#Speaking about that what’s up with that one against the kitchen floor verse

[lemonynuggets]

if I wanted a hyphen last name, would you mind the cadence?

[ephemeramedia]

The World Shines (As I Cross The Macon County Line)

banner cred to @cafekitsune!!

Will Graham/Reader

Synopsis: You convince Will to cuddle with you because it's cold and you love him.

A/N: Okay so this is my first real FF that I'm posting ever and it's not beta read so if there's mistakes just pretend they're not there mkay thanks. Not rly a songfic but there is a song in it and that song is Going To Georgia by The Mountain Goats. Also this is my official bid for someone to buy me an I Heart Bingo mug. Also also gonna post this to AO3 as soon as i get my acc sorted, and ill link it here.

Word Count: 1105

Warnings: an embarrassing amount of domesticity

---------

The canopy of darkness was beginning to lift from the closed yet sheer curtains that shifted when your shoulders brushed against it. The Virginia morning winter was harsh and you knew it would only get harsher as the hours passed the day away. In some way, you felt bad about moping around the kitchen while Will was out at work, but you knew it would only be a matter of time before January cleared and you could start again trying to convince one of the libraries in Maryland to hire you for over the minimum wage. 

What would not happen nearly as fast as you pleased was the water that was stuck under 100 °C in the kettle, boiling. Sighing, you turned up the stove. 

Music drifts throughout the almost frigid air, around tinny, plywood walls, and it meets your ears in a soft resounding pattern. After the kettle starts to whistle, you sing along in quiet victory. 

“...The most extraordinary thing in the world, I have two big hands and a heart pumping blood,” You pour the water into your ‘I ♡ BINGO’ mug. Today would be an English Breakfast day, just like every other day. A good day. 

You feel the dogs settled beside your feet rise and move toward the front of the house, shortly before hearing the door open. A few beats pass counted by soft thuds on the floor growing louder and Will moves to meet you where you stand. His rough hands wrap around your waist from behind you, and his chin nestles in your shoulder. The song begins its second verse. 

“More bass today. Not bad for this weather, I think,” He breathes into you. You turn to face him, and his hands never leave your body. 

“Your hands are cold,” Will tries to move away but you free one of your hands to trap him against you. He turns his head to huff a laugh but you catch his face and press his grinning lips to yours. You hum into him. 

“I think it might be up to us to keep each other warm,” You take another sip of your tea. “Maybe I could convince you to stay in for the rest of the day?”

Will brings his head up to glance at the ceiling, the look he gives when he’s already resigned himself to you. 

“I’ve got to chop wood for the fire, darlin’. You know I can’t-” You shush him. 

“Again, I’m not sure having a fire will matter when we’re-,” Your only free hand reaches down to palm his ass, “So close already.” It was really an unnecessary ploy on your part, because as you began speaking he gently pulled the mug from your hands and set it on the counter behind you. Grabbing him didn’t help his case of not dropping it on the floor, but the blush that freckled his cheeks gave away how eager Will was to follow you anywhere. 

“Well,” Will huffed out a breath that condensed in the air, “You certainly make a convincing argument.” You giggled at his eager tone and hooked one of your fingers around his belt loop. With an incredible amount of concentration, Will managed to follow you away from the kitchen and into the living room. 

The living room, or the first room in the house, was where the bed was. It was where the only bed was. When you moved in, you had tried to convince Will to, at least, have an air mattress upstairs. After cost-benefit analyzing it, you gave into having the bed right in front of the front door on the condition that Will took the drafty side. Honestly, it wasn’t too uncomfortable, and the stairs creaked anyway. 

As you led Will to the bed, both you and him took considerable steps to avoid the plethora of dogs littered about the floorspace. 

Once you were at the foot of the mattress, you looked back at Will. His cheeks were pink and looked frostbitten, but you knew better. Will Graham doesn’t blush at the cold, he blushed at you. It did help that it was 7 °C, regardless. He took a step towards you and you pull him under the covers. 

Wordlessly, Will places gentle kisses on your skin, starting at your cheekbones and going lower until he reaches your collar bone, and then lets his face rest on your shoulder. You preen at the physical attention, and then shiver. 

“I wish I could stay like this forever.” You hear him mumble into your shirt. You smile softly and tug him further into you so that your bodies might become one. There’s a lot of blanket shifting before one of his hands reaches up under the hem of your shirt. 

“Jesus Christ, you’re fucking freezing,” You jump. You lower your head to meet his eyes looking up at you, and you decipher the mischief in his grin. 

“You’re the one who suggested this, darlin’.” Will pushes himself forward and your lips meet, slowly and then all at once. 

With the comforter pulled up over both of your shoulders, you ended the embrace by tilting your head down so as to separate your lips but then connect your foreheads. Hot breath covers your face and you blink. You hum. 

Moving again, Will’s hands travel back down and grasp your waist firmly. Then you’re weightless, his seemingly infinite strength lifting you up and over him until you’re straddling his hips. The sudden shift lets a breeze into the space between you and Will, and you lower your chest to meet his and close the gap. Will sighs. 

“Now I’m never getting up,” He laughs into the top of your head. 

From the other side of the room, Winston barks at something outside the window, a bird, probably. He barks again at the start of a new song that drifts through the house. 

A cloud passes through the sky and uncovers the bright sun, which does nothing for the cold and everything to blind Will through the thin curtains. Will removes one of his hands from you and drapes it over his face, shielding his eyes. You stay like this until another cloud comes, when Will tilts your head up to kiss you. You lean into it, and you bring one of your hands up to pass your finger through Will’s curly brown hair, gold in the sunlight. A few beats pass. 

‘My tea is going to be so cold.” One of Will’s thumbs smooths out the wrinkle of concern between your eyebrows. 

“You can always make more.” Your lips meet again. 

“I know.”

[ravenromanova]

Is it really you (backstory)

Pairings: Wanda x Female reader

Summary: This chapter is going to be the backstory of how our Wanda and the reader got together and how the ended up where they were in the first chapter. This isn’t going to be a regular chapter since it’s gonna be a backstory i wanted to format it a little differently. But I’m gonna make this a mini series since a few people wanted a little bit more! So @cakechan123 this one is for you!!

~Third person point of view~

How Y/n and Wanda met~

Wanda was on a mission with Nat,Steve and Sam to take down Strucker since they had gotten word that we was continuing his human experiments. They were told he was operating out of Germany this time so they all suited up and got onto the jet and left within an hour.

Once they all had landed they didn’t bother with being stealthy and just went right in. Wanda was told to go find the people he was experimenting on down in the basement. With a nod of her head she uses her magic to fly through the building until she makes it to the basement. When she gets down there she only sees one person there. She sees you curled into a ball with a collar around your neck.

Wanda went to go approach you after she unlocked your cell but since you were so scared you threw her against a wall with your mind. It was then that she knew she needed to help you.

“I’m not here to hurt you” She said as she used her magic to free you from the confines of your collar. You thank her softly and take the hand that she reaches out to you. She leads you out of the basement to the jet outside telling you that you’re safe now.

Wanda tells the team that you were the only one down there and that it’s clear you have telekinesis. The team nods their heads and tells her that after they get you back to the compound and clean you up that they’ll ask you questions. You dont speak while you’re one the jet you just try and let yourself relax as much as possible.

When you land at the compound you get taken into a medical room and you tense up. Wanda senses this and takes your hand and asks you if you want her to be next to you. You nod you head still not speaking. And wanda stays with you while Bruce cleans you up.

The team asked you questions and you answered to the best of your abilities. Wanda was there the whole time letting you know that you aren’t alone. Eventually the question of whether or not you wanted to be an avenger came up and you quickly said no. You told them that you had never asked for these powers, That Strucker kidnapped you and tried to make you a weapon against your will. You said that you didn’t want to be an avenger or learn how to use your powers.

The team had said that was okay and asked if you wanted to be Tonys lab assistant since you had mentioned being versed in engineering. You happily said yes and told them that you’d love that. And within a week you had started your new job and moved into the compound.

How Wanda asked Y/n out~

You had been at the compound for about six months at this point. And you and Wanda had grown really close since you two had a similar past. Wanda had quickly developed feelings for you quite fast and you did too but being the idiots you were you never said anything.

One day you had walked into the kitchen to get something to eat when you had a flashback from your time with strucker. Your hand went numb and your mind went haywire as you ran to your room. When you had gotten to your room the dam had broke. You fell to the floor and held your knees to your chest. Things started to fly around the room as you cried and that made it even worse.

You felt like a freak as you watched what your mind was doing. Things were crashing and slamming into the wall and you didn’t know how to stop it so it made it that much worse. Wanda had heard crying and things breaking as he came down the hallway. She immediately ran into your room and saw you on the floor. Her heart broke as she stepped inside. She has used her powers to gently place everything back on the ground before hugging you.

You sobbed in Wandas arms for what felt like hours. Eventually when you stopped crying she asked you what happened and you responded with. “I was making something to eat when all of a sudden i had a flashback of Strucker beating me” Wandas eyes filled with tears as she hugged you tighter.

“It’s okay malysh if you ever feel like this again please come to me” She said softly into your hair and you nodded in response.

From that day on you had went to Wanda anytime you felt any kind of sad. Secretly she loved that you came to her and that you felt safe with her. She finally got the courage to ask you out during one if your movie nights.

Wanda moved in closer to you and rubbed her hand up and down your leg as you turned to face her. “I have a question” She mumbles nervously and you raise your eyebrow in question. “Will you go on a date with me?” Wanda asked as she played with the hem of your shorts.

“Of course i will wands” You said smiling as you kissed her cheek.

And the next night Wanda set up her room and made a blanket fort. She lined the fort with fairy lights, out pillows and blankets for you two to lay down on, She also got your favorite pizza and candy.

When she had came to your room to pick you up you were already waiting for her with a smile.

“Come on” She said taking your hand and leading you two in her room. She covered your eyes with her hands and took them off when you got inside. You gasped when you saw the set up she had made for you.

“This is beautiful Wands” You gush as you wrap you arms around her and smile.

As that night went on you two cuddled together and watched a halloween movie marathon. By the time the last movie ended you were falling asleep a little. Wanda laughed a little and held you closer to her chest. She sighed as she kissed the top of your head and smiled.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” She whispered in your ear and you immediately nodded your head and squealed out a yes and sealed the deal with a kiss.

How Wanda and Y/n moved in together~

You and Wanda had been together for six months when the topic of moving in together got brought up. You two had already practically been living together but you felt like it was time to take it a step further.

You had been walking around the city one day when you had found a listing for an apartment in brooklyn. You searched the place up on your phone and fell in love. Quickly you went back to the compound and had asked Wanda if she was ready to move out together. She said yes with a dopey grin on her face and you squealed in excitement.

The next day you guys had went to the apartment and talked to the landlord and within a few hours you two had the keys. And the next week was spent packing up and settling into your new place.The apartment wasn’t too far from the compound since you both still worked over there, But it was a nice change of scenery. The two of you were in complete bliss as you started your new life together.

How Wanda surprised Y/n with a kitty~

You had been really stressed after you and Wanda had settled into the apartment. Tony had you working on a new suit for him and it was stressing you out to the point of you having panic attacks again. Wanda had come home one day to see the living room in complete disarray. Pictures were flying off the walls, Dishes broken, Cabinets opening and closing repeatedly. She had used her magic to gently stop the chaos before sitting next to you.

You clung to her for dear life as you subbed and told her what was going on. She rubbed you back and picked you up before carrying you to the bedroom. Wanda laid you down before laying next to you and helping you fall asleep.

The next day when you were at work Wanda went to the local animal shelter to pick you out a cat. You had been talking about getting a cat since she has met you. When she walked in she was greeted by a lovely old woman at the front desk. Wanda proceeded to ask the woman if there were any kittens available. The woman told Wanda to follow her, and she did and she was brought to a room with a bunch of kittens. Her heart swelled at the sight of the little babies.

Her eyes wondered to a little black kitten in the corner of the room. When she approached the kitten it immediately began purring. The woman told Wanda that the kitten was the anti social one of the group but loved cuddles. It was then Wanda knew this was the right cat.

She told the woman that she wanted this one. The woman nodded and then her a Wanda proceeded to start the adoption process. It went by smoothly and after Wanda had walked out with a kitten.

She went to the pet store and got everything she needed before bringing the kitten home. When she got home she set everything up on your shared bed and put the kitten there as well.

You got home that day to your girlfriend acting suspicious. She looked at you like she was waiting for you to notice something. Before you could even ask her what was up her butt you heard meows coming from your room. You rushed to the door and saw a little black kitten on the bed and you immediately started crying.

“She’s for you malysh” Wanda cooed as you held the kitten close to your chest.

“Thank you Wanda” You beam and kiss the kitten repeatedly. The kitten meowed at your kisses and your heart swelled.

“You gotta give her a name you know” Wanda joked as you were telling the kitten how much you loved her.

“I shall call her Luna” You said with a nod and continued kissing Luna.

“Luna it is” She laughed as she brought you and Luna in for a hug loving the start of your little family.

How wanda proposed to Y/n

It had been a year since you and Wanda had been together and you both couldn’t have been happier. Wanda’s love for you grew more and more each day as did your love for her. You two lived in a bubble of love and happiness. Even on the darkest days Wanda found a way to make everything better.

Wanda knew from the moment she met you that she wanted to marry you someday. And after a year of blissful happiness she finally thought the time was right to ask.

She had been downtown one day shopping with Natasha when she found this gothic jewelry store and she was immediately drawn to it. When she walked in her eyes landed on a triple moon goddess ring with a red gem in the middle. She bought it immediately and thanked the shop keeper before walking back out with Natasha.

She bought that ring six months ago at that point. The day came where she was thought you both were finally ready. Wanda got home before you and once she got home she started her plan.

Her plan was to recreate your first date. She set up a blanket fort in your living room, She ordered pizza, queued up your favorite movie, got your favorite snacks ready and waited for you to come home. When you got home your heart melted at the sight in front of you.

Your wonderful girlfriend had setup the most beautiful blanket fort and greeted you at the door with a glass of wine and a kiss.

“Welcome home malysh” She said taking your hand and leading you into the fort. You giggled as you sat on the couch as she wrapped you in a blanket.

The whole night was spent giggling and little make out sessions while watching the movie. Wanda had waited til the second movie ended before she grabbed the ring from inside the couch where she placed it. Wanda grabbed your hand and turned your attention back to her.

“Malysh i-i” She stuttered a little. “i have loved you for what feels like forever. I can’t imagine waking up to anyone else in the morning other than you. I never really used to let myself think about things like this after this” She uses her magic to make the red tendrils circle her fingers. “But then i met you. And that was the day i knew i wanted to make you mine, Ive loved you since the moment i laid eyes on you Y/n. You are the most important person in my life. I can’t imagine being with anyone else but you. So-“ She pulls out a little black velvet box from behind her back. “ Y/n L/n will you marry me and continue this life we’ve started together?” She opens the box and your jaw drops and by the time she finishes you are full on sobbing.

“Yes Wanda i’ll marry you” You say wrapping you arms around her and you litter her face in kisses. She hugs you back before slipping the ring on your finger.

Y/n’s and Wanda’s wedding

A year after Wanda proposed you two finally got married. You two had the ceremony in the woods behind the venue underneath an arch that resembled Wandas powers . The venue was an old catholic church decorated to the nines in black and red decor (< i made a little pinterest board)

Wanda worse a red dress that complimented her figure and skin tone perfectly. And you worse a black gown that looked straight out of a fairytale. The vows you two said to each other will be permanently etched in your hearts forever. After the ‘i dos’ you two and your guests proceeded to spend the night inside the venue dancing, laughing and making memories that will last forever.

When you two had your first dance as wives the entire world melted away. You two danced to “Lonely day by system of a down” (its a good dong dont judge) And while you danced you stared into the emerald eyes of your wife and your heart grew even more fond of her in that moment.

How Wanda found out about Billy and Tommy and how her and Y/n ended up where they were in pt.1

It was a few months after your wedding and you and Wanda were in paradise together. You two went to Paris for your honeymoon and enjoyed two weeks of just being together. It was the last night of your honeymoon when Wanda first had the dream.

The dream was of you and her with two little boys, named Billy and Tommy. The two of you were chasing the two boys around outside, Laughing, watching a movie together and the two of you putting them to bed. When she had woken up in the morning she could’ve sworn the dream was real.

As the weeks went on Wanda had dreams about your children almost every night. One day she told you about her dreams and while you loved the idea of having kids you knew that you couldn’t. You never told Wanda that you were infertile until that day. You went on to tell her that after everything that happened with Strucker it left you unable to have kids.

Wanda was heartbroken for you and just held you as you cried that day. She had told you that she loved you no matter what and that if you ever wanted to have kids with her that she would carry. You told her that you were open to the idea of kids but not for a while with everything you had going on. And Wanda was very understanding at first that was until the dreams became every night and becoming more real to her.

She had contacted Dr. Strange and asked him why her dreams had been so vivid and frequent lately. That’s when he had told her that dreams were windows into our other lives. When she heard that her heart broke knowing your kids existed in another reality not this one.

Wanda spent weeks doing research in secret trying to find out how to either bring your kids to this reality, or have you both go to one where they existed. When she finally found out about The Darkhold and Americas power to travel the multiverse she knew she finally had the answer.

She had came to you once she figured it all out thinking you’d be excited. But when you heard her plan your stomach twisted in knots. You told her that she couldn’t hurt a child for her own gain. She told you that she just wanted you both to be with your children. Wanda didn’t like the fact that you weren’t pleased with her idea. She told you that you were being ungrateful and that she found a solution to your problem.

Your heart broke when she said that to you. She continued saying that if you dont want to be with your children then she has no problem raising them herself. That’s when Wanda uncovered the Darkhold and told you that she was going to be with your children no matter what. With or without you. So what did you do? Grabbed the Darkhold and ran.

~the end~

I hoped you guys like this! I plan on making “Is it really you” around ten or so parts so the next chapter will pick up where pt. 2 left off. Let me know what yall think and dont forget to like and reblog! 🖤Masterlist series masterlist

I do not give permission for my work to be translated or posted on other sites

[landwriter]

Throwing vague Hobrinthian inspiration your way. You'd write them so deliciously.

Thank you!! Back in January I wrote 8K of them - I think it's honestly my favourite thing I've written or close to it <3 Just Like Love. The Corinthian comes across Hob in a hotel bar after he's stood up in 1989. Things don't go as planned.

Here's an excerpt from the continuation of that 'verse:

---

Hob Gadling isn’t his boyfriend. Hob is better. He’s a soldier, a hunter, a haunted man, and it makes every grain of the Corinthian sing to know that one of the ghosts rattling around in there is him. Of course it is. He’s memorable. Doesn’t change how good it feels, though, to have been followed across the Atlantic by something almost as hungry as him.

Hob is holding a plastic bag, and the Corinthian can smell the meat from here.

“Fresh from Lancashire,” he says, all fucking casual-like.

The Corinthian walks over, hooks a finger into the bag and pulls it open to see what it is. Black pudding, he thinks. He’s standing close to Hob, close enough to feel how Hob notices it, how his pulse quickens a little. He still smells like airports. He thinks Hob will wrap an arm around him, pull him in. Kiss him filthy right here in his kitchen. Hob doesn’t do anything but let him inspect his gift. He looks up, and pretends he’s disappointed about the offering instead. He should be.

“I’m not a fucking reptile in a terrarium. You don’t need to buy me crickets.”

“Well. Thought this was more on the mice side of the scale.” And then his face does that hideous English thing, where he’s obviously hurt but smiles and pretends he isn’t, which isn’t half as fun when it’s just his feelings. “But you don’t have to-” he starts, all fake cheer, and the Corinthian grits his eyeteeth.

“Stop making that face,” he says, and snatches the bag away. Sees too late Hob smiling a little, and realizes he was playing at being injured, just to get him to come closer. He sets it on the counter, and feels Hob close right up behind him. There’s warm breath on the back of his neck for a moment before Hob speaks.

“You sure? Maybe it’s a bit like feeding wild foxes. Shouldn’t do that.”

The Corinthian turns and uses his height to bully Hob against the fridge, presses him there, then murmurs into Hob’s ear, threatening, just the way he likes. “You think I’ll forget how to feed myself?”

Hob is already hard against his thigh and he tilts his head up, to kiss the side of his neck. His heart is thumping so steady and strong the Corinthian wonders if he’s got a bigger heart working in there, one to power all his hunger. A horse heart, crushed into his ribcage.

“Maybe I’d like it if you forgot,” Hob says. “Maybe I’d like to spoil you. Maybe I’d like you to try eating out of my hand. See if you don’t like it better, to be fed by another.” He says it flirtatiously, covering up the tenderness there with hunger, because he knows the Corinthian’s mother tongue. But he hears the tenderness in it still, and it ripples over his instincts like a different kind of threat. A different kind of snare. Still wire-sharp. He knows he’d draw blood if he struggled in it, even if Hob would let him go the moment he really did. That’s why he stills, he figures. That’s why he goes all limp, submissive.

Hob feels it. Hob knows exactly what he’s done, and he runs a soft hand over the back of his neck, like he’s tamed him. The Corinthian finally twitches away roughly.

“Kinky.” He grabs the forgotten sausage and starts slicing it to be fried. And Hob just laughs, like it was the joke they were making together all along.

---

Twenty minutes later, he’s kneeling on the floor, still wearing his apron that says #1 Grill Dad, and Hob is feeding a cut-up piece of fried black pudding to him. It’s overcooked. They’d gotten distracted. He licks a stripe across Hob’s palm and feels the small muscles twitch under his tongue. Hob’s hand withdraws, and comes back a moment later to stroke the back of his head, dull nails scraping invisible tracks along him. It feels good. He hates it, he thinks.

He leans forward, and nuzzles against Hob’s crotch. The denim chafes his cheeks. Hob groans and ruts into him, his idle hand on his head turned greedy, knotting into his hair. Hob pulls him off, and he looks up, mouth hanging open.

“You going to bite it off if I let you?” he asks.

“Will it grow back?”

Hob sucks in air through his teeth and pretends like he’s considering it too. “You want to take the chance and find out that it doesn’t?”

“Nah,” he says, and Hob laughs and unbuttons his jeans.

---

He blames it on being fucked stupid for the first time in weeks. He blames it on being dark in the room. He blames it on Hob wrapped around him from behind, possessive. “You’d really care for me, huh?”

Hob scoffs, then seems to realize he’s not fucking around. His hand comes around and finds the Corinthian’s throat, and he strokes a line along where his pulse should be. “Yeah. Yeah, ‘course I would.”

“You can’t save me, Hob,” he says.

Hob huffs a laugh against his shoulder blades. “Well, then you won’t mind me trying, will you?”

[sergeantsporks]

Dadrius Week Day 4: Free Space

“So. Hunter.” Jasmin swirled her cup around. “Do you go to Hexside?”

“I start next month.” Hunter sat ramrod straight in his chair, keeping his hands still on his own glass. Darius’ family seemed friendly enough, perhaps overly friendly in Jasmin’s case, but that didn’t mean anything. They’d raised Darius, after all, and he’d been a bubbling hot rebellion under a surface of cool disdain for the world and everyone in it. Anything could be going on underneath their polite, friendly exterior. A chef critic who might be evaluating Darius’ cake for any slight mistake, and a designer with an eye for detail—both of them professional judgers. Anything could be a test, and small talk was not a subject he was well versed in.

Darius seemed tense, too, but not the same nervous tension from before. More… upset. Had he already failed the introduction? Had Darius’ father said something when he was out of earshot? Darius didn’t seem to be talking to Marcus, despite having come over specifically for Father’s Day, and his mother’s attempts at small talk so far had all fallen flat, with short, one sentence responses from Darius.

Jasmin’s laughing eyes slid ever so slightly to Darius. Hunter had to wonder if she couldn’t sense the tension in the room, or if she was doing her best to slam into it with a blunt baseball bat and twirl it up like noodles. “Oh, you should look up the Blight kids while you’re there. If you’re interested in abominations, their youngest might be helpful to know.”

“Oh!” Finally, something he could talk about. “Amity! I know her, we’re friends.”

“Really? History does repeat itself, doesn’t it?” Her nose crinkled, as if she were in on some joke that Hunter wasn’t. “Odalia’s been fishing around for a new business partner for a new business venture, so I’m guessing Alador’s single these days.”

Darius choked on his drink, coughing. “Jasmin.”

Hunter tapped his glass, giving in to the nervous energy that spiked through him. “Yeah… We… may have had something to do with that.”

“Really? Nice. Hey, Hunter, out of nowhere question, how do you feel about stepsiblings? How good of friends are you and Amity?”

“I,” Darius wheezed between coughs, “am going to cause you physical harm.”

Hunter shifted in his seat, trying to put any sort of polite distance between himself and the ticking time bomb that was Jasmin Deamonne. “Um…”

“Jasmin, don’t tease your brother,” Ariana ordered, “Or poor Hunter. You don’t have to answer that.”

Jasmin held her hands up. “I would never.” She leaned her chin in her hand. “Although, speaking of, maybe I should pay Alador a visit. He was always fun.”

Hunter scooted out of his chair before Darius could respond. “I’m going to get some more water. Excuse me.”

“Jasmin,” he heard Ariana sigh deeply as he left the dining room, “You’ve embarrassed him.”

Well, Hunter reflected, this was going spectacularly. Except for Jasmin, Darius’ family didn’t seem to know what to do with Darius and himself any more than he or Darius knew what to do with them.

Think of how it must be in their shoes, all of them.

If I’d just ditched Uncle for years with little contact and suddenly showed up again—

Hunter’s right hand trembled uncontrollably at the thought.

He had left. He’d left, had fled, and he’d lost nearly everything. Control over himself. Flapjack. His life. He’d nearly drowned in the soil of Belos’ mindscape, and then only months later in water while he struggled to surface in his own mind.

Sometimes it felt like Belos was still crawling through his veins, and Hunter could feel him like a second heartbeat right now, pulsing against his skin.

Why would you think that?

Why would you go there?

Why would you think that, why would you think that, why would you—

His glass shattered, and the sound of it breaking against the floor snapped his thoughts back into the Deamonne kitchen, shards of broken glass all around his feet.

The quiet conversation in the other room halted.

“Hunter?” Darius called, “Are you alright?”

“Titan’s bones,” Hunter hissed under his breath. He crouched down, frantically fumbling for the pieces of the glass. “I’m fine!” he called, “I’ve got it, I’ve got it, don’t worry about—”

“Don’t move,” Darius ordered.

Hunter flinched, and the motion closed his hands, pushing the shards of glass he’d picked up into his palms. Blood dripped out of his clenched fists, and he bit his lip to hold back a yip of pain.

Abomination matter slid into the kitchen, sweeping around Hunter’s feet and collecting the broken glass. The swirling mass brushed against his boot, sluggish and—Hunter could tell, even through his heavy leather boot, he could just feel it, in his bones—slimy.

One of Hunter’s knees dropped out of the crouch and onto the ground in a half-kneeling position. His arms dropped to his sides, still curled into fists of painful cuts. He stared at the floor, struggling to control his breathing and squashing any thoughts that tried to pop up.

Throne room

Nope

Flapjack

Not thinking about it

That horrible stench and that shuddering, slimy feel

No. We’re not remembering that. Not today.

No, no, no, no, no, no, nononononononono

“He’s bleeding—hey, are you holding glass—”

“Jasmin, wait—don’t touch—”

Something closed over Hunter’s hand, and he yanked backwards, skidding in a patch of abomination goo and landing on his tailbone in a big puddle. Darius swore, and the abomination cleared up, removing all of the glass from the floor. Marcus and Ariana stood in the doorway between kitchen and dining room, watching with something in their expression that was concerned but… it wasn’t quite pity; more like they were solving some puzzle that he stood in the center of.

Jasmin stared at him, her hand still outstretched and her eyes huge puddles of concern in her face. “I’m sorry!” she cried, “I was just trying to—”

“Don’t worry about it, Jasmin.” Darius knelt next to him. “Hunter, take a deep breath. You’re in my parents’ house. You’re safe. You’re—well, you’re clutching a handful of glass, so I won’t lie and say you’re unharmed. But you will be alright. Deep breath.”

Hunter gulped for air as if he’d been drowning. “I’m sorry,” he managed to Ariana and Marcus, “I’m sorry about the glass, and—” He pulled his hands close to his chest, checking for blood on the floor.

“Don’t worry about that,” Darius said crisply. He made a motion as if to take Hunter’s elbow, but paused just before he did. “May I?”

Hunter nodded, and Darius hauled him to his feet, standing in front of him and half hiding him from his family.

“Hunter and I are going,” he announced briskly, “Thank you for dinner. Enjoy the cake. It was lovely to see you all. Happy Father’s Day, Dad. Goodbye.”

Darius steered Hunter out of the house and halfway down the street. He summoned his Penstagram scroll, typing quickly.

“What are you doing?” Hunter whispered hoarsely. Out of the house and away from staring eyes, his hand stung, and the sick dread in his stomach was starting to turn into a more active horror over what had just happened.

“I’m messaging Eberwolf for a ride. I don’t think trying to use my abomination warp is a good idea at this particular moment in time.”

“Oh.” Hunter’s stomach sank. What a failure of a father’s day. “You should just go. I can use my flashstep to get home.”

Darius shook his head. “No, I won’t leave you right now.” He dismissed the scroll and tugged his gloves off. “He’ll be here in a quarter of an hour. Let me see your hands.”

Hunter slowly uncurled his hands, holding them out. Darius hissed softly. “That looks… bad.”

“It’s just bloody,” Hunter said dismissively, “it’s not that b-AD!” his voice rose in a yelp as Darius pulled a shard of glass out of his palm.

“Warning, I’m doing it again.”

Hunter looked anywhere but at his hands, refusing to watch the glass pull out of his skin. “You didn’t have to leave early.”

“Please don’t start this.”

“Start what? You can go back, I’ll go home with E—”

“No.” Darius crushed the bloody glass shards into a harmless fine powder under his boot. “Before you go further down this road and think yourself into a hole; leaving isn’t your fault; I’m happy to go home with you, and I think you needed out of there. I promise this isn’t an insurmountable burden of terrible weight for me to bear. You’re fine. And once Eber arrives, we’re taking you to a clinic.”

Have we really had conversations like this that many times? Darius’ reassurances didn’t really make him feel better—if anything, the realization that Darius could distill a conversation down to his side because he’d needed to have this talk with Hunter so many times made him feel worse.Hunter examined the cuts in his hand to distract himself from the lingering sick feeling in his stomach that he’d irreversibly screwed up. They still stung, and they still bled, but he’d seen worse. He opened one of the pouches hanging from his belt and dug around, shoving past his father’s day card to find a roll of gauze that he wrapped around his palm. “It’s not that bad. I don’t need a clinic.”

“Are you sure? You have a day with Dell tomorrow; won’t a sliced-up hand be painful to carve with?”

It probably would be, but the last thing Hunter wanted was for Darius to spend his father’s day in a clinic, filling out paperwork for cuts that would heal on their own anyway. He’d caused enough damage today. “Darius. Please. Can we just go home?”

“Alright,” Darius said softly, turning away to watch for Eber. “If that’s really what you want.”

[puppyluvfics]

You Don't Go To Parties pt. 2

Gaon/Kwak Jiseok | non idol au, college au WC: 2.4k Genre: Some fluff, mostly angst Summary: As time goes on, you and Jiseok become intoxicated on each other, matching just how intoxicated you were on other things. You weren't his girlfriend, but anybody could easily mistake you as such, and a small part of you wished you were. So, when you show up late to his party on Halloween, it feels like a massive knife to the heart when you go looking for him, only to find that you weren't the only one he was love drunk on. Warnings: substance use and drinking (all legal), suggestive sorta?, vomit but not descriptive, no happy ending whatsoever. (IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLS LET ME KNOW!!) A/N: can you tell i adore writing angst and hurting my own feelings... pt 3 of this will be coming within the week... and will probably be the same or more angsty, sorry T-T

When you pushed through the front door a week later, the scene felt oddly familiar to you. The beat of the music pulsed through the floor and up your legs, straight into your spine. It made you shiver a bit, but you smiled nonetheless. As you carefully made your way through the groups of people to the kitchen in hopes of getting yourself a drink—something that wasn’t blue this time—you realized that you were missing Jiseok a lot more than you initially thought. He hadn’t left your mind all week, and you even looked forward to coming to another party, even though the last one was disastrous. 

You grabbed a cup and filled it only half way with Sprite, not really in the mood to drink so early in the night. There was a part of you that knew you should mingle with other people and perhaps find some familiar faces to look forward to seeing every weekend instead of Jiseok. And yet, when you returned to the living room, shifting your weight to the beat of the song, you saw him in the back corner. He was leaning against the wall with a beer in his hand and a natural smirk on his lips as he made conversation with the group around him. You said a silent prayer that he would look up and see you, so it didn’t have to be awkward. While you observed him and danced (if you could call what you were doing dancing), you realized how beautiful he was. You weren’t drunk the first time you two met, by any means, but the embarrassment that was coursing through your veins stopped you from getting a good look at him. Even from where you stood, you could take in his features and how balanced his face was—a mix of sharpness and softness. 

As if he could sense you staring at him, he looked up, and your eyes met. You bit your lip as you smiled and waved your hand to say hello to him. He excused himself from his group and walked over to you, saying casual greetings to everyone as he wormed through the crowd.

“You came!” He said, pulling you into a hug. You held your breath, not expecting this much comfort from him so quickly. You weren’t even sure he remembered your name. Perhaps this was just how he treated everyone.

“I did!” You replied, trying to match his energy. He was definitely not sober, but it didn’t bother you. 

“I thought you were gonna disappear on me.” His voice carried over the music, and it felt like it was just you and him, back in his room, having a normal conversation. He pulled away from you and gave your arms a quick rub before going back to a relaxed stance. “Speaking of disappearing,” he chuckled, “what happened to bringing my shirt back?” He wiggled his eyebrows at you (or, at least, tried to). Your cheeks burned with a blush. So he did remember you.

“Oh! I, uh, completely forgot about it. Next time, promise!” You said, holding up a pinky finger to him. 

“Nah, keep it. It probably looks better on you anyway.” He smiled, linking pinkies with you anyway. He looked down into your cup as he pulled his hand away. “Woah, already drinking that much?” He chuckled,

“Mm, no, just some Sprite. I’m not really well-versed in alcohol if it’s not soaking into my clothes.” You teased back at him. He playfully lifted his beer above your head, tilting it just enough to scare you. You let out a small squeal, covering your mouth immediately after. You shoved his shoulder while he laughed, in near hysterics. 

“You’re an ass.”

“You’re cute, (Y/N). Come on, I’ll get you something.” He grabbed your hand and led you to the kitchen, the still-too-fresh scene of last weekend in the same hallway replaying in your mind. He set his beer down on the counter and grabbed your cup. With his free hand, he grabbed the back of your head, tilting it back but supporting it. He brought the cup to your lips, and you felt like you were being hit by lightning a million times over. 

“Chug, chug, chug!” He said as you gulped down the last bits of your Sprite. When your cup was empty, he helped you lift your head back up.

“What the fuck was that for?” You said, burping in your own mouth, hoping to God he was drunk enough not to notice or care. He was still laughing, which you took as a good sign. 

“I didn’t want to waste the cup!” He grabbed his beer and poured a little into the cup, then poured other things in, none of which you were sure you should mix with beer. When the cup was halfway full once more, he gave it back to you. “There you go!” He smiled widely.

"Jiseok, this looks nasty.” You said, scrunching your nose. You extended one of your hands to stop him from grabbing your head and making you chug again. You took a sip and immediately spit it back out into the cup. “Ew!” You couldn’t help but laugh.

“I didn’t say I was going to get you anything good!” He threw his arm around your shoulder and rested his forehead against your temple. You felt the heat of his breath as he laughed some more, the both of you seemingly laughing in your own world together.

~~~

Your weekends began to look very repetitive. He had become your partner in crime, opening your world to things you’d never thought you’d experience. He did eventually guide you through finding out what you like to drink and made sure to keep it stocked for the weekends, especially for you.

One particular weekend, he brought you outside with a group of his friends and introduced you to the oh-so-fun world of being high. His touches still sent shivers down your spine, but they weren’t uncomfortable in any way. So when he grabbed your hand, interlaced your fingers together, and dragged you to the backyard, you thought very little of it.

You sat next to him on the grass, your fingers still interlocked. One of his friends passed the joint to his right, and it eventually landed in your hand. You had dabbled in high school, but that felt like a completely different lifetime. You brought the joint up to your lips and sucked in, watching the end burn a bit brighter. You tried to blow out smoke, but nothing came out, which earned a lighthearted laugh from the group. You passed the joint to him and unlocked your fingers from his, your hands living in your lap. You watched him, your eyes sparkling with a hint of attraction but mostly desperation in trying to learn what you did wrong. 

The joint made its way around again, and instead of even trying, you simply passed it back to Jiseok. He looked at you and furrowed his brows. “You’re not gonna take a hit?” He asked, ashing it into the dirt in front of him. You shook your head. 

“I’m happy to just hang.” You smiled. You were already tipsy, and you felt more than fine right now. He shook his head in response. 

“Let’s try this,” he started before taking a long drag from the joint. He passed it off, then grabbed your face, bringing it mere centimeters away from his. The action alone caused you to gasp out a little, giving him the perfect opportunity to shotgun the smoke into your mouth and nose. He blew out slowly, making sure you were inhaling as he did. You coughed out, unable to inhale anymore, smoke or otherwise. Your eyes widened at him, and he just smiled back at you. “I love you.” He said before laughing and leaning on you.

“You’re fucking insane.” You laughed, slapping him in the shoulder. “I don’t even feel anything.” You rolled your eyes. Of course, you were only talking about the weed. You felt a lot of things for Jiseok, but it wasn’t exactly ideal for you both to be under some kind of influence every time you were together. By the time the joint made its final round to you, you tried again, solely for the sake of Jiseok not grabbing you like that without kissing you. You inhaled something and blew out a small puff of smoke, which earned more laughter from the group, but you joined in as well. Your head started to feel light, in a pleasant way. You leaned on Jiseok for support; the rest of your night spent conversing with him and his friends, his hands occasionally reaching for yours to play with your fingers or rub your knuckles. 

~~~

The weekends continued like this for another few weeks, with the two of you getting touchier and touchier with each other. Any passerby could easily mistake you for being in a relationship. There was a part of you, deep down, that hoped someone would ask so you could gauge his reaction; save yourself some embarrassment if it turned out you were the only one with feelings beyond platonic. 

Halloween rolled around, and you shuffled up the street, your heels scraping across the pavement. You had volunteered to hand out candy to kids on campus, which led to you having to run back to your apartment and change into the outfit you really wanted to wear. It wasn’t that you were trying to impress Jiseok, but you would be a bit hurt if he didn’t at least say something. Your white skirt with red ruffles was incredibly short, and your matching top was tighter than anything you’d worn around him. 

You said some hellos to familiar faces as you walked up the stairs and into the house. None of these people were your friends, per se, but it was nice to know you all hung out here and had Jiseok in common. You walked around some more, looking for Jiseok, taking a shot here, grabbing a drink there, and saying hello to more people in between. You asked around a bit, wondering where he was. Nobody had an answer, and if they did, their lead went nowhere. You ascended the stairs, the bass of the music fading. Still, you felt something rhythmic in your feet—the sounds coming from Jiseok’s room. 

You had been up to his room a few more times since the first time you met. Granted, those moments were saved for you to sober up a bit or just get away from the party and loudness, so it became a bit of an unspoken rule that you could go in if you needed. You walked to his door slowly, reaching out for the doorknob. The rhythmic thudding was now mixed with his laughter and another girl’s moans. His moans. Her laughter. You stopped, your heart sinking to the pit of your stomach. Your hand fell down to your side, and you didn’t care if they heard the thud it made against your bare thigh. You had grown to love his laugh, yearning for it throughout the week, to the point where you had imagined it when he sent you laughing emojis in response to your texts. And now, hearing it, it felt like you were being hit by a car. It stung. It burned.

You weren’t his girlfriend. So you had no reason to feel sick. That didn’t stop you, though, and you slammed the bathroom door shut before sinking to your knees in front of the toilet. Your hair fell around your face messily, and tears began to stream down your face. Then came the sickness you tried to fight. You breathed heavily when it was over, leaning back and steadying yourself against the tub. The whole ordeal was only a minute, but it felt like years. You sighed and reached up to flush away your entire night, or what felt like it, before standing up shakily. You looked in the mirror, recalling that first night. Your forehead was glistening with sweat, your lipstick was smeared onto your chin, and your false eyelashes had come off from the tears. You looked pathetic. You felt pathetic. You washed your hands, patting your face with the cool water, no longer caring what you looked like. It wasn’t like Jiseok would see you anyway. He was too busy doing whatever... whoever. 

You shut off the light and opened the door, and to your surprise, Jiseok stood there. He was wearing an outfit he had worn weeks prior. As if he wasn’t just hooking up a few feet away from you. You stared at him, emotionless. 

“(Y/N), fuck, are you okay? Do you need anything? What happened?” There was genuine worry in his voice, but it felt so fake to you. 

“Like you care.” You said, pushing past him, starting to make your way down the stairs. 

“Woah, hey, what’s up with you?” He grabbed your wrist. 

“Leave me alone, Jiseok. Seriously.” You yanked your wrist back and continued down the stairs, taking two at a time.

“What did I do?” He called after you; his voice was clearly far louder than the music downstairs. People began to look at the scene unfolding, which was honestly the last thing you wanted. You turned on your heels and looked up at him, his face full of confusion mixed with worry. 

“Ask your new little girlfriend.” You said before leaving, slamming the front door behind you. You ducked into a neighbor’s yard and yanked your shoes off, carrying them in your hand as your feet slapped against the cold concrete. As you walked up the stairs to your apartment, the tears finally spilled out. You stifled your sobs, not wanting to wake anyone at 3 a.m., but collapsed onto your living room carpet once the door shut behind you, tossing your shoes somewhere around you. Logically, you knew that you didn’t get cheated on. He wasn’t your boyfriend. You weren’t his girlfriend. You didn’t really have a reason or right to feel like this. But the bigger, more emotional part of you that was curled into a ball in the middle of the living room floor wished you were his. That way, it would make sense that you were shaking and wanting nothing more than for him to comfort you, even though he was the one who hurt you. Your mind replayed his laugh mixed with hers. Their moans in tandem. You let out a sob that was louder than intended and covered your mouth, resting your forehead on the carpet. Despite it all, you cried yourself to sleep right there. It was over, but what hurt more was the fact that there was no “it” to begin with.

[burnedbyshoto]

i wonder

i wonder (if you remember the way we looked at each other)

— Living as roommates with your best friend is easy until someone fucks up and catches feelings.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut fem!reader, and they were roommates, childhood friends!au, university!au, quirkless!au, modern!au, americanized university experience, alcohol consumption, drug consumption, the plot is for the sex AHA, womanizer!shouto, shouto and reader are bad roommates but seiji is worse, shouto has sex at 16 for the first time, vouyerism-ish, iffy shouto tendencies, jealous!shouto, jealous!reader, drunk sex so dubcon depending on you, nipplegasms, reader has nipple piercings, blowjob, switching, marking, biting, scratching, praise kink, missing tag ;)

word count: 20,141

a/n: this is for the roommates bnharem collab! please check out all the other amazing fics and art! note to self, dont get drunk the night before this is due and I hope you guys enjoy this!!! I had a lot of fun writing it!!! also,,, sorry if mobile doesn’t correctly format!

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

You cracked your eyes open.

The gentle white stream of light permeated through soft cotton curtains, lighting the room in pale stripes and careful touches. Dust particles danced within the shining light, bending and twirling with the flowing air and moving winds. You breathed in deeply, your body still tired, your head still foggy from a night of distractions and too many drinks. 

Your eyes are closed once again, your still hazy mind trying to ignore the bitter, rank taste of the alcohol and cum on your tongue and your hands scratching as your naked cleavage. There was still enough time in the day; it was Sunday after—

Wait.

CUM?!

Your eyes flew open, your lips smacking each other as you confirm the awful, salty taste of cum on your tongue. Your hands swiping up and down your front to confirm your state of undress. Your heart starts hammering in your chest, your palms immediately sweating as you try to think about just who the fuck you ended up back in bed with.

Think, y/n, think!

A small grunt came from behind you, and you felt your entire body go rigid immediately. The soft expel of air fanning against your sticky neck is both welcomed and untrusted. With what can only be described as you, as stiff as a stick, peering behind your shoulder similar to a mother who definitely heard her child throw up on her bed but is somehow praying that she was hearing shit, you turned around.

A messy bedhead of red and white greeted you: unfocused, sleepy grey, and brilliant blue eyes staring back at you with fond familiarity and welcome.

“‘Morning, y/n,” Todoroki Shouto grumbles, voice husky, scratchy, deeply warm from his slumber. His next words are damning, though, the slight pride and knowing implications in the small breathe he uttered next. “Had fun last night?”

There was silence, a stroke of hesitancy, then crushing all-consuming fear.

You screamed.

At the top of your lungs.

O N E  W E E K  A N D  A  D A Y  E A R L I E R

“Who the fuck touched my fucking Angry Orchard Rosés?!” a voice snapped from the kitchen; the tone was fed up, seconds from blasting to smithereens.

You were in the living room, a pair of sweats on, your hair not put together, your face still bare. The music you played as part of your pregame ritual was practically vibrating the wooden floor as you sang along to your music. The telling glass bottle of deliciously pink alcohol swinging inconspicuously between your fingers as you drank it between verses. Despite your other roommate (who you repeatedly told your friends to be ‘like Bakugou but a gazillion times worse because you don’t and can’t like him,’) being seconds from trying to start another feud or possibly a lawsuit against you, your mouth dropped in mock shock before guzzling down the rest of the drink.

“I saw that you fucking skank!” Shishikura Seiji screeched from the kitchen; his stomps were long and heavy as he made his way from the kitchen to the living room where you were. “There were two bottles left in there! Don’t tell me your alcoholic ass drank them both! So help me, I’ll press on your damn chest until you’re puking out my drink.”

“Shishikura, stop,” Shouto spoke up, his own arm raising as he took a long, slow drink from the other missing rosé bottle. ���These are 2% alcohol, you’ve had them in the fridge for months now, and you never drink them anyways.”

You grinned as you pulled the glass bottle from your lip, your face failing at the fake look of surprise, guilt, and sorrow for your unwanted and unneeded roommate.

“Sorry, they’re such girly drinks. I figured I’d take them off your hands,” you speak with distractingly bright amusement. “Alcoholics like me, we don’t care. Watch out; I might go for your mouth wash if you’re not too careful.”

“You do that, and I’ll poison you like a damn bitch,” Shishikura threatened, his voice in a menacing growl.

“Ooooo, you want me to bark for you, Shishikura? Want me on my hands and knees?” you taunt back, walking backward until you’re collapsing onto the couch besides Shouto. Your arm quickly sneaks between his, and you lay your head on his shoulder. Shishikura’s face is flushed red, his pupils beady as he trembles with concealed rage.

“She’s quite good at it,” Shouto chimes in, the corner of his mouth twitching into an amused smirk as he takes another drink of the weak liquor. He shifts on the couch, allowing you to curl more comfortably at his side; the both of you know just how much your incredibly prude roommate hates any sort of PDA. “Want to hear her bark? She’s also quite good with her tongue.”

As if to emphasize Shouto’s point, you stuck out your tongue, refusing to break eye contact with Shishikura as the tip of your tongue breached the opening of the bottle.

“The actual fuck is wrong with the both of you?!” Shishikura spluttered, his face somehow turning purple and green and red. A truly incredible sight to be had. “‘Childhood friends are great roommates to have’ my fucking ass, you both are monstrosities!”

Shishikura stormed out of the living room, his ears neon red as his purple hair fell to cover his face. As soon as he was out of sight, you turned to Shouto, your tongue removing itself from the bottle and back into your mouth as you began to laugh loudly.

Childhood friends to roommates, ah, what a remarkable story you had with Todoroki Shouto.

It was accurate to relay that you had known Shouto for more than seventeen years now at your current age of twenty-one. Seventeen years of being what is easily seen as the best of friends, the closest companions, and indeed a bond that would withstand time and situation. 

The two of you met during the first week of what was preschool. Although both of you could not remember a single instance of events during this time, your mothers had always been excited to relay this story to you for many years that you could remember. It was odd to try to remember it, but even as they painted a picture of your first interaction, you could do nothing but admit that it sounded exactly like how it could have gone. 

You couldn’t remember being four years old; you don’t recall what it was like to strain your neck to look up at your parents or how it felt to be so utterly dependent but to scream brazenly about your childish independence. Your mother smiles when she retells the story of your first interaction, of how you were holding her hand as she walked you to the building where your preschool was to be had. 

Your hand was so small in hers. Tightly clutching onto her fingers as you looked around at the other children who were also arriving or had already arrived. Some children were bawling by their parents, others aimlessly playing with toys, and some were attempting to talk to one another, but by the apparent looks of curiosity surrounding the babbling and rambling tangents that could only be understood by a firing toddler brain, everyone was getting along. 

A teacher greeted you kindly, squatting down to reach your eye level as they excitedly introduced themselves and asked for your name. You, of course, with your hands clutching the skirts of your mother’s dress, responded with hesitant confidence.

“You’re such a brave girl!” the teacher awed happily, stretching out a hand for you. “Is it okay if I take you from your mom and show you which cubby is yours?”

There was a moment of confusion, then clear understanding hovering over your little head. Your mom looked down with an encouraging smile and pushed you forward.

“Do I get a middle cubby? I don’t want a top one,” you admit, your hand stretching out to grab the teacher’s stretched-out hand. 

Your mother watched on happily as you removed your schoolbag and lunchpail and placed them neatly within the somehow middle cubby marked with your name. The teacher also helped you put on your white school slippers before gesturing towards the bright, colorful room, their mouth moving as if explaining every little detail before pointing at the corner. Your mother tilted her head, curious as she followed the teachers point to the corner of the room where a boy with exceptional red and white hair — split perfectly in the middle — sat quietly, with fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

(Shouto, although he can not remember this day himself, will argue with you and only you that he was, in fact, NOT crying.)

Trying to not allow the shock of the unnatural hair color affect her, your mother watched as you nodded to your new teacher and walked over with clenched fist confidence to the small boy.

She watched as you approached him, your jaw moving as you so obviously spoke, hopefully introducing yourself. The boy looked up at you with bright, wet eyes but seemed to speak right back to you. 

“Alright, parents! Thank you all for dropping off your children! Do not worry. We will take great care of them all, and they are in competent hands! First days are hard for everyone, so if you can exit quietly, I, and the rest of us teachers, would appreciate that greatly!”

Or at least that’s what Rei claimed the teacher said.  However, your mother was watching on with increasing exponential horror as she watched you throw a punch at the air before twisting around and pointing right at her and saying with a voice that was much too loud.

“Punch whoever made you cry, Shouto-chan! My mama says that it is okay to punch bullies!”

Thankfully no one but your mother heard you, and even though she scolded you on the way out, whisper yelling that you “better not punch anyone!” her relief was for naught.

When she would return in the afternoon, a bit late because there had been a hold up on the train, you were pouting sitting on the floor with a scuffled uniform, your arms crossed definitely. Next to you was the boy with red and white hair, equally scuffed next to a white-haired woman and an older white-haired boy.

“Oh my god, what happened?!” she shrieked, racing over to you.

“Y/l/n-san,” the teacher spoke with a tone that indicated disappointment with the subtle undertone of amusement. “Y/n-chan has something to tell you.”

Your mother had taught you many things, she will admit, in your very short life. But sass and annoyment was something not often seen in your household or in you, and to see it so blatantly on your chubby-cheeked face was quickly giving your mother greys.

“Shouto-chan told me that his stupid bully brother Touya was being a meanie, and so I helped him punch him back!” you said with tears in your eyes because you didn’t want to back down from your actions, but you also did not like being scolded. “I don’t regret it!”

“Y/n!”

“Y/n-chan!”

“I don’t either,” Shouto-chan grumbled as your mother collapsed to her knees and began to profusely apologize for you to the woman who was undoubtedly Shouto’s mother. “Touya-nii was making fun of my hair again… y/n-chan helped me, though. Please don’t scold her!”

To say the most in the shortest amount of time, you were, in fact, scolded despite Shouto’s begging. Touya stopped making fun of Shouto’s natural hair. Rei accepted your mother’s apology. The teachers were given two bottles of sake.

And, of course, the most important, the most paramount thing to arise from this first day of school was that your and Todoroki Shouto’s friendship was now bound by blood, sweat, and tears.

Preschool became elementary school, which became middle school, and fading into highschool.

It was without saying that your relationship, your friendship with Todoroki Shouto, was probably one of the biggest, most defining parts of your entire life. He was there when your first tooth fell out, when he dropped ice cubes down people’s shirts, you two had bathed together when you were young, had sleepovers well past the age where him being a boy and you being a girl should have made things weird. You laughed when his voice cracked and dropped, he elbowed your chest plenty when you began growing boobs, you taunted his lack of body hair, he bought you your favorite ice cream and heating packs on your first period. You attended cram school together, went to the park and beaches on days off from school. You were partners in every school activity except under specific circumstances. He had listened to you when you told him excitedly about your first kiss when you turned fourteen, and you laughed when he said at the age of fifteen that he had still yet to kiss anyone.

Everyone always claimed, always asked, wondered, and whispered if the two of you were dating. Childhood friends still this close and not dating? Unheard of; practically illegal! Nevertheless, you ignored the disappointed frowns or the hopeful grins as you and Shouto both denied any sort of romantic connection.

Soon the both of you were in high school, and Shouto was mere days from turning sixteen. Much like when the both of you were when you were four years old, you seemed to be the one spouting many words — sometimes unnecessary words that wound you both up in trouble — of wisdom. You were loud when you needed, talking most of the time only to him and your surprisingly large group of friends. (You weren’t that surprised. Everyone wanted to be friends with the handsome, could easily be royalty or a model, Todoroki Shouto.) Shouto remained, for better or worse, quiet, reserved, and a bit awkward. He was a sweet boy, don’t get it wrong, and you would protect him until the end of your days, but the boy was a complete airhead and relied on you for interpreting social interactions.

“Camie-senpai wants me to go over to her house after my birthday,” Shouto explains, his hands exchanging his school shoes for his outdoor ones. “Something about wanting to do that one second-year first-year student project thing for the third years right away.”

“You have Camie?” you ask, slumping against the metal lockers with a slight thud. “Lucky, she’s so nice… I have stupid Agoyamato. Have you had a conversation with him? It’s actually the worst! He thinks he’s all that!”

“I’m sure it’ll be okay; you’re nice enough that he won’t be like… that,” Shouto smiles, slinging his bag on his shoulders before nudging his head towards the exit. “Ready?”

“Am I ever ready?” you ask with a whine but nevertheless proceed onward.

Time passed, and between cram school, actual school, some clubs, eventually January 11th passed and you held an ice cream cake that Shouto loved. You ate the cake together, relaxing as you sat in the warmth of his kitchen.

“Happy birthday, Shoucchan, never change!” you chirp, shoving his arm that rose to place the piece of cake in his mouth with your shoulder and watched as the sweet pastry splattered on top of the table. “...um?”

“I’ll give you ten seconds to run.”

“Only ten?! What about the happy birthday boy.”

“Oh, true. Three seconds to run.”

“Why?!”

“It’s my birthday.”

An hour later, when your stomach hurt from laughing too much and the sickly sweet weight of too much ice cream cake, you lay snuggled into Shouto’s side as the both of you watched some old movie.

“Thanks for always being here for me,” you mumble, eyes growing heavy as the heat of Shouto’s body began to lull you to sleep.

“I’m always here for you,” Shouto softly responded, hand gliding up and down the curve of your spine. “We should get you home. Your mom yelled and nearly skinned us both the last time you fell asleep here.”

“Only cuz she’s scared that we’ll have some sudden revelation we like each other and fuck each other’s brains out,” you groaned, absolutely not content with having to move. With your face buried in your hands now, you missed the weird pattern in Shouto’s chest over that.

“Come on, let’s go.”

“...fine, just because it’s your birthday.”

The next day, when Shouto followed Camie home instead of you, there was something that made you feel off as you waved at them goodbye. It wasn’t jealousy, that much you knew, but something worse when you watched the way your never-been-kissed-before best friend was ignorant to the dark eyes Camie sent his way.

To be quite honest, you’re not sure if you should be as surprised as you are when you get a phone call at ten p.m. to the sound of a confused, suppressed, overwhelmed voice of your best friend asking if you could confirm if Camie had fucked him. You then stayed on the phone for Shouto until well past two a.m., your heart hurting as he recounted the memory over and over again. You weren’t sure as to why your heart was breaking. By the sounds of it, Shouto had actually enjoyed it, but with every stammer to his voice, you felt lightyears away.

Most shockingly, however, was the effects this had on Shouto and his overall persona.

From ages four until fifteen, Todoroki Shouto was someone who was quiet, observant, took things a bit too literally, at all times was entirely precious in the way he interacted with people, and most importantly, unaware of the female population who lusted after him. It worked well for you because it was fun to tease him about things, nag him about how he was sixteen, and hadn’t been kissed even though if he asked any girl at school to kiss him, they definitely would. 

But sixteen-year-old Todoroki Shouto was a new shift, a new paradigm for you to learn. It wasn’t that he wasn’t confident before, but now he emitted a sense of confidence that he was aware of, that everyone was aware of. He became mature, sophisticated, styled even. He was still at times quiet, always completely observant. He rarely took things literally and understood rhetoric and sarcasm and hyperboles. Long gone were the days of preciousness, and instead, there was a sense of a predator on the hunt that bled in the way that he talked to people. Most importantly, however, he was fully aware of the female population and precisely who was lusting after him.

He flirted with women and girls. You would find him leaning against the lockers talking with them, somehow trapping them despite not actually trapping them. A new girl was sitting at your table with him practically every week in high school, each girl asking for the hundredth millionth time that the both of you were not dating. Some girls were even bold enough to apologize to you for stealing your best friend — as if you wanted Shouto.

You had already seen his dick, thank you very much (although the last time you saw it was well before you were nine years old), you weren’t missing out on how it probably looked now! Honestly, you had no idea how Shouto never managed to run out of female students to fuck, the school wasn’t that large, and he seemed to go through a few a week sometimes.

But he was your best friend, your childhood friend, and no matter how many girls came crawling back to your lunch table, bawling to Shouto to take him back, soaking the fabric of your skirt to help convince him to take her back, you stayed. You stayed, accepting the fact that your best friend had become an awkward teenage boy and turned into some high school sex freak.

You stayed when his shaggy hairstyle was clipped and became short.

Overnight, just as he went from being a complete virgin to not one, he went from a scrawny sixteen-year-old boy to a leanly built eighteen-year-old hot-ass heartthrob womanizer.

High school wasn’t forever. Even though it took you about a year to accept and integrate Shouto’s new sex life and behavior into your daily lifestyle with him (he always left four of the three days open for you as all his relationships were casual only). Soon enough, the both of you relaxed and found your own relationship to be entirely the same, and when university exams and applications came about, it was decided that yet again, the both of you would follow each other anywhere.

Which is where you were now.

Tokyo University,  a third-year student, living in an upscale three-person apartment with your best friend, of course. Shouto plus someone who practically begged in the most unbegging way to live with you.

Todoroki Shouto and Shishikura Seiji in the same apartment as you made for an interesting combination.

You hadn’t wanted Shishikura Seiji as a roommate at all. Period. 

There were about eleven other people you only considered asking, but they all said no for their own reasons. Bakugou and Midoriya had found their own apartment closer to the University, and for much cheaper, Kirishima and Mina were RA’s and could not move in. Kaminari said he liked Sero’s couch too much to leave, and Sero couldn’t live in an apartment without a balcony. Momo said the room was too small, Jirou said she’d rather continue living with Momo, Uraraka said it was a tad bit too much for her to afford (to be fair, you didn’t have to pay because the Todoroki’s were paying for your housing, but you understood), Tsuyu and Hagakure said they were living at home. Iida said he would be too uncomfortable living with a couple.

Everyone you found on the street wouldn’t accept your offer. Hence, Shouto invited the meatball and rosé obsessed Shishikura Seiji to live with the two of you simply because he was Shouto’s lab partner in one of his advanced physics classes. Stupid chemical engineering nerd.

At twenty-one years, you can now say that you’ve entirely adjusted to Shouto’s womanizer ways. Too often do you find yourself sitting at the kitchen counter, a steaming cup of tea in your hand as you drink it in slowly, watching with much amusement as either a no-name girl leaves or a walk of shame Shouto enters. It happens at most five times a week; you were used to it. While the unease had finally left, you had to admit you were impressed your best friend could easily sleep around as he did and maintain his outstanding grades.

However, just because you were finally used to Shouto’s womanizer tendencies didn’t mean the world was. Even in University, your fellow students would ask with wide eyes and behind flat palms if the two of you were dating — specifically if Shouto was cheating on you or if it was an open relationship. You would each and every time, smile cheekily, shake your head and say with a roll of your eyes: “No, we’re not dating. He’s not cheating, and no, this is nothing more than us being best friends. Sho is too much of a jealous person to allow for an open relationship.”

Somehow, the constant begging of approval and the erasure of any romantic connection between you and Shouto from the plethora of female students at Tokyo University wasn’t even the most annoying part of it all. No, not at all.

What really ground your nerves was a pattern you noticed when you were eighteen.

Unlike Shouto, you hadn’t had the chance to lose your virginity until you were eighteen. Most of the boys who liked you always assumed you and Shouto were dating, the ones who gathered the courage to ask you out anyways were boys you were less than impressed with. By some act of some higher god, your crush — the school's third-year baseball team's captain when you were a first-year — reappeared in your life and asked you out. It wasn’t your best decision, you can fully admit it, but he was friendly and sweet as he fucked you in his small bed.

You hadn’t expected sex to be like that, and if you had enjoyed this, you couldn’t help but wonder just how Shouto was in bed to have girls behaving like that.

However, the spell was broken when he helped you change back into your clothes, and he begged you not to tell Shouto he was the person you cheated on him with.

It was on this day that it clicked.

What went for him, unfortunately, went for you too.

Except where girls rose to the challenge to dethrone you from Shouto’s side (a shame because they were vying for a seat that you had no claim over), the boys lowered their head like some damn omega to Shouto’s alpha.

Disgusting.

Even with the plentiful, plethora, consistent denial of your relationship with Shouto, even with the tally of girls, Shouto’s bedded (and more excitedly, deflowered — ugh!) rose consistently, no one ever really believed you weren’t dating him! Too many a time, you had been centimeters from making out with a guy for them to pull away, screeching that they couldn’t allow you to betray Shouto. The men who didn’t care were sleezebags, and thus, with a growl and a snarl, you found that you were only able to fuck men who thought jackhammering their fingers into your labia — yes, your labia — would make you cum.

You didn’t want to say you hated your childhood best friend for such duplicitous, selfish reasons… but you did.

But today was Saturday, a few months into the new second semester of the school year, and with school spirit once again high and workload low. The entire campus was brimming with parties, celebrations, alcohol drinking competition, sleazy dancing, and enough sexual tension to kill all celibate people.

So, we look back to where we started.

Shishikura Seiji running away as you nestled back against Shouto’s chest.

“I didn’t think he was actually going to drink these things,” Shouto sighed, spinning the last few remaining drinks of his rosé in his hand. “It’s been in the fridge for almost five months.”

“He probably made his meatballs again and needed something terrible to blame the flavor on,” you half joke half say in complete seriousness. You were not fond of Shishikura at all, and he was not fond of you either. He had a tendency to mansplain everything, which continuously ground on your nerves, especially when he had no jurisdiction to act so confidently.

He was a physics major, not a goddamn god.

Fuck off.

“I feel sorta bad,” Shouto sighs, his hand low and warm on your waist. “But I will admit, these drinks are practically like carbonated water.”

“2% alcohol,” you stress, your grin widening as you pull away from his chest to stare at him. Your gaze is bright, and his eyes are filled with amusement. “You’re either the world's lightest lightweight or a child with no tolerance to actually expect to get drunk off this shit.”

“I think you’re slurring your words already though, you sure you’re okay, lightweight?” Shouto teases, his soft smirk teasing.

“Who was the one who took three shots and passed out?” you wonder innocently, finger to your chin as if you were trying to remember.

“At least I don’t throw up when I crossfade.”

“IT'S NOT MY FAULT. MY BIOLOGY JUST HAPPENS TO WORKS THAT WAY!”

“Alright, bitch,” Shouto snorts, completely unattractively, “hurry up and get ready, yeah? We have a party we’re already late to, and we have no drinks for an actual pregame.”

You squeal excitedly, having forgotten the massive party that was being held a few blocks away. “I’ll be ready in ten!”

Typically, when you went out partying, you went with the group of eleven people you would have rather replaced Shishikura as a roommate. To get ready for said parties, you would always find yourself at Momo’s place with an outfit change, makeup bag, and hair styling items. You had made it a tradition with the other girls to get ready together. The only exceptions to which this wouldn’t happen was when someone had a work event or some family thing come up.

In your case, you had been stuck at a professor's office, diligently helping to put together their research journal as they were in their final steps of publishing their findings. Due to your friendly relationship with your professor, the time had been lost, and your ten p.m. call time to arrive at Momo’s had been missed with a quick:

↳ held up at work! go on without me, sorry! see you at the party!!!!

When you crashed through the front door of your apartment, you froze, seeing Shouto in the hallway by the mirror. Sometime between getting his haircut to be shorter and from this day, he had begun to style his hair by threading it back by his fingers, and boy, it looked fucking good. He was already dressed up for the party. Black joggers, a white t-shirt that was a bit too small if the tight, seductive way it clung to his muscles spoke of anything, and a hoodie he had no care about in case he lost it after taking it off once getting there. Shouto was practically immune to all weather types, he could be in both snow or fire without a single worry, but he knew that a large sweatshirt that smelled like him was enough to hook and line any truly desperate female.

Shouto had chuckled, taking in your frazzled state with years of practice and nudged toward the fridge, already knowing that you had missed your pregaming with the girls.

“Shishikura has two rosés left. Grab ‘em, and we can pregame together.”

But that was all unimportant and already said.

In the end, it took you thirty minutes to get ready.

You had practically smeared on your makeup, hoping the warm, crazy miscoloring would be hidden within the crazy light show the party would definitely be displaying. Your outfit consisted of a tank top that exposed your cleavage and a skirt that hugged your legs and ass just right.

You came stumbling out of your room, fingers trying to shove on your earrings, the rings on your fingers clicking loudly against each other. You smiled breathily, gratefully accepting Shouto’s sweater as you slipped on your comfortable heels at the doorway before hurrying out.

Shouto kept an arm around your shoulder the entire way out, the immense heat of his body keeping you warm as his sweater rested lazily, awkwardly, around your shoulders and arms. You didn’t want to put it entirely on to save your makeup, and in case anyone had any fucking thing to say about the show you and Shouto were putting on. Eventually, the bright and comical conversation between you and Shouto began to grow louder as the pounding of dance music began to ring in your ears. Soon enough, you passed a few drunk people, more and more, until you reached the house where the party was.

Shoving the sweatshirt into Shouto’s chest, you grinned as the smell of alcohol, weed, over-cologne men and women, the faint smell of puke, and the gross crawl of BO flooded your nose.

Ah yes, nothing like a university party.

Shouto laughs at your evident piqued excitement, and after he pulls on the light blue sweatshirt, he grabs your hand, and into the overcrowded home you go.

The intense heat of overcrowded bodies on a dance floor that also makes up a drinking game floor makes you grateful for your choice of clothes. Everyone around you is already drunk, sloshed, intoxicated off their ass as unknown drinks spill from their red Solo cups, sometimes even raining down on you. You grimace as Shouto continues to pull you through. You can taste the Hennesy on your upper lip and somehow know that whoever was drinking it was a freshman with a vendetta to kill his liver and love for drinking before coming of legal age.

“What do you want to drink?” Shouto yells over the nearly obnoxiously loud music. He has his sight on the drinks counter. “Mixed or the juice?”

“Fuck me up with the jungle juice!” you yell right back, pressing to his side as two dancing (see, vigorously dry-humping) nearly trample on top of you. “Parties are meant to be a non-sober event. I need to be borderline blacked out five hours ago!”

The agreeing chuckle from Shouto isn’t heard by you at all, but you can feel his chest give a familiar vibration as finally, he pulls you from the sea of bodies to where the floor is especially wet and sticky. You’ve reached the bar area.

Grabbing your own red Solo Cup, you watch as Shouto makes his own drink. Heavy on the alcohol, light on the mixer, and a good handful of ice (he’s always liked the cold better). His hand reaches for your cup and you offer your cup up as he opens up an ice chest filled with neon-colored jungle juice.

When the drink is returned to you, the both of you cheers and take a long drink.

“Y/N!”

“Y/N-CHAN!”

“You’re finally here, you fucking slut! Getcha fat ass over here now!”

Your neck is twisted to see the absolutely plastered group of girls you considered to be your closest friends, and you laugh loudly.

“Seems like I’m needed,” you yell at Shouto, trying your best to act nonchalantly as he smiles knowingly at you. “Text me about what you decide to do if we don’t see each other?”

“Of course,” he simply responds before placing the curve of his cup back onto his lip as hands grabbed your arms and whisked you away.

In a matter of sixty minutes, you all had played five drinking games.

The girls felt it was imperative to get you to their level right away, so they started off with a game of King’s Cup. Not only was the deck rigged against you — you pulled all four of the four cards and thus had to chug four times — but you had drawn the last King and drank some weird concoction of jungle juice, a tequila shot, a vodka shot, and whatever the fucking hell Mina was drinking. How you managed to chug that and stay on your feet was beyond you, but it was without saying that you had utterly and inevitably caught up with the girls.

After the King's Cup came the Flip Cup game, your team won thankfully due to Mina’s one flip wonder as Kaminari struggled to down the shot in the cup.

After Flip Cup came Smoke or Fire, a game that had Tsuyu stuck on the bus for a record-breaking one round. No one could believe she did that.

Then came a round of Shot Roulette to end with what you were currently doing now, using a drinking card game Momo had made in her spare time to do embarrassing things at random.

Five games in an hour… you questioned if there was by any chance illegal substances in the jungle juice because it had felt like a whopping two minutes.

“It’s midnight!” Hagakure hollered, stumbling backward as she grinned in drunken, stupid happiness. She giggled before singing, “Midnight… memoriessss~!”

Mina groaned at the reference but completely perked up as the dance music changed suddenly from its slightly mellow, good vibe song to none other than Everytime We Touch by Cascada. By tradition, by applicable law by all and every god, when this one song played, everyone needed to stop what they were doing and immediately head to the dance floor.

With your hand slightly sticky with alcohol, and your mind absolutely clouded with alcohol, you whooped loudly as Mina dragged you to the dancefloor. 

You, seven girls, formed a closed circle, your Solo cups sloshing over with alcohol, and your faces scrunched tight as you danced and sang as loudly as you could. Each pounding beat of music vibrated in your chest, each offkey note sung by the party-goers making you feel light, happy, dizzy, and oh so perfectly drunk. For just a split moment, you lock eyes with Shouto, who’s across the dance floor, his arms wrapped around some girl you don’t recognize, eyes drinking you in. You smile for a bit before turning back around, arms rocketing up to the air with your excitement.

Although the song ended, the DJ continued to play bangers, and you never once stopped in your mirthful dancing and grinding against your friends as the night continued to carry on. But when you spun out from Mina, your entire world spinning with it, a pair of warm, heavy, large hands rested on your waist, and you laughed.

“Who is this?” you ask, head slamming backward to try and look at the person who had caught you yet hadn’t tried grinding against you. “Oh, Inasa? Hi!”

Yoarashi Inasa was one of your University's well-known jocks. He was a skilled runner, one of the best Japan has ever seen despite his body type telling you he was a bodybuilder. Immediately your smile of idiotic stupor became intentful, seductive, still bordering extreme intoxication. Was Inasa your type? No, not really, but you could reasonably and accurately say that he was a handsome man, with a fantastic body, not to mention a pleasant personality.

You also itched to know what his dick looked like.

This was definitely someone you could see yourself fucking tonight.

“Hi, y/l/n,” Inasa said, his naturally loud voice easily picked up on despite the music being blasted in your ear. “How’s your night going?”

You lick your dry lips, eyes blinking a few times before you turn in his arms, your arms stretching so that you could wrap them around his neck. “Better now that you’re here,” you smile shyly. “How’s yours.”

“Ahem,” Inasa blushes, his eyes staring straight at your cleavage before looking back up at you. “H-Hoping to get better from here! Well, I’m sure it will be.”

“Oh?” you ask, your confidence building faster and faster as you press further against him. “Anything you have in mind?” —you press your thigh suggestively against the semi-hard spot against his jeans. — “Anyway... I can... help?”

Inasa groans deep in his chest, his head knocking backward at your implications, the pleasant vibrations passing on to you. You grin, fingers scraping against the bottom of his buzzcut and bringing him closer, praying for a kiss. But as he returns his head back down, his gaze leaves yours for a split second, and you watch in horror as a sobering look washes over him.

“Actually… you’re here with some random dude, right? I don’t want to step on his toes. I thought I saw you come in with some guy; sorry y/l/n, I can’t do this.”

And just as quickly as he was against you, he was gone.

It took everything in you not to screech bloody murder over the fact that you were once again left horny with no man to take responsibility for it.

Calculated Rate of Not Getting Dicked Down When I Want to Get Dicked Down When Coming to a Party With Shouto: 78% Calculated Rate of Not Getting Dicked Down When I Want to Get Dicked Down When Coming to a Party Without Shouto: 22%

Walking home alone, cold, and with extreme bitterness towards Yoarashi Inasa was a sadly sobering experience. By the time you collapsed onto your bed, you were only slightly buzzed, boarding sobriety while not being sober exactly.

Fuck men.

Fuck their cowardness over a nonexistent romantic/sexual relationship between you and Shouto.

But also… you really wanted to fuck men right now.

The slicked horniness of the potential thought of bedding Inasa had made its unignorable appearance via your soaked panties. You hated yourself, hated your biological needs and lusts.

“I’ll wring Shouto’s neck in front of all of them next time,” you grumble to yourself. “Stage a fake breakup for an imaginary thing…”

Nestling further into your pillows, your eyes closed, body relaxing against the bed when a peculiar sound seemed to echo in your ear.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

Your eyes slammed open, your jaw-dropping at the very obvious, entirely embarrassing sound of Shouto having sex on his desk sounded in your room! Of course it sounded in your room. His desk was pressed to your wall because that would mean whenever he was his icky womanizer self, you wouldn’t have to hear anything! Your rooms were soundproof but apparently not movement proof.

The thwack of the wood desk slammed against the wall, and with your ear so close to the wall, you began to hear the shaky, intense breathing of Shouto. The whines, keens, and screams of the girl he was fucking as she begged for more. Sobbing that his cock was too much for her.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Your panties soaked even more, and with a brain that somehow retracted back into its state of stupor, your fingers brushed against your swollen, ready clit.

This was wrong, so very, very wrong, you thought, the sounds of pitched whining against the stupidly impressive, steady, consistent fucking.

Your mind was a drunken fever. 

Your eyes closed not all the way, yet blind to the wall before you as your finger danced and teased against your demanding clit.

You whined softly, matching the groaning of Shouto, who banged something other than the desk into the wall.

For a moment, just this once, you wanted to be the one desperately clinging to Shouto’s back, hips snapping and circling in tandem to his, allowing him to drill his cock deep within you. Your back arched, heat reaching your toes, buzzing filling your lips.

“Yes, fuck, right there, Todoroki!” the girl screamed, begged, and prayed. “Oh my god, yes, yes yes, right there, right the— mmph!”

You find your teeth sinking into your fist, trying to keep your pounding, horny induced brain from crying out. You wanted to know what he was doing to her, if he had kissed her silent, shoved his fingers in her mouth. Maybe he had fucked her so good she couldn’t possibly say more.

There is nothing from Shouto you can hear, no noises of praise, nothing except the occasional ragged breath that seems to permeate through the walls and whisper sweetly, teasingly, like a succumbs in your ear.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

It increases, in noise, the wall separating your room from his beginning to rattle, shake in his conquest.

Your fingers are wet, entirely slippery with your conquest, your hips thrashing against your touch, clinging to a phantom memory of the last male you had managed to fuck. Then, as your stomach trembles with the orgasm that's mere seconds from blessing you with a release, you hear him—Shouto.

“Fuck.”

It’s not much. If anything, this girl should be so embarrassed she hasn’t been able to elicit a loud response from Shouto, but it’s a verbal gift from heaven above for you. His voice, tight, husky, drenched with a driving lust, whispers to you and only you, wrapping you in this blanket of solitude and need. 

With your back arching from the mattress, your hips leaving the soft surface, and your jaw growing slack, your moan is silent, unheard by no one but the heavens as you cum. Heat floods throughout your entire body, tickling and twirling in you until you can’t do anything but shudder, shaking as you fall back down on your bed, dizzy and completely satisfied. 

You don’t think about it.

Don’t try to unpack just what happened right now because the reality that you had just masturbated to the sound of your childhood best friend fucking some random girl is a bit too much. Even for you.

So you don’t think about it, and soon the thudding of the desk on the wall is nothing but a drumming lullaby, and sleep consumes you.

When you wake up, you don’t remember what you did.

You get up and trudge to the bathroom, your party clothes abandoned completely so that you’re wearing nothing but a large shirt you had stolen from Shouto years ago. You scratch your belly as you walk into the bathroom, eyes caked with your sleep still as you begin brushing your teeth.

As you brush your teeth, you begin to take off last night's makeup — well, whatever remained of it.

Spitting out the last foamy remains of the paste from your mouth, you rinsed your mouth before washing your skin. You looked much more awake now. Slapping your cheeks in an encouraging, ‘im a functional human adult taking part in some random face wash commercial,’ you exited the bathroom and went to the kitchen. 

Shishikura was already in the kitchen, his face expressionless, entirely dead to the world as he scooped some rice into a bowl and topped it off with some eggs.

“Morning,” you yawn, arms stretching over your head as you near closer to your unwanted roommate.

Shishikura sneers at you, but even he was more polite in the morning, sometimes.

“I heard the both of you get back last night,” Shishikura mocked, slamming the lid to his rice cooker with an unimpressed scowl. “You were thirty minutes apart. You know, if you two still want to be partying like a bunch of eighteen-year-olds, do it respectfully.”

Your smile back at him is as fake as he is, and you refuse to move out of the way as he tries to walk back to his room. He growls — gross? — and sidesteps you, grumbling the entire way back to his room as you roll your eyes at his retreating form.

What a child.

You entered the kitchen, fixing up your own things for breakfast.

Kettle brewing hot water for tea, rice cooker on for your own rice (you make enough for Shouto too), and you begin cooking some ham and eggs, readying yourself for a Sunday for going to the library and studying. You hummed to yourself, your phone plugged into the speaker as your music filled the quiet morning air.

You bobbed your head in rhythm with the music, your eyes concentrating on slowly cooking eggs as you poured the hot water from your kettle into the teacup. As you placed your teabag in, you looked up to the sound of a creaking door and grinned wickedly as a girl with light blue hair walked out of the hall you and Shouto’s room were in.

Her dress was rumbled, a few blooming red and purple marks sitting prettily on her collarbone, and her face flushed red as she began to scurry out.

“Bye!” you call out, laughing at the scared eep from the girl and the disgruntled groan from Shouto’s room.

You set down your tea, flipping the eggs in the pan as you heard more shuffling before finally, Shouto made his appearance. He was in nothing but grey sweatpants that sat so low on his waist you could not only see the band of his boxer-briefs, but you were entirely aware of the v-lines, the abs, the pecs, and the small happy trail from his belly button down. You also noted that there was not a single mark on his body, and you wondered if he had ever taken a single mark from a one-night fuck before.

God really cursed you with an objectively attractive best friend, huh.

“Morning, slut,” you sing, noticing with happiness that your rice cooker sang a merry tune, indicating that the rice was done. “Breakfast?”

“Mm,” Shouto grumbled, his hands rubbing his face as he trudged closer to the kitchen, taking a spot on one of the stools. “Depends. Did you make it?”

“...I always make it.”

“I think I like Shishikura’s breakfast better.”

Silence.

You glare at Shouto, and in turn, his lips press to a comfortable, teasing smile.

“Fend for your damn self then.”

Shouto laughed loudly as you began to stubbornly fix yourself a bowl of both your servings. You ate far less than he did, but still enough to fill you until after three pm, so the size of your bowl was hysterical. 

“You’re such a horrible wife-roommate,” Shouto accuses, standing up from the stool and entering the kitchen to try and persuade you otherwise to give him his own food. “And here I thought that you liked cooking for me.”

“Go tell your stupid wife-roommate Shishikura instead,” you cry loudly, the faux sniffles from you stupidly fake as you begin to shovel a mouthful of rice and eggs into your mouth. “I’m shwure you’chll beh happ t’gther!”

“That’s absolutely disgusting, y/l/n,” Shouto accuses, his nose scrunching as he traps you in his arms, mouth trying to intercept the food moving from your bowl and into your mouth. 

With another desire to prove how unsatisfied in your roommate-marriage you were, you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue full of uneaten, partially chewed rice.

“Ea’ eh!” you mocked, your grin growing as Shouto’s initial instinct was to whip his head away from you.

But as always, because Shouto enjoyed being incredibly annoying, he went after your tongue, readying to eat the chewed-up food off your very tongue. 

Eventually, you gave Shouto back his part of the breakfast, laughing as the both of you chatted about who was going to repay Shishikura for the used rosés. Neither one of you could decide, and so it was something to be solved later. Noon, however, came and with a nod, you accepted Shouto’s hug goodbye, to which you twisted his nose triumphantly as you waddled out of the front door, clothed in your winter gear, textbooks, and laptop,

It was time to brave the world and get this paper done.

“Mina, I mean… absolutely no offense when I say this, but it still shocks me every time you say you’re a chemistry major. You just seem so…”

“Dumb?”

“Yeah.”

“You gotta be some kind of stupid to willingly take inorganic chem,” Mina laughed, balancing her textbooks on her head as the both of you climbed the stairwell to the library’s study rooms. “That's why I have the dance minor! Best of both worlds!”

“Could never forget about that,” you laughed as the both of you neared the top of the stairwell.

You didn’t mean to notice him. As a matter of fact, most of your failed conquests at parties never amounted to much anger from you, but seeing Inasa from across the way, his face buried in some aerodynamics textbook, anger boiled in you. On the way to meeting with Mina, you had realized your mistake last night and how you wouldn’t have made said mistake if it hadn’t been for Inasa! You could’ve been dicked down, slammed against your bed and wall as the giant of a man fucked you!

“I’ll be right back,” you sneered, eyes narrowing as you passed your textbook to Mina.

With fire following in ever long, powerful stride, you blinked and immediately found yourself before Inasa.

“Hi. Wanna explain what happened last night?”

Inasa reacted as if you had shot him, his knees coming up to hit the table, his body knocking backward, and he tumbled, crashing to the floor as you watched with a gaping mouth.

“Y-Y/L/N!” Inasa shouted, his face going through half a billion emotions before settling in anxiety-filled fear. You watched, horrified yourself, as he swung to his knees, his head crashing to the floor as he began apologizing to you. “GOODMORNING, HOW ARE YOU TODAY?!”

“Pipe it down, Inasa!” you hiss, your cheeks flooding with embarrassed heat as you garnered the attention of everyone on the floor. “I’m not going to hurt you! I just wanted to talk!”

“Aha, yes, of course!” Inasa laughs, a full belly laugh. He sits up and you freeze seeing the bloodied cut on his forehead. He stands up, completely unaffected by the gash on his forehead, and uprights his chair before sitting comfortably. “How can I help you?”

“What happened to you last night?” you try again, eyebrow raised, arms crossed definitely and awkwardly because yeah… you were confronting a guy who didn't want to sleep with you. “You were into me and then suddenly wasn’t.”

Inasa laughs more, although nothing you said, implied, or did was even remotely funny.

Irritation runs through your veins.

“Inasa, please,” you sigh in helplessness, your eyes annoyed, pleading, and hopeful that he would be the one to finally give you an actual reason.

“It’s… it’s not you. If that’s what you’re wondering,” Inasa finally sighs. His face turns uncharacteristically solemn as his tongue passes through his lips, his shoulders raising to a shrug. “Typically speaking, you are exactly who and what I want when I endeavor in less than chivalrous but still passionate activities. I wanted you last night, and I will not lie that even as I left, I regretted behaving as I did.”

“Well, you did it, and it sorta really sucked,” you laugh, your mouth taut in a frown as your feelings are genuinely hurt.

You keep being put down, and there’s no reason for it.

Why couldn’t you be as sexually active as you wish you could be?

“...Todoroki has a claim on you,” Inasa spoke slowly, his mouth dipping from a usual smile to a frown. “I know you guys aren’t together, but in a way, you two are.”

“No,” you say with complete certainty, anger burning in your chest, “we’re not.”

“Try telling Todoroki that,” Inasa shrugs, his fingers scratching through his buzz cut. “Listen, I wanted to have intercourse with you last night; I did. I also am aware that Todoroki is a womanizer, but he said you were off-limits for all of us.”

“He said that?” your voice is perfectly calm, not showing the raging fire in you.

“Well, no, he definitely did not,” Inasa sighs, the palm of his hands pressing tightly against his eyes. “He has never said it… but it’s the way he talks about you, how he looks at you. It’s a claim on you, even if it’s not a verbal one, and well, no one wants to defy him.”

Your nostrils flare in your irritation, and you find that you’re stepping into Inasa’s personal space, his eyes going wide as you step between his legs and press your hands on his chest.

“I’ll be going home in about five hours. If you still want to fuck me, wait for me,” you say slowly, trying to make sure he understands. “I don’t care if Sho looks at me the way he does; he is not my boyfriend.”

Inasa gulps, his tan skin sporting a healthy pink flush, “Yes, ma’am.”

Five hours later, you’re walking into your apartment with Inasa behind you, his warm, slightly sweaty hand clasped in yours. You make eye contact with both your roommates, Shishikura, whose eyes are rolling to the depths of his skull, and Shouto, who looks like a wall. You, despite the anger you’re feeling for Shouto, smile prettily, then grin wolfishly as you corral Inasa towards your room. You send your roommates a wink before closing the door with a decisive click.

Much like you assumed the night prior, your drunken hazed, lust-driven, anger-flared thoughts proved to be right. Inasa fucked you against the wall, deep into the mattress, he drilled and fucked you until his dick was wet with your slick, and his leg was trembling with his plentiful unleashed loads. But you weren’t done yet, too many times have you been denied, and even though Inasa was trembling, his voice shaking with desperate pleas to slow down or he would cum too fast, you rode him with powerful, swiveling hips.

Once he left, you felt light again.

Your head light, body glowing as you dressed your bruised, cum slick body in a robe as you trudged to the bathroom. You showered, letting the warm water and sweet-smelling oils drench your body before you eventually exited, your hair in a towel, Shouto’s shirt on your person again.

Waltzing to the living room, you grinned as you collapsed on the couch, every grievance you held when you walked in forgotten at the moment.

“Hello,” you smile, your head falling onto Shouto’s lap who was, at the moment, very interested in his phone. Shishikura was gone, undoubtedly leaving in case he heard something he didn’t want to hear during your little four-hour sexscapade. “I am a leaf flowing through the river right now, if you’re wondering.”

“Don’t need to wonder. You were perfectly loud enough,” Shouto grumbled, his eyes rolling. “Says something that I could, considering the rooms are soundproof.”

“I should hope so! After you, the girls rave that Inasa is the best fuck on campus,” you hum, still on a delirious high as you attempt to reach for your best friend's hand to grasp. But to your shock, Shouto jerks away from your touch, and he stands, letting your head fall roughly on the couch. And just like that, your anger is back. The emotion Inasa had managed to fuck out of you for a bit returned at full force. “Shouto?!”

“What?” he snaps.

“What the fuck is your problem?!”

“My problem is that you brought someone to fuck at fucking five p.m.,” Shouto explains, his expression like the void, empty, dark, menacing. “We agreed to keep it until past ten.”

Your face screws up as you push up off the couch, “Are you kidding me?! I’ve seen you constantly bring girls to fuck at any and all times of the day! Don’t suddenly bring that shit in when it clearly isn’t an actual rule in this apartment!”

“You were also being obnoxiously loud,” Shouto narrows his eyes at you.

“You are too!”

“When am I ever?”

“I literally listened to you fuck that girl last night against our shared wall!”

“You moved your bed to our shared wall?! When?!”

“Doesn’t matter! I would’ve heard it just fine on the other side!”

“The girl wasn’t even that fucking loud!” 

“You can’t ever remember the names of the girls you fuck! Do you know anything about them ever? Are you even using condoms?!”

“You only ever fuck men with questionable personalities.”

“Gee, I wonder fucking why!”

The two of you were nose to nose, anger flaring and near tangible between the two of you.

“What do you mean?” he grits slowly.

“I’m talking about you mad dogging any male human who so much as looks or thinks of me!” you snap, finger shoving between his pecs. “No one touches me because somehow they respect the way a womanizer looks at me.”

“I’m not looking at you in any special way,” Shouto squints his eyes, completely not having your accusations.

“Even if you don’t, this fucking behavior is pathetic of you!” you say, hands motioning between you two and the room. “I had sex, and you’re acting like some pathetic child! I have been putting up with your sex-craze tendencies since we were sixteen, asshole! Sixteen! If I want to gloat and float about having sex, then I fucking deserve to.”

His nostrils flare, his upper lip curling in a small twitch before he rolls his eyes and walks away.

“That’s right, Todoroki,” you laugh bitterly at his retreating form. “Walk away from a fight because you can never win them.”

It took a bit for the dust to settle, but as soon as it did, you realized in horror that you and Shouto had, for the first time ever, fought.

Being roommates with Shouto was always a fun thing. Having your childhood best friend right at your disposal meant that you could have dinner nights, movie nights, game nights, morning waffles, hikes, and literally anything whenever and wherever you wanted. He was a person to talk to when the days were long, and there was no one else in the world, the person who was there for you through thick and thin. But for two days, he had been locked away in his room, unwilling to look at you, refusing to be anywhere near you.

Your friends had noticed immediately.

The way the both of you hadn’t shown up together, the way you sat at opposite ends of the table, refusing to be trapped in a conversation together. Separate the two of you were, and the world acted as if Earth had dropped out of gravity.

You could care less right now.

You were rightfully mad at him! How dare he act so pettily over you having a sex life when you were expected to blink, turn the other way, and laugh when he would shower after a girl would leave before joining you on the couch to watch a movie. He was in the wrong, not you!

But even if you were unwilling to budge and he was refusing to see things the way they should be, you were now incredibly lonesome. So as you sat with your back on the mattress. Your butt to the wall, and your legs kicking against the wall, you thought of what you could do. With a bitter sigh, you rolled off your bed and scurried out of the apartment. Nothing but your wallet and ID on you so that you could get to the store on the first floor of the complex.

Holding the item in hand, you knocked on a door, your gaze already on the floor, embarrassed that you were going to do what you had to do.

“What?” came the annoyed voice of Shishikura, the door to his room opening as he looked at you unimpressed and very obviously unwelcomed.

“Truce?” you asked, raising the six-pack of Angry Orchard Rosé Cider. 

Shishikura looks at you, at the ciders, then back at you.

“Fine.”

How in the world you’re drunk off of four rosé ciders is beyond you, but you are. You’re in the living room, laughing so hard that your stomach hurts as you’re trying not to snort the liquid from your mouth and out your nose. Shishikura is equally plastered off of one drink, his red a ruby red against his purple hair. He’s leaning against you, his breathing ragged, near asthmatic as he tries to once explain just how Shouto looked like when some girl slapped him across the face yesterday for ghosting her after sex.

“He was so shocked!” Shishikura squeaked out, his voice pitchy and incredibly high as he laughed more and more. “You should have seen it!”

Your feet kicked at the air, your face and lungs burning with a fire you hadn’t felt in so long as your laughter turned silent. You gasped for air, trying to contain yourself but failing hysterically.

“Do you wa’ another meatballsh?” Shishikura suddenly asked, his hands flailing to grab his plate of meat. “I think you want another o’.”

“I wan’ ‘ne!” you cried with a slight slur, tears of joy slipping past your eyes to which you haphazardly scrubbed them off your face. “They’re soooo good! I didn’t think they could be so… be so good!”

You find yourself eating another meatball, drinking it down with the cider and feeling happy again. Shishikura goes still by your side, and you hum in wonder, unfocused eyes trying to find what had caught his attention and falling onto the one man you were mad at currently.

Shouto was standing at the apartment entrance, dressed in ripped black jeans, a tight grey turtleneck sweater, and his backpack slung on his shoulder. It was, without a doubt, a studying-only outfit. You knew and have discussed too many times with Shouto about how he never trusted women to take his turtlenecks off without potentially ruining the fabric.

“Well, someone’s finally home... from a night of beddin mo’ women, huh?” a voice spoke, but you were completely unsure if it was you or Shishikura who said it.

Judging by the way Shouto’s eyes locked on Shishikura and not yours, it seemed it was him who said it.

“No, I was doing something,” Shouto retorted, his hand gripping the strap of his backpack, his eyes shifting between you and Shishikura. “A paper for class.”

“Sure,” you end up speaking up, your voice sounding completely sober. You sit up so that your elbow is resting on Shishikura’s nearest shoulder. You raise the glass bottle to your lips, drinking its content without care, never once breaking eye contact. “What was the paper's name? You going after your TA? Or was it a professor by chance?”

Shouto’s eyebrows furrow, his face completely unimpressed by your comeback, but he remains silent.

“He looks like he’s trying to cosplay that one Young The Rock picture, no way would a dignified professor or TA fuck him!” Shishikura laughed with a loud bark, and all of a sudden, that was all you could see too.

The both of you howled with laughter, laughing and slapping each other as you attempted to drink the last bits of the rosés as Shouto rolled his eyes and walked away.

“This is fun. No wonder why you guys do it to me so often.”

-

As time does, it moves forward.

It seemed as if the entire campus had tuned in to what had transpired between you and Shouto. No one the slightest bit sure as to what happened, but everyone knew something big had happened. There was no more walking together before classes or after classes, no weird Instagram or Snapchat stories of the other, both of you never having to excuse yourself because you had plans with the other. Even though they claimed to not care about other people’s business, the school was suddenly invested in the single speculation that Todoroki Shouto’s and Y/l/n Y/n’s relationship was over.

“Breaking News, it was never a real relationship!” you would scream the first few times you heard it, which only worked to make them whisper louder that you were in further denial.

For the last seventeen years of your life, you had never gone more than two days without talking or seeing your childhood best friend. Those two days happened when Rei had experienced a staggering, hospital-inducing breakdown from stress and had subsequently burned Shouto when you were five years old. The two days were because he spent four days in the hospital. The first two days, he was not allowed visitors as the hospital staff put him under a coma to help his body from entering shock and heal. Of course, the moment he was awakened, you were dragging your mother to his bedside.

That was the only time you hadn’t seen or spoken to Shouto consistently.

But since Sunday evening, you had only seen Shouto once when you were drunk with Shishikura. You had only spoken to him then too.

For the first time in seventeen years, you broke your record of not talking or seeing Shouto.

From two days to five.

It was weird.

You felt almost empty.

So when Mina and Uraraka placed their arms around your shoulders, their eyes dead serious, you knew that they had a distraction for you.

“The deltas are throwing a party,” Uraraka spoke with mystery. “It is on Saturday.”

“It is only right that we go, get our asses so drunk our blood is practically a distillery, and fuck anyone who looks at us a second longer than anyone else,” Mina agrees, her tone wise and knowing as she nods her head.

“Our question to you is:” they spoke together, their voices weirdly, obviously practiced, in synch. “Are you in?”

Your tongue is pressed between your lips, your fingers pressing against the textbook you were using to help support your essay’s thesis, and you roll your eyes.

You grin.

“Obviously.”

And as time promises each and every time, Saturday finally came.

“What is our objective tonight?!” Mina screams over the background music that Jirou is blasting in Momo’s larger-than-life bathroom.

“To fuck bitches and get money!” Hagakure, the only one currently not downing a drink, screams back.

“NO, WRONG!” Mina shakes her head, climbing onto the white marble countertops and pointing at Jirou. “Kyo! Your turn!”

“To beat that prick in the sound booth and prove that I’m—”

“NO! Wrong again! Yaomomo!”

“Um, to make everlasting mem—”

“INCORRECT, YOU GORGEOUS PRINCESS! Tsuyu, don’t fail me, babe!”

“Well, it’s to prove to Todoroki that y/n-chan should be able to fuck any person she wants.”

“A bit lengthy, a bit focused on the wrong parts of it, but YES! Tonight’s operation: get y/n a man — preferably Inasa — who fucks the negativity out of her!”

You laugh loudly, rolling your eyes as you lean in closer to the mirror. You hold a Mike’s Hard in one hand, and in the other is your eyeliner as you paint on your makeup. You’re not really hearing the conversations that the girls are having, your own mind too lost in the music, and the swaying you’ve picked up as the three bottles of Mike’s you’ve had in the past thirty minutes are calming down your still frazzled nerves.

You don’t pull away from your reflection until after you’re done smoothing over your favorite lipstick on your pouty lips. You look over at your reflection and see Mina dancing with an awkwardly stiff Jirou and a delightfully giggling Momo on the bathroom countertops. A smile forms on your face, happiness radiating in your chest, and you grin looking at your friends.

But Shouto still sat in your mind, and you couldn’t help but wonder why.

Why did it hurt knowing that he was avoiding you as much as you were him?

Why didn’t he just try to corner you?

Why did you care that he didn’t?

He was your best friend in the entire world, since your earliest memories, he’s been there, you reason, your whooping not quite as loud as you watch Jirou awkwardly be sandwich between a grinding Mina and a complacent Momo.

It was his fault you, you further reasoned, smiling widely at Hagakure, who was twirling around you, applying her lipstick as a super crazy never before seen talent of hers. He was the one acting like an idiot over the people you slept with even though you let all the people he slept with slide!

But why did you?

Your brows furrowed slightly, unfurrowing just as quickly as Mina pulled you and Uraraka up onto the countertop with her as Jirou and Momo dropped to the floor.

You fucking were in love with Shouto, damnit! Of course you let the stupid personal things go just to appease him! Your back straightened, your eyes rolling as you began to dance with the Kehlani music thumping in the background, but then you freeze.

You were in love with him.

You loved Shouto.

Not in a friendly, platonic, family way.

In an ‘I would date you if I could and marry you on the prettiest beach in front of the most beautiful sunset’ way.

You found that your body was dancing on autopilot as you began to reassess your thoughts, your actions, your wants with Shouto, desperately trying to disprove this love for him. But no matter what you did, you found that it was true no matter what angle you looked at it.

The bass dropped, and you went stiff, your body standing straight and tall although you felt incredibly, terribly small.

“I love him,” you spoke, although you’re not sure who to. Maybe it was to the laughing gods above you or the crying spirits around you. But the girls heard it for some reason, and they, as they were patiently waiting for these past six, nearly seven days, caught you as you went weak.

Finally, realizing that you were in love with your childhood best friend was not the conclusion you expected from a week's silence from Shouto and you. But as you were currently in a crop top with a mesh shirt underneath and the most ripped jeans you owned, chugging down a neon green and blue nearly toxic alcoholic drink, you realized that being at this party was the right way to conclude this circus of a week.

The rush of the liquid dropping down the beer bong was something you found yourself struggling to keep up with, and you felt some of the liquid pour out of your mouth as you grunt, trailing down your heaving chest, creating an image in your onlookers as you refused to choke or pull away. Swallowing the last bit of the drink, ripping the plastic tube out of your mouth, you threw your hands in the air, Tsuyu, who had held and poured the contents for you, screaming too as she lifted your arm in victory.

You couldn’t really hear the music anymore, much more entranced with the music you were singing on your own, and you were currently holding Mina’s face, touching foreheads with her as you spoke a mantra of your love for her.

“Ashido Mina, you are the baddest bitch in the whole wide world. I love your pink hair and your fat ass, and I would die for you. I love you… so fucking much,” is what you said. How it was actually said and how it was perceived is a whole other story because Mina laughed loudly and allowed you to hug her despite your sticky alcohol body.

Your twenties were the new two’s, it seemed.

“Yo, y/l/n!” a voice yelled, and although you let go of Mina’s face, your arms found a new home around her neck as you turned around.

“Hm?”

Your terrible drunk eyes looked all over before falling on a man wearing a basketball jersey and joggers.

Shindou Yo, one of campus’ manwhores. He had a reputation similar to Shouto, you knew that very well, but you were aware that he was disturbingly creepy. According to many vital witnesses, the man slept with just about anyone willing regardless of gender, so not only did you know what the girls thought of him, experienced with him, there was a wider demographic not even Shouto had entered. Number one thing to be told was the fact that Shindou was into some heavy, dark shit to an extreme, his room reeked of sex, and he himself smelled like booze, weed, and BO. But a strong dick was a strong dick at the end of the day.

“Come play beer pong with me?” he asked, his hands shoved into his pockets as he smiled innocently. “I’ve heard some pretty solid shit about your skills, and I want to see how I add up.”

“I’ll play!” you agree immediately, jumping at the thought of drinking more. “Bu I don’t wa’ beer… ish nashty.”

“Anything for you, darling.”

With your arm still holding onto Mina, you accepted Shindou’s hand and allowed him to drag you off to where he wanted to play the game of beer pong.

The game of beer pong went without a single thing going wrong. You were paired up with Shindou, and Mina had managed to find Kirishima in the crowd before you got to your destination and demanded she have him as a partner and not Monoma.

It was safe to say that you were drunk, disgustingly out of your mind. It was an intense game of Cup Pong, the two different teams equally as bad in the drunken stupor, but finally, the two teams were down to a single cup and Kirishima — who was the only reason why they were winning!!!! — had the last ball. You watched in terrible apprehension, fingers digging into Shinsou’s biceps as Kirishima rose the wet ping pong ball to Mina’s lips and let her blow on it for good luck before bringing it back in and began a few steadying practice throws.

“You know, I’m glad I saw you at this party,” Shindou whispers to you, his head ducking down so that you and only you could hear that.

“Why?” you say a lot louder than you wanted, your heart hammering in fear that you would lose this game.

“Because you’re sexy as fuck,” Shindou spoke, his voice turning deeper, huskier, “and now you’re single.”

You blink, attention stolen from the game as you forgot about the final cup and looked at Shindou with a blank stare and an open mouth.

“What?”

“Cuz you and Todoroki are over,” Shindou explains to you as if you’re a child. “You guys are over, right? That’s all everyone’s talking about, and all us guys are ready to fuck you whenever you’re ready.”

His smirk irritates you, the lust in his eyes angering you as you drop your hold on his arm.

“We weren’t together, and you knew that,” you say, eyes narrowing as the crowd watching the game explodes in raging cheers as Kirishima sinks the ball into the cup. “Why the fuck would Shouto be fucking every girl that walks if we were together? What makes you think I’d be okay with it?”

“You’re a cuck,” Shindou continues on, confidence unaffected. “Oh, are the two of you maybe changing roles now? Does the big guy want me to fuck you in front of him?”

Your fist makes contact with his throat before you can even stop yourself and the cheers quickly turn into gasps.

After apologizing profusely to the party holders, they decided that you could, in fact, stay at the party. Your knuckles throbbed in pain, the alcohol in your system buzzing in you in a way that wasn’t fun or relaxing as you made a simple side-step dance move in the middle of the dance floor. The girls, who had at the beginning of the party, drifted ways, had once more glued themselves at your side on the floor. You weren’t in a dancing mood as you took a drink of what you assumed to be a Moscow mule made by Mina for you to keep you at a high for the rest of the party.

Like hell you would ever let Shouto cuck you!

Let him fuck another woman in front of you?

You would go insane if he ever thought that would be acceptable.

“Down girl, relax!” Mina yelled by your ear. “I thought I was babysitting y/n, not Bakugou Katsuki!”

You startled, realizing that your frown had become a fierce snarl as you danced on the floor.

“Come on, babe, let’s get you feeling good again; let’s enjoy this night!” Mina exclaimed, her hands pushing your drink to your mouth and forcing you to chug the contents of the drink. The red Solo Cup is dropped to the floor as soon as you finish. She grabbed your wrists and began to fluidly move your arms — or as well as she could manage herself because she, too, was drunk.

But with Mina winking and smiling at you, the rest of the girls eventually throw themselves into your linked dance circle, your own negative emotions left and in came joy.

It took about another round of ten songs for the dance circle to be destroyed and to have all of you resuming a rave-like jumping and scream-singing as Jirou finally snuck her way into the DJ booth and succeeded to take over. You spun around at the end of one song, laughing completely out of breath as you clapped your hands together. You often forget that while Jirou only listened to a very specific genre, she was a musical genius who had banger playlists for every occasion.

It seemed frat parties were one of them.

However, the next song had your head tilting backward, your grin spreading even wider as you began to move your hips in slow, distinct movements. Dancing with your hips was something you had learned, something you instilled into your dancing category for as long as you could remember.

The beats were loud, deep, thumping deep in the ground and vibrating with great strength in your chest as you pointed a finger at Mina, who was also dancing similarly to you. Your lips moved as you sang the song quietly, the heat and humidity of the room suddenly pressing onto you like another person. You hummed, flicking the parts of your hair sticking to the nape of your neck off, grateful for the slightly cooler air hitting your sweaty skin.

As you rolled your hips down, your hands fanning yourself, trying to cool down your deliriously warm, alcohol-heated body, you froze for just a bit. A person pressed to your back, your ass pressing against a hot thigh, and a hand resting upon the curve of your thigh, keeping you in place. You might have cared, but the body against yours was a welcomed one. Your hips and ass continuing to move in tandem with the music, deliberate highs and lows, and you worked your way up and down the man's body who met yours with spinning accuracy that made you began to pant, your heart racing because this was hot to you. You raised your arms behind you, clasping onto his neck, keeping him on you.

His hair was soft under your touch, slightly sweaty but threaded and parted between your fingers just too easily. His left hand, which had found a spot on your stomach, was radiating heat, something easily felt due to you only having mesh cloth there.

It was slow.

Sensual.

Somehow familiar.

Absolutely mind-numbing.

His chest broad against your back, muscles strong and tight against you.

He was skilled, practiced. Someone you knew was not going to disappoint you, and as your lust-glazed eyes took in the entirely shocked looks of your friends, you finally turned to look.

Somehow, someway, you weren’t shocked at all to see Shouto’s clouded, dark eyes locking on yours. Your world seems to freeze as something between you and Shouto is so obviously broken between you, forever changing, no longer able to go back. It didn’t matter that this was the first time in almost a week you had seen him, had talked to him, he was there, and you wanted to feel his skin scorching against yours. His touch screamed of his want for you, your recognition of your love for him, and your current lust for him. You were angry, hurt, confused, but you were too drunk to care, too intoxicated on the spell the two of you created on this dance floor.

But even as your world froze, the music continued on.

Grabbing Shouto’s hand, you spun around so that his chest was now pressed against yours, your legs between his. You continued dancing, continued to roll your hips down as you sunk down to the ground as Shouto remained standing, his hand supporting and balancing you as you went down and up. He began to dance with you again, the world seemingly disappearing as the two of you ground and panted heavily in each other's ears.

He pushed forward, and you whined, feeling the blazing swollen heat of his semi-hard cock against your stomach, but you met him there.

Your fingers fisting in his hair as his hands found their way into your back pockets, gripping your ass, and your eyes fluttered shut as his mouth, blazing, intense, and intentful, mashed against yours. You kissed him back immediately, all defenses abandoned to that of your lust, wants, and needs. His mouth was a fire, his kiss a blaze that consumed you, drowned you, made you push for more.

It was a kiss that lasted who knows how long, but by the time you had separated, you could feel the familiar sting to your slowly swelling lips and the song that had ended.

His eyes were a near black, his cheeks flushed, and his arms kept you so close you had to think if you were in the privacy of your home or in public.

“I want you,” you whispered, your voice begging, pleading for him.

“I need you,” he responded, his voice equally wishing.

“Take me home,” you speak, lips pressing sloppy, desperate hot kisses to his neck. “Take me home and fuck me.”

“Fuck, yes, okay. Let’s go,” Shouto pants, his hands leaving your ass and grabbing onto one of yours before taking you and dragging you away.

It wouldn’t hit you until much later, but the very first kiss you had ever had with Shouto was in the middle of a dance floor, at a party where the male population had been ready to snatch you up after your relationship with Shouto was so-called over.

You were breathless.

No matter how deep you inhaled, you felt like you weren’t having enough oxygen flooding your veins, filling your lungs. You laugh loudly in the night, uncaring about the strangers you passed looking at you and Shouto, who chuckled and snorted with every giggle you made.

This felt crazy, insane, something serendipitous and not real even in the smallest of bits.

He kissed you.

He wanted you.

He said he needed you.

Wants and needs were different things, but he said need.

He needed you.

Just you.

Your feet ached from the running, but you could only focus on Shouto, your mind filling and swimming in the memory of his body pressed to you. The way his lips ghosted over your neck, and the way he danced against you — with you. The four-block walk back to your apartment seemed too far, and your eyes locked on a nearing alleyway.

With much more strength than you should have, you shoved Shouto into the alleyway, your mouth immediately pressing onto his.

Shouto groaned into your mouth, letting you drink his noises as you pulled him close, consuming him in a messy clash of teeth, spit, and tongue. You whined back, your legs slotting between his thigh and grinding down on the hard muscle. It alleviated the growing, scorching heat in your panties but also intensified it, making you want for more and more and more.

“You drive me fucking insane,” Shouto groaned in your mouth, shifting and guiding your rolling hips his thigh better, more fluid, more intense.

Your eyes barely cracked open, your mouth no longer kissing him put pressing against his in an open mouth pant. Your drunken breath saying nothing but implying the world.

Something Shouto was more than keen on giving you.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered for you to hear, so reverent, so holy. And so that you, the center of his world, the only thing he saw and believed in, knew how passionately, how ardently he believed in you, his mouth slid down your neck, and his teeth sunk in your flesh. He claimed you, praised you, making you a part of him.

“I’m still so mad at you!” you moan, voice pitched, whiny, and deliriously high. “I love you, asshole. I love you, and you sleep around! I love you, and I don’t care if you sleep around, but you care that I sleep around?!”

“I love you too,” Shouto mumbles against your neck, his teeth continuing to press into your skin that seems to explode with heat at the revelation. “I love, and I’m an idiot; I’m so sorry.”

And then he does something with his tongue against your neck, the soft of swipes, the wet tickling heat making your head slam back against the brick wall, and a mangled, strangled moan of unadulterated want emits from you.

“We'll talk about this in the morning,” you pant, fingers fisting in his shirt. “We can fix this, but right now, shut up and fuck me.”

“Y/n—”

“I’m horny,” you interrupt, hips sharply jutting into his leg. “You made me horny. Take responsibility.”

His eyes flashed dark, his nostrils flaring, and your words cemented in his head. He resumed his painting, his worship on your neck as you cried loudly in the alleyway, desperate, needy for more.

It was dizzying to have him on you like this.

For so long, you had only touched him in a few ways, had only ever felt a specific type of warmth. But this was unlike anything you’ve ever done with him, to him. It felt like you were burning and freezing, consumed by heat and energy and everything Shouto. His all too familiar cologne filled your nose, drowning your brain, invading your senses. His frantic heartbeat felt against your own body, telling you exactly how you were affecting him, how you made his heart speed and jump with every breathy whine.

“Fuck, I can’t do this. We need to get home now!” Shouto growls, his hands grabbing you by the wrist yet again and pulling you away.

His strides are long, quick, and powerful. You’re running to keep up, beautifully out of breath, staggering and stumbling to keep up in his objective to get back to the apartment now.

It doesn’t seem to take long before he’s pushing open the doors to the apartment complex, corralling you through the doors and into the elevator to get to the eleventh floor. The elevator doors are behind you, and with no one else in the life, you turn on him and immediately resume your own endeavor of claiming Shouto with your mouth, body, and soul. He matches your intensity, hands roaming from where the clasp of your bra sat to the curve of your ass. He grabbed you, pulled you in closer, the air in his nose staggering as you stammer against his mouth.

Teeth touch lips, tongues in each other's cheeks, and Shouto leads you out of the elevator backward, his one hand on your waist forever steady and the other one holding the key. Your fingers are back in his hair, pulling and tugging sharply on the soft, short strands with nearly disappeared gel. He gets to the door, fumbling with the key as you continue to kiss him, distracting him with the smallest of movements.

“Which room?” he asks against your mouth, pushing you through the threshold, his foot closing the door behind him.

The shoes are haphazardly kicked off and you’re now on your tiptoes to continue kissing him as you were. You tried to think, tried to figure out if you wanted to be surrounded by Shouto’s scent or to have him displayed in your room. His teeth then suckle on your bottom lip, biting down on the swollen, hot flesh just gentle enough that your mind draws a blank and your voice responds on its own.

“Mine.”

You shriek then, Shouto swiftly picking you up off the floor and you panic, hands swatting and beating on him as you scream to let you down. He continues walking, holding you without a worry, his arms remaining strong and firm beneath you. But with your distraction, with your lips no longer pressed sinfully against his, Shouto’s mouth finds a junction point on your clavicle and sinks his teeth down again, claiming you once more.

“S-Sho—” your voice hitches, the feeling too intense for you to process all at once. You hear your room door open and close, and without warning, you’re soaring through the air before collapsing on the bed.

“You think I go to the gym to get muscles for fun?” Shouto taunts, his fingers hooking under the dark grey t-shirt he’s wearing. “Angel, I go to the gym to make sure I can fuck you in any position, against any surface or wall you want.”

Your body feels like it's scorching as he removes his shirt, his muscles rippling and moving seductively with the devious, intentional movement.

“What’s wrong, y/n?” Shouto asks, the shirt dropping to the floor, removing all traces of oxygen from your person. He steps closer, fingers circling around your ankle and suddenly pulling you in toward him until you were sitting at the edge, his lips hovering over yours. “Cat got your tongue?”

Your tongue feels dry in your mouth, but your eyes narrow before you push up and capture his mouth back with yours. He kisses you back deeply, bending down so that you begin to shift backward, allowing him the space to crawl onto the bed with you, and at the last moment, your leg wraps around his waist and spins the both of you. Shouto gasps as you pin him onto the mattress, your tongue invading his mouth, brushing and swirling against his, coaxing his own tongue back into your own mouth. With the wet heat in your mouth, your teeth playfully, just gently dig into his appendage and tug.

“No, but it seems like I got yours,” you humor him, your teeth releasing his tongue, and Shouto looks up at you like you were both the sun and the moon, and the stars were a gift to him.

It takes your breath away.

Shouto grins, shifting onto his elbows so that he’s closer to you before kissing you again.

The kiss is growing louder, both your mouths ever so consuming, trying to relay years of repressed, unknown emotions and feelings within a drastic, incredible touch. Your hips begin shifting against his crotch, humping his clothed erection, demonstrating yet again the power and grace you hold in your body.

Shouto’s hands move from your ribs up to your breasts, and with the hot, rough flesh of his skin, he squeezes your tender flesh. You moan into his mouth, hips bucking wildly against him at the sensation. It isn’t a powerful flesh, but a reminder, a demonstration of just what and where he could inflect passionate actions.

Your hands scour his chest, fingernails dragging teasingly down his firm, developed muscles, fingers flicking and teasing at his own exposed nipples. Shouto grunts into your mouth, hips bucking powerfully upward into your clothed cunt, and you splutter at the power behind it. But it seems as though Shouto is over the fishnet mesh shirt and crop top you’re wearing because he’s tugging it out of the waistband of your jeans and commands in a deep, lust-ridden voice: “Off.”

Goosebumps flash across your skin, bubbling and spraying across your sensitive skin as your shirt and crop top join Shouto’s on the floor. Your gasp loudly when Shouto rolls the both of you over swiftly, his mouth immediately pressing hot, viper kisses on your breasts. All thought and reason leave your mind as his teeth nip and pull. His fingers pushing the straps of your bra off your shoulders and shoving your boobs out of the bra in a firm hold.

“You have no idea how fucking long I’ve wanted to touch you, kiss you, fuck you,” Shouto whispers, his tone almost dark as his hot air fans against your already pebbling nipples. “Fuck, angel, you’re better than anything I’ve ever dreamed about.”

You whine loudly, fingers tangling in his hair as you desperately, wordlessly try to persuade him to put his lips around your attentive, eager nipples.

“I always forget you got these things,” Shouto says in wonder, his fingers touching the metal bars sitting so innocently, deviously on through your nipple. He tugs on the bar, and all the nerves in your breast fire and tingle, and your feet curl by his back as you whimper. “Fuck... I can’t believe I forgot…”

“S-Shouto, I fucking swear!” you almost screech, hands desperately pulling at strands of red and white, wanting his teeth and tongue and the suction of his mouth on your nipple. “Stop. Fucking. Talking!”

Shouto chuckles, his eyes of blue and grey flashing up at you dangerously, knowingly.

“Okay,” he says cheekily, and as if he read your thoughts, his teeth gently bit down on your all too ready nipple. Your head slams against the mattress, your chest feeling alive as if you had been electrocuted. He sucks your nipple, teeth tugging on the sensitive flesh, clacking against the metal in your flesh. His fingers taking care of your lonesome nipple, keeping it company with gentle, purposeful rolls as he has you sobbing his name.

“Please, please, please,” you beg, although you have no idea what you’re begging for. Your hips pathetically grinding into his clothed cock, trying to get yourself to cum while not having been touched. “Sho— Shouto!”

Shouto pulls away from your nipple with a loud pop. His breath panting, short, and overwhelmingly strained as if simply sucking your throbbing, needy nipple had given him the same amount of pleasure as it did you before consuming your forgotten one. Just as before, you melted against him, begging please, pretty please to him but never telling him what you were wanting. You didn’t know what you were wanting.

But unlike before, his hands leave their attentive position on your free nipple and slam your hips back down onto the mattress, keeping you down and still as he continued his ministrations until you were nipplegasming. You choked as the orgasm consumed you, your body going rigid and your eyes rolling to the depths of your head as his hot mouth was all you could think of. For a moment, the needy wet heat between your thighs was easily ignorable, something unneeded until Shouto was pulling away and kissing you again.

His chest was pressed tight against your own chest, your sensitive, overstimulated nipples rubbing against his chest with the welcomed friction as you let out a wordless, near-dizzy sigh into Shouto’s mouth. He kissed you with incredible passion, with dizzying heat, and consuming lust.

Your voice was so small, your voice easily drowned in Shouto’s mouth as your fingernails dug into his back and raked down pathetically, desperately proving that you were still here. Still fighting him on just who would win this night. Your fingers went down the curve of his spine, trailing down until you found the waistband of his sweats, and with his mouth everso distractingly on the swell of your breasts, biting, marking, and sucking hickies and his print on you for forever, he helped you slide the pants off.

In an almost dramatic fashion, his eyes burning deep into yours, leaving you stunned and a worshiper at his feet, he rose off your bed and let the pants fall. You shakily inhaled, your eyes suddenly transfixed and only seeing the hard, leaking dick that stood tall and proud against his twitching stomach. At the mere sight of him, you now truly, completely, and entirely understood just why the girls were obsessed.

From tip to the base, he was thick, the flush of his skin gorgeous, the curve of his cock optimal to fuck anyone. He was long, thick, and delicious—trimmed pubes of red and white and balls that had your mouth watering and going dry. You wondered, imagined, tried to visualize just how much it was going to hurt getting that in you. You’ve never had a man with a dick like that, never had to choke or fuck on something that looked like it would possibly render you stupid the moment you were impaled.

“Can I?” you ask, ‘can I touch you? Can I suck you?’ go unsaid.

“You owe me one,” Shouto says, his words teasing if it wasn’t for the way his voice betrayed him with the eagerness, the want and inexplicable tell that says if you don’t touch him, he will lose his fucking mind. “Please, do it.”

You’re dragging him back onto the bed, sitting him by your headboard, spreading his legs apart as you situate yourself between them. With a tentative, shaky hand, you reach out and grab on his dick.

His flesh is hot to the touch; it's hard and twitches just so at your grasp. Shouto lets out a gasp mixed with a whine, and you look at him with wide eyes and parted lips. Unable to help yourself, you lean in, your nose touching the underside of his length and nuzzling into the flesh. You look back up at him with hooded eyes, eyes dark with mirth, lust, and an overwhelming need to please Shouto. He stares back, eyes entirely too bright, almost scared, almost as if he can’t believe this is happening.

You smile softly, eyes breaking contact to look at the swelling cock in your hand, and then back at him as your tongue pokes out of your mouth and puts a long, wet stripe against his length.

And Shouto?

Shouto moans like a man who’s had warm food after days of starving.

You lick from base to tip, saliva mixing with precum as your mouth presses teasing, open mouth kisses down the length of his cock, tongue pressing against the sweltering heat of his balls.

“Fuck, y/n, stop teasing,” Shouto grits, his hips pathetically snapping into nothing, his hands desperately trying to touch you, to which you swatted him away each and every time. You tut, shaking your head. With both your hands fisting his dick at the middle of his length, your squeeze and pull in opposite directions.

The reaction is one that you were hoping for, Shouto’s head slamming to the headboard with a clash, his legs jumping just a bit, and precum coming out in even heavy drops. You laugh breathlessly at his display, enamored with how fucking easy he is to get to make noises. He’d never made noises before, no other girl had him the way you did, and that made you crazy with power.

Before you wanted to, your mouth consumed to head of his cock, allowing the musky smell that was completely and only Shouto to fully consume you. You sucked on his thick swollen head, tongue pressing on the leaking slit on his head as he choked on your name. You smile, taking him in further, straining against the weight in your mouth, the pressure on the back of your throat, and the stretch of your throat. As soon as you had him a bit way in, you were pushing out, his hips driving to find you but missing you. Shouto’s noise was almost broken, near needy, and your head spun with his noises. Unable to stop, you pushed in again, allowing the drive of his hips to send his cock further down your throat.

Tears filled your eyes at the action, his cock much too large, much too thick to be fucked into your throat as such. Your fists acted as a barrier as you adjusted, your throat humming, mouth moaning as Shouto lost himself to the heat of your wet mouth. You bobbed your head, fucking him diligently and intently with your mouth, driving him further down, your tongue and hollowed cheeks. You sucked his dick with the intention of ruining him, of making him fill your mouth and throat with him so he could never doubt that it was him you wanted, him you needed to consume. You let go of one hand, allowing it to fondle with his balls as his cock went further into your mouth, the sounds of your choking, gagging, and crying egging him on.

“You take me so good,” Shouto sang to you, whispering words that only you’ve heard. “Fuck, angel, take me all the way. I know you can do it.”

With his hands at the back of your head, your fingers squeezing his balls, and the shaky removal of your final hand on his cock, he drives his hips all the way up. Shouto curses loudly, and you choke, feeling the rush of cum shooting down your throat, and you’re let free.

“Swallow it all, don’t spit it up,” Shouto breathes, his body shifting upward, eyes intent, focused. “Let me see.”

You cough violently, mouth closed as you swallow the salty cum, only letting your mouth open to allow the drool and spit to drip from your flat tongue as you show him that you swallowed every last seed. He groaned, grasping you by the chin and pulling you back in for a passionate, all-consuming kiss. The taste of Shouto and his cum sat heavily in your throat, and you were shaking as he began to unbutton your jeans, shedding them off of you as he flipped you back around so that your back was resting against the mattress.

Salt sweat dripped down your neck, and Shouto left fingertip bruises on your waist, your knees and legs awkwardly kicking as you finally got your jeans off your ankles. You shuttered, feeling Shouto’s hot, spit-slick dick pressing against your stomach, your cunt flipping and twisting at the thought of taking him all in.

“You’re still, fuck… you’re still hard?” you gasp, Shouto’s fingers tracing the innards of your thighs, scratching at your ass, slapping it once, twice, leaving you pitched and shaking.

“How can I not be when you’re down beneath me?” Shouto asks, his eyes looking at you as if he was burning the very naked image to you in his brain for him forever. “You’re mine, right?”

The question itself, while unexpected, was not unwanted.

You feel yourself nodding, your fingers scratching up his flexed arms, “Yours and only yours.”

“Good,” Shouto smirks, leaning in, his entire weight on the one hand beside your head, making you groan as his lips were so close yet so far away. “I’m yours as you are mine.”

With that, his fingers pressed to your thus far, unattended to clit, your legs shaking, kicking the air as you howled in pleasure. But it was such an intimate place, something you never expected Shouto to ever touch, and so, in a voice so pathetic you couldn’t even recognize it as yours, you screeched: “D-Don’t touch that!”

Shouto cocked an eyebrow, his head tilting as his fingers swirled around your swollen nub, sending just enough electrifying pleasure through every neuron in your body. “Why not?” he asked, voice authoritative and curious and sadistic. “It’s mine — you’re mine. I can play with what’s mine whenever I want.”

The words make your entire will collapse, the words liquid heat in your ears and mind. You moan loudly, feeling Shouto adjust your hips, lining your spasming cunt with his cock, and with his tongue delving into your mouth, his lips pressing against yours, he slowly pushed into you.

Shouto was loud the entire way into you, the deep grunts, breathless moans, and mindless babble of how this was unlike anything he’s had before, better than anything he’s ever imagined. He bottoms out quickly, hands leaving purple bruises against your skin as you lay on the bed silent.

Your back is entirely arched, jaw slacked, voice dead on your tongue because the feeling of him buried deep within you is staggering. You let out a single tone noise, your mouth gasping for breath as your voice finally begins to come back to you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whisper over and over, your legs tight around Shouto’s hips, shaking with the feeling in you. “God, y-you’re so big, Sho… I’m—”

You can’t finish your sentence because he shifts just enough that his cock is meeting places in you that had never been encountered before. Your eyes roll back again, your fingers pressing ruby red scars to his back as you scratch and tear his back.

“You’re so fucking tight, shit,” Shouto pants, his mouth panting against the sweat on your collarbone, his own breathing heavy and spaced. “You’re perfect, y/n, so fucking perfect.”

You preen with those words, your mouth finding a home at his temple to which you kiss him, drag your lips down to his ear. You bite and nibble as you adjust to him buried deep within you. And he heaves a sigh and pushes up off you, eyes daring to stare into you as he huffs almost in disbelief of this entire night.

“I’m going to start moving,” he says, fingers scratching down your sides to your thighs. “Are you ready?”

Not trusting your voice, you nod. Shouto smiles, leaning back down for one last kiss to which you quickly returned, staying there as his hips moved backward before thrusting back into you. It's the first thrust of many, but your arms wrap even tighter underneath his own, your nails scarring his back as he goes again and again. You fucks into you deliberately, readily, with purpose and skill that speaks wonders and lives up to the many rumors you’ve ever heard.

His thrusts are powerful, slapping into your thighs with a mighty smack, making you whimper and wail into his salty neck as your hips lift up to meet his. It's a powerful dance, a dizzying cycle. His cock sliding up and down your puffy velvet walls, your weeping walls clenching him in a vice, unforgiving and unwilling to let go.

He speaks praises into your ear, your yours, your mouth.

“Such a pretty angel, moaning for me, crying for me, tell me you want my cock. Tell me you want me buried in your fucking stomach.”

You are converted to him in return, seeing him, speaking to him, devoted to him.

“Fuck, I want you more. Faster, harder! Don’t stop! I can feel you in my stomach, Sho! Fuck! Fuck me, fuck me fuck me!”

His weight is pressed on your thighs, spreading your thighs further apart, fucking into deeper, fucking you so powerfully, so desperately your soaked cunt squelches and drips your essence, soaking your bed and his legs. Your teeth sink into his skin, copper filling your mouth, and your vision feels missing as you are slamming your hips up, rolling them desperately to fuck back into him. You can feel his hand clutching yours, pressing it into the mattress as he somehow speeds up again, drilling you into the mattress, the bed creaking and bending under both your weight.

“More, more, more!”

And he gives, and gives, and gives.

You wail his name, the heat in your skin, tickling your clit and innards making you sweat, the alcohol on your skin sticking you to Shouto.

Shouto grunts your name, hisses your name, damns you heaven and back for having such a fucking grip on him. It's when he looks into your eyes, cock drilling into you at a speed and power that no human should ever obtain, one hand gripping yours and the other pinching and teasing your clit, you cum, bursting open at the seams.

Your orgasm is loud, clenching, all-consuming, and you drag Shouto down with you as he stammers, shudders, and cums deep within your womb. His seed spilling out of you as the both of you collapse onto the bed with breathless, thoughtless minds.

“Fuck,” he says.

“Right?” you chuckle.

And with your nose pressed to his sweaty, sex-lulled body, you fall asleep with his hands traveling up and down your spine. Hopefully, things would be well when you woke up.

P R E S E N T

To stop you from screeching so loudly you woke up the entire world, Shouto held his hand to your mouth, his eyes wide, terrified, and completely confused.

“Please stop yelling… my head hurts…” Shouto begs, his face completely exhausted but with that post-orgasm sleep glow.

“We had sex?!” you shriek, throwing his hand off your mouth. “We were mad at each other, and we had sex?!”

“Oh,” Shouto seems to remember, his head rolling before he sat up, bringing you up with him. “Right, we should talk about that, huh?”

“You think?!” you shriek, entirely overwhelmed with the fact that you had done so much embarrassing shit last night.

It’s quiet for a bit. The birds chirping outside an almost cheerful taunt as the both of you, for the first time in seventeen years, find it too awkward to talk. No one wants to speak first, to mention the elephant in the room, for once it happened, there really was no going back. Not that there was much to go back from.

“I’m in love with you,” Shouto finally says. It’s an admittance, a whisper that's strong despite it told in such a hushed voice as if you would laugh at him as he confessed. “I’ve actually been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”

Now that shocks you.

Your eyes are wide, and you’re staring at Shouto, unsure what to say, what to ask, but you know you need more answers.

“I know, hard to believe, huh?” Shouto chuckles, his hand running through his sex and sleep disheveled hair. “It’s true, though… I don’t remember not ever being in love with you.”

“No… no way,” you say, your body running cold, and you shiver. You remember then that you’re sitting up, and you’re very incredibly naked. Shouto notices and moves to grab a blanket at the foot of the bed and wraps it around you. “That doesn’t make sense,” you argue, your furrowed brows making your skin crease as you try to think back on all your years and memories, looking for signs in which Todoroki Shouto loved you. “You never showed it.”

“Camie said the same thing,” Shouto sighed, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he shrugged nonchalantly. “Before I was sixteen… I don’t know; I guess I could understand why. I only ever talked to you, always paired up with you. I let you hold my hand, and I let you hug me… I thought me telling you that I had never been kissed before would make you want to kiss me, but it never did. I know I was awkward and a little different when we were younger, so when I was paired up with Camie… I thought she would help me.”

“By fucking you?” you asked, your frown deepening as you remembered your bitter feelings over Camie stealing Shouto’s virginity.

“She… she said that by being sexual, maybe you would see me as a man, and not the four-year-old crying boy in preschool,” Shouto smiled sadly, his fingers picking at one another. “Me having sex was supposed to show you that I was a man who wanted to see you as a woman in return, but it didn’t work.”

“Well, no shit,” you snort, relaxing a bit although you felt limp. You found yourself leaning against Shouto’s strong shoulders, your head landing heavily on him. “You went from a virgin to fucking anything with a wet hole.”

“...yeah, I’m sorry about that,” Shouto said with regret, his shoulders sagging just a bit. “At first, I thought I needed to fuck more girls to prove I was a man to you because you acted like nothing had happened after Camie… but sex was fun, it felt good.”

“Sex is good,” you agree with a soft chuckle to which he returned.

He shifted a bit, arms tightening and relaxing before he finally admitted, “It helped distract me from you because you looked at others the way I wanted you to look at me.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper back.

“No, don’t be,” Shouto speaks firmly, his arm wrapping around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your temple. “It was my fault. I was never assertive enough, confident enough to simply confess.”

“So, does you being in love with me having anything to do with you driving the entire male population away from me?”

Your eyes look up at him, finding his embarrassed gaze before he glances away.

“That actually wasn’t intentional… I guess I just talk about you a lot.”

“Yeah, but still doesn’t mean you couldn’t ever deny it yourself!”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Apologize then.”

“Y/l/n Y/n, I am sorry for making the entire male population we’ve ever come across think we were an item and not telling them otherwise. I am sorry for keeping you from enjoying sex while I continued to. I am lousy, and my love for you should be unreturned because that was ass of me.”

You sigh, your lips pursed to keep from smiling as you looked back at his handsome face.

“Now, ask me the damn question, crybaby.”

“Crybaby?”

“You finally admitted that you were, in fact, crying!!!!!”

If you asked Shishikura Seiji what the worst thing about being the third roommate to Todoroki Shouto and you was, he would give a million and three answers as to why it was the worst.

One: he absolutely hated how loud the both of you were. Todoroki Shouto was someone he thought was quiet and introverted, but whenever he was around you, he was loud. You were just plain old loud, and he thought it was annoying.

Two: he absolutely hated your rice. Call it petty, but after you fed him on his first night and tried putting him into a chokehold for saying the song your rice cooker sang at its end was the stupidest fucking thing ever made, everything you made taste like ash and dirt.

Twenty: he hated that there were biweekly karaoke nights. He would be studying away in his room and wanted to die when he heard the all too familiar sound of Mamma Mia’s Here We Go Again blasting in the living room.

Hundred fifty-seven: SO. MUCH. FUCKING. SEX.

Three hundred thirteen: SO. MUCH. DRINKING.

Five thousand: SO. MUCH. WEED.

Ten thousand three: you put his toilet seat up whenever you’re drunk, so he falls in when he goes to pee in the morning.

Five hundred: the way the both of you looked at each other, fucking disgusting.

To say the least, there were a lot of many different reasons scaling from actual issues to petty small shit, but Shishikura was not in any position to find a new apartment, so he stayed. To be quite honest, having been living with Dumb and Dumber (you and Shouto, respectively), he only thought there would be one thing that would make him lose his actual mind.

The day that would inevitably come and the both of you realized your feelings were, in fact, returned. He didn’t want to even imagine how the animalistic sex he often had to hear coming from your hallway would increase, or the sappy stupid romantic love he would see in the living room because as best friends, you both had no care for PDA and if you were allowed to kiss? Allowed to have sex? He feared he would have to wear a hazmat suit in every corner of the apartment. You both were already incredibly loud as a duo (see reason one as to why he hates living here); he feared the worst when the mutual love was realized.

But he exited his room a week after that Sunday morning with a fully loaded water gun just in case. His eyes narrowed, the hair on his neck raised as his beady eyes focused in on the living room.

Shouto sat on the couch, his back on the armrest, and you sitting between his thighs as you watched him play some game on his Switch, your smile large and annoyingly bright, but he realized that he couldn’t hear you screaming or speaking so loudly he could listen to the conversation.

No, as a matter of fact, Shishikura couldn’t hear a single word; the words being exchanged between you and Shouto spoke so softly, so intimately, it shocked him. Shishikura noticed with an almost awed surprise that even though your smile was as annoyingly bright as before. It wasn’t directed at anything but Shouto, and Shouto’s smile, while nowhere near as big, just as warm and full to you.

It was intimate, romantic even.

Nothing had changed in your relationship except now, finally, now, you were allowed to kiss and fuck each other like heat-driven animals.

Shishikura was shocked to his core, unable to comprehend the sight in front of him.

You nor Shouto paid him any mind, too lost in the game and in each other to look his way as he made his way into the kitchen for his lunch. Shishikura set the water gun on the counter, a small smile spreading on his face despite himself, and chuckled.

Maybe the two of you together weren’t something to hate on after all.

“Hey, is that a water gun?!”

[besanii]

I need to know what caused Wei Ying to finally initiate a physical relationship with Xichen. Was it for Lotus pier and what the empress said? He does seem to have some feelings towards Xichen so did he not mind it bc of that? What does Xichen think about this whole thing ahhhhhhhhh so many questions. Sorry Lan Zhan cause ngl I ship them

[ part one (LWJ) | two (LXC) | three (WWX) | four (LWJ) | five (NQY) | six (WWX) | seven (LWJ) ]

[ follows on from six ] 

Alive.

The word washes over him like a wave, bringing with it a rush of joy and relief—his brother is alive—that lasts only a heartbeat before the significance of the news comes crashing down.

His brother is alive.

An arrow to the shoulder, the report had read. Knocked overboard in the heat of the battle and disappearing under the churning waters; for days they searched, picking through the bodies floating amongst the debris long after the Dongying forces had retreated. 

They found him, a day later, half-drowned and delirious with fever, unable to fight. News of his death in battle spread as he lay in his bed, one foot already through the gates of Hell and yet still strategising, planning, during his brief moments of lucidity. Conscious enough to know that they can use his perceived death to their advantage.

And indeed with the loss of Gusu’s greatest commander, their enemies pressed them harder, forcing them to cede waters they had previously held strong. Little did they know they were being lured into a trap, one that would decimate their fleet and end the battle once and for all.

“And how is Hanguang-wang now?” Lan Xichen asks. Only years of experience keeps his voice tightly controlled and his hands relaxed as they rest on the spacious desk before him.

“Replying to Huangshang, Hanguang-wang asked this lowly subject to pass on the message that he is well and not to worry,” the messenger reports. “Hanguang-wang has also said he will stay on to fight until the war is won, as is his duty as the commander of the fleet.” 

As a brother, Lan Xichen knows he should recall Lan Wangji from the front lines, allow him to return to Caiyi to nurse his injuries. As Emperor, if his best commander reports he can continue to fight and his staying on increases their chances of victory, then he has no reason to refuse. As a man—

He tells himself the rush of relief that courses through him at the news is because his brother is well; he does not allow himself to entertain the other reason. It is too shameful to admit, even to himself.

In the end, the Emperor wins out, as it always does.

“Very well,” he says finally, pressing the tips of his fingers together as if he is giving serious consideration to Lan Wangji’s request. “We will grant Hanguang-wang the right to stay, as reward for his loyalty.”

--

He does not call on Chenghuan Hall.

He tells himself it is to give Wei Wuxian space in the wake of such momentous news, to allow him to process it fully in his own time without the added pressure of Lan Xichen’s presence. It is a flimsy excuse, one he knows does not fool his Empress at the very least, whose knowing looks and raised eyebrow has his insides twisting with guilt and shame like a child caught stealing treats from the kitchens. So he avoids her palace too, and seeks refuge in the Imperial study until late in the evenings.

A whole month passes where Lan Xichen does not allow himself to see Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian does not send word to him either.

He wonders if he’s left it too long, whether Wei Wuxian would be upset or angry at their situation—at him, for putting them in this situation. If it is too late to show up now, after a whole month of silence, and try to make amends. 

Fortunately—if one could call any part of this fortunate—the decision is made for him when Wei Wuxian himself walks into the Imperial study one night and kneels in the centre of the chamber. Lan Xichen watches dumbly as he prostrates himself, forehead pressed against the tips of his fingers on the cold stone floor, his hair loose and unbound, spilling over his plain white robes, the very picture of contrition and penance.

“This lowly concubine pays greetings to Huangshang,” Wei Wuxian says, his voice loud and clear in the quiet of the study. “And humbly seeks your forgiveness.”

“Wuxian...” Lan Xichen begins hesitantly. He breaks off, looking around at the eunuchs stationed around the study with their heads bowed. “You may leave us.”

It is only after they file away, closing the double doors behind them silently, does Lan Xichen allow himself to cross the chamber to where Wei Wuxian is still kneeling. He hurries to help him up, grasping him below the elbows, but is met with resistance as Wei Wuxian stubbornly keeps his head and shoulders bowed.

“Wuxian,” he says helplessly. “There is no need for this.”

“This lowly concubine dares not stand until Huangshang has forgiven me for my transgressions,” Wei Wuxian replies, still in that formal, wooden tone of voice Lan Xichen has come to know too well. He sighs.

“It is cold tonight and you are barely dressed. You will catch a cold walking around like this,” he tells him gently, softening his grip on his arms. When Wei Wuxian still refuses to budge, he sighs again and tilts his face up with two fingers under his chin. “There is nothing to forgive, you have done nothing wrong,”

There is confusion and wariness in those grey eyes as they finally meet his, two emotions he had hoped never to see again.

“Huangshang is displeased with me,” Wei Wuxian says quietly, tightly, as if he would fall apart if he raised his voice. “Ever since the report from Jinghai. Huangshang can no longer bear the sight of me, now that Lan Zhan—” he bites off the name with a pained twist of his mouth.

Lan Xichen recoils as if struck. He had known the nature of their relationship before his brother’s departure, and their plans for his return. But hearing his brother’s given name, such an intimate address used so freely and without thought, is a stark reminder of what he had done. Who he had taken.

Wei Wuxian knows it too, from the shudder that runs through him as he exhales, and the way his hands curl into fists in his lap.

"This lowly concubine does not dare presume he has any right to beg forgiveness for putting Huangshang in such a difficult position,” he continues, the barest hint of a waver in his voice. “I only wished to let Huangshang know that he does not need to trouble himself over this any longer.”

There is a ring of finality to his words that immediately catches Lan Xichen’s attention.

“What are you saying?” he asks warily. “Wuxian—”

Wei Wuxian shuffles backwards, putting enough distance between them so that he can prostrate himself once more, touching his forehead to the floor.

“This lowly concubine begs Huangshang to grant me the death penalty.”

“No.” 

The word forces itself from Lan Xichen’s lips before he even realises he’s spoken, a spontaneous, visceral reaction full of hurt and fury beyond his control. For a long moment after, he cannot speak around the vice clamped tight around his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs. Wei Wuxian replies, but his voice is only a faint murmur against the blood roaring in his ears; he cannot see his face to read his lips, but Lan Xichen already knows what he will say.

“You cannot ask that of me.” The words rasp painfully against his throat. “I will not be the reason for your death.”

Wei Wuxian raises his head and Lan Xichen freezes at the sight of the tears in his eyes, the same hurt, the same helpless fury colouring his cheeks and knitting his brows.

“And I am not willing to be the conflict that destroys the relationship between brothers,” he cries. “I cannot—I will not do it. Huangshang. You cannot ask that of me. Please do not ask it of me.” 

He lowers his face to the floor once more.

“This lowly concubine is only alive today because of Huangshang,” he says, voice small and trembling but with an undercurrent of steel. “I should already be dead. If Huangshang grants me the death penalty now, it will only be putting the situation to rights once more, and Hanguang-wang will be none the wiser upon his return.” 

Lan Xichen reaches out a trembling hand toward him, but stops short, hand hovering just above the top of his head. He cannot ask this of him. As a brother, and as a man, he cannot do it. As an Emperor—

Almost as if sensing his indecision, Wei Wuxian raises his head, leans into the palm of Lan Xichen’s outstretched hand and smiles as those long fingers mould themselves reflexively around the curve of his cheek.

“This lowly concubine will never forget the kindness and affection Huangshang has bestowed upon me,” he murmurs. “So if there must be a sacrifice, please let me make it in your place.”

--

TBC (yes I have just decided there will be a part two to this)

--

buy me a ko-fi!

more paper-thin fic | verse

--

Notes

Such drama! Much angst! 

Sorry this took much longer than anticipated, mostly cos I’ve been devouring ancient Tezuka/Fuji fics and falling back into the ancient Tenipuri fandom in the past couple of weeks. So, uh, don’t be surprised if my next thing is Tezuka/Fuji instead (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞

[writing-by-gayrainbowbridge]

Keep Fighting

Inspiration From This Lovely Prompt By murdermuffinkink:

Loki and Tony are in abusive relationships with each of their partners. Loki had long since given up on getting out of his own but when he sees Tony still struggling and fighting against Steve, he decides that if he can't get out of his own abusive relationship with Thor, he can at least help Tony get out of his.

⚠️Warnings: Abusive Relationship(s), Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-Con, Omega Verse, Self Harm, Suicide Attempt, Etc.⚠️

Enjoy 💚❤

Loki had given up nearly two hundred years ago in getting away from Thor. He tried many times but Thor had a tight hold on his leash, never letting Loki get far.

So, after what felt like a thousand years of fighting his relationship with Thor, he finally gave up and gave in, simply letting it happen. At least it was less painful when he was pliant and obedient.

When he had fallen from the Bifrost, he had thought for a minute, maybe he could finally be free. Free of Thor and all the hurt he'd caused. But it was never so easy for him.

Thor managed to get his hands back on Loki after he lost during the attack on New York. Thor was determined to never let Loki slip away again, using Loki's 'evil villain' status as an excuse to restrict Loki's magic to the point that it was barely there anymore.

Loki didn't tell anyone of how he was tortured for months and forced to attack Midgard. Who would believe him?

For a minute, Loki had been glad he lost. It was always the plan to lose, to be captured by the Avengers and taken back to Asgard and thrown in a cell. At least then, Thor wouldn't be able to touch him again.

But Thor never ended up taking him back to Asgard. He had instead asked Steve Rogers, the leader of the Avengers group if Loki could stay on Midgard.

Thor had played all teary eyed, telling the Avengers how he knew Loki was good inside, how he just needed some time to remember who he was. Not that Loki could forget. He remembered who he was before Thor had taken his whole world and freedom away from him. There had never been a choice for him.

Steve had agreed to let Loki stay, apparently moved by Thor caring so much for the wayward villain, so long as it was at the Tower where the Avengers could keep an eye on him.

They figured out soon enough why that was, how Thor cared for Loki as a lover. It sickened Loki that the Avengers didn't have a problem with it, that it was completely fine.

Sometimes, Loki had dark thoughts. Sometimes he wondered what would happen if he simply ended it all. Would anyone notice? Would anyone care? He was sure Thor would but that wasn't because he cared. He would only be upset that he lost his favourite toy.

The only reason Loki hadn't tried was because one, it was ridiculously hard to kill himself, not because he wasn't able to go through with it but because he was a god. God's were terribly hard to kill. Loki would know. He'd tried to kill Thor hundreds of times before. Never mind how many times he'd tried to kill himself.

And two was because of a certain mortal genius.

Loki wasn't sure at first what it was about Tony Stark that drew him. Sure, Tony was rather handsome and very intelligent for a mortal but there was something else about him that Loki...related to. The nearly defeated look in his eyes that were always cast towards the floor.

It wasn't until Loki saw Tony with Steve that he understood what it was that drew him.

It was early in the morning, Loki always getting up before Thor, (because if he didn't, he would end up under Thor for the rest of the morning) sitting at the kitchen table. Loki didn't speak to the other Avengers much, opting to pretend he was too tired to talk so he didn't have to converse with anyone. Nor, he thought, did any of them want to.

Steve was making everyone breakfast like he did every morning, Natasha and Clint talking to one another. Bruce wasn't yet awake and Tony was a wild card. He could still be asleep or he could have been holed up in his lab, getting no sleep the entire night.

Apparently the latter as Tony arrived a little while later as Steve was serving up breakfast, Tony looking bleary eyed as he made a beeline for the coffee machine.

Steve turned his head, watching with a frown as Tony poured himself a mug. "You didn't come to bed last night."

"I got busy," Tony said with a slight shrug, giving Steve a gentle smile. "Did you miss me, Captain?"

Steve frowned disapprovingly. "I'm being serious, Tony. I told you not to be in the lab all the time."

Tony sighed as he filled a mug. "I've been getting plenty of sleep, alright? Relax, Stevie, I'm fine."

"Tony," Steve said, his tone taking on a slightly warning edge, stepping closer to the genius.

Loki was the only one who saw Tony flinch, eyes flicking down to the floor. "I'll try not to go in the lab so much, okay?"

"Good," Steve said with a nod, a smile suddenly on his face at Tony's agreement. "Want some breakfast?"

Loki glanced at Tony who wasn't smiling, eyes down at his drink as he nodded his head. Tony looked up at the others, almost like he was checking to see if anyone had noticed and frowned when he saw Loki watching him.

But Loki didn't look away and neither did Tony. Not until strong arms suddenly wrapped around Loki from behind and a voice spoke in his ear. "There you are, Loki."

Loki didn't greet Thor back, instead tearing his gaze from Tony's as he looked pointedly back at his plate of untouched food.

After that, Loki continued to watch how Tony acted around Steve. He was always defiant at first, always arguing with whatever Steve told him but as soon as Steve made one threatening movement, so subtle that nobody but Loki noticed, Tony would immediately shut up and agree with whatever Steve had said.

There was a difference between him and Tony though. Tony was clearly still fighting back whereas Loki had already given up.

It was...refreshing though it hurt, reminding Loki of a time he used to fight back too. He didn't want to see Tony suffer how he did but he didn't know how he was meant to help without alerting Thor or even Steve to what he was doing.

But Loki would try to help Tony fight.

Because if he couldn't save himself, he could at least try and save Tony.

...

Tony wished he could get away from Steve sometimes. That he could simply leave.

But he couldn't. Nobody would listen to an Omega complain about how their Alpha abused them. Abused Omega's were always ignored, told that they were overreacting, that they were too soft and couldn't handle a little pressure.

Of course, he could always just kick Steve out of the Tower, make him leave. But that could cause more problems than Tony wanted to deal with. Fury would have his hide if he pulled something like that. As much as Tony didn't want to admit it, the world needed Captain America.

So Tony gritted his teeth and pushed through it. Besides, it wasn't so bad. Steve could get angry and a little too rough sometimes but it wasn't anything that Tony couldn't deal with.

And it had been fine until he realized he wasn't the only one who was being forced into a relationship he didn't want.

Jarvis had brought it to his attention, how Loki didn't eat much, barely got enough sleep and was constantly injured in some way.

Tony, despite being a genius, had been a little slow on trying to figure out how and why Loki was getting so hurt when all he did was lounge around the Tower.

But then he thought of Thor, how the god was always hovering over Loki. At least, Tony had assumed it was because he didn't want Loki getting up to no good. But it had been months since the attack and Loki hadn't tried to do a single evil thing in all that time.

It made Tony wonder if Loki was really that evil to begin with. For a guy apparently hellbent on ruling Earth, he had given up pretty damn easy, barely putting up a fight when Thor cuffed him. Almost like he had wanted to lose.

But that hadn't been the point. The point had been Loki getting hurt and as much as Loki was a villain, Tony didn't like people getting hurt under his roof.

It didn't take much snooping for Tony to figure out how Loki was getting himself hurt. Or more, who was getting Loki hurt.

Tony hated it but he knew there was nothing he could really do. He had gone up against Thor before with his suit and if Steve hadn't stepped in, he wasn't sure what would have happened.

Besides, it wasn't like Tony was in a better position. Steve would be furious if he found out Tony was taking a villains side or say he was being influenced somehow.

Still, Tony wished he could punch Thor and make it hurt.

But what was one little Omega going to do against a literal god? How could he help Loki when he could barely help himself?

...

"What were you thinking, Tony?!"

"I just—"

"That's right! You weren't thinking, were you?"

Loki watched along with the other Avengers as Tony was shouted at by Steve, doing nothing to stop it. Apparently the mission had gone sideways and Tony had nearly gotten himself extremely hurt, throwing himself into the line of fire to protect one of the others.

Loki wasn't sure why Steve was so upset. They were superheroes, weren't they? It was their job to protect and if they got hurt, that was a part of the risk.

Of course, Loki hadn't been there to see it for himself. He wasn't trusted to go on missions with the Avengers (nor did he want to) so he had to stay at the Tower with Thor watching him. Only, Thor did a lot more than simply watch him. His hips were already bruising from the blond's harsh grip.

Tony was staring at the floor now, not even trying to defend himself as Steve lectured on and on. Nobody said anything until Steve finally finished, taking a breather.

"Come on, Tony," Steve said finally, grabbing Tony's wrists in a too tight grip and dragged him to the elevator before anyone, even Tony, could get a word out.

Loki watched them go, fingers twitching in his lap, itching to race after the pair and yank Tony away from Steve but he couldn't. Without his magic, he was useless to help. All it would do was make Steve angrier and Thor would be even less impressed.

Loki saw Tony later in the day. Loki was on the couch, reading a book. Thor was thankfully down in the gym training and had ordered Loki to stay in their room.

Of course, Loki hadn't listened. Just because he had given up on getting away from Thor, it didn't mean he listened to everything the Thunder god demanded of him.

So when Tony walked into the kitchen for coffee, Loki watched the slight limp the mortal sported with narrowed green eyes.

As if knowing he was being watched, Tony turned his head, looking surprised to see Loki sitting on the couch. "Oh, hi Lokes. I didn't think anyone would be out here."

Loki raised an eyebrow, glancing at Tony's wrists and noted the bruises ringing around each one, just barely hidden beneath his long sleeved shirt. "You sound disappointed."

"No, I'm not, I just..." Tony sighed. "Never mind."

Loki frowned slightly, sitting up a little straighter. "Steve has been...treating you right lately?"

Tony stared at him, eyes going a little wide. "Excuse you."

Loki looked pointedly at Tony's wrists making the genius glance down at them and pale, quickly tugging the sleeves down.

Loki sighed, shaking his head. "Why do you put up with it? You could leave him."

Tony looked up at him, still looking rather pale though almost angry but it didn't seem to be directed at Loki. "Like you with Thor?"

Loki gave Tony a surprised look. He didn't think anyone had realized what Thor did to him.

"Jarvis," Tony said simply in explanation.

Loki pressed his lips into a thin line. "That's different."

"How exactly?" Tony asked, setting his mug on the kitchen bench as he walked over to Loki.

Loki glared at him for a moment but he wasn't angry. Just...upset. He thought Tony would understand.

But then, Tony hadn't given up like he had.

"You wouldn't understand," Loki whispered. "Nor do I want you to."

Tony's expression became a little sad, almost as if he did understand. Loki couldn't look at him as Tony sat beside him, gently leaning into the god who after a long minute, did the same.

Maybe Loki couldn't help Tony as much as he hoped but he could still do small things like this to show Tony he wasn't alone.

Or maybe Loki simply liked feeling that he wasn't alone himself.

...

Tony felt like he was minutes away from breaking down, constantly on the verge of tears as he did what he needed to throughout the day.

Steve had done something unforgivable last night. Tony could barely look at him the whole day though Steve had kept his distance. He didn't know why he was so surprised since Steve seemed to have no problem hitting him and yelling at him but this...

Tony had said no, had told him to stop and Steve...Steve just...

Steve raped him.

Oh god's, he was going to be sick—

"Anthony?"

Tony forced his slightly watery eyes up to meet those green ones he knew belonged to Loki. "O-oh. Hey, Lokes."

Loki frowned deeply, taking in Tony's tearful brown eyes. "What happened?"

Tony swallowed repeatedly, trying and failing to form words. How could he even begin to explain?

But Loki...Loki would understand. Loki knew what it was like...to be...to be...

A sob burst past Tony's lips before he could stop it and in one second and the next, he was gathered up in Loki's arms, held tight against the god's chest as Tony trembled, tears falling down his cheeks.

Loki didn't ask, didn't force Tony to talk. He didn't need to. Tony was sure Loki already figured it out on his own.

Loki didn't let him go though.

...

After that, Loki and Tony looked out for each other.

Whenever Loki came from the room he shared with Thor, bruises all over his aching body, Tony was there, offering to watch a movie together or hang out with him in the safety of his lab. It was either a distraction from the pain or a way to get away from Thor without him realizing it.

And when Tony came back after an argument with Steve or walked into the kitchen looking so pale that Loki barely had to guess what had happened, Loki would be there to pull the genius into his arms and hold him tight, letting him break down in his arms.

They both hid the abuse they endured from the others, either afraid of being judged as weak and pathetic or worried the others would think they deserved it and contribute to the abuse.

But they didn't mind so much because they had one another to keep each other from falling into their dark thoughts.

It took a while for both of them to realize that despite their situation, despite being in a relationship (even if it wasn't one they wanted) and despite both being Omega's, they wanted each other.

Tony realized first, Loki still being in denial, not because he didn't want Tony, much the opposite, but because he knew it would lead nowhere. If Thor found out he had feelings for someone else, Tony would be in danger of Thor. Loki couldn't do that to him.

It still didn't stop Loki from one day kissing Tony in the privacy of his lab, wishing things were different.

...

Loki knew he was going to get into trouble. If Thor caught him...

But it didn't matter. He didn't care anymore. He'd stopped caring about his own pain a long time ago.

Especially since the dagger was slowly bloodying his wrists. No, he wasn't trying to kill himself. There was no point. This wouldn't be enough to kill himself. Blood loss was nothing for a god.

But it was enough to cut through the magic restraints on his wrists.

Why would Loki risk Thor's wrath if he caught Loki doing this?

Because he had passed by Tony's room earlier in the day, had heard him scream and something in Loki ripped apart at the sound, making him throw all caution to the wind.

So he had gone through Thor's things, finding the enchanted daggers that Thor had taken from Loki and used them to cut the restraints off, ignoring whenever it cut into his skin. The pain was nothing to knowing that Tony was in danger from his Alpha.

As soon as he was free of the bands, he teleported from his room to Tony's, not caring for what he might find, only caring about protecting Tony, keeping Tony safe.

But surprisingly, he didn't find Steve there, towering over Tony. Though Tony was clearly not okay.

"Anthony," Loki whispered, kneeling down in front of the figure shaking at the foot of the bed on the floor. "Anthony, Darling, look at me."

Tony wouldn't meet his eyes though, legs against his chest. Loki took comfort in the fact that Tony was clothed though it didn't mean much. If it had happened again, Tony simply could have redressed himself before Loki arrived.

But that wasn't the case. Loki knew because he soon saw the cuts on Tony's wrists and felt his stomach lurch uncomfortably. Tony had tried to kill himself.

"Oh, Anthony, no..." Loki whispered, grimacing at the blood on Tony's hands.

"He s-saw it," Tony stuttered out, shivering slightly. "He saw it and h-he got angry and grabbed m-my wrists and i-it opened back u-up and he h-hit me and...and..."

"Sh, sh. Hush, Anthony," Loki murmured, taking Tony's hands, ignoring the blood over them.

Tony sobbed, shaking his head, trying in vain to tug his hands back. "I can't do it anymore. I c-can't, please, Loki. I don't want him to t-touch me anymore."

Loki's heart broke, remember thinking the same thing two hundred years ago. "You don't have to do this anymore, I swear it."

Tears streaked Tony's face as he continued shaking his head, shivering and muttering under his breath. "There's n-nowhere we c-can g-go and I can't l-leave you h-here with h-him."

Loki had been wondering why Tony hadn't simply got up and left yet despite all of Steve's abuse. Now that he knew why, he both wanted to hug Tony and call him an idiot.

"You won't be leaving me here with him," Loki said, gently brushing his fingers over the cut and was relieved to see his magic working to heal the self inflicted wound. "In fact, you're coming with me, off of this realm entirely."

Tony stared with wide eyes at the newly healed skin, then up at Loki. "You have you're m-magic back? How? W-when?

"About five minutes ago," Loki stated plainly. "Do you want to leave with me, Anthony?"

Tony took a shaky breath, nodding his head. "P-please."

That was all Loki needed to tighten his grip on Tony's hand, pulling him into his waiting arms, pressing his lips to Tony's like he'd been yearning to do since the first time in the lab.

He remembered the words Tony had told him that day after their kiss, echoing in his head now.

'Keep fighting, Loki. Keep fighting because you're all that's stopping me from giving up. Keep fighting for me.'

And Loki had. He had but now...now they didn't have to fight anymore.

In one moment and the next, the pair vanished from the floor of Tony's room and reappeared somewhere far away where neither of them could ever be hurt by any Alpha ever again.

...

@murdermuffinloki I was going to add Bucky into this but then I'd end up writing a whole damn book and I have enough to write as it is but I just couldn't resist writing a oneshot for this, hsusyjwdj. Hope you enjoyed! :D

[honeytae]

if you’re open for regular requests i’d love to request lil scenarios of the boys learning english alongside their english-speaking s/o! this is totally self-indulgent i’m doing the TEFL program and i’m going to south korea next year to teach :)

first of all, that’s amazing omg!! congratulations my love, i hope you have the best time over there and please don’t be shy in sharing your stories with us!!! i tried to stick to the boys actually learning english with their s/o but i strayed from that with a few members just bc i ran out of ideas lol but i hope you still enjoy!

fair warning....i’ve never ~seriously~ tried to learn korean, so i’m not entirely certain of the parallels between korean and english. i just hope these are wholesome enough to override that lmao

namjoon:

“You know,” Namjoon looked up from his phone, “I understand expanding your vocabulary, but why are there so many weird slang words?”

“Kids these days?” You shrugged, the man chuckling in response before flipping his phone around to show you what had puzzled him.

“If something slaps, that’s...good?” He wondered, watching as you suppressed a smile at the tweet he was showing you.

You could tell by the profile picture that the user was an ARMY, one of the many fan profiles on the platform, and the tweet was written completely in English.

Although there was a ‘Translate to Korean’ option readily available with just a tap of his thumb, you knew Namjoon never missed an opportunity to challenge himself to be able to fully comprehend what a native English speaker was trying to say.

You nearly snorted at the tweet’s content, smiling as you read it out loud.

“The Dis-ease bridge just saved my life. Seriously, this song slaps.”

Glancing at Namjoon, he raised his eyebrows, eagerly waiting for you to translate and explain what that could equate to in Korean.

“It’s definitely a good thing, Joon. They love it.”

At your interpretation, Namjoon grinned, nodding to himself as he pulled his phone back in front of his face to scroll through more reaction tweets to the new album release.

seokjin:

“What the hell is that?”

You picked your head up from your sketchbook when you heard Seokjin whine from beside you, eyebrows knitting together at his distressed tone. Taking a glance over at his laptop screen, you found his mouse bouncing from letter to letter on one of his weekly english lessons.

“What is that, like 15 letters? How do you even use that in a sentence?” He went on, obviously flustered by the word on the screen.

Pulchritudinous.

You placed your hand over his to stop his panicked counting of the letters, causing him to look over at you with a sigh as he frowned.

You nearly giggled at his reaction, but the genuine fear in his eyes made you stifle it as you soothingly held his hands in yours. 

“It’s just an over complicated way of saying beautiful. I don’t know why they’re teaching you that, nobody ever uses it.” You assured him, his eyes going down in size a bit at your words before he nodded.

Watching as a smirk tilted his lips, you raised your brows at the sudden expression.

“What?”

“Well like, I could say I’m...that?” He said, eyebrows raised cockily as he gestured to the long word stretched across the screen.

“Well it’s actually not used like,” you paused, giving in with a shrug as you grinned back at him.

“Sure, love.”

yoongi:

“Why did I skip English class all the time?” Yoongi sighed, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers as he plucked at the skin in frustration.

“Because you were trying to be a rebel.” You answered without looking up from your phone, the man obviously not liking your answer as he reached over to where you were laying beside him to pinch at your hip.

Yelping, you scooted across the mattress to get away from his hand, whining his name with a scoff before looking over at his notepad.

“What are you doing, anyway?” You asked, leaning on your palm as you scanned the rows of scribbled English letters written on the page.

“I’m trying to get better at writing.” He admitted shyly, a small grin on his face to match the fond one on your own. 

“Aw,” you pouted, Yoongi raising his eyebrows at your tone, “but I like your chicken scratch.”

“You’re such a brat.” He chuckled, adjusting the velcro on his brace with a grunt.

Since Yoongi’s shoulder surgery took away obvious straining activities like dancing and performing, he’d turned to studying English from the comfort of your bed during his recovery as one of the only safe activities he could partake in for a while.

It was now one of his favorite past times, learning new words and phrases he could potentially use in the future. It worked for you both because it took his mind off the pain and kept him motivated, and since you could speak both his and your language, you could help him out whenever he got stuck on something.

Usually he did lessons verbally on his phone, but it seemed today he had taken the old fashioned route.

“Your handwriting really isn’t bad, Yoongs.” You observed, the carefully placed tails at the end of each ‘a’ making you smile out of fondness for the man.

“My man has the prettiest handwriting.” You cooed, pushing a strand of his stark black hair out of his eyes as he blushed down at his notebook.

“Stop that.”

hoseok:

“Hey, babe?” Hoseok called for you, listening to your footsteps growing closer before you popped your head into the kitchen doorway.

“Yeah?”

“I’m having a little trouble.” He gestured to his open laptop on the counter, you recognizing it as an assignment from his English course.

“What happened?”

“Pronouns. Pronouns happened.” He pouted, his disdain for the new chapter quite obvious as he stared down his computer screen.

“What about them?” You asked, stepping closer to the man sitting at the kitchen island and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“I need to make ten sentences using proper pronouns and I feel like I’m doing it all wrong.” He explained, causing you to hum as you looked over his sentences.

“These look great, Hobi.” You smiled as you glanced over the first three he’d written, flawlessly executed on the document.

“Can you help me with the next one?” He wondered, you nodding your head as you took a seat on the stool next to his.

“What do you want the next one to say?” You asked, watching as he glanced off to the side in thought, slightly squinting his eyes at the tile floor beneath the sink.

“My house is next to,” He spoke in English, pausing as he searched his brain for what pronoun to put next.

“Theys?” He answered as more of a question, then shaking his head as he switched back to Korean, “wait, no.” He sighed, placing his chin in his hand in thought before glancing over to you.

“I know it’s wrong, I just don’t know what the right answer is instead.” He explained, you shooting him a loving smile as you pushed the dark raven hair off his forehead and pressed a kiss to the newly revealed skin.

“I’ll help you, Sunshine. No worries.”

jimin:

Flopping onto the bed, you let your tired body fall on top of Jimin’s hoodie clad chest, his arm encircling your body as he mumbled a soft greeting to you.

“Hm, what are you learning about today?” You nuzzled into his chest, peering at his phone propped up on his thigh.

“Animals. Birds, mostly.” He answered, briefly turning from the screen to press a kiss to your head before focusing back on the row of English words matched with pictures of popular birds glowing from the device.

The first was a robin, the next a blue jay, and then a dove.

You listened as the virtual instructor prompted Jimin to repeat after her, spelling out the letters before stating the whole word. You smiled as your boyfriend followed instruction, pronouncing the words the best he could after the microphone chimed for him to do so.

“D-o-v-e. Dove.”

“Dove.” He repeated, smiling to himself as the app announced he got the point with a little heart.

“That’s cute.” He went back to his native language, you humming in confusion as you lifted your head up off his chest to look at him.

“The heart?” You asked, reaching up to twist a stray strand of hair out of his eye as he shook his head.

“Dove.” He said again, making you tilt your head, not knowing what he meant.

“It sounds like ‘love.’” He connected the two English words, you smiling fondly at him in response before scooting up the bed to kiss the tip of his button nose.

“You’re so cute.”

taehyung:

Three knocks at the door announced someone’s arrival to your bedroom, causing your head to lift from the novel you’d been so immersed in. Taehyung was home, but you’d wanted to give him space because you knew he needed to work on lyrics for his mixtape in order to submit them on time. 

“Hey,” he poked his head in with a small smile, “can you help me with something?” He asked sheepishly, stepping further into the room when you nodded.

“Of course. What is it?” You set your book down, marking your place before closing it to pay full attention to your boyfriend.

“Well, I’m trying to write this verse in English and,” he trailed off with a shrug, “you know.” He finished, you nodding in response with a gesture for him to come sit next to you.

He eagerly walked over to you with his notebook in hand, lowering himself to the mattress before rolling his way over to where you were leaning against the headboard.

Honestly, Taehyung’s English wasn’t bad at all. He was insecure about it, but you’d never really understood what the reason for that feeling was. His vocabulary was more than decent, his comprehension was good, and his pronunciation was great for having such a thick accent.

But there were many times where Taehyung came to you for guidance, as you were a native English speaker yourself.

And so, as he rested his head on your shoulder confiding in you about everything he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it, you patiently took him through what would work and rhyme best, smiling as he hummed the melody to himself to see if the phrases would work in his creation.

jungkook:

“Baby, can you read it to me again before we go on? Just one more time.”

You glanced over at your boyfriend in his makeup chair, several employees bustling around the man as they attempted to get him ready to go on stage while they had him seated.

With his arm extended backward to where you stood behind his leather chair, he offered his phone to you while shooting you a grin through the reflection in the mirror.

Taking the device from his hand, you opened it to the notes app where he’d written what he wanted to say in his statement on stage in just a few minutes.

You were in London tonight, which meant that all of the boys had been rehearsing their English so that they could communicate easier with their audience.

Jungkook, ever the over-achiever, was determined to do the toughest English tongue twister he could possibly find. Not only that, but in a British accent for his British ARMY’s.

“Betty bought a bit of better butter to make her bitter butter better.” You read from the phone, barely able to read the sentence yourself before you glanced up at Jungkook through the mirror again.

You watched your boyfriend nod as his brain took in the words you’d just said, taking a deep inhale before he began speaking the phrase back to you.

You gawked as the man effortlessly repeated after you, a few of the makeup artists stopping as well as Jungkook raised his eyebrows back at you.

“Was that okay?”

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Walburga Comes for Dinner (one shot)

Regulus Black AU

Summary:  Walburga comes for dinner and sees her children for the first time in a very long time. (goes with the Dinner with the Dursleys and Tuesday night dinner one shot...see below for links)

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: T

Dinner with the Dursleys 

Tuesday Night Dinners 

_______

This will be interesting…

That was the thought that went through your mind when Regulus stepped through the front door after a long day at work. Joanna immediately waddled over to her father, hopping up and down screaming “daddy” until he was able to get his coat off and pay attention to the child.

“Good, Joanna. Get him buttered up.”

You thought as Regulus came into the kitchen snuggling his face against Joanna’s head.

“You look pretty, darling.’’

Regulus commented, looking you over. He was ready for nothing more than a quiet Thursday night. By quiet this meant having dinner, giving Joanna a bath, getting the child in bed without her needing twenty hugs while making Regulus look for a random spider under her bed that she was convinced would eat her toes, and alone time with you. People at the Ministry were driving him batty and Regulus didn’t have the patience for any calamities that night.

“I’m pretty too.”

Joanna said in an extra sassy tone that earned a smile from Regulus.

“Of course you are love. You’re the prettiest little girl ever. Why don’t you go play with your dollhouse?”

Joanna, appeased with Regulus’ comment, didn't fuss when he put her down. She toddled off. Regulus waited until Joanna was quietly amused before wrapping his arms around you.

“Now, as I was saying, you look beyond pretty...absolutely ravishing is more like it.”

You relaxed in Regulus’ arms enjoying the moment of quiet uninterrupted alone time. As much as you didn’t want to, you knew that you had to break the news to him.

“Guess who is coming to dinner?”

“Merlin, I don’t feel like entertaining.”

Regulus groaned. You had expected this reaction. Things were only about to get more interesting.

“It’s your mother.”

Regulus’ mouth dropped. He hadn’t seen his mother in ages. She wasn’t there when Joanna was born or through your pregnancy. Walburga had sworn that she would never speak to Regulus as long as he was married to “that mudblood girl.” Regulus was just fine with his mother’s promise. He had no use for the woman if she was going to insult his wife. All Regulus needed to be happy was Joanna and yourself. Walburga no longer fit into the equation of his life. When Regulus stopped believing in the “Black family way” he realized how messed up everything truly was.

“Why?”

Regulus said, crossing his arms over his chest. You put down the bowl that you were holding. To say that you were looking forward to meeting Walburga was a far stretch. You would much rather it be your mother and father coming for dinner.

“She wants to see you. I suppose she’s feeling guilty about not seeing Joanna yet. Maybe she even feels a bit guilty because she is getting old and has no son to look after her now that your father is dead.”

Regulus mumbled something under his breath before going off to search for the bottle of fire whiskey. He needed some liquid motivation if his mother was going to be stepping foot inside of his home.

“She can go to a home for the elderly. I am not looking after her. I was the good son long enough.”

Regulus commented before smiling coldly.

“Watch this.”

He said before picking up the muggle telephone and calling Sirius. You had picked up your teacup and were keeping an eye on your husband. He was up to something and you had a sneaking suspicion on what he was going to do

“Hey, it's me. Want to come over for dinner?I know you never wait for an invitation. See you at six.”

Regulus hung up the phone before grinning at you.

“He can’t wait to see his mother.”

You shook your head. Now things were about to be a shit show.

An hour later there was a knock at the door. Regulus stood up knowing who that was. Walburga fucking Black was back to ruin his life and cause problems.

“I’ll get it, love.”

He commented before going to the door. Walburga stood on the other side with her usual snobby expression. She forced a smile as she looked at her youngest son. Regulus was handsome and well put together as always.

“Regulus.”

“Mother.”

Regulus kept his tone cold and icy. Walburga expected Regulus’ off-putting and unfriendly attitude. She assumed that he was still angry over her calling you mudblood. In Walburga’s mind, she was correct. Her “darling boy” married a less than desirable woman and this seemed to wedge between the two.

“Come in.”

Regulus said, keeping his eyes locked Walburga’s unfriendly face. He reached out and stopped her before she was able to get too far inside.

“I’m warning you now. If you are the least bit rude to my family, I will not hesitate to throw you out.”

Walburga glared at him. She wanted nothing more than to throw a few nasty mudblood comments out but decided if she didn’t want to die alone it would be in her best interest to be decent.

“I understand.”

Walburga looked around the homey living room. The house was very nice. Clearly, Regulus was doing well for his family.

“Daddy, come play with me.”

Walburga’s head snapped up the moment she heard the little voice that she had been wanting to hear for some time. She would never admit it but she had wanted to see her granddaughter from the time that the birth announcement came in the mail. Walburga had sent Joanna an “add-a-pearl” necklace as a way to say “welcome to the world” and that was that.

Regulus never took the time to send Walburga a photo or anything. Now before her stood the most lovely child that she had ever seen (with the exception of Regulus, of course).

Walburga watched as Regulus bent down to pick the little girl up. Joanna’s raven curls wildly fell down her back as she pressed her face into her father’s cheek. It wasn’t until Joanna pulled away from cuddling Regulus did she notice the new face in the room. She looked at Walburga carefully. Clearly, the little girl was well versed in “not talking to strangers.”

“Joanna, this is your grandma.”

Walbruga forced a small smile as Joanna put her head on Regulus’ shoulder.

She’s shy...just like he used to be.

Watching Regulus with Joanna, made Walburga’s heartache. Had she really lost so much time with her own son? While Walburga had wanted no part of being a mother originally, after losing Sirius then Regulus walking away for a muggle-born she realized how much that she actually loved her children.

“You can sit down, mother. I’m going to check on Y/n.”

Walburga immediately did as her son said as Regulus sat Joanna down.

“Keep grandma company.”

Regulus said softly. Part of him was screaming about leaving his darling baby alone with the hateful old woman but he knew Joanna would cause Walburga more annoyance. That in itself would be amusing enough. Besides, from his place in the kitchen door, Regulus could see the two perfectly.

You had just pulled the ham out of the oven when Regulus stepped into the room.

“Everything okay?”

You questioned. Regulus shrugged.

“She just walked in the door and I already feel like the love has been sucked out of me.”

You put the oven mitts down and wrapped your arms around Regulus’ shoulders. Kissing him softly, you chose to ignore Walburga who was watching the whole thing.

“I’ll suck something else out of you later.”

You said in a low suggestive tone. Regulus slightly blushed to know exactly what you meant and he would argue.

“That sounds tempting. We can throw her out, put the baby in bed, and have all evening alone.”

Before you could respond the back door opened and closed. Sirius stepped into the kitchen and smirked looking at Regulus and yourself.

“It's a wonder I only have one niece. The way you two snog there should be three or four kids running around here.”

Regulus rolled his eyes.

“One is enough. What about your love life?”

Sirius’ amused expression faded.

“Moony can’t get pregnant.”

Regulus put a hand over his face while you quietly laughed.

“How are we related?”

Regulus questioned as Sirius moved to go into the living room to see what his precious little niece was up to. He froze the moment that he saw the biggest demon from hell parked on his little brother’s couch talking to Joanna.

“Oh hell no.”

Sirius snapped before turning to make a line for the door but was stopped when Regulus brought him to the ground.

“If I’m stuck with her then you should be too.”

Sirius fought the urge to scream.

“You’re just evil!”

“Is everything alright in here?”

Both Sirius and Regulus got off of the kitchen floor as Walburga came in. Her cold grey eyes locked on her eldest son. The disappointment returned in full force as she looked between both Sirius and Regulus. While Regulus was dressed in a nice suit, Sirius looked like he had just gotten out of bed in tight clothing that he had worn for a few days.

“Sirius.”

“Walburga.”

Sirius decided not to call her “mum” to antagonize her. Regulus fought the urge to put a hand over his face as he remembered you standing beside him.

“Mum, this is my Y/n.”

Walburga’s vulture-like gaze turned to you.

So this is the girl that stole my baby from me.

Walburga thought before muttering a quiet and unfriendly hello. You only nodded. It was probably best that you kept your mouth shut. You were afraid that you would start going off on the woman for the way that she did both of her sons.

“Uncle Siri!”

Sirius had to tear himself away from watching you plot evilly as Joanna came running to him holding her hands out. He quickly reached down and scooped Joanna up, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Jojo, where have you been all of my life?”

“In the living room. Did you bring me my pony?”

Sirius laughed as Regulus immediately started shaking his head.

“Do you want your daddy to kill me?”

“No, daddy wouldn't notice it if you stuck it in the back garden and tied it to a bush.”

Joanna commented, adding a sneaky little blink. Sirius laughed again.

“First things first, sugar, your daddy is standing right over there and can hear. Let's get you ready to eat.”

Dinner started off smoothly. You tried to speak quietly to Walburga but were only getting one or two-word responses. If you needed any more proof that your mother-in-law didn’t like you...this was it. You could feel Regulus tense beside you.

“It's okay, love.”

You whispered quietly as Sirius leaned back in his chair. He gave you an eyebrow wiggle before speaking.

“So, mum, what got you out of the stone-cold manor? Did you get that steak out of your heart finally? You have surely missed a lot of Joanna’s life...although she doesn't look very concerned.”

Joanna was happily ignoring everyone and nibbling on her little plate of noodles. She didn’t seem the least bit concerned with anything that was going on around her.

“That’s very amusing, Sirius. I thought that the two of you should know that I am remarrying.”

Both Regulus and Sirius dropped their forks as your eyes rolled up, clearly shocked.

“Is that supposed to be a joke?”

Regulus questioned. Sirius started laughing so hard that he had to put his head down.

“Is the guy desperate or already on the verge of death? Did you meet him on evil witch weekly’s personal page?”

Walburga frowned. This was clearly not the reaction that she expected. She had planned on Regulus being a little more supportive than her elder son.

“You’re not funny, Sirius. I decided to meet someone who enjoys my company?”

Sirius snorted.

“Does he enjoy you smacking him around or just ignoring him like you did dad?”

Walburga put her fork down.

“Regulus, do you have anything to say?”

Regulus chuckled. This whole situation was completely ludicrous.

“I thought that you only loved yourself.”

Walburga stood up and threw her napkin down on the table.

“I thought that I would get some support from my son. I didn’t come here to be made a fool.”

Walburga turned and stormed from the house without another word. Joanna was the next to speak.

“Granny needs a nap.”

Sirius nodded and stood up to take his plate to the sink.

“Sure does, Jojo, a nice nap in a big wooden box...six feet under. Who wants cake?”

_________

@amelie-black @vixen @fandomsxxregulus @realgaytrash @acciosiriusblack @fific7 @jessyballet @knreidy1 @wolfstar4lifee @saturntomars @sxsalvatore @georgeweasleydumbhoe @zievyimas @buttercup-beeee @justfinishthis @vvipgot7be @whymyparentscheckmyphone @criminalyetminimal @bennyberry @mimisparkle12 @teletubiswszpilkach @siriuslyceleste @dumybitch @quuenofblacks @lucasfilms77 @spiderxalmighty @moonythemilf @fangirlforever2412 @brokencasbutt67-writer @authoressskr @moldy-old-boot @hankypranky @summer-novak @emiwrites3reads @shaylybaby2032​ @li0nh34rt​ @tas898 @deanwherescas @untoldshortsofthefandoms @knight-of-gleefulness @stuckinsaudi1 @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @sprnaturallover​ @shitfaceddaniel​ @wontlookaway​ @mycuddlycorner​ @rubyroscoe1 @hazncalsgal 

[fleckcmscott]

Coffee & Donuts

Summary: Arthur’s thrilled to be part of a crowd. Though the evening doesn’t go perfectly, Y/N’s flirtations make it sweet.

Warnings: Smut

Words: 4,602

A/N: Alright. After the heart wrenching angst of my last piece (which I love, by the way; don't get me wrong! 😂), I had to write another story in which Arthur and Y/N are happy and together. It's inspired by one of Arthur's visions during their kiss. I hope you all like it! Special thanks to @jokerownsmysoul for beta-ing!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Parties and celebrations weren't foreign to Arthur. He'd worked plenty, enough to make him realize what he'd been missing out on. He was well-versed in pin the tail on the donkey, musical chairs, and balloon animals. But as an adult, those activities didn't satisfy. He wanted to be included rather than paid. Connect with people, introduce himself. Discuss his experiences and pursuits. Feel sufficiently at ease to loosen up a little and have a good time.

Now he was a guest - a certified guest - at Patricia Gorman's fifty-sixth birthday party. The first party he'd been invited to since being the weird kid in class who'd rotated between three worn out sweaters and could never afford a gift.

He'd been a tad apprehensive about going to Burnside. Gotham's nicest borough had a reputation for high rents and low tolerance. When Y/N and he had entered 2E, however, Patricia's greeting ("You made it!") and the apartment were thoroughly welcoming. Crocodile brown walls and forest green shag carpet made the spacious living room a cozy hideaway. Marigolds leapt across the polyester of the T-cushion sofa and its easy-chair companion. The floor lamp's amber, crimped glass shades cast the spacious living room in a glow borrowed from warm autumn days.

Patricia's husband, Robert, was out on an emergency call. An HVAC had gone haywire in a residential building in Hinckley. Her daughter, son-in-law, and grandson had been by for lunch. That meant the only other guests were Matt - Y/N's old boss - and a bottle-blonde in a black halter dress and spike heels, who Y/N introduced as Laura. ("She's Matt's ex-wife," Y/N later disclosed. "He's been trying to win her back since I moved to Gotham.") Both shook Arthur's hand when he offered it, and he felt a little thrill whirl his stomach when Y/N laid claim to him by telling the woman, "This is my husband."

A collection of appetizers served as dinner, a fun and novel menu. The slow cooker meatballs Y/N and he had lugged over on the subway were a bit tangy; he still couldn't believe the recipe called for grape jelly. The deviled eggs with paprika, a pleasant mix of savory and sweet, was a dish he'd heard about on television. Cream cheese and cucumber sandwiches were light and airy, a good match for his iced tea. Only the artichoke and spinach dip gave him pause. Its beans and hot sauce made his taste buds wince.

That unpleasant flavor was quickly forgotten when Y/N pulled him to sit next to her on the sofa, so Patricia could open her presents. She proudly showed off the orange, clay ashtray her grandson had made for her. Arthur, having successfully kept the secret of her light smoking from Y/N, chuckled at Patricia fibbing she'd put candy in it. She thanked Matt and Laura for the champagne, wrapped in a silver bow with a simple "Happy Birthday" tag. The bottle wasn't popped. Upon peeking into the large giftbag Y/N placed on her lap, she made a soft sound. The Dazey whirlpool bath, which attached to the side of the tub and had three strength settings, was a hit. She announced her plans to try it in the morning. The dark blue Rexbuilt briefbag was intended to replace her cracked, leather briefcase, Y/N explained. Patricia ran her fingertips along the expanding inner compartments, the personalized planner that included the credential "CLA" after her name, and flipped through the included steno pads, eyes brimming.

She sipped at her cocktail and put an arm around Y/N. Melancholy tinged Patricia's voice. "At my age, the people in your life tend to stay the people in your life. Whether you like them or not." She reached further and patted Arthur's knee. "I'm glad an old dame like me gets to call you all friends." His throat clenched in gratification, though he wasn't daring enough to squeeze her hand and thank her for deciding he was a friend.

Still on top of the world an hour later, Arthur sauntered to the red and white enamel dining table to serve himself a second slice of upside-down pineapple cake. The evening had gone well, better than a guy with a natural inability to mingle could've expected. He bobbed his head to the beat of "Come Fly with Me." It was a happy coincidence that Patricia's taste in music aligned with his. She'd regaled him with tales of seeing Sinatra and Count Basie on her and Robert's honeymoon in Vegas. Arthur took a bite absentmindedly, wondering how long it would take for him to save the money to surprise Y/N with plane and concert tickets.

The daydreaming didn't last long. Matt's plodding footsteps preceded him, followed by a long sigh as he propped himself on the beige stone of the dining area's accent wall, across from the u-shaped kitchen. He held out a Budweiser and smirked. "Marriage is a hell of a lot of work."

Pleased that he was being treated like one of the guys, like a regular husband with a regular relationship who got to speak about his regular wife, Arthur accepted the beer and considered the comment. Matt's sentiment was hard to grasp. Dr. Sally had said marriage could be difficult, and Y/N's first hadn't survived the ripples of her life. But it didn't feel like work with her. Their arguments were minor. Her nagging him to find a primary doctor for annual check-ups, even though he'd survived this long without one. Or back in Missouri, when he'd told her to stop shielding him and trust he could take anything she had to give.

Arthur adopted a similar nonchalant posture and jutted his hip against the table's edge. "I like it. It's easy to take good care of her." He wasn't able to completely erase the smugness of success from his tone.

"You're what? Two years in with the most headstrong woman in Gotham? She's great and all, but she spikes my blood pressure." Matt slapped Arthur's back and let out a hearty guffaw. "Give it five more and you'll be in my office trying to avoid alimony."

"Don't. Say that." Arthur crinkled the can in his grip and glared up at him.

"Hey," Matt started, withdrawing even as he tried diplomacy. "It was just a joke. I didn't mean anything by it."

Flinching, pulling at the cuffs of his red sweater, Arthur fought the surge of anger in his veins. It wouldn't do to lose control and cause a scene. Of course Matt's comment about them splitting up was supposed to be a joke. But Arthur didn't find it one bit funny. Even with his complete faith in her and his firm belief that they were meant to be together, the possibility that she'd stop wanting him hurt. It didn't occur to him that the implication of the punchline could be that he'd get sick of Y/N.

With a muttered apology, Matt walked to the others in the kitchen. Arthur glanced over to see her laugh tipsily, until she grabbed her stomach and swatted Patricia's shoulder, a stark demonstration of how much he and Y/N differed. She always knew how to respond to people, the right comebacks. Appropriate timing and levels of interaction. It seemed she was in her natural element, the loveliest swan on a lake. Whereas after years of therapy and practice with her, he was still a fish out of water, flopping around on the shoreline in hopes some stranger would take pity on him and throw him back into the sea.

Maybe that was the real punchline. Eventually their contrasts would no longer complement each other and instead become a chore.

Scowling, he ambled towards the record player stationed before two double-hung windows. Increased the volume to drown out the intrusive notions. It didn't really work. He settled on a grounding technique he'd practiced, all the while lamenting that he couldn't handle a party without needing it. His attention went to the spinning LP, the needle following its grooves. The bright blue album cover, where Ol' Blue Eyes beckoned him, the scuff marks on the cardboard's corner edges. He acknowledged the spider plants sat on the windowsill, worried a papery leaf until it broke off. He stared out the window, taking in the whole of the city. Pinpricks of light dazzling in the darkness.

"Gotham's beautiful at night," Y/N said from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to watch her approach. Her cheeks glowed with alcohol and good cheer, the collar of her ivory blouse unbuttoned. "There's a life behind every light out there. Ten million of them. Here. Try this." She offered her hurricane glass, filled with an off-white slush.

He sipped the pina colada with cautious skepticism and grimaced as soon as it hit his tongue. The blend of pineapple and coconut tasted of cheap sunscreen and tropical imitations, the kind advertised in smudged brochures for bad cruises to islands with made up sounding names. "No, thanks."

Snorting, she shrugged and embraced his back at the waist. "How are we doing?" she asked, curling into his side. After a few seconds, she prodded him. "Had your fill of Matt?"

"He was just joking." Arthur rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.  She set the drink next to the record player and brought her hand to his, trailed it over the inside of his wrist, up his forearm. She pecked his chin and nudged him until he turned to her. As soon as their gazes met, the concern in hers told him she'd continue to pepper him with questions. But he wasn't about to let his misplaced doubts spoil her evening. And he knew the perfect way to distract them both.

A new song started. An oldie that sang of Jupiter and Mars, playfulness among the stars. He cupped her cheek, thumb sweeping the corner of her mouth. "Dance with me," he said. Before accepting his proffered palm, she laid a sloppy kiss on him. With a flutter of her eyelashes, she grinned, and his smile grew to match her own. As he held her side, led her in a slow, swaying circle, he marveled at her. At her ability to soothe every molecule, every lingering ache. Self-assurance welled in him, chased away his earlier dejection. He cradled her to his lanky frame, trembled and felt himself blush. She was the only woman for him. That was as certain as his cigarette habit.

Despite Patricia's reassurances she was fine, that Robert working late wasn't unusual, Y/N insisted on staying until he got home. Though Arthur would have preferred they take their leave an hour earlier, being allowed to smoke inside blunted his grumbling. The disarming flirtations she bestowed on him also didn't hurt. She'd pour herself a drink (four in total, if he counted correctly), help Patricia make a plate of leftovers for her husband, then throw him a wink. Whisper and cackle while cleaning, then kiss his temple.

Around midnight, Patricia put her foot down. Ushered them out with a promise to call and a hug fierce enough to crush his ribs. She raised a brow at Y/N's unsteady gait, grasped Arthur's arm, and said with a wry, tired smile, "Make sure you put that woman straight to bed." His dark brows shot up and held. Had she intended a pun? Or had Y/N's spare caresses caused the interpretation? Either way, he liked being trusted to take care of her. And the hint of arousal that flared in his belly.

By the time they stumbled into their apartment, that arousal had reduced to a dull exhaustion. She kicked off her heels on the way to the bathroom, calling a slurred "night!" as she closed the door. Yawning, he put dish soap and hot water in the crockpot, scrubbed burned bits of sauce from its rim, turned it upside down on a towel to dry. Once he'd brushed his teeth for one minute rather than the recommended two, he tossed his sweater, trousers, briefs, and socks in the hamper, and went to the bedroom. He found his blue pajamas in their usual spot, the chair in the corner, and slid them up his skinny but toned legs. Tucked in next to her, he was carried to sleep on waves of fatigue and her quiet, wet snoring.

~~~~~

A tickle threatened to rouse him. Whispers along the waistband of his bottoms. Heat snuggled his back. Delightfully drowsy, he cuddled deeper into cozy, cream-color sheets, already returning to a pleasant, dreamless slumber. But a rumble of exhaust, likely from a bus that needed a new muffler, dragged him to consciousness. Arthur grumbled and tucked his arm under his pillow, not ready to transition to a world of overcrowding and concrete, commotion and bad jokes.

Yet, Y/N's insistent grazes continued, luring him with promises of placid pleasure. Her toes wiggled at his heel until he made space for her to slip her foot between his ankles. The corner of his mouth quirked. He was reminded of last night's playfulness, her endless teasing. The way he'd held the crockpot as a shield to fend off her advances on the train home, her forwardness to the point that he would've preferred having a laminated card to present on her behalf. Forgive my wife: she has a condition. It causes frequent and uncontrollable displays of affection.

Nimble fingers edged lower, loosened the tie of his pajamas before dipping beneath the loose elastic to lace through his dark brown curls, darker than the chestnut hair on his head. Her knuckles ran over him, lazy caresses full of intent. Up and down, up and down. Delicate. Deliberate. The blood racing to his groin, the pleasant swelling, made his abdomen twitch. Soon full and heavy, the sensitive tip straining the cotton seams, he pressed his lips together. When she skimmed the tender skin resting on his inner thigh, he flexed the muscle at the base of his erection. It bobbed and hit her wrist and she let loose a girlish giggle, more intoxicating than wine.

With her left leg draped over him at the knee, she undulated against his rear. Plush lips brushed the boney knobs of his spine, damp breath fanned the nape of his neck, labored, needy. Pebbled nipples grazed his back through the thin nylon of her nightgown, taunting and compelling. He made up his mind to throw an arm around her, to yank her on top of him. To eagerly take part in her seduction.

But she withdrew from his bottoms to palm his stomach and plant a gentle kiss to the shell of his ear, whispering, "Sleep tight." The mattress shifted and she rolled away from him. He furrowed his brows. She rarely relented this easily - other times he'd awakened, hard and aching, enveloped by the captivating wetness of her mouth. What was she up to?

Covers rustled. Her calf bumped his. And the opposite of what he'd assumed occurred. Instead of light footfalls leading out of the room, there was silence, silence that seemed to stretch on and on...

Until a hitched gasp gave her away.

Touching herself. She was touching herself. She'd just been all over him, acted like he was some sort of model on the cover of Vue magazine, and now she was touching herself. Right beside him! Ecstatic to have inspired such brazenness, he grinned and fisted the pillow. Her fleeting, stifled moans tangled him in knots, implored him to give her what they both burned for.

He flipped in her direction, his hand shooting under the sheet to grab hers. "Gotcha."

Eyes wide, she gaped at him in surprise. But adoration softened her expression as she entwined their fingers. "How long have you been awake?" she asked.

"Long enough."

He stretched to rewind the shades, the diaphanous curtains staying in place. Sunlight diffused over them, wrapped around her face, lent her disheveled hair a warm luster. He twirled a feathered lock and pecked her eyelids. "Finishing what you started on the subway, hm?"

"Me?" Y/N brought his knuckles to her mouth.  "You're the one who came to bed without any underwear."

"Well, it was a late night." The pad of his thumb tugged at her bottom lip to reveal the pink tip of her tongue. He bent to claim it. "I was lucky to find my pajamas."

Chuckling, she broke their connection. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah. The cake was good. And the music. Everyone was nice."

"Patricia loved having you there. She thought you were very sweet." A pause as she mapped a dimple. "Matt said he'd upset you. Something stupid about breaking up?"

Vague shadows of discomfort flashed through Arthur, a frustration he'd mostly moved on from. He did his best to ignore it, waving her concern away. "Don't worry about it."

"He was just jealous, you know." Her nails ran along the small of his back. "He wants Laura to look at him the way I look at you."

Arthur had spent so much of his life yearning for change, to understand his purpose in the world and improve himself. The idea that a man with a good education, a successful career, and no disabilities could ever be jealous of him was, frankly, bizarre. But he didn't correct Y/N, instead locking her praise within his heart, preserving it for when he needed it most. He boosted himself on his forearm and fiddled with her V-neck, traced its button loops as he slipped the plastic knobs through them. "And how's that?'

A hint of scandal glimmered in her irises. She arched into him as he eased a strap down her upper arm to reveal her shapely breast, the lilac fabric momentarily catching on its taut peak. "Like I can't get enough of you."

He huffed at that, fondled her faintly before his lips met the velvety skin of her chest. A tonic comprised of the musk oil she'd dabbed on before the party and distinct sexual wanting wafted to his nostrils. He licked at her nipple, the bumps on her areola, and drew it between his teeth. She whined softly and lifted the bottom of her nightdress to her waist.

Hurriedly, he yanked on the waistband of her cotton panties, pushed them past her knees. She kicked them off while he knelt to lower his bottoms. Straddling her, he pumped himself back to hardness and opened the drawer of her nightstand. He searched haphazardly until he retrieved a small, glass bottle of lubricant. (She'd ordered it from a mail catalog, both of them a bit too bashful to walk into an adult shop, even together.)

She snagged it from him and poured half a teaspoon in her hand, then palmed herself. He moved between her legs and she grasped his length, coating him with the warm, slippery liquid. He pushed forward into her. Gradually, slowly, savoring every millimeter of her enticing heat. He noted the stretch of her mouth, the jut of her jaw, the lifting of her upper lip. "Mmm..." she breathed and begged him to keep going. When he did, her head tilted back into the pillow, eyelids falling shut. A smile cut across her cheeks as she purred her satisfaction. "Arthur, I love you."

His touch wandered down the curve of her thigh. At the sight of her subtle writhing beneath him, the sway of her slightly uneven breasts in time with his languid thrusts, he pushed her knee into the mattress, splayed her wider. He grunted lowly. "Look at me."

Their gazes met but didn't hold for long; hers dropped to where they were joined. She caressed right above his pubic bone. "I love seeing you like this." Her fingertips walked a line up his sternum to his chest. "And touching you like this." She wrapped her arms around his middle and drew him to her, locked their lips in a greedy kiss. "And making love like this."

He snorted. "I think this is the only reason you married me."

"Well, not the only reason. There's your good hair, too."

"I've been thinking about cutting it. Trying something new."

"Don't you dare." She tugged at his loose curls, wore her best pout. "What else would I hold onto when we're doing this?"

Laughing lightly, he bumped his nose to hers. Falling into her was like falling into his old fantasies, the ones that'd sustained him through years of isolation. Dates at diners, at comedy clubs, at donut shops, at home. Their shapes had changed as he'd matured, his role in them, his aspirations and infatuations. But they'd remained a warm comfort nonetheless, a place that felt like belonging. And now he belonged with her. Hunger filled him. Happiness. And love. So much love, more than he'd ever believed he'd carried in him. He bucked a little harder. "You feel so good," he murmured. "You make me feel so good."

A strained cry left her and her pelvis answered his steady rhythm with demands of its own. Her calves rose to squeeze him closer, encircle his narrow hips. They were pressed together so tightly; it felt like they were one flesh. He never wanted it to stop. But a dizzying euphoria had ignited, one that eclipsed the romantic yearnings of his heart, twisting his desire to last all morning into the desperate drive to possess her. Gasping, Arthur raised himself to his knees, delving deeper with each push. Their foreheads met and he grit his teeth at the scald of her, the texture of her walls. She fit as though she'd been made for him.

He supposed she was.

Pressure began in the base of him, building and building in terrific torment. The muscles of his inner thighs contracted inward. Tingling climbed his shaft, his tailbone, his spine. He wove his fingers into the sheet, his grip a vise that wrested its corner from the mattress. She kissed the spot where his jaw met his neck, all the while murmuring encouragements for him to let himself go.

Bliss shot through him, from the tips of his toes to the follicles on his scalp, and his back stiffened as he whimpered and poured into. Fever engulfed his frame, sublime in its frenzy, leaving him in a heady stupor. Aftershocks made him tremble. Once, twice. Until, sated and spent, he landed on top her. He closed his eyes, ribs rising and falling as he forced air into his lungs.

A minute later, he swallowed and looked down at her. "You didn't come."

She carded through his sweaty locks. "It's all righ-"

"Shh." He slid out of her and settled at her side, reached between her legs to swipe at her core. "I'm not done," he declared, tracing the edges of her entrance, slick and swollen. One of his favorite things about getting her off was demonstrating his prowess in bed, how well he'd learned with her. His thumb met her plump clitoral hood, and he felt her throb beneath his ministrations.

Nails biting his bicep, she rocked upwards. A bewitching blush crept up her breast, her neck, spread across her cheeks. Shallow pants hit his face, short puffs suffused with high-pitched whines, utterly irresistible. He circled her nub at a steady cadence, tapping when she'd shiver, and she clasped the back of his hand. He swirled his tongue around her nipple, sucked the pretty peak, and lowered the other strap of her nightgown to bare her completely. A hushed plea fell from her lips. "Please, please..."

Suddenly, her vulva grew white hot and she seized, her hips stuttering with each flutter of his touch to her folds. She thrusts her breasts towards him, a sharp moan caught in her throat. Liquid pooled against his fingers, proof of her rapture that made him wish, with mild amusement, that he could be an unmedicated young man again. He would've gladly taken her a second time.

Giggling and rubbing her temple, she released a long exhale and opened her eyes. He brushed her hair back and grinned, completely smitten, like the first time he'd heard a joke and understood the punchline. The light brown picture frame on his nightstand caught his attention, and he regarded the wallet size photo in it, one of the shots of Y/N from the booth at Amusement Mile. The last thing he looked at before turning in each night. He lay his head her shoulder and hummed, listened to the drum of her heart.

She smooched his hairline and wriggled out from beneath him to stand. Her nightie had been reduced to a crumpled stripe of lilac cinched about her waist. It felt tawdry and shameless and he wanted to see her in it for the rest of the weekend. But she peeled it down her legs, wrinkling her nose when it got stuck on her thighs, and stepped out of it one foot at a time. She dropped it on the floral bedspread and retrieved her bathrobe from the closet. "Meet you in the kitchen," she said, opening the door.

The sun had risen higher, its beams slanting across the covers. He basked in it, catlike, then swung his legs over the side of the bed. He pulled on his pajamas, got a new pair of socks from their dresser, and made his way to the kitchen. He washed off the remnants of Y/N's arousal from his fingers, popped open a prescription bottle and took a tablet. He poured water into the coffeemaker, grabbed the can of grounds from the second shelf, added three scoops to the paper filter. Their three-tone brown mugs sat in their spot next to the machine, waiting to be filled.

When the glass coffeepot was half full, Y/N emerged from the bathroom, chuckling to herself. She opened the breadbox on the opposite counter and took out a wax paper bag. "Do you have any idea how dull this morning would have been if we'd never met? I'd have read the Sunday paper, had a drink. Probably worked on a file." He handed her a couple dessert plates, watched her put a donut on each one. "I wonder where you'd be. What woman you'd have breakfast with, what jokes you'd be writing, what magic tricks you'd have learned."

"Um..." At first he wanted to ask where this speculation had come from, if Matt had let her in on exactly what he'd said. But the confident slant of her smirk told Arthur she was teasing. He tried to play along but winced. No matter how appealing, how extraordinary she found him, his gut told him there wouldn't have been another woman. There'd be no more stand-up routines, no more Carnival. He certainly wouldn't be taking care of Penny. He'd likely be locked up in the hospital, maybe even dead. Without an anchor, his life would have lost what little sense it had.

Y/N was one of his anchors now, hooked into the sand alongside his material, treatment, the ability to pay bills. He seized her hand and squeezed it tight, unaware he was squishing her fingers. "I don't wanna think about it," he said quietly.

She sidled up to him and pulled him to her side. Rubbed his flank soothingly and pecked the corner of his mouth. "Don't worry." She took his chin and guided him to look at her. The intimate comfort of her smile helped him believe her next words, even before she spoke them. "I'll always be here."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma @tsukiakarinobara @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul @fakestreet​ @ralugraphics​​ @iartsometimes​

[dreamescapeswriting]

Pumpkin Juice ~ JJK [Request]

WORD COUNT: 5K

PAIRING: slytherin!Jungkook x Hufflepuff!Reader

GENRE: HogwartsAU, Harry Potter Universe, friends to strangers, strangers to enemies, enemies to lovers who have secret crushes on one another, touch her and I’ll kill you vibes, there is no wizard war in this so shhh, everyone is happy...Fred is Fred .

A/N: I used the “Wheel Of Names” to generate who would be used for this imagine and I got Jungkook, I thought since I didn’t give anyone a chance to request him I would do this as a one off for now :) 

Ever since you could remember it had always been you and Jungkook together, since you were kids you were always hanging out together and having fun. You'd met when you were younger, both your wizarding families had been friends for hundreds of years so it was fate that you and Jungkook would get along with one another. The two of you could never be separated, spending time with one another so much that people considered you siblings or some would even assume that you were dating. Your parents hoped you would date Jungkook since he was one of the best wizards in the country along with you by his side, the two of you were exceptionally smart and everyone had high expectations of you but once you began attending Hogwarts however, all of it changed. Instead of being your rock as he had been for all those years, Jungkook became a total stranger to you, being placed in Slytherin changed his personality for the worst. He began hanging around with all of the wrong people, Draco and Pansy influencing him to become one of the worst people you'd ever had the displeasure of knowing. 

Even in your final year, he was still pretending as though he'd never even known you, escaping to talk to you whenever he could though and in the summer he would attend parties at your home as if nothing had changed. As if he hadn't spent the entire school term torturing you and your friends with mean nickname and chants that they had been coming up with. The worst one being a song they had curated around Cedric's death in The Triwizard Tournament when he knew that you and Cedric had been dating for some time. 

"Look who it is, the book worm." You heard a familiar coo as you sat in the library one day during a free period, this voice didn't fill you with dread as many others did within the school grounds. 

"Fred," You greeted coldly, pretending to be mean to him as you tried to focus your mind on the potions book in front of you trying to get everything to set in your mind, Snape was always on at you for being behind in his class but it wasn't your fault. Potions weren't something you wanted to take but it was forced upon you by your family, almost every member was a master at potions except for you. Quidditch was where your skills laid and you could have been a professional if you could keep your grades up but you kept getting "D"'s in your potions class, 

"Another Dreadful?" George chimed in as he sat down beside you on one of the wooden chairs, glancing over at the latest potions report card you had gotten back, you slid it under your book not wanting anyone else that was inside of the library to see or overhear what was being spoken about.

"Snape hates me, that's all there is to it." You grumbled as your eyes continued to scan over the same sentence again and again but it was as if your head wasn't taking anything in that you were reading. 

"You just need a good tutor, someone who is exceptionally brilliant at potions," George said as he began straightening out his robes, brushing them off as he was clearly speaking about himself, 

"Someone who is also exceptionally good looking, charming and funny." He added as he put his elbow onto the desk, staring at you as he waited for you to take the hint. You smiled at him pretending as though you were taken in by everything he was saying, 

"You're so right Georgey...But where would I find someone like that, Hogwarts is filled with Idiots." You winked at him pushing his elbow out from underneath him and laughing in sync with Fred as George hit his head onto the wooden desk below him. 

"You're so mean to me," George began pouting out his bottom lip you were about to give him a sarcastic comment back when a shiver ran up and down your spine and the nearby candles blew out. 

"Well, well, well, it's the Weasleys and their little Weasley Whore." You shuddered at the sound of Pansy's voice, it was like nails on a chalkboard to you as she made her way over to the desk. Glancing you up and down as she spotted the report card sticking out from under your book.

"How was your Potions exam?" She asked as she pulled out a chair across from you, you knew she didn't care about your exam so you began to slowly pack your things up in silence, wanting nothing more than to get away from her and study in peace.

"Not so fast!" She called out, slamming her hand down onto the book in front of you and dragging it towards her with a giant smirk across her lips. 

Sliding out the report card the smirk only began to grow as she saw the large blood-red D written on the top of your card, 

"I would have given you a T so it would match you," She tilted her head to the side faking sympathy as she said something mean to you,

"T for troll...Get it? I thought I would explain seeing as you're so stupid," Fred went to step forward to say something but you clutched his wrist, it wasn't worth the fight or the detention you would no doubt get from Snape if he heard you were standing up to one of his favourite students. 

"Oh, this is a recent development," She snickered, staring down at your hand that was wrapped around Fred's pale wrist, the boy began to shake with anger but you tightened your grip. 

"I'm sure Jungkook would love to hear about this, maybe we could add a verse to the Weasley Is Our King song with Y/n in it as well!" She jumped up from the chair with excitement and began giggling as she walked out of the hall, humming the tune to the song she had referenced. 

"Not worth it, if Snape hears someone stood up to her there'll be hell to pay," You reminded Fred who was beginning to rant on about how Pansy had the face of a dog and the breath of one trying to get you to laugh. 

"It's nothing, I need to go and study some more in the common room, maybe I can convince one of the house-elves to sneak me some food," You nudged George as you got up from the table walking out of the library and down to the moving staircases. 

While on your way to the Hufflepuff common rooms you passed Jungkook who was standing outside the kitchen as if he was waiting for you to come by which would have completely outlandish to everyone else but to you it was normal. His leg was kicked up against the wall, nose down in a book as his eyes scanned over the text that was inside, 

"Struggling with something?" You questioned making him jump a little as he looked up from the Astronomy textbook, his leg dropped to the floor as he nodded at you. 

"I'll meet you at the Astronomy tower tonight but keep Pansy away from me, that was my deal with helping you with your studies," You reminded him of the deal you had made that summer between the two of you. 

Trapped inside your bedroom you waited for Jungkook to say something first, all-year-long he'd been torturing you relentlessly with Pansy and Draco. The name-calling and the persistent annoying pranks he would do were starting to get to you but in the summer he was the old Jungkook you knew and loved pretending as though nothing had happened. It was the same every year and you hated it. You couldn't see any reason why he acted the way he did in school,

"It would be nice if we could still be friends at school instead of pretending that you hate my guts," You mumbled as you watched him, he was sitting on the floor in front of your dresser, knees pulled into his chest as he listened to the party that was going on downstairs for your mother. The two of you were supposed to be doing the summer reading but your head was starting to pound with all of the new information and Jungkook was struggling with his Astronomy textbook.

"I can't...If I did that-"

"They would all hate you and you would feel like an outsider in your own wizarding house," You repeated what he had to you over a thousand times back to him in a mocking tone and he sighed looking at you, he never meant to hurt you when you were in school. It was all just supposed to be a joke but this time it had gone too far, joking about Cedric was one of the worst things he could have possibly done. Jungkook had known how much you and Cedric liked one another which was one of the reasons he was rooting for Cedric to lose in the tournament he'd never been good at placing his feelings but he knew jealously when he felt it.

"I am sorry about Cedric, he was a good guy." He mumbled not believing what he was saying but he knew he had to be there for you, deep down he had no idea why he was so jealous of you and Cedric all he knew was that he was and it made him feel like he had to be mean to you about the boy you liked. 

The room fell into silence as you both listened to the faded music playing downstairs, you never knew what to say when someone bought up the reminder that your ex-boyfriend was dead.

"Will you help me study this year?" He asked out of the blue, making you glance up at him and nod without thinking about it first. The two of you would normally study together in the summer, what difference would it make in the School year. 

"I'll make you a deal, we help each other study and I'll keep Pansy and Draco out of your way." He offered, reaching out his hand for you to shake if you accepted the deal he was making.

"Sounds like a good idea to me," You shook on it before sliding off the bed and sitting beside him, where Jungkook struggled in Astronomy you were great and where you struggled in Potions Jungkook was great it was the perfect combination. 

"I do keep her away from you but I can't watch her all of the time," He laughed softly as he looked at you but you weren't laughing, you were too angry from the fact that she had been mocking you again when Jungkook had promised to make all of it stop and for the most part it had. He wouldn't torture you as much as he had done for the last few years and he had done his best to keep Pansy out of your face, 

"Keep her on a short leash or Dogface will get a punch," You poked his chest as you began walking towards the entrance to your common room, it was no secret to where it was hidden since everyone and their great aunt seemed to know where it was located. Not to mention most Hufflepuffs allowed all of their friends to come and go whenever they wanted, 

"I've never been inside the common room," Jungkook hinted as you reached the barrels, 

"And you never will," You smirked evilly at him waiting for him to leave but he continued to stand there waiting for you to go inside so he could follow you in but you weren't going to move. 

"Jungkook, what are you doing down here?" Taehyung's voice rang out from the top of the hall, he had a tray of what looked like baked goods in his arms as a house-elf pushed him and Jimin out of the kitchen. 

"Torturing the house-elves again?" You questioned the two of them, folding your arms over your chest as a blush crept onto the two Hufflepuff's cheeks as they made their way over to you,

"We needed sustenance for our all-night-long study session," Jimin whined as you hummed at him, taking a cake from the top of the tray Taehyung was holding and began eating it waiting for Jungkook to leave once again. 

"I'll see you in Divination class," Jungkook whispered as he walked back down the hall backwards, his eyes never leaving yours despite being stared down by Taehyung and Jimin who turned to you as soon as the dark-haired boy was out of their sight.

"Flirting with a Slytherin, how scandalous," Jimin wiggled his eyebrows but you pushed him to the side, knocking on the barrel in the correct order before heading into the common room.

Instantly greeted by the warmth of the fireplace that was burning and the small chatter from everyone in the room, sitting beside Scarlet - one of the girls in your year - was Jin from Ravenclaw as they studied together...Well, it looked like they were staring down into the root of a plant but since they both loved Herbology so much you assumed they were studying.

"That's what it looked like to me," Jimin mumbled as he followed you over to one of the giant armchairs where you sat yourself down and took out your book to prove you were ignoring him. 

"You need classes then, there is and never will be something going on between me and Jungkook." You snapped as you looked up at him with piercing eyes as if you were daring him to say something else but he stopped speaking and you went back to reading. 

Divination class was normally one of the most laid back subjects you had taken in the school, it was all mostly a bunch of guessing work as well as skillfully avoiding getting asked to demonstrate by keeping your head in the book and avoiding Professor Trelawney's gaze as much as possible but today you could sense something was going to happen. 

As soon as you first walked in and saw Pansy on your table you knew there had to be something going on that involved pairs and bonding with other students for different Houses. 

"Pansy dear, you go first." You held back a snort at the idea of someone calling Pansy dear, Professor Trelawney was attempting to get everyone to read one another's future. A crystal ball was the only thing standing between the two of you on the table and it was taking everything inside of you not to pick it up and launch it at her face, maybe it would have made an improvement if you had.

"I see that Y/n is..." Pansy began staring into the ball intensely as she squinted a little everyone began to watch her as she dragged on the anticipation of everything,

"Y/n is going to get a "T" in the next potions exam," You scoffed out as everyone else in the room began to erupt in laughter, everyone that was except for you and Jungkook who was staring at you with "I'm sorry" eyes. 

"Do you know what I see?" You asked sarcastically as you looked at the ball in front of you and then back up to Pansy who had one eyebrow raised at you, 

"That the stupid dogface will fall off her broom in the next quidditch match this weekend," Pansy stood up ready to fight when Professor Trelawney clapped her hands together loudly and asked for the next pair to try and do it properly this time. Meanwhile you and Pansy exchanged looks as she threatened you with her eyes, you knew she was plotting something inside of her mind and you couldn't wait to see what it was. Not. 

Later that night when everyone was asleep you'd managed to sneak out of your common room and make your way up to the Astronomy Tower, you would have apparated yourself there but you still didn't have your license thanks to George and Fred distracting you one time and getting you caught between a wall.

"Took you long enough," You hissed playfully to Jungkook as he made his way into the tower and sat beside you, you had a blanket laid out on the floor beside the telescope that was already pointing where it needed to be for him to study Jupiter's moons. 

"I set everything up so you don't have to worry about it," You brushed off your legs as you raised up to greet him, he smiled at you. Even in the low light, the smile he was giving you sent your stomach into a whirlwind of butterflies, ever since Jimin had mentioned you flirting with him you'd began to see Jungkook in a different way and the romantic setting of the moon wasn't helping you fight back those feelings.

"You didn't have to, I just need help remembering which is which." He sighed as he walked over to the telescope with you, peaking through it to see that you'd already put it into the perfect position for him to see each moon.

"Which is why I did this, you can focus on remembering...Now, start with the red one."

The studying had gone brilliantly Jungkook was well under his way to remembering the moons and some of the named stars that surrounded it.

"Thank you again...and I'm sorry about Pansy earlier, she's just being a bitch because Draco has started to ignore her," You laughed at the thought of Draco ignoring Pansy, everyone knew how much of a crush she'd had on him for years. 

"It's fine, I'm used to her, but you're all going down in that match at the weekend," You teased as you placed a grape into your mouth, laying down on the blanket as you looked out at the night sky, Jungkook laying beside you so close to you that you could feel his chest rising and falling with every breath that he took. 

"You're on," He chuckled, turning to look at you as he watched you. He adored the way your eyes would light up whenever you looked up into the sky, the way your eyes seemed to shine no matter what light they were in, it made his head spin and his stomach do flips whenever he caught you.

"Thanks again...For helping me study," He whispered as he watched you waiting for you to look at him, 

"Well it's no problem-" You stopped when you realised how close you were to one another, your faces inches away as you stared into his eyes. Both of you so lost at how close you were that you hadn't heard the door to the tower open and Pansy making her way up the staircase, 

"I-I want to do something," He whispered to you as he moved a little closer, you stayed perfectly still as if you moved it might scare him away and you licked your lips. 

"Go for it," He leant closer to you, his breath touching your lips and making you shiver from how cold it was on your now wet lips. The two of you stayed like that, lips hovering above one another until you finally smashed your lips together, having enough of playing the waiting game. He smiled against your lisp, pressing his body against yours as he wrapped his arms around your body your heartbeat danced as he held you close to him. This was your first real kiss with someone and it had been someone you'd loved all these years without knowing it until right now until his lips were brushing against yours and your heart was trying to leap out of your chest. 

Pansy froze as she saw the two of you making out on the floor, she knew Jungkook had been meaning to study and was going to "accidentally" bump into him tonight so she could help him only to find this. While everyone thought she had a crush on Draco it was the opposite, she'd been crushing on Jungkook since the beginning of time but what wasn't there to love about him. Once she saw you weren't going to pull away she stormed off in an attempt to find Snape and lead him to the tower.

The weekend quidditch match had come faster than you expected it to, the week seemed to pass in a blur and Pansy, for the most part, had left you alone. You figured she was training for the match and focussing on that instead of focussing her attention on you so much which had been nice since you were trying hard not to focus on the kiss that had happened with Jungkook. It wasn't that you didn't want to think about it you did but he was insisting on telling everyone you were dating which meant everyone would know you were together. The pro to that would be that the teasing would finally stop and you could be with the man you loved but the con would be that everyone would know, the teasing could increase and you knew your parents would instantly start planning a wedding. Not to mention the two of you were up against one another in a quidditch match and you were both highly competitive against each other. 

"Here," George said as he handed you a small weaved basket filled with cupcakes inside, 

"What is it?" You laughed thinking it was one of their inventions but George shrugged his shoulders before pointing out the gift tag that was on the side of it, your name was written in cursive writing. 

Dear Y/N,

Good luck today, if I kick your ass please don't be too mad, I'll take you out on a date for it...Astronomy tower? ~ JJK 

A warm feeling spread through your body as you saw the note from him, quickly throwing it away before any of your teammates could sneak a look. 

"Cupcakes for us?" Fred called out loudly gaining the attention of the whole Hufflepuff tent who swarmed around you for the cupcakes, leaving one for you to take as you shook your head. 

"In the lead, we have Hufflepuff by 3 points, all we need is for someone to catch the golden snitch," Lee Jordan yelled out as you flew under Jungkook winking at him before doing a turn on your broom and heading over to Fred and George who high fived you. 

"Rub it in their faces," George laughed as he watched you steadying yourself, the match had been going on for almost an hour now and you were starting to get a little light-headed but you weren't going to let up, your team needed this win.

"Y/n?" Someone called out but their voice was faint as you felt swear pooling around the top of your head as you tried to focus on what was happening. The match was going on around you but it felt as though you were even there, you felt sick, faint and as if the whole world was upside down on you.

"She's going to fall!" Someone screamed out from the crowds right as your grip loosened on the handle of your broom, suddenly there was a rush of air coming at you as you fell towards the quidditch ground, the cold air cooling you down as you fell freely. 

"Catch her!" You knew that was Jungkook which only made you smile as you fell, it was nice that he was showing his caring side for you despite wanting to hide it all those times before whenever you would get hurt in a match. You could still remember the first injury you had, 

"You should have been watching where you were flying," Cedric barked at you as he sat beside you in the hospital wing, you were getting your arm stitched up since you'd accidentally flown into one of the stands in the match, cutting your arms and legs open but nothing too bad.

"You okay?!" Jungkook's panicked voice called out as he burst into the hospital wing thinking that you were alone, as soon as he saw Cedric bis blood boiled. If he'd been training you properly you never would have flown into the stands so this was his fault, 

"Showing a caring side for a puff?" Cedric laughed sarcastically as he watched Jungkook storm over to you, if there was anyone else in the wing he wouldn't have bothered coming near you but Cedric was Cedric. 

"You could have hurt yourself a lot worse than this," He mumbled as he looked at your arm and then into your eyes as his eyes filled with tears at the thought of you being injured even a little.

"Jungkook? Came to torture pipsqueak?" Draco taunted as he opened the door, your arm was dropped and you looked away from Jungkook who instantly began to pretend he didn't care that you were hurt when it was obvious that he did. 

"You should have heard the scream she made," Draco laughed loudly as he began to imitate you in front of everyone. 

Waking up to a bunch of hushed voices you groaned, your head felt as though you'd been hit over it by a cauldron around fifty times and you were praying Madame Pomfrey wasn't going to give you any more of the disgusting-tasting medicine she had been. You'd been in and out of sleep most of the night and you couldn't remember anything that had happened, it was all a blur from the tent to the pitch. 

"She'll be a little groggy but she's okay," Pomfrey announced to whoever was standing beside the bed, your eyes blinked open as you adjusted to the light coming through the windows. Taehyung and Jimin were standing by the bed holding a basket of cakes and fruit and on the other side was a worried looking Jungkook who was still in his quidditch gear despite the match ending yesterday.

"He hasn't left since he brought you in," Jimin smirked as he placed the basket down on the nightstand beside your bed, 

"I told you, you liked him." You would have picked up one of the cakes to throw at him as he left with Taehyung if you didn't feel so weak but you rolled over to face Jungkook. 

"That stench is you then." You laughed weakly as you sat up in the bed, leaning against the metal frame as you tried to remember what had happened in the match. You hadn't hit your head and there were no curses that you knew of that would do this to you. 

"I'll get you some water," Jungkook whispered as he got up and placed a small kiss on your forehead, he headed behind one of the curtains and began pouring a drink in silence when the doors flew open. 

"Well if it isn't Little Miss Y/n," Pansy squawked as she sat down beside you on the bed, almost crushing your leg which was still healing from the fall.

"Did you enjoy your cupcakes?" She smirked and that was when it hit you, the cupcakes that had been from Jungkook, It had been the only thing that could have done something so harsh to you but why hadn't it done anything to anyone else who had eaten them? It didn't make sense,

"Don't go looking too confused, if you paid attention in potions you would know why it only worked on you," She quipped, placing a cupcake from Jimin's basket into her pocket. Jungkook's grip on the jug of water tightened from behind the curtain, Pansy had no idea that he was even there and it made his blood boil. 

"Stay away from Jungkook and it'll never happen again," She told you as she got back up ready to leave when she was suddenly thrown against the wall by a blast of blue coming from Jungkook's wand. 

"Kookie!" You gasped out as he walked over to her, pinning her to the wall by her robes as he stared deep into her eyes, 

"Don't come near her, don't even breathe in her direction! If I even find out that you so much as glanced at her I will kill you." He pushed her a little before stepping away, 

"She's an ugly, good for nothing loser and I will kill her-" You flinched at the thought of her trying to kill you and it didn't go unnoticed by Jungkook. Before Pansy could continue on her mouth was suddenly zipped shut and you froze looking at Jungkook who shook his head, 

"You insulted her, threatened her and made her flinch...I won't forget that and neither will my parents." He whispered as she shuddered, walking away from him. He knew how much his parents meant to her since they were some of the most well-known wizards in the community and she so desperately sought their approval.

"You're intimidating when you want to be," You laughed softly as he walked back over to you, running his hand over your cheek and smiling to himself. 

"I have to protect those I care about," He whispered before leaning down and kissing you once again. Your heart skipping a beat as soon as your lips connected but just as soon as it started it was over, he pulled back and made a disgusted face, 

"Pumpkin juice," You laughed as you realised he could probably taste the medicine you had been having since the night before.

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @rjsmochii​ @taestannie​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @sw33tnight​ @sweeneyblue1​ @innersooya​ @jin-from-the-block​ @acciocriativity​ @mwitsmejk​

[disgruntledspacedad]

Aftershocks (1/5)

The Better Love Series 

A sequel to The Rules of Engagement 

pairing: Javier Peña x Fem!Reader (Ears). Part of the Better Love ‘verse. 

summary: That bomb fucked you up a little more than you thought. h/c, fluff.

words: 1.5k 

warnings: 18+ - canon typical violence, angst, hospital stuff. This one is mild for me.

a/n: unbeta’d. Gif by @javier-pena, banner by @cassandras-nest​, title card by yours truly.Takes place hours after ROE leaves off. This won’t make a lot of sense unless you’ve read Rules first.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five 

MASTERLIST 

A deep, throbbing ache in your back drags you back to the land of the living.

Ugh. 

You rub the crust from your eyes and wiggle your toes with the awkward effort that comes from heavy sleep. It’s late afternoon, the sun sinking low in the sky, falling in gentle patches over the crumpled comforter. Reality comes back to you in slow, muzzy chunks. 

You’re lying in Peña’s bed. He’d ridden you hard, then tucked you in afterward, snuggled comfortably beside you while you’d drifted off. 

The lazy smile dies on your lips as you remember just why Javier Peña had felt the need to throw you against the wall and fuck you like there was no tomorrow.

Your apartment. A blazing fireball. Smoke and ash and rubble. Emilio’s broken body. 

You choke back a sob. 

Javi.

Your chest throbs as you remember how he’d looked at you, eyes shining and desperate. 

“I thought I’d lost you.” 

How he’d held you close, tucking you gently under his chin as if you were the most precious thing in the world. Wild sex in the hallway, gentle sex in his bed. Snuggling up together afterward. His soft confession, “I’m all in, Ears, if that’s okay with you.”

Your brain spins dizzily in an attempt to process it all. Despite all of the pain, fear, drama, and uncertainty of the past 12 hours, you can’t help feeling a profound sense of relief. Sure, you’ve lost everything you’ve ever owned, but at least you have Javi. 

That thought still boggles your mind. 

You roll over, kicking your feet to untangle them from the sheets. Javi’s side of the bed is long cold. Sighing, you haul yourself up on your elbow, surprised when you have to catch your breath to do so. 

God, you’re more sore than you thought you’d be. 

Your heart races as you stand, and you press your hand to your breast bone, feeling a little woozy. Gray spots swim in your vision, and you blink hard, forcing them away. You hadn’t realized you’d stood up so fast.

Slowly, you patter naked into the hallway, following the sound of Javi’s voice. He’s in the kitchen with his back turned to you, speaking lowly into the telephone. He’s still shirtless. 

You crack a grin at the memory. 

Now that you’re standing up, you’re starting to feel a little more stable. Thoughts are still fuzzy and distant, and your pulse thrums skittish in your ears, but at least you’re not going to pass out. Your chest feels weird, though, like your lungs have been scraped raw, and taking a deep breath sets something throbbing deep in your back. Your head aches like a bitch, too. 

Fuck Pablo Escobar and his fucking bombs. 

You snatch Javi’s green shirt off the kitchen counter, still lying half-folded where you’d dropped it this morning. Javi raises his brows at you, and you shoot him a wink as you slip into it. He’s still on the phone, talking to Messina, you think, but his eyes follow you darkly as you make your way to his bathroom in search of some pain medicine.

Climbing onto the toilet to peruse through Javi’s bathroom cabinet feels like more effort than it really ought to be. Again, your heart speeds, and you double over, suddenly panting for air. 

A minute or so later, Javi finds you sitting on the toilet lid with your head in your hands. 

“Hey,” he says, pausing as he notices your position. He drops to his knees in front of you, taking your hands in his. “What’s wrong?” His voice is laced with concern. 

You look up at him. He’s all dark eyes and somber expression, watching you warily with a deeply furrowed brow. “Just a little dizzy,” you admit, hating to see him worry over you. “I was looking for a tylenol. My back is killing me.”

Javi blinks, as if the thought of keeping medicine in a medicine cabinet has never occurred to him. 

“I can find you something,” he says, and somehow, you just know that means he’ll be sneaking across the landing to borrow from Connie’s stash. “But baby, are you sure I don’t need to take you to the hospital? You look a little pale.”

“I’m sure, Javi,” you answer firmly. The thought of getting dressed and leaving the apartment is absolutely abhorrent right now - you are still bone weary. You decide to offer him a compromise. “If it really bothers you, I’ll see somebody tomorrow after work.” 

Javi shakes his head. “You’re not going in tomorrow, babe,” he says slowly. “I already talked to Stechner.” There’s a little bit of hesitation in his tone, like he’s wary of how you’ll react. “Once word got around about the bomb, everybody was looking for you. I didn’t mean to butt in, but I really didn’t want to wake you, either.” He reaches up to rub the back of his neck, almost apologetically.

In a different situation, you think you might be annoyed by his interference. But Javi is staring at you with those solemn, worried eyes, one errant curl falling across his brow, and you find that any frustration you feel is buried deep beneath exhaustion and maybe even a little gratitude. “Guess I’ll let it slide,” you tell him, cracking a small smile. “This time.”

He answers you with a tiny breath of relief and a quirk of his lips. “Good.” One long thumb massages your knuckles absently. “He’s put you on leave for the rest of the week. Says get some rest and maybe some therapy, and he’ll see you on Monday to talk logistics.”

You snort. “Asshole.”

Javi’s expression is a little darker as he agrees. “So,” he says, leaning back on his heels to pin you with an intense stare. “Doctor tomorrow?”

“Doctor tomorrow,” you promise, allowing him to pull you to your feet. “Tylenol now.”

“Bossy,” he complains, reaching up to stroke your cheek like he just can’t help touching you at every opportunity.

“Assertive,” you’re quick to correct, swallowing back a shiver. All of this soft, sweet caressing is very new.

Javi grins, a gentle, fond expression that crinkles his eyes and makes him look years younger. “Have I mentioned how good you look in my shirt?” he murmurs, meeting your lips for a slow, deep kiss that steals your breath. One hand roams up to gently cup your breast. 

“You don’t have to,” you answer smugly, catching that wandering hand in a firm grip. Your heart is racing again, but for all of the wrong reasons. “Now, go raid Murphy’s medicine cabinet for me, please.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he laughs, shaking his head at the fact that you know him so well.

That woozy feeling redoubles just as soon as Javi shuts the door behind him. You bite your lip, counting back the hours since you’ve had anything to drink besides coffee. Even that had been a long time ago. Probably you’re just dehydrated.

You make your way to the kitchen, feeling numb and detached as you shuffle through the cabinets. Javi has a startling lack of normal drink wear, but you manage to find a nice set of crystal tumblers lurking above the sink. 

Typical.

Again, climbing requires an alarming amount of effort, and something uncoils painfully in your chest as you reach over your head for a glass. You flinch, and three of the tumblers go flying, shattering on the floor with a horrendous crash.

Startled and off-balanced, you stumble to your hands and knees, heedless of the glass shards that are digging into your bare skin. Your vision is graying at the edges again, and you can’t fucking breathe. 

“What the fuck?” Javi’s voice is hard as he slams open the front door. “Babe?”

“Sorry,” you wheeze with the very last of the air that’s left in your lungs. Panic sets in, your body responding to the acute lack of oxygen in the only way it knows how. “I was -”

Speaking sets you coughing, and suddenly, you’re coughing so hard that you can’t stop, great, wrenching spasms that send pain racketing through your entire body.

Javi drops the bottle of pills he’s holding. They rattle against the floor. “Ridiculous woman,” he grits between clenched teeth, reaching down to haul you to his chest. You know he doesn’t mean it. “You are not fine.”

You press your fingers to your lips, one last rasping cough ripping its way out of your throat. When you pull them away, they are covered in tiny spots of blood.

Javi freezes as he sees it. “Jesus Christ.” 

Your teeth are chattering, your entire body shaking. “I’m -”

“Goddammit, if you tell me you’re fine one more fucking time, Ears,” Javi growls, allowing the threat to trail off.

You shake your head. “I’m not,” you manage. Everything hurts, and words are difficult right now. Your throat is raw, and you still don’t have enough air. “I’m sorry. I was, but now I’m not.”

“Come on,” Javi’s voice is terse, worried. You have the foresight to grab his sweats from the counter before he sweeps you off your feet. “We’re going to the hospital. Now.”

♠

notes/confessions:

I promise, promise, promise, this is going to turn into fluff. Please don’t kill me!

Originally, Aftershocks was going to be a huge one-shot, but nah. I thought I’d try smaller chapters for once (read: chaotic jay cannot plan shit to save her life). 

Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from my tags!

Tags: @jedi-mando, @perropascal, @aerolanya, @pikemoreno, @bitchin-beskar, @mostly-megan, @huliabitch, @starsandmando, @starlight-starwrites​, @thirstworldproblemss, @knittingqueen13, @yespolkadotkitty

Javier Peña tags: @magpie-to-the-morning, @tiffdawg, @danniburgh

[scapegrace74-blog]

New Ways of Turning Into Stone, Chapter 2

A/N I should really think of story titles with fewer words in them, huh?  Thank you so much for the warm reception to the first chapter of my latest fic!  Of course, we all want to know what caused Janet to force Jamie to seek out grief counselling services.  But before we get there, I think we need to know a little bit more about the good doctor herself.  So no Jamie in this chapter, but never fear, he’ll be back in the next one!   Trigger warning for fertility issues.  The working chapter title is “Psychiatrist, Heal Thyself”.

Friday evening arrived, announced by two days of nearly pristine pages in her planner.  Exhausted by the work week’s hectic schedule, Claire stood ambivalently at the doorstep of each dawning weekend.   It wasn’t that she minded the time alone.  Quite the opposite; she was fond of her own company.  But a quiet mind was a mind open to whispers of the past, and those she couldn’t abide.

“What are yer plans fer the next twa days, then?” Geillis asked as she locked the office door.  Her friend was well-versed in Claire’s many coping mechanisms, even the ones Claire barely acknowledged herself.

“Oh, you know, the usual,” she replied as they got into the lift.  “A few classes at the gym, tidying my flat, maybe a run.”

“Christ, tha’ sounds like a punishment, no’ a break!  Ye need tae recharge, Doctor Beauchamp.  Would ye stop tae smell the flowers, jus’ fer a second, fer me?”

Watching the floor numbers slowly tick down, Claire considered her friend’s oft-repeated counsel.  It wasn’t that she doubted the sincerity or sense behind the plea: clinically, she knew the healing power of relaxation, of doing something for the sheer pleasure of it, or of doing nothing at all.  She had been on the treadmill of mindless momentum for so long, though, she wasn’t sure she remembered how to to step off.

The bell dinged and they walked together across the lobby.  Everywhere, people were milling about, rushing with a mobile tucked between chin and shoulder, meeting friends for an après-work drink.  They reminded Claire of ants, engaged in alien activities she could only interpret from a distance.

“I’ll take it under advisement, Geil,” she placated.  They had reached the pavement outside their office, where each weekend they parted to go their separate ways.

“Alright, hen.  Call me, if... weel, ye ken ye can always call, right?”

The back of her throat constricted, squeezing moisture towards her eyes.  Rather than risk speaking, Claire nodded emphatically, gave her friend a quick hug, and walked away without a backwards glance.

***

The next day dawned with a moist crispness to the air.  Having lived in the capital long enough to know that any pleasant weather might be short-lived, Claire threw the windows of her flat open to the timid breeze.  Pushing her utilitarian furniture against the walls and rolling back a threadbare Oriental carpet she’d inherited from her uncle, she proceeded to mop and then wax her floors.  Curls restrained in a kerchief, she’d donned her oldest yoga pants and sweat top for this Saturday morning cleaning ritual.  The kitchen was next.  By the time she reached the bathroom, she was perspiring and a number of ringlets had escaped confinement.

After a much-needed shower, she decided to apply a hot oil treatment and throw together an egg-white omelette.  She ate on the couch, the morning paper balanced on her knee.

Ten o’clock.  Only twelve more hours to go before bedtime.

***

Emboldened by the continued clear skies, Claire decided to try a new running route after lunch.  She usually ran the perimetre of Holyrood Park before finishing up with a hard sprint to the rocky nub of Arthur’s Seat.  Today, she took the tram to Corstorphine Hill, the site of an under-visited walled garden according to an article she’d read online.  Dirt paths meandered the park,  entering and leaving oak woods whose grassy skirts were embroidered by sunlight and bluebells.  It was all quite enchanting, and by the time she came across the walled garden, her heart beat with a long-lost weightlessness.

The garden itself was a pocket wonder; tiny but bursting with botanical life.  And while she didn’t literally stoop to smell any of the vernal blooms, she thought Geillis would be quite satisfied when they shared their usual Monday debrief of their weekend activities.

Walking downhill in search of a water fountain, a muddied roar travelled on the springtime wind.  It took a moment to place it, but she recalled that Murrayfield Stadium was located just to the south of the park.   Never a huge sporting enthusiast, she hadn’t been aware that a Scottish national rugby match was being played that afternoon.

Thoughts of rugby called to mind her newest patient.  With his height and bulk, she could imagine him following the sport, if not playing it himself.   Reason enough, she mused, to wander past the stadium as she cooled down.

With her mind pre-occupied, she completely missed the queue of people until it was too late.

“Frank!” a shrill voice broke her reverie, sending an icicle of dread down her spine.  Her heart kicked back into high gear, while her eyes scanned about for an approaching threat.  A tow-headed boy ran past, chasing a squirrel.  She stepped automatically out of his way, but managed to stumble over a tree root in her haste.

“Franklin!  Come back here this instant an’ apologize tae this lady!  Ye near knocked her o’er.”

Turning round, Claire was confronted by a hugely pregnant pale-haired woman, presumably the mother of the young boy who was now scuffing his feet through the leaf litter on his reluctant return.   She looked for a quick escape, but there were families everywhere.  She’d completely forgotten that the Edinburgh Zoo shared the hill with the park.

“I’m terribly sorry,” the mother offered.  “He’s sae excited tae see the pandas, ye ken.  An’ I canna chase after him as I used tae.”  As she spoke, the woman rubbed the globe of her belly, her eyes alight with the mysterious joys of impending motherhood.  It suddenly hurt to breath.

“No... errr, it’s fine, really,” she stammered.  “No harm done.”  Which was patently untrue, but the damage was pre-existing and beyond repair.  “Congratulations,” she choked out, the word like chalk in her mouth.  

The woman seemed eager to strike up a conversation. With a mumbled apology, Claire took off at a run, weaving down the path to the pavement, turning east and sprinting back to the safety of her flat, nearly three kilometres away.

***

As the evening wore on, it became impossible to overlook the truth of the day’s events.  No matter how hard she tried to pretend otherwise, Claire still wasn’t recovered from the ordeal that befell her over two years’ ago.  The irony of being a grief counsellor who couldn’t manage to overcome her own grief was bitter on her tongue.  What right did she have to counsel others in behaviours she couldn’t master herself?

She didn’t begrudge Frank his happiness, but she envied him greatly.  Their inability to conceive had torn a fatal wound in their relationship.  Both of them had suffered, both of them had lost a spouse.  But where Frank had quickly moved on to find another, more fertile partner, Claire felt like she was trapped in a never-ending cycle of self-blame and contempt.  No matter how far she ran or how diligently she planned the tidy compartments of her life, the anguish found her.  It was a corrosive shadow that dogged her days, always ready to darken her brightest moments.

It was well past eleven o’clock and she lay watching the flare of headlights chase each other across her bedroom ceiling.  A bottle of prescription pills promised sweet oblivion from inside her night table drawer.  She resisted for as long as she could, but as the minutes crept by, weary resignation won out.

Swallowing two of the capsules dry, she lay like a corpse wrapped in an Egyptian cotton shroud.  Slowly, the dry ice fog and discord of approaching sleep pulled her down, down, down below the waves of consciousness where nothing could harm her.

[reneejuliet]

Only Human

Author: reneejuliet

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Rating: T (cursing, mention/description of blood, kissing without consent, a slap to the face)

Word Count: 1,188

Genre: Angst, Idol AU (I seem incapable of writing anything else, I know)

Author’s Note: Another drabble! This one is angsty, sorry in advance. I can’t help but love to make people hurt. And as much as I love Yoongi (which is a LOT), it was just too easy with this. Anyway! I hope you like it, and as always, please let me know what you think!

You grunted under his weight, heaved haphazardly onto your shoulder as you dragged him through the halls toward the dorm. It wasn't that he was heavy - on the contrary, he weighed less than you did, for goodness' sake. It was that he was wasted, completely beyond offering any sort of aid in getting his own damn body through his own damn front door. And despite how many times you have had to do this, it never gets any easier. Especially when arms keep throwing themselves around various parts of your body like a drunken squid.

"Damn it, Yoongi, enough," you hissed through your teeth as you finally managed to free a hand long enough to twist open the doorknob, allowing your foot to kick the door open. It ricocheted loudly against the wall before swinging back to collide with your shoulder, but you didn't care. If anything, maybe it would wake up one of his six roommates and they could drag their hyung's inebriated ass to his bed. Though, given his current level of cooperation, you doubted anyone would get him further than the couch.

His response was slurred as you heaved your body forward, dragging him with you. He rolled from where he had been propped on your shoulder, and if it weren't for your quick reflexes, he would have crashed onto the ground. Luckily for him, this was not your first go at this, and you were well-versed in all the warning signs. You felt him slipping, his weight shifting away from you, and you dove. Your hands scooped up under his arms, hooking around his shoulders, and you threw your body weight behind you to counteract his momentum. The result - Yoongi did not crash onto the floor. He did, however, suddenly shoot forward, crashing the back of his head straight into your jaw.

"OW - Yoongi, what the actual fuck!"

You immediately dropped any grip you had left on him, crouching down between your knees as your hands flew up to your mouth. The hot taste of iron swirled on your tongue from where your teeth had smashed into your lip, flooding your mouth. You ran for the kitchen sink, throwing your face down into the sterling silver and pulling your lips up over your teeth to let the blood fall free from your tongue. The smell surrounded you, and you fought back a gag as you spit out crimson.

"Fuck," Yoongi's voice sounded behind you, tinny from where your ears were framed by metal. He rubbed the back of his head, suddenly very awake, and watched as you curled into their sink. The muscles of your back tensed each time you gagged, spitting out more blood, and he found himself reaching out without thinking.

His fingers brushed over the lines of your back, tracing your shape as he stepped closer, trying to soothe you as you coughed. For a moment, you let it be. His touch was hesitant, tender, and you could almost pretend it was under a different context. That he knew what he was doing, that his intentions were purposeful. That he hadn't just drunkenly smashed his head into your face, leaving you the bloody mess you were now.

It wasn't until his palm pressed flat against your back that you snapped, turning and shoving hard against his chest. No, you scolded yourself. This isn't real. It never will be.

Yoongi stumbled back into the island counter, eyes wide in surprise at the sudden burst of violence from you. You didn't spare him a glance before turning back to the sink, turning the water on and rinsing out your mouth. He could hear you hissing in pain with each mouthful of water you took in, and guilt pooled in his stomach.

"Shit, Y/N, I - I didn't mean -"

"Doesn't matter what you meant," you muttered, words thick through your swollen lip. Each time your tongue pressed into it, your face twisted in pain. But at least the blood had finally stopped.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, voice low and raspy. You gripped the counter against the unwitting shiver it sent down your spine. Once it passed, you flung open a cupboard and pulled out a glass, filling it with water before shutting the tap off. Thrusting it out, you turned, free hand covering your mouth as your eyes finally met his.

His stomach only flooded worse with guilt at your offering. Despite your injury, you were still taking care of him. He wrapped his fingers around the glass, gently grazing your own while doing so, and raised it to his lips with a slight bow in your direction. His vision swam as his head tilted back, cold water sliding down his hot, parched throat. It took a second for everything to straighten back out once the glass was empty, and he squinted hard to be sure that when he set it down, it was actually on the counter. Then he looked back at you, eyes drawn to where your hand still covered your mouth.

"Couch, now," you ordered, raising a finger to point into the living room behind him. Thankfully, those two words didn't require the use of your bottom lip, so they weren't as disfigured when they came out. Gulping, Yoongi obliged, turning slowly and walking for the couch. You followed him, albeit at a safe distance, to make sure he made it there alright. He only bumped into the table once before his legs hit the cushions and he dropped.

His body automatically laid out across the couch cushions, knees curling up into his chest and hands tucking between his legs. The room blurred again at the change of altitude, and he was vaguely aware of you throwing a blanket over him. You walked away, your form dark in the swimming lights of his vision as he tried to watch you. When you came back, you set another glass of water on the table before him along with two pills.

"For tomorrow morning, when you wake up," you instructed, your words soft as you favored your injured lip.

You were walking away again when Yoongi called out. "Do you think this is why she left?"

Your heart stopped just a second before your feet, trapping you between rooms as his words echoed brokenly in the quiet. This wasn't supposed to happen, you reminded yourself. Of all the trainees and idols you had helped through the years, all the drunken confessions you had heard out of sheer compulsion from the nature of your job - none were like this. Like him. Min Yoongi.

"Yoongi -"

"I know it's my fault," he babbled, vision no longer obscured only by a drunken haze. He blinked, and the hot tears cut down his pale face. "I wasn't home enough -"

"You were working, Yoongi," You offered, careful to make your words come out clear. The pull on your lip was painful, but it felt important he hear you.

"Not always," he exhaled, eyes fluttering against the exhaustion setting in now. "Sometimes, I... I just couldn't, go home... to her..."

Gooseflesh rose all along your skin, and you nearly bit your lip before remembering the pain, sucking in the side of your cheek instead. Just walk away, you urged yourself. He won't notice, he's too far gone now. Besides, you really did not want to hear more about his failed relationship, or how heartbroken he was over it. It had been hard enough to see him happy with her - seeing him broken over her was so, so much worse.

When he didn't speak again for a few breaths, you believed you were in the clear. Your feet carried you two more steps to the door, heart pounding hard in your chest. You'd just reached for the key you would have to deposit back in its emergency spot as you left when his voice stopped you again - because it was right behind you.

"Do you know why, Y/N? Why I couldn't bring myself to go home to her some nights?"

Your breath hitched in your throat, cold and cutting against your lip. He wasn't touching you, but you could feel his body heat, and that meant he was too close, he was much too close, but you couldn't move. Your body was pulled taut in that moment, and you feared that if you made any move, you would snap.

His fingers brushed over the curve of your neck, where it met your collar, and you inhaled sharply. Your eyes fluttered closed under his touch for a moment, your nerves buzzing heavily where his fingers trailed. Then his breath was on your nape, stirring your hair, and your throat was dry.

"Because she wasn't you."

Your eyes shot open in surprise just as he tugged you around, crashing his lips to yours. You inhaled sharply again, pain searing through your mouth where he pressed against your wound, but he didn't hear. Or he didn't care. It was hard to tell, with the way his hands snaked around your waist and up under your shirt. His lips were soft but firm as he pressed into you, kissing you with a heavy desperation that left you gasping.

Maybe it was the pain in your lip, or maybe it was the taste of alcohol on his tongue. Maybe it was the way your body seized up to prevent yourself from making the biggest fool of yourself. Whatever it was, it was enough to spur you into action. Your hands came up to center on his chest, and as his tongue ran along your lower lip, sending a violent shiver through your entire body, you shoved. Hard. He stumbled away from you, gasping as your warmth was torn from him, his hands grasping at air. His eyes flashed in surprise, and you reeled back to slap him.

"How dare you," you seethed, on the verge of a sob. "How fucking dare you-"

"Y/N-"

"No, you... you are an asshole, Min Yoongi!" Despite the anger on your face, the hurt was clear in your voice. The tears bright in your eyes. "You don't get to, to just - kiss me like that! After all these years!"

Whatever drunken stupor had still been clinging to him sobered up in that instant. His heart leapt into his throat and he choked on the words he wanted to say, his tongue too thick in his mouth. All these years...? You... you couldn't mean...

He opened his mouth around the shape of your name and you moved away, toward the door. "No, no. I'm not - I am not doing this. Not now, not with you. Fuck you, Yoongi -"

His fingers wrapped around your slender wrist, stopping you for just a moment more. The sheer pain on your face at the contact paused him, and you yanked yourself free the very next moment. "No," you whispered, voice full of tears. "I don't love you, I don't."

You slipped out of the dorms just as the first light flickered on in the hallway, sleepy footsteps stumbling their way toward him. And your words echoed in his head, hollowing everything else out until he was left with just one realization, one truth.

You very much did love him. And he was so screwed.

©reneejuliet 2021. No part of this material may be copied, photocopied, reproduced, reposted, or translated without consent.