemplating whether this girl has made you eat an airtag without you realising and the fact that you’ve even managed to slip away from her for this long is remarkable.

It's as simple as this; Ochaco may not get mad at you if she catches you with Kirishima, she might just give you ‘a talk’, but Mina will absolutely murder you.

Rightfully so. You're hidden away from the friends that want nothing but you to be well, with the only person that is able to send you to psychosis in the case he decides it's so funny to break your heart again. And you danced with him, in front of your friends.

Everyone must think you’re an idiot. And Kirishima, he just might know it for sure. Talking is nothing but an excuse to get you to hook up with him.

You shake your head instead of responding ‘no’ to him and wiggle yourself away from him, ready to run to Mina.

_________

As you weave your way through the crowd, you’re hyper aware of everything—your pounding heart, the lingering warmth of Kirishima's touch on your skin, and the faint scent of his cologne that still clings to your dress. The guilt gnaws at you with every step, but it’s drowned out by the electric buzz in your veins. Mina is going to tear you apart, but somehow, the bigger fear isn’t her wrath; it’s the thought of looking back and seeing Kirishima standing there, watching you leave again.

When you finally spot Mina across the rooftop, she’s mid-laugh with Ochaco, drink in hand, her head thrown back as though she hasn’t a care in the world. Relief surges through you.

When you think of it, there's no possible way in the whole known and unknown universe that Mina and Ochacko don’t know where you had been for all the while you were gone. No matter how much you fix your dress, your hair, no matter how much lipgloss you reapply, you reek of Kirishima's heavy cologne, or so you believe, and your heart has ceased to exist. 

Their eyes look nothing but innocent, deprived of any mean thoughts concerning you and the redhead, hell you're not even sure they could imagine you would find ways to facilitate a plan to just get some time alone with him. 

It's so splitting, they're not stupid enough to believe this. The issue is they probably trust you enough to not do such a thing. 

You steel yourself, pulling your best ‘everything’s fine’ expression onto your face and saunter over as casually as you can muster. But Mina’s sharp eyes catch yours almost immediately, and her smile falters just slightly. 

“Where have you been?” she asks, her tone deceptively light but laced with the edge of suspicion. You are not surprised.

“Just… talking to Jirou,” you reply, keeping your voice steady as you point in the vague direction of the DJ booth. It’s technically true. At least for a moment.

Mina smiles at you, warmly this time, Ochako smiles at you again but your head is buzzing. You're too nervous, almost blurting everything in a tone of denial. I definitely didn't dance with Kirishima while I was at it.

“Thank god, I thought you were with him again. I started to get so worried”

Your stomach drops, and the heat rushes to your face. Did she see you?. Mina always sees and it's nerve wracking to wait for confirmation on her part.

“I wasn’t-" You try to deflect, but her raised eyebrow silences you. Lying would only dig you deeper into the hole you’re already in, but you do it anyway “I'm a big girl, Mina, I told you.  Just went to request a song from Jirou.” Technically, that is true.

You glance at Ochako, whose gaze softens when she meets yours. She offers you a small smile, and you feel a twinge of guilt. If anyone is going to see through your facade, it’s her.

“Did Jirou play it yet?” Ochaco asks, sipping from her cup and you nod in response.

“Did you see Kirishima over there? Bakugo’s being his usual loud self, so I bet they’re hanging out by the booth. He’s hard to miss.”

Your stomach twists at the mention of his name, but you keep your face neutral, shrugging casually. Mina raises an eyebrow at you, her grin turning sly. “You sure you didn’t go over there just to sneak a peek?”

Ochaco gives her a light nudge. “Mina, leave her alone. She’s probably just trying to enjoy the party.”

“I am enjoying the party,” you say, forcing a lightness into your tone, bopping your head to the side like it's the most natural thing in the world.

There's anxiety running in your bloodstream with every spoken word, making your hands shake. Even when you want them to believe you, you're not entirely sure they do and your tummy is churning. 

“Great, just don’t stroll off on your own!”

Ochako smiles and places her hand on your shoulder “Mmh, Mina relax, the night is young”

“OCHAKO!” Mina screams “m'not leaving her outta my sight” 

She's warmer than the hot summer air when she wraps her arms around you from behind, excited to place a lipstick stained kiss over your hair, right where your ear is. 

In any other scenario you wouldn't feel so suffocated. But you lied to her, slipped away from her and grinded against him for no other reason than giving in to your carnal desires when she just wants to desperately keep you away from someone who’s been cruel to you. Secretly, dizzy in your buzzed out state, you hate the remembrance that it's fine when she goes back to her exes. 

Whatever it is you feel, you don't speak on it once you realize that the churning pit in your stomach is your need to pee -such a relief- and you inform your friends you are going to the bathroom, in case you can escape the back and forth movement of Mina's sway while she's got you in her arms. 

“Kay i’m coming with you” Mina says and lingers her fingers in between yours.

You roll your eyes, laughing along even though the tension in your chest refuses to ease. “You don’t have to, I'm not going to see him there too.” 

But she comes, nonetheless, almost skipping the steps downstairs and through the hall of Sero’s house. It’s too hot inside, it’s too humid outside and yours and Mina’s sticky hands merged together are almost giving you a sensory hell; Perhaps it was a good idea to let her come with you to the bathroom, so both of you can wash your hands from spilled booze and gathered sweat. 

Every step you take is frenzied, and she notices, being the better alcohol handler that she is in comparison to you. Your mind is a warzone, flashing images of Kirishima's hands on your waist, reminding you of the way his forehead pressed against the curve of your neck, the heat of his body against yours. You shake your head, trying to snap yourself out of it. Mina doesn’t know. She can’t know. If you act normal, everything will be fine.

The bathroom is your personal oasis, a sole chance of salvation, to tuck yourself away from everyone for even a few moments. 

You go in first and in seconds you’re done, allowing Mina to go inside after you. You don’t look at yourself in the mirror, scared to see anything in your makeup that isn’t perfect. You’d rather not be aware of something you ultimately can't fix. 

With your back against the wall, you find some of the coolness of it almost soothing. For a moment, you almost feel normal, safe, like you can forget the whirlwind of emotions threatening to pull you under.

Almost, because concrete drinks up the heat worse than a sponge does water, almost, because that red haired devil announces himself to you all of a sudden again. It'd be silly to think you can actually escape him when you've infiltrated his mind. Assuming you've managed to rile him up. 

He wouldn't have followed your tail to the bathroom had you not done so. Right? 

Nonetheless, your heart stops as Kirishima’s voice cuts through the muffled music in the distance.  He’s closer than you expected, leaning casually against the doorframe at the far end of the hall. His eyes meet yours, warm and intense, and you feel your throat tighten.

This time he greets you casually again, with “Mina’s in?” 

Oh dear god how you wish to escape him. 

You shoot him what you can only hope to be one of your most murderous looks and reply. “Yeah” 

“Cool. I’ll wait”

Panic flashes through you. Mina is just a few feet away, the bathroom door closed but the lock undone. She could walk out any second and catch the two of you like this. Your brain screams at you to do something -anything- to put distance between you and him. But your body betrays you, frozen in place.

There’s so much effort put into being silent or not looking at him that you think you’re going to burst. Whatever cool girl persona you’re trying and failing to put on is just… so, so bad. You wonder if there’s anything you can do, or say, to just ease this. Ask him how he’s been? Anything? No? You did grind the entirety of your ass against his groin just a little while ago. So you're not sure it's really appropriate to casually ask anything like that. 

“Listen i-” He speaks first, like he can read your mind but this time you are the one to overlap your voices.

“What are you doing here?” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper but still authoritative.

Kirishima tilts his head, studying you for a moment before answering. “Looking for you.” He clears his throat before he continues “I wanted to say.. I hope you’ve been okay”

You huff in response.

“Don’t want to talk to me? That’s fine” he pouts. And you suddenly think you can forget that time you thought you could die from how much you had been crying about the heartbreaker that he is. “You did dance with me though”

“You shouldn’t be here,” you hiss, glancing toward the bathroom door.

“I know,” he interrupts, stepping closer. Not enough to breach your space entirely, but enough that you feel the heat of his presence. 

You want to tell him a drunken dance isn't enough to have the two of you on casual terms again. But while studying his face, you come across realities you just need to ignore. 

His lips are so plum, his nose is so delicate, the strands of hair that fall from his low bun are so magical. It’s really no wonder what you've ever liked in him. You’ve liked everything. It's so infuriating. He shouldn’t really be doing this to you. Because every minute MIna takes in the bathroom is a minute that you forget the past. And you look at his chest so you don’t look him in the face but he looks so soft. It could actually kill you—but It just makes you mad instead.

“Why do you care how I've been?” you ask.

He leans on his bicep, right onto the wall, right next to you. 

His hair is so wild. The carmine of his eyes is too piercing for that expression that’s adorning his face. And oh dear god his arms are huge. You're so ruined by him and it kills you to realize that you already knew that and you're still choosing to engage with him. 

Eijiro Kirishima looks soft— he’s so far from it. Alas, for some reason you mimic him so much that you’re standing face to face. There’s not an answer to your question, not a direct one at least and you tell yourself it's because he does care about you. Just not in the way you care about him. 

The two of you stare at each other for what seems like an eternity, lips tucked tightly under teeth and crossed armed. One is determined to break a wall, the other trying to crawl up that wall with blood, sweat and tears.

“You know i-”

“No i don’t” You cut him off and he leans in impossibly closer. “Don't say it”

You’re suddenly aware of how long his eyelashes are and this party isn’t fun anymore. 

The tension between you could snap the air in two. Kirishima’s gaze locks onto yours, heavy and unyielding, and your heart is pounding so hard you swear he can hear it. Every nerve in your body screams at you to push him away, to step back, to run—but you don’t. You can’t. His presence is magnetic, pulling you into his orbit against all reason.

The bathroom door creaks slightly, and both your heads snap toward the sound. It’s still closed. Mina’s still inside. But the reminder of her so close, the precariousness of this situation, sends a wave of panic crashing over you.

“Go,” you hiss, your voice trembling with the effort to keep it steady. “Before she comes out.”

You move your hands as in to go and push against his chest when ultimately, you decide not to— and so you awkwardly stand with your hands hanging mid air. You’re unsure of what to do with them.

Kirishima, however, doesn’t budge. He stays exactly where he is, his arm braced against the wall beside you, his body a shield between you and the rest of the world. His lips part, and you think he’s going to argue, but instead, he says something that takes your breath away.

“I miss you.”

You try to hold on to your anger, your hurt, but it slips through your fingers like specs of sand. It doesn’t matter that you can’t fall for this again. His bluntness, the way he speaks it like it’s a given fact that you should absolutely know on your own, kills you.

“Kirishima,” you start, your voice sharp but still wavering. The bathroom door clicks open before you can have a chance to reply, to even weave a coherent sequence of words with your weakened thoughts, and Mina steps out, immediately clocking the two of you. Her eyes narrow, suspicion flaring to life as she takes in the scene. You push yourself off the wall, putting some much needed space between you and Kirishima.

You look at her with your mouth agape and your hands still dance awkwardly before your chest.

Mina swoops her hand and locks her elbow into yours in the right -or rather wrong- time and you’re dragged away from Kirishima again. He, in return, chuckles in amusement like he knows better and as the music starts to become loud and clear in your hearing and you’re drifting away from him, watching him as he turns smaller and smaller with your every step you realise— this party can be fun again. 

Your friend is furious this time, though, muttering something like “you cannot be left alone for a second”. That horrible coil in your stomach is back “You’ll just stay by me the whole night”

You’re tossed on cushion and if your heart trying to jump out of your chest wasn’t enough to make your whole body shake, Mina plops right next to you, imprisoning you to your seat. 

Thus, you find yourself trapped, like a highschooler on detention, with half your heart up your sleeve, on one of the couches that are on the rooftop, squeezed between Tetsutetsu and Mina, blinking at their conversation about a recent paper they had to finish for one of their shared classes. You’re so naturally bored out of your mind and drunk and all you can think about is the way Kirishima looked at you outside of the bathroom.

The words he spoke. 

Your first instinct to make this wave of boredom -and these poisonous thoughts- wash away from your mind and body, is to open your phone and scroll through Instagram, refusing so profoundly to even acknowledge the only conversation you get to hear at a party in the middle of the summer is about university.

Quick and as instinctively as it gets, you glance at the pink and yellow gradient of Instagram story icons, and you tap at the screen fast, pretending you haven’t seen Kirishima's icon lined up at the top of your homepage, bright green adorning it. 

Mina sees. 

Strike one.

You tap out, faking a small scroll on your homepage as you swipe the screen, carefully, eyeing the conversation with Kirishima that screams unread. You're sure, if this notification could speak, i’d be screaming at you to open it like a caged and hurt tiger cub. 

Naughty fingers linger just above it and you wish you too had a privacy screen right now, like Mina, because all you can do is sink into the soft pillow of the couch, elbows close to your waist. You almost think you have shielded yourself away from her.

Eyes scanning the area, you manage to spot Kirishima. And he spots you instantly. You don’t smile at each other, you don't wave, there’s nothing you can do to cover for what he said to you a few minutes before because Mina made it awkward. 

You just blink at him, slowly and he eyes you up and down. Legs, hair, face, shoulders, the phone in your hands and then your eyes again.

Both Tetsutetsu and Mina see. 

Strike two.

He reaches for his pocket, frantically searching for his phone—perhaps he's not as clueless as they get, after all. With a quick lock of gazes that speak in the same, delinquent language of lust, you open the chat while he unlocks his phone. 

Strike three. 

Mina snatches your phone. 

Tetsutsetu looks at you apologetically but your furrowed brows and your perked ears shoo him away from even steering a word. You're angry, mad, furious, that your best friend is treating you like you're her property. Like you should hereby follow her orders like they're vital. 

“This is so not funny. Give me my phone” You yell, even if the music is louder than your voice and extend your open palm to her, expecting your device to be handed to you.

“Absolutely not. You’re gonna text him.”

“And what’s it to you? Why do you care so much?”

Your friend widens her eyes in confusion, anger, sadness. You know you shouldn’t have said that, with how much she’s been by your side all this time but her behavior tonight is crippling you. It's suffocating you. If you want Kirishima and he wants you, then there’s absolutely nothing that your friends can do to stop the two of you. You wanna have your heart ripped out again and have the pieces fed to you by force? Fine—not fine, really, that heartbreak almost killed you, but it should be your choice!

You want to scream. You want to yell at her, at Tetsutetsu, at the universe for orchestrating this whole damn night against you. Instead, you grit your teeth so hard you can feel your jaw tighten and pull at your temples.

Mina’s holding your phone like it’s the nuclear launch codes, her lips pursed into a line that’s both furious and disappointed and her ponytail bops. It’s not a look you’re unfamiliar with tonight, but that doesn't make it sting any less. And there’s Kirishima, somewhere in the periphery, probably wondering why you haven’t texted him yet, silently demanding a response from you- probably thinking about that goddamn dance and how easy it is for him to pull you back in and make you nervous with his confession.

Your chest heaves as you force yourself to take a breath.

“I’m not a child, Mina,” you say, your voice barely above the music, but it’s sharper than glass, intended to be mean. 

Mina crosses her arms, holding your phone to her chest like she’s guarding your entire future. “No, you’re just acting like one. What’s your plan here, huh? Just let him screw you over again?”

Tetsutetsu shifts awkwardly beside you, eyes flicking between the two of you like he’s waiting for someone to call timeout. It gets worse when you think that he’s friends with the person you're fighting with Mina about.

“This isn’t about you!”

Mina yells something incoherent back and you decide you can't just ruin her party because you want that red devil to eat your heart out. You are not a bad friend. But the frustration and heat of the night makes your blood boil. “Why do you care so much if I want to talk to him?”

“Because you’re my friend!” Mina snaps, stepping closer, her voice trembling just enough to let you know she’s holding back from bursting to tears. “Because I saw what he did to you last time. Because I care about you more than that asshole ever will!”

It feels like she’s just punched you in the chest. It pains you more than the notion that you’re the terrible friend that’s making her cry on her birthday. And maybe she has a point—maybe she’s entirely right- but you’re so tired of everyone else deciding what’s best for you, like you’re some fragile thing that’ll shatter if you make one wrong move, just because they’ve all watched you break once doesn't mean they can stop it from happening again. It’s your own heart that’s to decide if the need to shatter again is or isn’t vital.

“But you’re friends with him!”

“Uh, maybe we should all just, you know, calm down?” Tetsutetsu interferes awkwardly, glancing between you and Mina.

Her face twists into something unreadable because you’re right, and for a second you think she’s going to throw your phone off the rooftop just so you can avoid him. But she sighs, loud and sharp and shoves the device into your hand. There's no real winning when he's in the same space as you. Whether you have your phone or not, it's pointless. 

“Fine. Whatever.” She turns away, her arms folded tight across her chest “Do what you want.” She yells, finally, and your eyes are too watery to notice hers are a mirror of yours.

You don’t move at first, your heart still pounding, the weight of the phone in your hand feeling like it might just crush you. Tetsutetsu mutters something about grabbing another drink and slips far away, leaving you and Mina in silence, the distant bass of the party the only thing keeping the moment from completely unraveling.

“Go ahead. Text him. Meet him. Fuck him all you want. Let him stomp on your heart all over again. But don’t say I didn’t warn you and don’t come crying to me afterwards either.”

Her words sting more than you want to admit, it’s evident in your face when you mutter that you want to go home.

Mina softens her eyes immediately at that. Maybe you both took it too far, but there’s no satisfaction in the kindness she tries to show you when she goes to hug you. She’s not the one who looks like she’s going to burst into tears anymore. You are. And you avoid her open arms, choosing to back away.

You take a step back, avoiding her touch like it burns. The lump in your throat feels like it might choke you, and the tears threaten to spill over. “I can’t do this right now,” you say, your voice trembling. “I need space.”

Her hands drop to her sides, and her face falls, stricken. “I didn’t mean-” she begins, but you shake your head, cutting her off.

“I’ll be fine,” you say, though you’re not sure if you believe it. “I just need some air.” backing away further. The music, the party, the noise; it all fades into the background as you turn and weave through the crowd, desperate to escape. Desperate to breathe.

You don’t know what makes you look up, but when you do, before you storm off the party and leave Mina to have her fun without having to look out for your excuse of an ass,  your eyes find Kirishima again, like they always do tonight. He’s still standing there, leaning against the edge of the rooftop with one hand in his pocket, his head tilted just slightly as he watches you.

You wish this was one of the times you could confide in him about the problems that you’re facing, as you’ve done so a lot of past times, but it’s so hard to want him when he’s not even willing to do that anymore. You’re not sure you can trust him with your heart again. Part of you just wants to behave to Mina’s advice. You just want to be a good friend.

You fall victim to the ghost of stomping off at parties every time you’re invited to one and to think that this would be different would be a false hope. The worst is that this time everyone is here to witness it. You’re gone, slipping past the crowd and toward the stairs, your heart pounding louder than the music.

______

If you could physically cool down in the middle of the summer, from that nasty attitude of yours to your best friend and that need for a douchebag that will chew you and spit you again, you would. The trick of sticking your open back to any concrete wall is so banal by now. Your legs are shaking. The cigarette you’re smoking is almost out -halfway- and you feel so emotionally tired that you don’t even want to light it up again.

You want to go home, somehow, even considering getting yourself an Uber so you can get out as fast as you can. Mina is everywhere watching over like a tyrant and so is Kirishima. They've been hot on your every step.

But Kirishima's too good at finding you when you're not even trying to hide. 

He finds you -hidden this time- on the outside of that small kitchen door that leads to the backyard of Sero’s house. Although he doesn’t ask you if you’re alright, your lips are pouted, your eyebrows scrunched into a line in the middle of your forehead. He knows that you're mad since he's inflicted anger on you a thousand times before. 

“Shoo. I'm not supposed to talk to you” You almost bark, not even looking at him, yet, he simply ignores it. He wants to talk to you and there's nothing you can do to stop him. 

“Mina doesn’t allow you to? huh”

You cringe at his chuckle and he giggles again. It's almost hard to believe they were such good friends all these years ago. But you do confirm what he asks when you don't reply. You're so tired of wishing it was different and you really want to go home. Avoid all this trouble, avoid him, avoid getting swooned by him. 

“Ahh, you know-”

It's just a few syllables and you're locked in his eyes, heart palpitating as red fills everything in your vision. Whether it's him or the hotness of your feelings.

The coil in your stomach is back—finally, as if it ever left- revealing itself as dread and anger for everyone. Anger for Mina trying to force you to act a certain way, anger at Kirishima for not leaving you alone, anger at yourself for giving him a chance to make you fold again. You choose to bark when you can't bite. There's no universe in which you win a fight over Kirishima. 

“You look like you want to say something,” he says softly, stepping closer, his tone both curious and coaxing.

Your hands ball into fists at your sides, nails biting into your palms as you try to steady yourself. The ache in your chest sharpens as the weight of everything presses down on you. You can’t hold it in any longer. You’re so angry and confused.

“No, fuck you. Go back to the girlfriend that you love so much”

For a moment, his expression flickers. Surprise, then hurt, flashing so quickly you almost miss it. Then his lips curl into a smirk, the sharp edge of it cutting through the tension like a blade.

“Awww..Thought you knew we broke up, when you unblocked me and all”

Oh so he’s playing you. Great. 

Your stomach churns. The way he says it, so casual, so smug, choking on a little laugh while he’s at it, makes your blood boil. You cross your arms, leaning against the cool brick wall as if it could shield you from his presence.

“You think this is funny?” you snap, glaring at him.

“Not at all,” he says, his smirk softening into something more genuine, something more infuriatingly earnest. “I just think it’s interesting.”

“Interesting?”

He shrugs, his broad shoulders moving effortlessly, the motion somehow both casual and loaded. “You’re still this angry. Still... passionate.”

“Passionate?” you echo, the word sour on your tongue. Had you been passionate about it he still wouldn’t be seeing the end of it. You thought he knew you like that. “I’m pissed. There’s a difference.”

“Sure there is.” His voice is calm, maddeningly so, as he leans a little closer. “But I think you’re pissed because you still care.”

His words hit like a slap, the kind that stings and lingers long after. The kind that leaves an angrily red handprint after. You want to deny it, to tell him he’s wrong, but the words won’t come. Instead, you press your palms against the wall behind you, your nails scraping against the rough surface.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you mutter. It lacks the venom you wish it carried, because you hope he does the opposite of what you’re saying.

He doesn’t back off. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, studying you like he’s trying to read a book that’s just out of reach. “You ever think maybe I’m still bothering because I care too?”

That shuts you up. Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. The weight of his words hangs heavy between you, thickening the already charged air.

Is it more embarrassing that he knows what exact action lies behind your thoughts or that he’s calling you on it? He could have stayed silent and spared you of this uncomfortable notion that finally answers to his name and you could have tried not to speak any venom at him with your words. You’ve always found yourself unable to, alas, even when you told him you love him, it was meant to hurt him, more than it meant to take that weight off your chest. So why hold back now of all times? 

“I meant what i said before. And I know that you meant that you loved me when you said it.”

Standing face to face with him is inevitable at this point. He’s not so keen on pushing his back against the wall anymore, seeing that you don’t turn to face him again, not even once, and he’s determined to face you. You look at him tired, by blinking into his eyes and you’re so thankful for the safety distance he puts in between the two of you. 

For the first time tonight he’s looking at you apologetically and he even waits until you put out your cigarette to open his arms in front of your very eyes.

It’s a welcoming invite which you receive with disbelief, but he doesn’t ask if he can hug you. He just does. Two fucking seconds is all it takes until you’re burying yourself into him. The crook of his neck. That soft spot that emits his scent the strongest. It’s too tender against your nose. Perhaps he's tender too. 

You’re melting; Whether it's sweat or a tear that you’ve tried so hard to contain in your lower eyelids, there's something about him that’s turning you into a puddle. Right here, right now. Perhaps, your soft spot for Kirishima is really so physical. That devil of a man moans into the crook of your neck and you know he’s smiling without having to witness it to make sure. 

It’s refreshing in such a twisted way to know you can’t get away from each other.

An eternity later, when you pull back, with empty arms, he reaches for his pocket, sweetness emitting from the expression on his face. Thick fingers idle on a bent roll of a cigarette that's too big to just be filled with normal tobacco. 

“Wanna smoke with me?” He asks and plops right next to you on the wall -his and yours original spot- to which you shrug in response. What’s the worst that could happen? 

You had a drag or even two a little while ago, in the presence of Sero and there’s not enough alcohol in your system -you think- to make you spiral. Even if the blunt that Kirishima is holding is fatter than the ones you would normally smoke with a whole bunch of people, there’s really no harm in just a little. It'll help you unwind, just so you don't choke him with your bare hands at the cost of your heartbreaks. 

Your lighter is used to light the blunt in between his lips and everything around you suddenly smells like sativa. Kirishima takes a long drag, his eyes slipping shut “Ahh, that’s the stuff” He says and moves his hand accordingly to pass it to you.

So generous. You could cry.  For a moment, you forget how much you hate him. It’s in the way his lips curl around the blunt, casually unbothered, like he has all the time in the world to figure you out. “What?” he asks, tilting his head like he doesn’t already know the answer. 

You glance at the lit end as he offers it to you. The unspoken invitation hangs in the humid summer air. You take a drag and pass it to him again, careful to let the smoke linger in your lungs as you count the seconds before you exhale. 

Fingers touch and stay there. It’s enough to send a jolt through your already frayed nerves and you try not to ponder over the question on whether his hands are hot because of you or the hot summer weather. Closing your eyes for a second, you decide to open them in his direction just to find him already staring at you.

“Shut up,” you mutter. 

“You gonna let me smoke this whole thing by myself?”

The smoke burns going down, but the buzz hits almost instantly, and you let out a shaky breath. “I’m not doing this because of you.” You snatch it from him. He laughs, low and quiet, like he’s savoring some private joke you’ll never be in on.

“Sure you’re not.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. That idiot thinks he knows all about you, even the unspoken. That's so far from your own truth. 

Everything around you is so muffled and peaceful. The party is an eon away and Kirishima doesn’t utter a word. Heaven. But it lasts so little, now that your thoughts are dizzy again, every minor word you could jab at him is woven and hidden under your tongue. Your heads are itching to get closer and closer.

You turn to look at him again but you can’t hold a laugh in. The situation is hilarious on its very own when you think about it. You’re hidden away with the only person you’re never supposed to acknowledge ever again and he’s laughing back at you for laughing in his face. You danced with him, tried to message him, you stared at each other too much, like you're both insane. 

There's no normal, or humane way to approach anything that has to do with the two of you together and it would be a lie if you said you hadn't missed this. 

The more smoke enters your lungs the more you feel like you're loosening up, stiff shoulders finally relaxed.

This new point of view is fun; foreheads almost clashing, crossed staring. You'll try to keep away from him as much as you can, but he breaks that uncomfortable silence that's otherwise only broken by the occasional sound of inhaling. It’s the way he leans his head back against the wall, exposing the line of his throat, the way his hair falls just right even when it’s sweaty and unkempt. You hate it. You hate him. He’s so unexpected.

The silence between you stretches again, heavy and loaded, but not suffocating this time. You let yourself look at him—really look at him-and for a moment, you see the Kirishima you used to know. The one who made you laugh until your sides ached, who held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

“I hate you,” you mutter, though there’s no venom in your voice. It’s a feeble attempt to guard yourself, to keep him at arm’s length.

He chuckles softly, and the sound is warm, familiar. “I know.”

You shake your head, your lips twitching into a reluctant smile despite yourself. “You’re insufferable.”

“Maybe,” he agrees, a playful glint returning to his eyes. “But you still haven’t walked away.” The sound of exhaling echoes before he speaks again “Why’d you unblock me?”

You freeze, the blunt paused halfway to your lips. It’s not like you hadn’t expected this question, but you thought you’d have more time to come up with an answer. “I don’t know,” you say. Big lie for a topic you don’t want to actually talk about. 

Kirishima shifts, turning his body toward you just enough to make you squirm, his forehead still on yours even if the laughter has died  “Bullshit.”

You glare at him, but there’s no real heat behind it anymore. “Maybe I was bored. Maybe I wanted to see if you’d embarrass yourself trying to message me.”

He smirks, but it’s softer than usual, like he’s trying not to scare you off. “And? Did I?”

You roll your eyes. “You were predictable.”

“To think I almost didn't come because I didn't want to see you.” In any other instance this phrase would hurt like a bitch. “Bakugo said I shouldn't act like a dick tonight.”

You're not sure if he's referring to you or the party, but you choose to test him, pretending to be oblivious to his advance. 

“Mina won't forgive you if you're a shitty friend to her again”

“Mm I know” He giggles “never meant to be like that”

You don't reply out of nothing but embarrassment. It was you who would kept in contact with Kirishima when Mina had a fight with him, and you acted like a fool, telling her everything about him when he messed up. Something she just didn't do for you when she was friends with him and the two of you were a casual thing. 

Hell, you didn't even know they were this close again before she announced that he'll be at the party. 

Perhaps right now you don't find it in you to give a damn about their friendship. Whenever she's in the middle of you there's only disaster. You'd rather only count on yourself to ruin things with him. 

“I just… I don't care. Treat Mina however she allows you to.” This would usually make him bite, just enough so you could feel sharp canines, but now that he's intoxicated he just smiles softly. How long has it been since you've seen that expression on him? 

“Damn you're so harsh again”

Closed eyes, smile from one ear to another; you have to show him and his stupidly beautiful face that you're not the person he once knew. Your forehead sticks to his with a muffled sound. “Then what'll you do to make me soft?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Suddenly you come to realize, that getting Kirishima back is the easiest thing in the universe. Which just isn't a very good sign, at all. 

Α curious hand travels to your cheek, pushing back a loose strand of hair away from your face and you convince yourself you wouldn’t have accepted this touch if it wasn’t for another reason -no- but he cups the left side of your face so smoothly, your faces still stuck together, that the world is reduced to this hidden part of Sero’s backyard. To just the two of you. 

He’s so not good for you, damaged goods, been with other people that aren't you, you tell yourself in a last frail attempt to pull away, yet your body does not comply with any negative comment about him your mind has to offer to restrain you.

He chuckles for another time and it’s downright annoying how much you want him “I think i'm getting the munchies” 

You’re sold on every single word.

______

Under any other circumstance you’d avoid anything edible in Sero’s fridge given the fact that he owns a snake as a pet. There’s a plateau filled with canapes, there’s soda and there’s beer neatly placed in the vegetable drawer and that’s about all you can see from behind Kirishima’s back. He’s searching frantically for something while you hate how loud the music sounds now, your stomach growls much like his and he obviously hears it. It’s so loud even that he gives one of his searching hands a break and extends it to you, to pull you next to him. Tucked underneath his bicep you’re now met with the heavenly chill of the fridge.

You look up at him while he roams through the fridge, tongue out and lips pressed into a line. This isn’t a hidden place anymore; anyone can walk in and see you hugging. Yet and ever so fortunately your friends seem to have forgotten about the menace of the two of you being together apparently.

Kirishima pulls back from the fridge and closes it, taking the needed chilly air away with the stainless steel door. There’s victory in his hands. An unopened pack of prosciutto and a squeeze bottle of honey. Seeing that you don’t really get a chance to wiggle yourself from his arm, he swings you so that your back is facing the cabinets, your ass hitting the wooden countertop as your dress hitches slightly upwards. 

Big breath in. Slow exhale. His naked knee is in contact with your thigh.

He struggles with the packaging for a second but it doesn’t put up a long fight. With a stomach so viciously hungry his hands win for the second time this evening. With every movement you’re pressed further onto the countertop, but still not on it yet.

A small bite of prosciutto goes onto the tip of his finger and he finally sets his eyes on you. “Mouth” he orders and you open almost instinctively, taking the finger into your mouth. You whine at how salty it is but he’s got the solution for you, trapped in that golden squeeze bottle.

When he has his own share of the delicatessen he drops just a golden bit on the same finger and puts it in your mouth. Finally past your surprised lips, you suckle the honey, gaze fixated on him while his thumb brushes against your upper lip.

So long lip combo. You will not be missed.

“Great idea” You tell him ever so content. Everything is so balanced in your little bubble right now. Even the way he sucks the same finger into his mouth.

One more round of prosciutto means one more round of honey and you almost wonder if he came up with this on the spot, or if he’s ever done this before. You’ve never seen him with such menace in his red eyes. He’s just so evil.

Even more so, when he squeezes more honey on his finger and smears it against your lips. For a sinister moment everything goes completely silent and static. Your tongue dances on the tip of his finger as he pushes it further and further into your mouth, stroking your chin and your cheek when his hand moves in a circular motion.

“Fuck” He hisses, licking his lips and pulling his finger way from your mouth. The popping sound it makes is enough to get him riled up just enough, so that he grabs your face with his hands. He takes the smallest leap towards you, given the fact that you’re not that far away from each other, smacking his lips on yours.

With a heart that’s heavy as a rainy cloud, you moan at how rough his are. There’s nothing but neediness in his movements, from how he bites your lower lip between his teeth to how his hands just won’t let the sides of your face. You couldn’t even get yourself out of this situation with a written petition.

And when he feels and tastes like everything you remember, you can’t find it in you to kiss him back with the same burning fever. You want to be mean.

You push him away, whispering “Kirishima. Don’t kiss me” but your own hands are on his face too.

“Eijiro” He corrects you, like he hasn’t heard the second part of your words. “Now's not the time for my last name” His thumbs stroke your cheeks, so gentle it makes your chest ache. You hate how good his touch feels, how much you want to lean into it even as you tell yourself you shouldn’t.

He simply doesn't understand your inner turbulence.

“Don’t call me by my last name when I’m about to fuck you”

You’d hate to call him that; Kirishima is nothing but himself and he’s definitely not ‘your Eijiro’ even if you might as well have always been his. There’s just no way of showing him how much you want him while you absolutely hate him. Tonight was never meant to end up like this. you weren't supposed to land on Sero’s kitchen counter, trapped by him, kissing him. You were supposed to be having fun.

So long is the distance between fun and the notion of you doubting everything that’s happening to you at the moment. So short is the route in your brain that combines Kirishima’s behavior that is lust driven to the one you assume is him getting what he wants and chewing you and spitting you out for anyone to have his leftovers.

You count on him to put the invisible block between these two thoughts, to put an end at your turbulence. In the way his nose nuzzles to yours, in the warmth of his body against your own.

The tension is thick in the air between the two of you, and for a moment, his hands linger on your face like he’s memorizing the shape of it. His red eyes are half-lidded, drunk on the moment or the haze of the evening-or maybe just on you.

“Don’t kiss me,” you repeat, but this time it’s weaker, softer, almost like you’re trying to convince yourself more than him. He doesn’t move, doesn’t push forward, but he doesn’t let go either. His thumbs brush over your cheeks, so gentle it’s maddening. Your own lips are barely brushing his and despite what's coming out of your mouth you almost kiss him yourself. 

“You keep saying that,” he murmurs, voice low and raspy. “But you’re not pulling away.”

Your hands are still on his face, and it’s infuriating how good his skin feels under your palms. Warm, alive, familiar in a way that makes you want to scream.

There's so much nuisance in your bloodstream that you kiss him, ignoring whether he can respond or not. It’s not gentle, not sweet—just messy, desperate, and filled with all the things you can’t bring yourself to say. His hands tighten on your waist, pulling you closer, and the world narrows until it’s just him. Just you.

There’s no logic anymore, no reason, just the heat of his mouth, the scrape of his teeth, the roughness of his hands as they grip your thighs and push the hem of your dress higher.

Its decided then, by both of you, when your nails scrape against the nape of his neck desperately, that it's no use in denying each other. The feeling that use to dying both of you to pull away is faint now, reduced to something that resembles burnt out charcoal, ashes of a hateful fire. 

It's a whirlpool of emotions that's pulling you both in after that. It was a mistake to ever think it'd be okay you smoke with him or let him feed you, because your hands move on their own accord, pulling him as close to you as possible, chest heaving and eyes so heavy with teardrops that never dare fall. Your hands grip on everywhere and anywhere on his neck, face and hair that you can land them on. 

Every breath you take through your nose is hitched, like the sniffle of a crying session, but you refuse to part with lips that move in sync with agony. You forgot how good his lips feel on yours, you'll forget once again. Soon enough. 

For now, you block the angst of him and you away and instead, you feel dizzy like you're drowning. In an ocean so vast and dark that it's impossible to try and reach the surface for air. 

There's no word spoken, no other sound, no warning when his hands hitch under the skirt of your dress, angry and desperate to finish what he started when the two of you were dancing all this while ago. The pads of his fingers examine the band of your panties, as if they can tell the color just through that and for a second he stops kissing you, to hiss, breathe and whimper at how soft your skin feels against him. 

You run your fingers through his hair. A disheveled ponytail that finally comes to ruins is the outcome and his revenge is pulling your hips towards him, fingers laced between your panties, barely touching the skin of your ass. 

This time, you hiss. 

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You should. You know you should. This is dangerous, reckless, teetering on the edge of something you can’t take back. But instead of pulling away, you find yourself leaning in, your breath hitching in your throat.

“I’m not stopping you”  you admit, your voice soft and uneven. 

You kiss him.

That’s all the encouragement he honestly needs.

He pulls away from your lips with a smacking sound that's louder than the actual music and he tries, he tries to link his forehead against yours when smoking hot hands press against your tummy, just so his thumb can rub a painfully firm swipe across your throbbing clit and you don't let him have this moment in silence. 

You squirm at how delicious his touch is, and you're embarrassed that you feel this way about him still. Since it's just this time, you'll manage. 

You buck your hips into his thumb and squirm, your knees shaking like you’ve been hit by thunder. Embarrassment surges through you.

“Don't look at me” You whisper and throw your legs off the counter to stand on your feet. 

A hand on your waist and a furrowed brow is all that you get in response. After that, you're spun around the counter, released of any control in your own movements. Your right knee is thrown onto the counter, your neck is interlocked in his left hand, your back is stuck to his chest. 

He's smarter than you are, sometimes. 

You can feel how hard his heart is beating against your back, through tons of muscle. He's shaking, but you're not one to judge when you’re in the same position.

The fingers that held your knee against the counter top have already ordered your bones not to move and they're running up the side of your thigh. Grabby and needy as he is, he places a kiss at the crook of your neck when he feels the skin of your cheeks spill through his fingers. 

The departure of his hand upsets you only in the seconds before he gives you a small slap. 

You try to adjust yourself better against him so you don't feel your back hurting as you're stuck on him but it's no use, he applies pressure to your neck in response and hooks his pointer finger under your panties to pull them to the side. Your chest hitches a breath like he stole it from you. 

He's steady with his ministrations, catching some of your slick with his thumb from your entrance and drags it across your slit, landing to your clit, just to rub a few slow circles there. His lips find your shoulder and even though the stubble he has as a goatee hurts when it's poking you, the kiss he plants on your skin is hot- too sensual. 

He keeps rubbing circles against you, gradually introducing a few pinches to your clit when he traps it between his fingers. 

You groan and you yelp; it's unprovoked when his ring finger enters you, too sudden as he keeps rubbing you with his middle one. He's moving freely, in courtesy of how long and thick his fingers are and you're all but at his mercy. A whimpering mess that refuses to plead with him to move faster, or show him any ministration on how to please you most. 

He is aware of how to do exactly that. 

He is aware of every single detail; from how fast he can make you cum, to how much time he needs to prep you for simply the size of him, and you'd be insane to stop him now. One, because you'll die from your own lust if he leaves you empty even for a second and two-

“Fuuuck, don't stop” You whine, only because your head isn't working anymore, your thoughts are gone as he pulls out his finger for only a second. 

You don't see it, with your field of vision being a dark lit image of Sero's toaster on the counter you're on, but you listen to the sound of a finger getting sucked in Kirishima’s mouth. Albeit, you almost moan at the notion that he can't get enough of you. 

He works a second finger inside of you, introduces it with a few circles around your entrance and the sound of a hiss falls from his lips when he does so. He scissors his movements and everything applies pressure to that spot inside of you that has your knees shaking. 

That devious coil in your tummy is back, but now it's much lower, just under the spot where your skin is pressed on the edge of the counter. You're reduced to being a moaning mess of an orgasm that's building up, high off the feeling of Kirishima's fingers pistoning inside of you feverishly. 

He bites his lips hard enough to draw blood at the mere sight; but the faster he works to prep you, the worse it gets for him. His cock is twitching so hard between his legs, tugging uncomfortable at how it's tucked inside his underwear and cargo shorts. Every little moan of yours when he lazily flicks at your clit with the top of his pointer finger,  gets him impossibly harder, to the point he can't just ignore it anymore. 

“What are you-” You almost turn around to eat his heart out when he pulls his fingers out of you, so he can work on his button, his zipper, on the waistband of his underwear. Begrudgingly, your eyes rush to his side and you're too cocky with the anger of a ruined orgasm. 

Despite that, the sounds of his undressing, you respect. Until his palm grasps at the nape of your neck, to force your head to land next to the toaster again. 

“You said you don't wanna look at me, didn't you?”

His cock springs free, just as big and thick as you remember and not a single whine of yours is enough to make him get him to come closer. 

“I said,” You pant “I don't want you to look at me”

With one hand grabbing at his base, jerking himself slowly in a hammer motion, he lets the weight of him slap on your naked ass as he moves to completely bunch up your skirts around your waist. He ignores what you said as it's deemed impossible; there's no way in the whole world he will tear his eyes off of you right now. It's laced in his confession. 

“Fuck, I'm missed this view, so, don’t care. Don't look at. Me.”

You whine as his palms kneed softly at the soft skin of your ass, through layers of your muscle, thumbs so firm they're almost digging in holes on the two spots they've landed so he can spread you open even further. 

His cock moves like it has a brain of its own, leaving trails of precum against your ass and he thrusts his head across your slit a few and agonizingly slow times. You should speak up, tell him how much you love it, tell him you can just cum on the spot from just his cockchead rubbing against your clit like that but you don't want him to have that satisfaction. You don't need him to know he’s making you feel this good when he's barely done anything to you.He's cocky enough already, engrossed in his actions as his tip lines up exactly to your entrance. 

He teases you with his tip again, like he’s gonna torture you until you beg—which you’re not gonna do. Though your eyes roll to the back of your head at the sound of him slapping his dick against your folds. He slides against you again, hips stuttering out with a simple, muffled, motion of a hold back and just like that, when he’s spent on the feeling of squeezing his base so he gets even harder he lines up with your soppy entrance.

He slips right in. No warning, no effort. Your pussy pulls him in.

A guttural moan escapes you, coming from the depths of your chest as he thrusts his head in. The pain of being split open hits you like a wave. It hurts, like every single time you reconcile with him. You always forget that the girth and length of him are too much to not take in gradually. 

But he knows that too. 

“Babe,” he whimpers “Can I move?”

You wince at the desperation in his voice, the use of the nickname paired with it, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. ‘Babe’ how can such a simple word make your stomach twist into a knot? 

“Please-” It's nothing but a whisper, but it comes out of your mouth without much thought. It's needy and silent and full of guilt. 

“Oh fuck I like the sound of that. Say it again”

You hesitate for a moment, hips bucking towards him to take a little more in but he pushes your head down again. 

“Please Eijiro”

“Please what,” He pressures “say it”

“What? No!” 

“Then I could just pull out”

The sound of your mumbling is almost choked by his palm on your cheek, he's not letting go- he's not hurting you either- the pressure is just enough to get his point across because, frankly, the stuttering of his hips doesn't match his words. Had you not been pressed on the counter, you would have bucked away from him to teach him not to play boss with you. For now, you just whine as he pulls completely out of you.

“Eijiro- fuck, please”

“Fuck what?”

“Shit. Fuuuuck”

Eijiro presses his hand on your waist and pins you down, getting a hold of your hair in his hands—fuck, fuck, fuck, the word’s a mantra right now. Fuck it’s so hot, you’ve never even thought you could get this wet over a few motions. 

He growls when he yanks your head just a little upwards and your walls pulsate around nothing.

“Want me to turn you over and fuck your mouth? Huh?”

“N-no” you shake your head.

“Then speak”

You take a mental note; you’re going to chew his head off for this later on. When did Eijiro even learn how to dirty talk like that?

“Me! Fuck me, dammit” You hiss, cheeks are once again trapped between his palm and the cold counter. 

He places another kiss on your shoulder at that, giving your ass an encouraging slap as he chuckles. “There you go”

You feel the head of his cock press against your entrance once again, and despite yourself, you whimper. His hands squeeze your hips tightly as he begins to push inside of you, inch by slow inch. The burn of pain mixed with the heat of desire, making it almost impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins. You grit your teeth against the sensation, trying to ignore the way his cock stretches you open.

You’re so full if him that you could explode.

His voice is so low in his throat, so needy when he says "That's it, baby.”

Then be, once more again before he starts going at a steady pace, bucks his hips time after time, ever so slowly. Had you not been unadjusted to the shape of his cock by now you'd be screaming at him to go faster, but for now, this tortuous pace is as helpful as it's driving you insane. 

It's just the beginning, but the weight in your chest and your heart are starting to be felt. 

“Eiji” You say, eyes closing as you try to hold on to the counter top to no avail. He moans in response, rubbing his palm along the length of the leg that you've bunched up on the surface. 

You've no mind to consider the soreness you'll be feeling tomorrow, really. 

He tries to hook his other hand on your steady knee and you yelp, scared that you're going to fall, that your strength isn't enough to hold your weight in the strange position that you're in right now. 

“Let go of your leg” He pants giving the back of your thigh a few encouraging slaps “give it to me”

You slowly let go of your leg, exhaling shakily in fear of not feeling the ground under your foot anymore. Eijiro takes this as an invitation, his grip on your hips tightening as he helps you wrap your leg awkwardly around him just so he thrusts deeper into you. The sensation is almost overwhelming, too mouthwatering; you can't help but want to arch your back in response, despite being almost unable to.

Hick dick kisses your cervix with every movement, every roll of his hips.

Your breath, despite having been knocked out of your chest, with each of his thrusts, is loud, always conveyed into a moan or a yelp and that’s about all the encouragement Kirishima needs for his thrusts to source more force, more speed. 

His hips slam against yours in a rhythm that matches the pounding of your heart. You cry out in that delicious mixture that’s pleasure and the pain of him splitting you open, your body arching to meet his.

You are evil, sinister, malevolent for both you and him when you plead “Go faster”

He pants, half sober, half drunk as he digs his fingernails into your love handles and bottoms out again. Eijiro's thrusts quicken, his body shaking with the effort to keep up the pace. You can feel his cock pulsing inside you, head hitting every wall inside you as he drives deeper. Your breath comes in short gasps, and your body feels like it's on fire. This is new territory for both of you.

You've never had sex raw before, not even at the start of any session. So every time you squeeze around him, you can feel his veins and he can feel you get wet—wetter. It’s so sloppy, so messy, like it should have been happening all the time, like you two are made just for this.

Both of you whimper. Whether it’s the angle, the pace or the way he slips his hand, ever so subtly to rub lazy circles on your puffy clit, you absolutely cannot control your noises just as much as you cannot find it in you to care about whether you’re louder than the actual music on the party that's happening above.

You try and buck your hips towards him some more, yielding a moaned out version of his name in the process. Everything is just too much and you’ve never been this desperate to cum.

“Fuck babe, you feel so good” Kirishima hisses and your legs tremble 

“Yo-you too” 

“‘Pussy feels s’good, fffuck yeah work those hips for me”

You stretch your hand, in an effort to try to reach him, touch him. Anything to ground yourself to stop the shaking in your legs, but you ultimately cry out in disdain when he grabs your wrist to stop you, pining it on the small of your back. He holds it there for a moment, when his thrusts become slower, rougher, just enough to elicit louder moans from you before he finally lets go, running his hot palm on your back.

“Making me want to fuck you raw forever”

“Ei-” 

The only response you get is a whimper. Half lid eyes that look at your back with so much lust that it should be considered a sin.

You wish you could see his face, to land your eyes on that whiny expression that adorns his face when he’s inside you, but his hand is quick, too hot on the skin of the ape of your neck; he grabs your hair, lifts your head in the process.

“Take it” He whispers and you realize you haven't, in your dizzy state, even sensed him leaning on you to bite on your shoulder. The action alone makes you wince but Eijiro, ever so tender, immediately suckles the spot between his lips, hoping to soothe you, but your legs start shaking even more. “I'll give it to you slow then? ‘kay?”

“Ei” You’re so spent, so unable to call out anything other than his name, gooey walls clenching around him as his thrusts slow down even more. 

You’re so impossibly wet and tight, fluttering and squeezing and tightening around him. Mere seconds away from letting the beast that's gnawing inside you burst into existence. Like a flaming hot explosion. “'M gonna come” You manage to whisper and your stomach twists in an impossible way when Kirishima replies

“Can you wait for me baby, I want us to— fuck— come together”

And as much as you love the sound of that being whispered in your ear, you're not sure you can obey him. He feels that too, suddenly starting to quicken his thrusts while letting go of your hair, pushing it off your face. It's only now that he's so desperately chasing his own release, as you’re clamping impossibly around him, hips working faster than ever. 

“Can I cum in you? Fill you up?” The sound of skin clapping and your squelching with each buck of Kirishima's hips filling the kitchen. Hes’s frantic when you’re deprived of a reply, circling your clit, slapping it, gathering all of your mixed juices and rubbing at you again.

You yell out his name again like a mantra, your orgasm starting to blur out your vision as the top of his cock kisses all the right spots inside you. 

“Please say yes”

You moan.

“Say yes, wanna fill your pussy up.”

You moan again.

It feels so good— his hand on the small of your back, his scent, the notion that this is the worst thing that could happen tonight it all adds up to you finally coming to release all that's pent up tonight. 

—Clank!

From the corner of the kitchen, you hear a loud, unmistakable clatter, followed by the sound of rapid footsteps. Both yours and Kirishima's heads snap to the direction, his name being cut short from falling from your mouth as terror washes through both of you. 

White. 

Hot. 

A voice, too familiar, yells out in a burst of laughter and shock. 

“No fucking way!” Sero’s voice rings out, too high-pitched, way too obvious. “what the fuuuuuuck”

Kirishima locks eyes with him first, taking the first pinch of realisation in his gut, hands doing nothing of sort to shield any of you. There's no initial reaction that can be performed. He's just as deep in mud over this as you are. 

“Dude!” Sero paces his eyes between you and Kirishima as if to point out the profanity. Helaughs again, holding his stomach, never prying his gaze from the scenery in front of him “you guys are impossible. Get a room ‘cuz I want some more beer.”

Your eyes land on him, turn just in time to see his figure disappearing around the corner

heading straight to the direction he just came from, and you whine— both for your ruined orgasm, more so for the fact that you've been caught.

The wave of shame that should be washing over you is nowhere to be seen or felt. 

“No.” You don’t even realize you’ve said it until the words slip past your lips, but the panic that flares in your chest feels real. “No, no, no—he’s not— He's gonna tell— fuck!”

Kirishima swears under his breath, a hand running through his messy hair as he looks at you, his face caught between guilt and desperate frustration. “Shit—”

The two of you stand there, his cock still inside you, despite it starting to go limp, your leg still bunched around his back. Both of you too unsure of what to think, or do, in such situation. 

Seeing that the moment is ruined, that none of you have had enough self control to stop earlier or restrain yourselves, you lower your lifted leg to the ground. 

Kirishima takes the hint immediately. Patting your ass with both his palms for just a little leverage— like he needs it anyway and actually pushes out of you with a loud pop. He tucks his cock in his pants and zips them up in fast movements and actually makes an effort to make you look somewhat presentable too. 

Panties drawn to their initial position, even if they feel ruined and wet behind salvation, and dress smoothed nicely over your ass before he signs you to lift your head up. He guides you still, hand on your head, so you don't manage to land a hit at the cabinets over your head. 

For the first time in a while, you look at him again. He’s disheveled; red hair tousled and messy, lips burning a red as fiery as his eyes. There's a tiny remembrance of his quirk on the left side of his eyebrow. 

In an unfair and very beyond and out of character reaction for you, you reach to smooth it over with the tips of your fingers, pushing the red strands of hair away from the spot. He mumbles something that's beyond the realm of speech and you don't make an effort to understand as your hand slips to the side of his face, cupping his sharp jawline. 

You don't speak just yet, whether it's out of panic or because you're really not in a mental position to take in what just happened. Thus, you too, don't say a word when he brings both hands to your face. One to mimic your own hold, the other, to wipe some of the sticky residue of honey and some drool that has gathered in the corner of your lips. 

When your legs wobble on top of the heels that you just remembered you're wearing, the warmth of his hands on your face travels to your waist. It's only then that he talks. 

“Easy there, babe”

You let out a laugh “You did this to me, by the way”

“Well, I don't think I can hold myself when I'm around you. That's why I've been avoiding it.”

And that's exactly when it hits you. The party, Mina, every memoir of your past with him. You hate to be fucked silly to the point of no thought by him, never have an orgasm in his presence and then live in regret. You have to put an end to this. Mina was right. No one's gonna pick up your pieces ever again. 

You're looking dazzled, confused and out of your mind. The room starts to blur. 

You’re so out of words, it’s painful.

The tension hangs in the air as Kirishima grabs your hand, his grip firm but careful, and whispers hurriedly, “This way.” 

He leads you out of the kitchen, his eyes darting around the room like a predator looking for an escape route. You barely have time to register the shift in pace before he’s guiding you down the hall.

Your heart races—not just from the rush of adrenaline, but from the lingering haze of your interrupted moment. You’re still reeling from the intensity of it, your mind a chaotic blur of heat, panic, and something dangerously close to longing. Your hand, clasped inside his burns, like the very core of your being.

“Where are we going?” you hiss, glancing over your shoulder to make sure no one is following.

“Bathroom,” he mutters under his breath, his jaw tight. “We need a second of privacy”

Before you can protest, he’s already nudging open a door, ushering you inside with a quick glance down the hallway. The bathroom is as small and dimly lit as it was a while ago and the hum of the party muffles the moment the door clicks shut behind you.

The lock makes a noise of pure solace; Eijiro twists the key hurriedly but doesn’t pull it out of the lock. He opts to rush to you, even if you’re just a few literal feet away from him. 

Your poor heart is thudding. You’ve been cataclysmed with emotions of all kinds. The betrayal to your friends, to yourself even, the guilt of how a part of you feels joy, the panic of experiencing being found out. The embarrassment. Tears well in your eyes like silky beads. Head in your hands, you land on the semi wall of the bathtub and sit down. 

Eijiro follows, much dizzy and still high like you, and plops on the marble right next to you. 

He turns his head in your direction despite knowing full well you’re trying not to let the faucet in your eyes flood your face, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to stand there and watch you like this. He only does what he knows better. 

Huge arms are wrapped around you and he’s pulling you close. Part of you wants to beg him to let go, too afraid of what happens each time you’re in this position with him and your heartstrings are being pulled— despite your sniffles and in between your thoughts and your guilt you can’t find any strength to push him away.

You melt into his chest, the very second his palm presses your head against him. 

“Shhh” the redhead finally speaks “Sero’s going to forget this in seconds, even faster”

First and foremost and most foul of all, Eijiro thinks you’re only crying because you’ve been caught. That’s as much as you gather from his demeanor. 

“No, I-” Another wave of tears hits you before you get a chance to respond.

“Please tell me how can I help”

You loathe the fact that he sounds so willing. It’s the twist of the knife to your wound, why is he only willing when something’s in for…

“…you?”

Oh, oh no! You spoke that aloud. Cursing under your breath you decide you would rather swallow your tongue and die forever. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re still high, but had you realised sooner you wouldn’t have spoken this. It’s prone to cause turbulence.

“What? You really believe that?” 

There. There he is looking as confused as ever and he’s peeling you away from his chest just to lock eyes with you. 

“I just…” he pauses “I don’t know how to act, I’m sorry”

It’s… excruciating that he apologises over something he knows can’t be helped. Even when not intended to excuse him you just know he’s a person that reeks of insecurities, inner turmoil be damned and all, but so are you. Apologising for himself does absolutely nothing to you— he probably knows so as well.

But you breathe in his scent and his apology stops being one of manipulation. The man before you is nothing but himself. With roots such a deep shade of brown that just isn’t black, lashes that are full but not too long… he lacks in things that he’s so full of; Maybe if you had been more kind and understanding you and him would have worked. You wouldn’t have to cry in his arms after a catastrophic night. You wouldn’t get carried away by each other, rather, you’d get carried away together.

You don’t answer to him, but tears well in your eyes and they’re for him. So you cling onto his shirt and avert your eyes, not being able to bear another glance at him.

A few, new sobs in and he manhandles you onto him. You never protest —His lap is more comfortable than the marble, much warmer too. And you don’t need to be cool anymore.

“Baby” he whines and a hand is wrapped around your head, engulfing you in that huge bicep of his. His fingers linger on your face again but this time he holds you; one thumb brushes lightly against your wet cheek and the other wipes the teardrops that run down one of your eyes “Did I— Am I making you cry?”

You nod.

In response he kisses your forehead. A secret part of you wishes he’d never done that despite the fact that you find solace in the comfort.

“I’m sorry, I’ve made you cry a lot, haven’t I?”

You nod again.

This time he doesn’t continue on with words. He kisses your forehead again, then your wet cheeks, your nose, your eyes lids and your chin. You’re so lost in the moment, dizzy still. You lean into him, edging closer and closer to his face. Your body moves on its own against your better judgement.

“It’s not fair” you say as your lips hover right under his.

“I know”

Thus, this time, when you kiss, it’s not needy or desperate; it’s comforting. Your lips move in sync against each other and its numbing; his mouth feels just perfect against yours. He pecks your lower lip and you suck on his softly. 

Of course, you know that he knows. But neither of you pull away.

Kirishima's hands tremble slightly where they rest on your waist, like he's unsure if he should pull you closer or let you go before it’s too late. The way his lips move against yours—slow, deliberate, reverent—makes your stomach twist. This isn't rushed or reckless like before. It isn't an act of desperation or lust. It's something else. Something worse.

It’s a plea. A question. A confession.

And the moment you realize that, you break the kiss.

Your breath comes in shallow gasps as you stare at him, his forehead still resting against yours. His eyes—soft, carmine and burning all at once—search yours, waiting for an answer you don’t have.

His fingers flex against your hips, but he nods. “I know….” He pauses “I never got to tell you that I love you too”

Even if this confession is the end for him, he doesn’t let go. Neither do you.

You sit there, tangled together in the dim light of the bathroom, the party outside a distant echo compared to the roaring silence between you. His chest rises and falls beneath your hands, warm and steady, and for a fleeting second, you let yourself imagine a world where this could be simple. Where you could have him without all the chaos, the guilt, the inevitable heartbreak.

Αll you’ve ever wanted was for this to be your world.

“Then why do you punish me for it?”

Reality settles between you like an unspoken truth, thick and suffocating, making it hard to breathe, hard to think—hard to do anything but exist in this moment that shouldn’t have happened.

You’re nothing but truthful and honest. He’s punishing you because he loves you but you’re just no better —you’ve been doing nothing but the same.

Kirishima’s grip tightens just slightly, like he’s afraid that if he loosens it even a little, you’ll slip away completely. And maybe he’s right. Maybe you will. Maybe you don’t love him anymore and you have every right to. After everything he’s pulled, why on earth would you reciprocate his feelings?

Just take his heart and tip in two already. It’s either that or it’s just going to burst.

Your fingers twitch where they rest against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath them. It’s fast. Just as fast as yours.

You force yourself to pull back, just enough to see his face fully, to take in the way his brows pinch together in something like frustration. Or sadness. Or both.

You don’t trust yourself to speak. If you do, you’re not sure what will come out—anger, regret, longing. Maybe all three. Your words hurt more than a villain's attack.

But he speaks first.

“I don’t wanna let go,” he admits, voice low, barely above a whisper. “Not yet.”

The confession cracks something inside you.

You inhale sharply, closing your eyes for a moment before forcing yourself to move. You reach for his hands, prying them gently from your waist despite the way your entire body protests. He lets you, but his fingers linger, brushing against yours until you finally pull away completely.

The warmth of him is gone too soon, and you hate how cold you feel without it.

“Eijiro…” His name feels heavy on your tongue, like it’s not meant to be spoken in this way, not meant to carry this weight.

He shakes his head before you can say anything else. “I know” he repeats, but this time it sounds different. Defeated. And some stinky, dreadful part of you hates to see him this way.

You must be out of your head tonight—in a different dimension, this is another you from another reality. 

Kirishima is as surprised as you are, really. But your lips are on him when his eyes envisioned you leaving him cold, completely. 

After that, it’s clothes being thrown into bathroom tiles and the heavy sounds of kissing. It’s different from the one in the kitchen; there’s no fight for dominance, no physical rattling in battle. It’s just him and you, in the most uncomfortable spot in the world, naked, working together to walk on that tight rope that the love of you is.

This is the first time you’re making love. In sero’s bathroom. At Mina’s party. 

And you could die from how delicious it all feels.

It’s either that fact or something very guttural that’s gotten you feeling this way because the more Eijiro rams into you, the more you tighten around him.

Soft, gummy walls flutter around him, drenched in desire. It’s like you’re moulding the shape of him, every vein, every slope, every inch of him is moulded into you. And at the ache you whine your hips up and down, desperately, like you’re picking up where you left it off in the kitchen.

You’re finally aware that it’s summer again, when you realise your sweat is hot against your skin.

Kirishima holds you like he’s trying to convince himself that you’re real. That this is really happening. His hands wrap around you completely, like he’s got you in a headlock and you’re chest to chest.

You can feel his heartbeat once again, against the skin of your chest and it feels so animalistically intimate. Everything burns and you could just die. You could die like this, right here and right now!

The way your clit rubs on his navel eagerly, makes your whole body numb and in need of release. You set on screaming— his name becomes a mantra for every second passing.

Both of your hips work slow, in sync and he curses against the nape of your neck. You never make out what he says as you’re so drunk on him the second he starts placing open mouth kisses all over your neck.

You hiss in pleasure and your body jolts back—it causes Kirishima to twitch and tighten his grip around you, even now that your chest has departed from his. He looks at you like you’re a prey again; it’s one, two, three kisses on your neck before he travels lower, trapping the skin of your chest between his lips and teeth.

For better leverage, one of his hands grabs on your ass and guides you on your previously steady pace on him. You’re reduced to moaning, like a pornstar on set, when he hits it from this angle. His tip kisses the right spot inside you, repeatedly with an agonising pace and when you turn to look at him he’s kissing down your breast- right above your nipple.

The moment you lock eyes, he takes the hardened bud into his mouth and sucks. You can’t even rip your eyes away from him and oh my god you’ve never had your eyes open during sex like this. Not being able to shake the embarrassment of the action, you wrap your arms around his neck, his eyes still following your every movement, you plant a kiss to the top of his head.

The hand on your back turns as soft as good. And you hold, hold onto his neck like he’s any steady at all. Like the distance between you that closed the second you parted.

It’s all too much and not enough at all— his kisses on your neck and chest, the aching up and down and the sound of skin clapping. A coil forms at the lowest, deepest part of your stomach and you set on chasing it.

In a dazed state, you grab at Eijiro’s hair, right at the nape of his neck, just so he looks up at you and right when he does you kiss him, full force.

The movement makes both of you tilt to the back, but his dick slams inside you in such tremorous manner that you yelp into Eijiro’s mouth.

He moans too, feverishly, but moves his lips on yours. You dare to be the first to pull away, to lock his forehead with yours before you lean in for another kiss.

Again you depart with a smacking sound.

And then you kiss him again.

Through heavy breaths, you fail to acknowledge how long the two of you spend kissing like that, but your eyes wet again at the feeling of him.

He kisses your tears, like he’s trying to make them disappear, like if he presses his lips to your skin enough times, he can rewrite the stinging pain woven into this moment.

You feel him trembling beneath you, his hands gripping your hips like he’s trying to brand the feeling of you into his memory. And maybe he is. Maybe you are too.

Because no matter how much you try to pretend, no matter how much you tell yourself this is wrong, that this can’t be anything more than what it is—it doesn’t stop you from wanting it to be.

The tension in your stomach coils tighter, electric and overwhelming, your body moving on instinct, chasing the high you’ve been denied one too many times tonight. Every thrust, every kiss, every desperate gasp that falls from Kirishima’s lips sends you spiraling deeper into something neither of you can name.

You whisper his name, not as a warning or a plea, but as a confession to match his.

And he hears it.

Because his arms wrap around you tighter, because his forehead presses to yours like he’s holding onto you for dear life, because his breath hitches when he murmurs back, “I got you, baby.”

It’s too much.

It’s not enough.

“I love it when you cry for -huh- me” he says between jagged breaths, while he kisses the tears that are running down your cheeks— why is he getting unbelievably hard at them?

It feels like he’s kissing away every mess that you’ve both made, like he loves seeing you this broken for him and vulnerable.

Your body tenses, nails digging into his shoulders as you come undone around him, a shuddering, whimpering mess in his arms. And when he follows, burying himself deep inside you with a groan that sends shivers down your spine, you swear you feel something break.

Not your heart—not yet.

But something close.

You’re only ever aware of the digging of your nails on his soft skin, like you’re aiming to draw blood as that white hot pleasure bundles in you again.

It’s a few more thrusts too long when you come, a few more that are absolutely pushing it before Eijiro comes too. 

He comes inside you; hot, spurting cun paitining your insides and slipping down any gap that’s between him and you —impossible— and overflows with gravity, right onto his lap.

He twitches inside you. Once. Twice. 

Your breath is knocked out of you relentlessly as he fucks both of you through your orgasms, slowly.

You flutter around him, sore and even more right from the overstimulation. Eijiro plants a few more kisses to your numb jaw before he attacks both your lips with a smack. He hopes to soothe you, let you know that you can breathe now, that he can breathe, but instead you hyperventilate. His mouth has engulfed yours wholly.

You’re kissing like there’s no tomorrow, no next time and your hands run around each other’s body, roaming, grabbing, digging in skin until your skin is itchy and irritated. He bites your lower lip so hard that you think he’s trying to draw blood. And in response you try to part away from him. 

Your mouth is still linked to his teeth but when it slips away it remains that way, through a string of saliva— he falls apart on you shortly after, pulls you impossibly closer to him.

Eijiro’s breathing is heavy against your skin, warm and steady, grounding you in a way that feels more dangerous than comforting. His arms are still wrapped around you, holding you like he doesn’t want to let go, like maybe if he keeps you here long enough, the rest of the world won’t come crashing in.

Slowly, reality starts to settle around you like an unwelcome guest. The muffled bass from the party outside, the distant chatter, the fact that anyone could be looking for either of you right now—Mina, Sero, anyone.

You swallow hard and finally, finally, force yourself to pull back just enough to look at him.

His face is flushed, red eyes lidded, hair a mess from where your fingers had been tangled in it. He looks beautiful in a way that makes your stomach twist, makes your chest ache with something dangerously close to regret.

But when you move, he follows.

His hands slide down your waist, holding you like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers. Like he knows you will.

“Eiji” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes snap to yours, something raw and unreadable flickering in them. He knows what you’re about to say. 

“I wanna go home. I want you to come with me.”

“I know,” he says first, just like before. “Wanna hold you in my arms tonight”

But this time, it’s not enough.

Because knowing doesn’t make this any easier. It doesn’t change the fact that this—whatever this is—is bound to hurt you both in the end.

You take a shaky breath and move to get off his lap, but his grip tightens just slightly, like he’s debating stopping you.

Like he wants to.

“Don’t fucking lie to me” 

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he lets you go, lets you shift off of him even though it feels like something inside him is breaking as you do. And maybe something inside you is breaking too.

The silence is thick, suffocating, as you fix yourself—pulling your dress down your body, smoothing over the fabric even though it feels wrong now. You just want to be naked in his presence. 

Kirishima tucks himself back into his pants, runs a hand through his hair, but doesn’t stand up.

He watches you. Just watches.

You open your mouth, but no words come out. What could you even say? That this was a mistake? That it wasn’t? That it didn’t mean anything, or worse—that it did?

Kirishima exhales through his nose and rubs the back of his neck before finally speaking.

“I really want to. I don’t want to sleep alo— I wanna hold you.” His voice is rough, hoarse from all the things he isn’t saying. He’s chewing the words like anything could be taken wrongly “Say yes, just for tonight. Babe, you can hate me all you want tomorrow”

You nod, because that’s all you can do. You don’t want to hate him tomorrow.

“Kay then, imma drive, I think I’m good. You okay with that?”

You nod again.

Kirishima lingers for a second longer, like he’s waiting for you to take it back—to say you’ve changed your mind, that this is stupid, reckless, wrong. But you don’t.

When he finally moves, pushing himself up from the bathtub’s edge, you follow.

The party outside is still alive, voices rising and falling over the heavy bass of the music, laughter spilling through the cracks beneath the door. It feels too loud, too real compared to the quiet that had settled between you both.

Kirishima hesitates before unlocking the door, turning to look at you one last time, searching your face for something—permission, reassurance, maybe even regret. But whatever he finds, it’s enough. 

You just want to grope on him again, kiss him, squish his face with yours.

He opens the door, and the world comes rushing back in.

No one is standing outside waiting for you, no god of fury Mina, no traitorous Sero, no one watching with knowing eyes. But the paranoia still lingers in your chest, coiled tight as Kirishima takes your hand again, intertwining your fingers like it’s second nature.

When you step outside, the hot air hits you hard. You inhale deeply, trying to shake the tension that’s clinging to your skin.

Kirishima’s truck is parked a little way down the street, away from the cluster of other cars. His grip on your hand is steady as he walks you there, thumb rubbing small circles against your skin absentmindedly. It makes your chest tighten.

Once you’re at the passenger door, he lets go just long enough to open it for you, waiting until you climb inside before shutting it gently. You shoot him a glance that falls apart in seconds. You don’t need him to open the door for you, but the fact that he did because he wanted to.

Perhaps he cares for you as you care for him.

The driver’s seat creaks when he settles in, and for a second, neither of you speak. The air feels different now, heavy with something unspoken.

“You remember where my house is?” You ask, voice barely anything but a whisper.

“Yeah” Kirishima exhales slowly, his hands gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. His jaw is tight, eyes fixed on the road ahead even though he hasn’t started driving yet.

You steal a glance at him, at the way his brows furrow just slightly, at the way his chest rises and falls in measured breaths. He’s thinking. Hard. And so are you.

The weight of what just happened—what’s still happening—sits between you like a living, breathing thing. It presses into your ribs, wraps around your throat, makes it impossible to speak.

But the silence that follows once again is unbearable.

So you say the only thing that comes to mind.

“Kiri.”

His grip on the wheel tightens for a second before he forces himself to relax. He finally turns his head, meeting your eyes with something unreadable. “Yeah?”

You don’t even know what you want to say. Do you ask him if this is a mistake? If it means anything? If it means too much?

Instead, all that comes -ever so raggedy- out is, “Drive.”

He nods once, turning the key in the ignition. The truck rumbles to life, headlights cutting through the darkness as he pulls onto the road.

Soon, the city stretches out before you, neon lights casting strange reflections on the windshield. The hum of the engine fills the space between you, but it doesn’t drown out the thoughts racing through your mind.

Minutes pass. Maybe hours. You’re not sure. Wasn’t your house a 20 minute drive from Sero’s?

You’re not sure, not quite sure until you arrive, when the lack of Eijiro’s hand on your thigh is unbearable.

The moment he locks his car, both of you move in a rush.

Practically running up the stairs to your apartment, tripping over each other in a frantic, heated blur. Lips, tongues, hands pulling, pressing, taking.

You barely make it to the shower before you’re both tangled up in each other again.

The second the door swings shut behind you, Kirishima’s hands are on you again—steady, grounding, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go.

Neither of you speak as you move toward the shower, exhaustion finally settling in now that the night is behind you. The rush, the panic, the guilt—it’s all faded into something quieter, something heavier. You barely fight for the space, stepping inside together like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The hot water soothes your skin, washing away the remnants of the night, but not the tension clinging to your chest. Kirishima stands behind you, arms wrapped loosely around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. His breathing is slow, deep, and for the first time in months, you feel yourself start to relax.

“You okay?” he murmurs, voice thick with exhaustion.

You nod, leaning back against him. “Yeah. Just a little sore”

“Mmm, I can fix that”

He presses a lazy kiss to your damp shoulder, his grip tightening just slightly before he exhales, long and heavy. Neither of you move to leave, letting the water rinse away the weight of everything; said and unsaid.

Fix what? The sound of your beating heart, or the ache in it for more of him? Both?

His hands wander, slow and deliberate, fingers tracing the curve of your waist before sliding lower, pressing warm and firm against your stomach. A quiet, needy sound escapes you when he reaches your thighs, his touch featherlight. His lips find your neck, dragging lazy, open-mouthed kisses across your skin, like he’s memorizing the taste of you, like he can’t get enough.

And then, just when your body melts completely into his, his fingers slip between your thighs.

The first touch is teasing, the softest graze of his fingertips against your clit and folds, but it sends a shiver straight down your spine and your lower stomach. You gasp, your head tilting back against his shoulder as he circles, presses, works you open with patience, practiced ease.

“Want your pussy on my mouth, right now”

The moan that spills from your lips in response is inevitable, breathy and wanting, and Eijiro smiles against your skin, his voice a quiet rumble against your ear before he presses another kiss to the spot that's closer to your lips.

He shifts you just so he can kneel before you and place a kiss to your aching clit. Your breath hitches as his fingers trace up the plush skin of your leg, slowly, just barely grazing where you need him most.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against you. He retaliates by pressing his tongue to your aching heat, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

“Eijiro—” His name slips from your lips in a breathless plea, but he only responds by dragging his tongue up again, his fingers sinking into your skin like he wants to claw your skin off. You hiss at the pain, but get high of the roughness of it.

One of his hands slides higher, palm pressing hard against your stomach before trailing lower again. He curls his tongue against you, circling it on your clit. He absolutely looks and sounds as if he’s devouring you. And you just can’t get enough.

Then, when he has you completely pressed against the wall, his fingers join the torturous rhythm of his mouth, slipping between your folds, teasing, pressing, pushing until your head falls back. Guttural noises swallowed between your thighs, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as he enters you with two fingers.

Dazed by how good it feels, you stop caring about the temperature of the water anymore, you buck your hips against his mouth. Chasing a release.

His licks get sloppy, his rhythm too and he opens his eyes to look at you. 

“Want you to come on my fucking tongue” he says between smacking sounds, like he’s drunk on you. 

He sucks your clit, licking at it again as he twists his fingers inside you. Your legs start shaking like earlier, but you don’t get embarrassed about it this time. Eijiro, as if he doesn’t want you to pressure yourself even a bit, shrugs his shoulder on your leg, signing at you to hook it over his shoulder. You do it, wordlessly.

This new angle has him feral on you. He nibbles and licks, either with the flat of his tongue or with the tip of it. 

You’re lost in the sensation, every nerve alight. You can feel the rawness in the way he moves, while he’s completely focused on you, as if the world has disappeared and it’s only the two of you left.

You jerk under his ministrations; it’s a warning. A telltale sign that you’re going to come soon.

And when you finally do—when your body tenses, then shudders with release—he doesn’t stop. He rides it out, dragging every last wave of pleasure from you until you’re left breathless, completely at his mercy.

Only then does he pull away, his lips slick, his eyes dark with something unreadable as he looks up at you. For a moment, neither of you speaks—just a silent understanding that passes through the air.

By the time you dry off and slip into bed, the exhaustion is impossible to ignore and he hasn’t fixed any soreness, if anything he’s made it worse, but you don’t dare to point it out to him. He plops onto your bed and pulls you close without hesitation, tucking you against his chest like it’s instinct, like it’s where you’ve always belonged. You coo into the touch, set on using the air conditioner for tonight, just so you can let him warm you up.

You kiss the middle of his chest, and he almost flinches at how soft the action is.

Eijiro’s fingers trace slow, absentminded patterns on your back, the warmth of his body lulling you into something dangerously soft, dangerously safe. You’re not sure you’re ever going to fall asleep without being in his arms ever again, but your kisses on his chest, his collarbones and neck, don't stop.

“You’re not leaving, right?” you murmur, barely awake by now. Desperate for anything that’ll let you be at ease to fall asleep.

His arms tighten around you. “Not tonight.” He says and he kisses the top of your head.

It’s the last thing you hear—or feel, before sleep pulls you under, his steady heartbeat the only thing keeping the rest of the world where he’s in, at bay. Just for tonight.

You’ll deal with Mina and Heartbreak Co. Tomorrow.

_______

When the morning comes you realise, you want to be domestic. Casual. Just like this.  

When you wake up curled under his enormous bicep, long red hair sprawled messily all over his chest, mingling with yours, with you, there's a false notion as to why he's here still. Though you can't dive into it right now, with your eyes begging you to shut them close again and the bigger part of your brain begging you to fall back asleep. But you can't..

That itchy corner in the back of your mind won't let you.

Because Eijiro is here. Holly fucking hell, Eijiro is sleeping right under you.

You've never seen him asleep -the time you slept on each other for a good 30 minutes doesn't really count- and you're itching to lay your eyes on him. To steal a glance, to imprint the image in your brain. To create a memory because you're not so sure youre gonna see him again after this, utterly convinced last night was a petty fuck to the result of being high and drunk at Mina's party. 

Then again that's Kirishima for you. 

But, despite the fact that you feel angst in your soul, looking at the way the sun reflects on his skin makes you think that anything he did last night is just so sweet of him. To give you a dose of something so addicting, just when you were getting over him. something to grab onto so you dont forget him, so you remember him. 

You're not sure you've slept this well in ages. You already know you'll spend endless sleepless nights staring at your ceiling wishing you could rest like this again, or maybe wishing you hadn't slept at all, so you could savor every single second with him.

You’re gonna miss this moment terribly and you know it. But then again, you'll miss something that doesn't exist. You crave days like this, their non-existence. It's what makes them more desirable. you want what you cant have and it's killing you. 

Your throbbing head and the heavy blanket that sleep is, condemn you unconscious again, the second you feel warm and safe once more. A heaving chest that won't stop hurting is nothing compared to how tiring the previous night has been—it's nothing before the continuation of that dream that you were watching. In desperation to continue it, you melt in the only embrace that makes you ignore the sunlight so you can fall asleep again. 

When Kirishima opens his eyes it's like reality comes crashing in. He pays little attention to you, such as to lift you off of him and stand on his butt, in search of his phone, nervously and just so keen on not waking you up still. 

‘Good morning’ you utter, so lightly that you're not really sure he can hear it, he's not sure you understand what you're uttering either. 

‘Good morning babe’ he smiles, lightly. 

There's a kiss planted at the top of your head and had you been awake you'd either coo at its healing properties or chew him out. Both of these outcomes are too scary for him though, but perhaps, one is more slightly manageable than the other. 

A quick ramming of your fridge for anything edible follows; He’s rushing to the kitchen after he kisses you, the rustling sounds dragging you from the edge of sleep. You groan softly, stretching beneath the warm sheets, but you don’t open your eyes. Not yet. You want to savor this—just a few more seconds of pretending. Pretending that this is normal, that this is real. That mornings like this aren’t borrowed time.

Kirishima hums under his breath as he moves around your kitchen, the sound of cabinets opening and closing filling the quiet space. You should probably get up, but instead, you burrow deeper into your pillow, inhaling the faint scent of him still lingering on your sheets.

Maybe you’ll just never wash them again, right? So they’ll smell like him forever…

You don't know how long you lay there, stuck in that limbo between wanting to hold onto this moment forever and knowing you can't. Eventually, though, curiosity wins. You shuffle out of bed, padding barefoot toward the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

He's standing by the counter, shirtless, hair messy, flipping through his phone with a piece of toast hanging from his mouth. The sight of him in your home, in your space, like this, makes your stomach twist. Because this… this is just what you want.

Domestic. Casual. Just. Like. This. 

He glances up when he hears you, grinning around the toast. “Mornin’ again, babe.”

You roll your eyes, ignoring the way your chest tightens at the nickname. “You found food?”

Kirishima shrugs, handing you the second piece of toast from his plate. “You don’t have much, but I made do.”

You take it wordlessly, biting into it as you lean against the counter next to him. Like he counts your bites for his own personal enjoyment, when you swallow your last bite, he’s suddenly leaning into you. Perhaps, for a kiss, if you would have it.

His movements are slow, deliberate—like he’s testing the waters, waiting to see if you’ll pull away. His eyes flicker to yours, searching, but you don’t move. You don’t stop him. You don’t stop him when he traps your chin between his fingers.

Instead, you hold your breath as he leans in, the warmth of him so close, the scent of soap and something uniquely him filling the space between you.

It’s not hurried or desperate, not like last night. This isn’t a kiss born from impulse or alcohol or the reckless heat of a party. This is something softer, something that lingers. Like those ones in Sero’s bathroom.

His lips brush against yours, featherlight, hesitant—giving you the chance to change your mind. But you don’t. You tilt your chin up, closing the distance, and the second your lips fully meet his, something inside you melts.

Kirishima exhales against your mouth, a sound almost like relief, like he’d been hoping for this, waiting for this. His fingers brush against your hip, not holding, just resting there, as if grounding himself in the moment.

The kiss is slow, unhurried, like he wants to savor every second. You let yourself do the same.

When you finally pull back, he’s still close enough that his breath ghosts over your lips. His eyes flicker open, warm, red as rubies and full of something you can’t quite detect.

You swallow. “What was that for?”

Kirishima grins, small and easy, like this is the most natural thing in the world. “Felt like the right thing to do babee.”

And when he leans in again, you don’t stop him.

“Don't call me that”

When he cocks his head to the side to look at you and he looks so cute at that, like a puppy, confused and with glimmering eyes, that’s when he laughs too, perfectly and and oh—you hate him by the way.

“Kay then” he kisses you and takes another bite of his toast before he chews his nexts words out “check your phone, Mina has been calling you non stop”

You groan, dropping your head against his chest for just a second before sighing and peeling yourself away. His warmth lingers, but the real world is creeping back in, persistent and unwelcome.

Your phone is face down on the counter, screen lighting up with yet another call from Mina. Just in time. You hesitate, glancing at Kirishima, who watches you with a strangely adorning expression, leaning against the counter like he has all the time in the world.

“You gonna answer?” he teases, nudging your hip with his, almost mocking the way Mina hip bumped him away from you last night.

Secretly, he wishes you don’t pick up. Just let him have a moment of comfortable silence with you.

You sigh dramatically, pouting, your shoulders almost drawn to your ankles, looking like a wet cat, before swiping to accept the call. “Mina, before you start yelling—”

‘Put her on speaker’ he mouths, but you ignore him.

“Oh, hell no!” Mina’s voice nearly bursts through the speaker, loud and full of chaotic energy. “Don’t you dare act like I wasn’t gonna start yelling! Where the hell are you? You left!—no text, no nothing! And guess who else was missing? Kirishima! Sero said he saw you and I didn't believe him and oh my gooood, girl, no!”

Kirishima snorts, completely unbothered. He steals the toast from your hand and takes a bite, cheeky as ever. You shoot him a glare, but he just grins and mouths busted over and over again.

“Relax, Mina,” you sigh. “I’m fine. I’m home. I just woke up.”

“Oh, I know you’re fine.” She gasps dramatically. “Wait, are you with him right now?”

You pause for half a second too long.

“You totally are!” Mina shrieks, and you have to hold the phone away from your ear. Kirishima just laughs, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. He towers beside you, tilting his head toward the phone. “Morning, Mina.” His voice is all lazy amusement, like he’s enjoying this way too much. Like he won.

“Oh, hell no, don’t ‘morning, Mina’ me! What the hell happened? Wait, don’t answer that—I don’t wanna know. Or maybe I do? Ugh! I’m having an existential crisis about your love life, what is this?”

You groan, covering your face with your hand. “Mina, I swear, it’s not a big deal—”

Mina’s voice explodes through the speaker, sharp and furious. “Are you kidding me right now?!  I was worried! What was I supposed to think when you just vanished with him?! I’ve been losing my damn mind trying to figure out if you were dead in a ditch somewhere?!”

Kirishima snickers, leaning in slightly.

“Ughhhhhh, I’ll see you later, Mina, Byeeeeee” you say quickly before hanging up, not giving her a chance to interrogate you further.

The moment you set your phone down, Kirishima is already grinning at you. “Busted,” he repeats playfully.

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms and pout. “I hate you.”

~All rights reserved: @/strawberry-nugget, 2025. Please do not copy, over write or steal my work.

Likes, reblogs and comments are all appreciated equally

[matryosika]

Incoming Call

Pairing — Hyunjin x fem!reader Wordcount — 3,394 words Genre — Smut (18+) Includes — Suggestive content. Smut warnings under the cut. Author's note — This honestly came out of the blue. I was just feeling like phone sex and exhibitionism and this is what I ended up writing, haha. I hope you like it, it's just a silly little drabble in which my writer's block didn't get the best of me. I am actually proud I could come up with something, but it's not as filthy as other of my works. Please remember that english is not my first language, so i apologize for any mistakes in advanced! If you wish to support my blog further, please reblog and comment, leave an ask and check my pinned post for my ko-fi!

Smut warnings — Dirty talk. Phone sex and exhibitionism if you squint. Masturbation (m), Hyunjin is kind of a perv but it's very very tame. Use of petnames (baby), mentions of creampies, and other sexual fantasies. Hyunjin is needy and desperate. Reader's mom interrupts the hated moment (not cool!).

Time zones. 

By far your most terrible enemies these days. 

It wasn't only the jet lag that threw you off from coming back home, but the abysmal time difference between you and your boyfriend —he goes to bed right before you wake up, and his most active time is when you are about to sleep. 

It has been a couple of days, but texting with him has been an absolute nightmare. 

“It’s only a week,” you reassured him as he waved you goodbye at the airport. His lower lip was slightly pouting, and his usually straight eyebrows were raised in a subtle furrow. “I’m sure you’ll live, Hyunjin”. 

“Yeah but I wanted to come with you,” there was genuine pity in his voice and you knew he meant it —he never misses a chance to join you on your trips back home, or meeting your parents.  

Because of how busy he has been, and the fact that this trip was practically nonexistent a week before, he just couldn't ask for a time off at work this time.

“We’re spending Christmas there this year,” you tried to cheer him up, rubbing his arm with solace, “time flies by, anyways”. 

Hyunjin nodded, resigning himself to the imminent struggle of being hours and miles apart from each other.

“Text me when you get there, yeah?” He planted a chaste kiss on your forehead and held you tightly. “Text me all the time, I’ll reply when I can, okay?”

You nodded against his chest, and kept his promise throughout the whole trip. 

You texted him when you got to your home country, and you also texted him a picture of your first meal there. You told him all about the weather, how happy your parents were to see you after a while and the things you missed the most.

He promised he would reply when he could, but you knew that wasn't going to happen any time soon. Or at least not for a couple of more hours, until he woke up.

And basically, that has been the whole dynamic all along —you text him everything about your day at a given time, and he texts you everything about his day at a given time as well. There's very little conversation happening in between, but it's understandable.

By day 3, Hyunjin learned to convert time zones. If it is morning for him, it is late afternoon for you. If it is his late night, you're probably just waking up.

He knows when to text you —if he is expecting a quick response— and knows when you're sleeping. Taking all that into account, Hyunjin tries to make the most of the time that's actually convenient for the two of you to talk.

[08:19 a.m., Hyunjin: Baby]

With furrowed eyebrows, your fingers type away faster than your mind can comprehend it. 

[08:19 a.m., You: Shouldn’t you be asleep?]

[08:19 a.m., You: Isn’t it like 11 p.m. in Seoul?]

He is a night owl. Always have been.

But he has been trying really hard to adopt a healthier sleeping schedule, so seeing him online past 10 p.m. it's unusual these days.

“Everything alright?” Your father asks, picking up on the subtle furrow of your brows.

“Yeah, I’m just talking to Hyunjin,” with your phone in one hand, and the other busy with a fork on your breakfast, you await his response. 

“It’s such a shame he couldn’t make it,” your mother adds, “it has been a while since we last met him”.

At that moment, when your mom and dad start talking about how great of a guy he is and how happy they’re to have him as part of the family, your phone vibrates yet again in your hand. 

[08:21 a.m., Hyunjin: Attachment: one image]

[08:21 a.m., Hyunjin: Can you see how much I miss you?]

If it wasn’t for the glass of water you smartly chugged down to hide your coughs, you would have choked on a piece of fruit. Inevitably, and after a failed attempt to conceal the embarrassing moment, your parents' eyes are fixed on you with concern.

“Sorry,” you excuse yourself, cleaning your lips with a napkin while you relentlessly try to put your phone away from anyone’s sight. 

“Are you alright?” your mother asks this time, softly hitting your back 

“Yes,” you nod swiftly. “I just- the food kind of went into the wrong pipe”. 

On your lap, your phone keeps vibrating —one after another, you lose count after message number 4.

[08:22 a.m., Hyunjin: God, I miss your body so much]

[08:22 a.m., Hyunjin: Just want you here for me. Don't want anyone else to have you right now] 

[08:23 a.m., Hyunjin: My hand isn't enough. It doesn't feel like your pussy does]

[08:23 a.m., Hyunjin: Can you come back to me now? Lay underneath me and let me have my way with you?]

[08:24 a.m., Hyunjin: You have no idea how fucking hard I am] 

You gulp loudly.

“What do you think?” It's only when your mother directs a question at you that you snap out of your trance. 

“Huh?”

“What do you think about spending Christmas in some beautiful cabins? They're like 45 minutes away from the city,” she continues, offering you some of the context you missed because of Hyunjin’s heated messages.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply with hesitation. Not because of the idea, but because you really can’t process anything other than the warmth between your legs. “I- uh, I have to go to the restroom”. 

For all he knows, you're lying comfortably in your bed as this is around the time you usually wake up. So damned you, for not letting Hyunjin know that today you are having breakfast with your family at a restaurant. And damned him for putting you into an awkward situation without even knowing of it.

[08:25 a.m., Hyunjin: Can I call you?]

[08:25 a.m., Hyunjin: Want to hear your voice]

[08:25 a.m., Hyunjin: Please, talk to me. Tell me anything you want. Just let me hear that pretty voice of yours]

[08:27 a.m., Hyunjin: Fuck it]

[08:27 a.m., Hyunijn: I’m calling you]

Good luck can’t be any more useful than right now, that you enter the restaurant’s restroom with your fingers crossed and an immense feeling of relief when you see every single stall open. 

And, as if on cue, the soft piano melody coming from your phone's speakers tells you that Hyunjin stuck up to his last message. 

“Are you busy?” It’s the first thing he says, with a hoarse voice and a hitched breath. 

“I’m at a restaurant,” you reply with just a little bit of shame in your tone. “With my parents”. 

Your boyfriend lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Shit I’m- I didn’t know, I’m sorry,” you can hear him panicking, maybe because he thinks you're upset. But in reality, it's all quite the opposite. “I’ll call you later just- forget I even- whatever, I’ll call you another time”. 

“No,” you rush to say, locking yourself into one of the bathroom stalls. “Don’t hang up, I can- I’m at the restroom”. 

There's a quick seconds of silence from the other line as Hyunjin gathers the remaining coherent thoughts after getting to hear your voice. “Is it- are there other people there?”

“For now it’s just me,” you reassure him.

“Just you?” He asks, and you hum in response. “I’m sorry for calling it’s just- God, I can’t spend another day without you”. 

The wet, sloppy slow sounds paired with the laziness of his voice can only give you a hint of what he is doing.

“Are you- masturbating?” 

It's not like you're a prude, but this whole thing is taking you by surprise. You're always together, so there's no need for phone sex or anything of that sort. Sexting isn’t unusual, but this is definitely a first.

“Yeah,” he replies with a raspy scoff. “Want me to stop?”

“No, I- no,” when you encourage him to continue, the lewd, wet sounds start to become more and more frequent —increasingly loud for you to hear them, “keep going”. 

Hyunjin lets out a deep sigh of frustration.

“Do you miss me too?” he asks, biting down his lower lip to prevent any whimpers from falling from them. 

“Yes,” with shortness of breath you admit. “I miss you too,”.

“Yeah?” He whispers under his breath, letting small grunts make their way to your ears. “I miss you badly. Can’t stop thinking about you- shit, can’t stop thinking about how pretty you look when you’re naked in my bed”. 

The compliments, all together, make your cheeks and body grow hotter. But inevitably, they force you to fix your gaze under the bathroom stall, in that little gap between it and the floor. There’s no sound nor signals of footsteps approaching, but the adrenaline of hearing him say such dirty things when you're out in public is definitely a new experience.

You can't say you hate it.

“Baby,” Hyunjin moans. And although you can’t see it, you can take a wild guess what he looks like right now: head kicked back, legs spread, his hand and dick glistening with lube, or lotion, or maybe spit. You can picture how pretty his face is right now, contorted in pleasure, with his lips all swollen from licking and biting them, eyes completely white while he bucks his hips up against his fist. “Talk to me, tell me about your plans for the day”.

You can’t help but laugh a little in the midst of the tension. 

“You want me to- talk about my day while you masturbate?”

“Well,” he scoffs under his breath. “I don’t expect you to say dirty stuff while you’re locked in a public restroom where anyone can walk in”. 

“Right,” you nod to yourself. “But I don't understand what that would do for you”. 

“I like your voice,” your boyfriend lets out a deep exhale of relief. “I can get off just by listening to it, doesn’t matter what you’re talking about”.

“You’re crazy,” a soft chuckle falls from your lips. “You’re not even going to pay attention to me”.

“Please?” you can hear a small whimper, and that alone convinces you. 

“Okay well,” you clear your throat before continuing, wondering how this could arouse him. But he is asking you something that is nowhere near difficult, so you comply. “I’m having breakfast with my parents right now”. 

“Aha,” Hyunjin hums, and if you play close attention you can hear his hand sliding up and down his cock. All you're left with is your imagination. “Keep going”.

“I will meet with a friend later, we’re going to grab some coffee”. 

Despite the weirdness of it all, there's something enticing about knowing he is using you, in some way, to get off. You're only talking about your day. But knowing your boyfriend is masturbating to the sound of your voice is arousing.

“Then I’ll go back home, get some work done,” you continue. “Think about you, think about how much I miss you right now”. 

The line goes silent, except for a mixture of gasps and groans. 

“You’re going to think about me?” Hyunjin asks, his silky voice sending shivers down your spine. “You’re going to touch yourself thinking about me?”

“Yes,” of course he doesn't expect you to talk dirty to him. But that never meant he couldn't say that kind of stuff to you. At that, you're at a disadvantage. No matter how turned on you're getting, there's nothing you can do about it and Hyunjin sort of feels thrilled because of it.

“You’re going to fuck my pussy with those fingers of you?”

God, how much you hate him for that. How he talks about your body as if it is his, reminding you that you belong to him and him only. 

You only hate it because it never fails to arouse you.

“Y-yes Hyune,” you reply, swallowing thickly. You're aware you can't say anything too obscene, but you still can engage in that kind of conversation without airing yourself too much. “Or should I- use something else?” 

“You packed your toys?” your boyfriend lets out a satisfied groan at your hum of agreement. You two are just so alike. “Which one are you using tonight, baby?”

“The transparent one”.

“The transparent one?” he thinks about it for a second, and immediately remembers which one you're referring to. “Thought you were going for the wand because it's your favorite, but I'm guessing you miss feeling full?”

“Aha,” you exhale. “Yes, I- miss it so bad”.

“You miss my cock stretching that tight pussy of yours?” At that, the wet movements become louder. “Stretch it nice and open for me baby, make sure to prep yourself every day for when you get back”. 

You bite your nails. “What’s going to happen when I get back?”

The answer is rather obvious, but you want to hear it from him.

“I’m going to make you come until you pass out,” Hyunjin bites his lips and kicks his head back, reminiscing all those times where you’ve come around his cock, fingers and tongue. “Make it up to you for all the days you've been away”. 

You can feel the pooling wetness in your underwear, the minimum squeeze of your thighs against each other is a constant reminder of it. 

“You miss my lips against your pussy like I do?” he asks, letting out a liberating gasp. “You miss tasting yourself off of me while we kiss?”

“You know I do,” you gulp loudly, caressing your lips with the tip of your fingers. God, how much you miss feeling his against yours.

They’re so soft, and velvety, and they know exactly how to kiss and bite you.

“I’m so close,” Hyunjin announces, and you feel your nipples hardening underneath your underwear at the despair in his voice. “I just- wish you were here, want to come all over your face, and body, make you swallow me full”. 

You want to say something, anything, but his words have much of a chokehold on you. You'll give anything to taste him, to kneel in front of him right now and open your mouth wide for him. 

You miss his taste, miss kissing him afterwards in between whines and grunts.

“I would grab your hair really tightly,” he explains, increasing the speed of his sounds. “I’d push my cock deep inside that pretty mouth of yours, have you gagging and drooling all over it”. 

Between his overwhelming words, and the loud sound of someone barging through the door of the restroom, you mutter a quick "can't talk anymore" before going completely silent.

“Honey, are you okay?”

Shit. 

You close your eyes, trying to focus on both parts: Hyunjin’s moans, and the way your mother is standing right outside your bathroom stall.

“It has been like 10 minutes, your father and I got worried”.

Your boyfriend lets out a teasing scoff, one that only you can hear.

“She’s asking you a question,” Hyunjin murmurs, still with a hitched breath. “Aren’t you going to answer?”

“I’m fine,” you rush to say. “Just- having a stomachache”. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve got some medicine in my bag,” of course she did. She always does, ever since you were little.

“Maybe you should tell her the truth,” the voice from the other line calls. “Tell her that you’re busy making me come”.

Immediately, your eyes open like plates and you wonder if the sound of the phone is too loud  for your mom to hear it inside the quiet restroom. 

“I forgot!” you snap, practically yell out loud. “I forgot you carried those with you”.

“Want me to bring them to you?”

You hear the faucet running, and Hyunjin chuckling slowly. At least she isn’t standing right outside the stall, but you’re still not at ease. 

“Y-yeah, please,” on the line, Hyunjin is waiting for the perfect moment to interrupt. 

Those two words are enough to send him to the edge. Despite the lack of sexual connotations, hearing you beg for anything it’s enough to arouse him.

“Ah, but I’ll have to bring you some water too,” your mother explains. “Maybe you can have it when you return to the table?”

“No!” You insist, all in an attempt to kick her away from the restroom. “Please, I need it right now. Please?” 

“Are you going to beg for me like that too?” Hyunjin groans through the line, not caring if anyone can hear him. Also not caring about interrupting your conversation. “Are you going to open your legs for me and beg for my dick like you’re begging right now?”

You almost choke on your own saliva, but the feeling quickly goes away when you hear your mother mutter an “okay, alright” before walking out the restroom door with a mission of easing your fake stomach ache.

“I almost get caught,” you gasp, only when a couple of seconds pass after she leaves. 

“Then hang up,” his shakily breath only tells you he is not that far from coming. Especially after hearing your voice again, pleading for whatever it was you were asking. 

“No,” you shake your head. “Want to hear you, please”. 

“Want to hear how I come for you?” he chuckles. “Want to her how I moan your name while I come thinking about how much I wish I was fucking you?”.

In a whisper, you hum quietly. 

“So dirty,” he is getting closer. “So, so f-fucking dirty. I can tell you’re enjoying this, even while you're out in public. Maybe you'll like it if i were to fuck you right there, while your parents wait for us at the table?”. 

You cover your mouth in surprise, trying to muffle a gasp.

“I would love to come inside you right now, pull up your panties and force you to spend the rest of the day with my cum leaking out of you,” he lets out another loud, choked groan before continuing to elaborate on the fantasy. “You'd be so wet, you wouldn't know if you're turned on or it's just my cum”.

“You’re insane,” you whisper under your breath.

“Yeah?” Hyunjin asks teasingly, slurring his words in between moans. “I know you are too, baby. I don’t even need to take a look at you to know you’re probably dripping just by my words, right?”

Damned him.

“And I know I’m not too out of my mind when I say you would let me fuck you right then and there, where everyone could hear you and anyone could walk in,” at that, the lewd noises increase. “Might even let me finger you underneath the table, right? Bet you would love to have my fingers deep inside you while you try to pretend you don’t”. 

“And I know I’m not too out of my mind when I say you would let me fuck you right then and there, where everyone could hear you and anyone could walk in,” at that, the lewd noises increase. “Might even let me finger you underneath the table, right? Bet you would love to have my fingers deep inside you while you try to pretend you don’t”. 

Oh you're definitely going to cancel all your plans for the day. Might even book an early fly.

Anything, just to see him soon.

“God,” Hyunjin exhales, and it’s between quiet moans that you realize he is coming. “F-fuck, ‘m coming so fucking much”.

You can picture it. His tone abdomen all glistening with sweat and cum, shining brightly underneath the dim light of your room. His cock is probably red, and swollen, and twitching while he overcomes his high.

Fuck, damned be Hyunjin for making you ruin your panties this early in the morning.

“So much,” he repeats, fingers trailing the lines of his abdomen as he collects his arousal off of it. “Too sad it went to waste, I would’ve preferred to fuck it back inside of you”.

“I hate you,” you finally breathe, both in relief and frustration. “I hate how much I miss you”.

“Then come home soon,” your boyfriend pouts.

And honestly? You might.

[rainychaoloveshack]

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟ 𝐔𝐩 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞. 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐠.

staying up late with silver, watching a movie.

content. silver x gn!reader, reader is mentioned to be a night owl (staying up late often), tooth-rotting fluff, very light angst

☂︎ wc. 950 ☂︎ a/n. third post silver, then scourge! bing bam boom. PROBABLY VERY OOC! not proud of this one, i gotta study silver more :(

likes, reblogs, and especially comments are extremely appreciated!!!

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

┊ ⋆ ┊   .   ┊   ┊

┊    ┊⋆     ┊   .

┊    ┊       ⋆˚              

✧. ┊         

⋆｡˚ 🌨 ˚｡⋆｡🌩˚☽˚｡⋆ 

☂︎

The exhaustion is hitting him, you can tell. The way his eyes are drooping, trying to focus on the movie in front of you two. You nudge him, making sure he doesn’t fall asleep yet; the movie’s just getting good.

“Huh?” Silver turns to you, tilting his head and blinking rapidly, trying to wake himself up for you. “No, I’m fine. Fine.” He mumbles, leaning back and rubbing his quills downward; a grooming motion you’ve seen before with other hedgehogs, mainly Shadow.

You ended up getting lucky today. Silver had opened a portal to this dimension to come and take a visit to Sonic and his friends, but afterwards, Silver decided to pay you a visit, right in your cozy abode. Lucky, lucky you.

… Ah. Maybe there's a sort of time dimension jet lag hitting him?

“Dimension jet-lag?” Silver giggles at your joke, right ear flicking in your direction at the sound of your laughter. “No, silly! I just don’t stay up as late as you. I wish I could,” He frowns, leaning against your shoulder. “You make it look cool. All… ‘night-owly’ every night.” Night-owly?

Both you and Silver end up cracking up like idiots at the absurdity of both your words, bodies trembling slightly with laughter as the movie tunes out between you two, all of your attention just focused on each other.

He’s not wrong. It’s so usual for you to stay up past midnight, and you almost don’t notice when you do it nowadays. It’s so ingrained in your daily schedule, even with your attempts to head to bed earlier. The sleep debt must be terrible.

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay awake; I promise.” He reassures you, leaning against your shoulder, fidgeting with his gloves briefly as you watch him with interest. His statement isn’t very convincing, since he follows it with a small yawn, squeezing his eyes shut, and as soon as he opens them, he locks eyes with you sheepishly.

“Uh…” He chuckles a bit afterwards, his ear twitching in embarrassment. “Well, I’ll try.” He pauses, parting his lips to say something else, yet nothing comes out for a few moments.

“Sorry.” Silver murmurs, still fidgeting with his gloves as he looks down at his hands, and you tilt your head curiously. What? Before you can ask, he continues.

“For not visiting you so often. I-I really want to, don’t get me wrong!” He looks back up at you in a panic. “But…” Silver lets out a small, exasperated whine, his ears tilting down. “My world; it still needs me. And the others need me too.”

You frown, reaching cover to give Silver an affectionate scratch behind his ear in an attempt to lighten the mood quickly, causing it to flick towards you, followed by small bits of chuckling from him as his body relaxes. He says nothing else but leans towards your touch happily, brushing his shoulder against you as he snuggles his ear into your hand, enjoying the little scritches you’re giving him.

“Thanks.” Silver says softly as you retract your hand, locking eyes with you again. “Uh, you don’t mind if I stay the night, right?” He pauses, almost bashful as he asks, and you nod eagerly to his question.

Duh. It’s not like you would kick him out at this hour anyway. Why would you anyway?

“Maybe we could go see the chao tomorrow.” He mutters, resting his head against your shoulder. “Or fix up my garden. Ah, we could do that! Yeah,” A small smile spreads on his face. “That’d be really nice to do with you…”

You pull him in closer, pushing him by his hip, and in response he scoots on over to you, pressing against your leg. A stupid grin spreads on your face as you yank him into a tight cuddle. He gasps softly at the sudden action, followed by laughing briefly as he pats your back.

“Ah, come on, you could’ve just said so…” 

Without saying a word, you slowly lay down on the couch, stretching your legs for a moment as Silver lays down on top of you, trying his best not to hurt you as he lays his head onto your chest, relaxing his body once he realizes none of his quills have pricked you in any way.

Damn, he’s really, really warm. It feels good as hell…

“You have a nice heartbeat.” He says softly, his ear tilting to press against your chest more, following the rhythm of your heart. “[Name]... Gosh,” Silver chuckles, placing his hand on your shoulder as he snuggles closer. “I really like your heart…”

You both lay in silence together, the only noise coming from the long-forgotten movie playing in the back, along with the soft breathing from Silver. You run your hand gently over his quills, feeling every individual one, and the small tiny pricks from the tips of each.

You say his name, expecting him to respond, but he just keeps his head down and doesn’t respond in the slightest.

Silver?

… Silver?

Oh. He’s asleep. 

You click your tongue softly, looking down at his sleeping form on your body, feeling his soft, furry chest rise and fall against your stomach as you pet his quills slowly. Despite you telling him and everything, he just falls asleep so quickly?

… No matter. You crane your neck forward, pressing a soft kiss on the top of his head, and Silver seems to react favorably, his ear twitching at the sudden foreign sensation despite his slumber, his quiet breathing flowing against your chest.

Oh, right.

It looks like you’ll be finishing the movie alone tonight.