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solxamber · 13 days ago

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Trash Novel Chronicles: I Want a Refund || Trey Clover

When the universe dunks you into a dumpster fire of a novel as the villainess, survival is key. Except your husband, Trey Clover, turns out to be such a green flag that it gets a little harder to function.

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You prided yourself on being a normal, decent person. Maybe even a good person, depending on who you asked. Sure, you weren’t out here saving kittens from trees or solving world hunger, but you did your part.

You recycled when you remembered, held the door open for strangers (if they were close enough, you weren’t that kind of hero), and even tossed bread crumbs to the pigeons outside your apartment every now and then. It wasn’t much, but it was honest work.

So, really, what you didn’t expect was to be completely betrayed by the universe. The betrayal began small, like a mosquito buzzing in your ear: the newest novel you’d been anticipating for months was sold out.

“Are you serious?” you grumbled, glaring at the empty display like it had just insulted your mother. A handwritten sign on the shelf read: ‘SOLD OUT! More in stock soon!’ in cheerful cursive, as if mocking you.

What were you supposed to do now? Go home empty-handed? Waste your perfectly good afternoon plans of curling up with a book? Absolutely not. Refusing to admit defeat, you scanned the bookstore until your gaze fell on the “New and Best-Selling” rack.

One book immediately caught your eye. The cover was... well, something. It looked like someone had raided a middle schooler’s stash of Barbie stickers, splattered glitter over the whole thing, and slapped on an aggressively curly gold font that screamed, I’M A ROMANCE NOVEL!

You sighed. “Fine. How bad could it be?”

It could be very, very bad.

The first red flag was the synopsis. It introduced Trey Clover, the Grand Duke, who loved his spouse, the villainess, with a devotion so pure it made you want to gag. But then came the second male lead, the Prince, who confessed his love to Trey and the villainess, because monogamy was too boring for this book.

And then there was the heroine. The synopsis just called her “the Saintess,” because why bother giving her a name when her only personality trait was being the worst human being imaginable? She appeared out of nowhere, became the Saintess overnight (because logic?), and made it her life’s mission to ruin the villainess’s life while somehow convincing everyone she was an angel.

Oh, and the Prince? The book had him slip on a rock and die halfway through the plot, like the author had a word count limit and didn’t know what else to do with him. The villainess ends up dying too, right aftetr asking Trey for a divorce to "protect him." The ending involved Trey marrying the heroine, despite spending the entire book side-eyeing her like she owed him rent.

You closed the book slowly, your soul drained of all joy. “What in the fresh hell did I just read?”

But no, you couldn’t let this stand. You were a taxpayer, a contributing member of society. You did not deserve this literary slap in the face.

With righteous indignation burning in your chest, you marched back to the bookstore. You slapped the book onto the counter with a dramatic flair that deserved a standing ovation.

“Refund,” you declared, glaring at the cashier.

“Uh... we don’t usually do refunds on books you’ve already read...” they began hesitantly.

“I don’t care,” you snapped, pointing at the glittering monstrosity. “This isn’t a book. It’s a hate crime against literature. A refund, please, before I start sobbing in public.”

After a long pause—and possibly fearing a customer service meltdown—they handed you store credit. Satisfied but still simmering with rage, you stomped out of the store, muttering to yourself about bad authors, worse editors, and the existential crisis of knowing someone got paid to write that garbage.

And that’s when karma struck.

A segway—a SEGWAY—came hurtling toward you at Mach speed, piloted by a man dressed in full medieval knight armor.

“MAKE WAY FOR SIR SCOOTINGTON!” he screamed, his voice muffled by his helmet.

You froze. Your brain could not process this level of absurdity in such a short amount of time. Was this a prank? A hallucination? Had the book actually been cursed and now you were living out its bad writing?

The segway didn’t stop. It hit you with a solid THUNK, sending you flying backward into a suspiciously well-placed pile of garbage bags.

As you lay there, buried under the remains of someone’s takeout and a very old banana peel, as your vision started to blur, you stared at the sky and thought:

Dawg, why me??

You woke up to the faint chirping of birds and the kind of silence that only rich people seem to afford. Something felt... off. The sheets were too soft, like they’d been spun from angel whispers and a mid-tier deity’s hair. Your pillow was the perfect combination of fluffy and firm, a far cry from the lumpy second-hand abomination you’d bought on sale three years ago.

Your eyes cracked open, squinting against the sunlight filtering through an elaborate, gold-encrusted chandelier. A chandelier. In a bedroom. You lived in a shoebox apartment; your idea of luxury was a lamp that wasn’t from a clearance bin.

You turned your head slightly, and your soul froze mid-exit.

There was someone next to you.

Your brain screeched to a halt, flashing every warning signal it had. Stranger. Bed. You. No.

The only living thing that should’ve been in your apartment was the stray cat you’d nicknamed Gremlin, and he sure as hell didn’t have human proportions or a steady breathing rhythm.

Slowly—painstakingly—you tilted your head to look at your unwanted companion.

It was a man. A very attractive man, sleeping peacefully on his side, glasses perched askew on the nightstand. His hair was a soft mess, his breathing even, and his entire aura screamed gentle husband vibes.

Then recognition sucker-punched you in the gut.

No.

It couldn’t be.

You blinked. Looked again. Replayed every horrible memory of that atrocious novel you had read, and then read again because you hated yourself.

It was Trey Clover.

Male lead. Gentleman. Human embodiment of a warm cup of tea. The guy who was in love with his villainess spouse (you remembered her being dramatic but competent) before the world went full dumpster fire.

Your breathing hitched. You stared down at your hands, and they stared back—perfectly manicured, dainty, soft hands that had never touched a single dirty dish or over-scrubbed countertop.

The reality hit you like a segway knight at full speed.

You’d been isekai’d.

You fought the urge to scream into the pillow. Was this some karmic punishment for returning that book? Was your snarky review in the Reddit thread too harsh? Because this? This was an unholy level of irony.

Trey stirred beside you, his brow furrowing slightly as his hand lazily reached for his glasses. He slid them on, blinking sleepily as his gaze landed on you.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was soft, groggy, and just a little raspy—the kind of voice you’d pay extra to have someone read you bedtime stories with. “You’re staring.”

For a moment, your brain blue-screened. Trey Clover—novel character and now your husband, apparently—was looking at you with concern, and all you could think was: At least he’s hot.

“…Nothing,” you croaked, swallowing down the rising tide of panic. “Just… processing.”

“Processing what?” he asked, sitting up slightly and rubbing his eyes, his entire demeanor radiating "adoring husband" energy.

You clenched the sheets in your fists, trying to will yourself to wake up from this insane fever dream. Unfortunately, the chandelier wasn’t disappearing, Trey wasn’t fading into mist, and your perfectly moisturized skin wasn’t breaking into your usual crusty dryness.

This was real.

And somehow, you were the villainess in a novel you’d once described as "a literary abomination designed to kill brain cells."

The sound of a soft knock at the bedroom door made you jump, nearly upsetting the tower of books you’d been flipping through in your attempt to figure out where in the dumpster fire of this timeline you were.

“Come in?” you called hesitantly, trying to shove the incriminating evidence of your non-villainess-like behavior—a half-written list titled HOW TO NOT DIE TRAGICALLY—under a pillow.

Trey stepped in, balancing a tray of food like he was auditioning for Husband of the Year. His hair was slightly mussed, the sleeves of his button-up rolled up just enough to show forearms that could inspire sonnets. The man was a walking Pinterest board, and it was unfair.

“I brought you something to eat,” he said with a small smile, setting the tray on the table. “You’ve been skipping meals, and that’s not like you.”

You laughed nervously, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. “Oh, um, yeah. Upset stomach. You know how it is.”

Trey raised an eyebrow, his smile unwavering but his eyes far too knowing. “Sure. And I’ll be here while you eat, just to make sure you’re feeling better.”

Oh, no.

You stared at the tray like it had betrayed you. Soup, bread, and some suspiciously perfect desserts that looked like they had been made by the hands of an angel. You couldn’t say no without sounding even sketchier.

“Right,” you muttered, picking up the spoon with the grace of someone about to face a firing squad. As you sipped, Trey watched silently, his chin resting on one hand, his soft gaze pinned on you. The air felt so heavy you could’ve cut it with a butter knife.

“Are you going to go through with it?” he asked suddenly.

You froze mid-bite, the words hitting you like a frying pan to the face. “Go through with… what?”

“The divorce,” he said simply.

You choked on your soup. The spoon clattered back into the bowl as you grabbed a napkin, trying to avoid literally dying of shock. Divorce? Divorce?! That wasn’t in the plan! You knew what happened after the divorce—the villainess died, and you weren’t about to let fate steamroll you into an early grave, again.

“What? No! Of course not!” you sputtered, waving your hands in frantic denial. “Why would I want a divorce? You’re, uh, great! Fantastic! A literal dream husband!”

Trey blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion before his expression softened into something warmer, almost relieved. “You… want to work things out?”

“Yes!” you blurted, nodding with enough enthusiasm to give yourself whiplash. “Absolutely! Let’s work this out. Together. Like a team.”

His lips curved into a rare, genuine smile that nearly melted you on the spot. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead that left your brain doing cartwheels. “Alright. I’ll hold you to that. I’ll be back for dinner, so rest up until then.”

He left the room, and the moment the door clicked shut, you flopped back onto the bed like a deflated balloon. The pillow muffled your scream of embarrassment as you kicked your feet, equal parts flustered and mortified. What was that? Why did he have to be so sweet? How were you supposed to survive this level of tenderness without combusting?

The door creaked open again.

You froze mid-giggle, legs tangled in the sheets like a caught fish. Trey stood in the doorway, eyebrow raised and looking like he was about two seconds away from bursting into laughter. “Forgot my pen,” he said casually, strolling over to grab the item from the bedside table.

You wanted the floor to swallow you whole. “Oh. Uh. Right.”

He paused on his way out, leaning down to kiss your cheek with infuriating gentleness. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

And just like that, he was gone again, leaving you red-faced, flustered, and questioning every life choice that had led to this moment.

It had been such a nice meal. The kind where the food was good, the company better, and the wine just strong enough to make you feel warm and floaty but not stupid. Trey was smiling faintly at you over his plate, his rare but deeply satisfying I’m enjoying myself face in full effect, and you dared to think, Hey, maybe I can survive this isekai nonsense after all.

And then the restaurant door swung open, and your fragile peace shattered like a dropped wine glass.

The prince had arrived.

Trey’s face immediately darkened like a thunderstorm on the horizon, and you felt yourself lose a year of your life just from sheer dread. The prince was a walking disaster in human form, and you’d been hoping to avoid him like the plague. But the universe clearly hated you because here he was, sashaying through the restaurant like he owned the place.

“Oh no,” you whispered, gripping your fork like it could somehow protect you.

Trey’s jaw tightened as the prince spotted you both, his grin wide enough to make you wish the floor would open up and swallow you.

“Darlings!” the prince cried, crossing the room with the enthusiasm of a golden retriever off its leash. “Fancy seeing you here!”

You didn’t even get a chance to object before he grabbed a chair from a nearby table, spun it around dramatically, and wedged himself between you and Trey, plopping down like he’d been invited. Spoiler alert: he hadn’t.

“Your Highness,” Trey said through clenched teeth, managing to sound both polite and like he was ready to stab someone with a salad fork.

“Oh, come now, Trey,” the prince laughed, waving off the formality. “No need to be so stiff. After all, we’re practically family!”

You didn’t get the chance to ask how that made sense before he grabbed your hand—and Trey’s—planting a wet, sloppy kiss on each. The sound it made was unholy, like a boot pulling free from a swamp. You and Trey simultaneously stiffened, the same thought clearly running through your minds: Don’t cringe, don’t cringe, don’t cringe…

“I simply had to come over when I saw you two!” the prince gushed, oblivious to your visible discomfort. “The saintess—bless her kind, radiant heart—has been dying to see you both!”

You glanced at Trey, who was visibly restraining himself from rolling his eyes.

“She’s throwing a ball this weekend,” the prince continued, clasping his hands together like he was sharing the world’s most exciting news. “And you must come. Truly, it’d be… well, treasonous not to, considering we’re both inviting you!”

Ah, there it was. The veiled threat disguised as politeness. You hated that this guy was smart enough to wield his royal status as a weapon, even if he made everything sound like it came with a complimentary gift basket.

You forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look too much like a grimace. “We’d be honored, Your Highness.”

Trey shot you a subtle look, one that very clearly said Traitor, but you knew he agreed. Anything to avoid another round of Wet Hand Kisses.

“Wonderful!” the prince declared, clapping his hands together. “I knew you two would understand. You always were the reasonable ones.”

He finally stood up, ruffling Trey’s hair in a way that made his eye twitch before striding off like he hadn’t just hijacked your peaceful dinner.

As soon as the door swung shut behind him, you slumped back in your chair, utterly drained. “I feel like I need to bathe in holy water.”

Trey pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, “I should’ve poisoned his dessert last time.”

You stared at him. “You what?”

“Nothing,” he said, picking up his fork like nothing had happened. “Let’s finish eating.”

You could still feel the ghost of the prince’s wet kiss on your hand, and you shuddered. “Do you think we can fake our deaths before Saturday?”

Trey actually looked like he was considering it.

The ball was, against all odds, actually enjoyable. The lights glittered like fairy dust, the music was just the right level of lively, and the wine was strong enough to turn your earlier dread into a warm, floaty haze. Trey was by your side, charming in his tailored suit, and for once, the prince and saintess were blissfully absent.

"Maybe they got lost," you whispered to Trey, leaning in conspiratorially. "Or better yet, maybe they found a better party and decided to leave us alone."

Trey smirked, sipping his wine. "If only we were that lucky."

Your hopes were dashed, naturally, when the prince appeared out of nowhere like some unholy summon. One second you were lifting a glass to your lips, and the next, your arm was being yanked so hard you almost spilled your drink.

“Come now, my dear!” the prince declared, grinning in a way that felt more like a threat than an invitation. “Dance with me!”

Before you could even process what was happening, you were being twirled onto the dance floor. Across the room, you caught a glimpse of Trey being snatched by the saintess, who looked like she had all the coordination of a baby deer on ice.

The prince pulled you in too close, his breath an unholy concoction of garlic and what might’ve been sour milk. You tried to politely lean back, but he just leaned closer, grinning obliviously.

“You’re stiff, my dear,” he said, his voice low and entirely too sultry for someone who smelled like a kitchen accident. “Loosen up!”

Meanwhile, Trey was enduring his own nightmare. The saintess stepped on his foot with her stiletto for the fourth time, and you could swear you saw him wince in actual pain. She was chattering nonstop about something—maybe puppies, maybe world peace—you couldn’t hear over the sound of her heels clobbering the floor.

When the ordeal finally ended, you staggered back to Trey, feeling like you’d aged ten years. He looked equally frazzled, rubbing his shoulder like it had been yanked out of its socket.

“I’d say that was horrible,” he said under his breath, “but I think ‘horrible’ is too kind.”

Before you could respond, the saintess suddenly tripped. She wasn’t even near you—she was all the way across the room—but she hit the ground with a dramatic thud, and her dress promptly ripped down the side.

You blinked. “Wait, what just—”

“I knew it!” she screeched, pointing an accusatory finger at you from the floor. “You sabotaged me!”

The prince, for once, looked baffled. He glanced between her and you like he was trying to solve a complicated riddle. “But… she wasn’t even near you?”

“SABOTAGE!” the saintess shrieked again, her voice cracking.

The original villainess would’ve taken the high road, maybe pretended to be insulted or outraged. You, however, were just drunk enough to find the entire thing hilarious.

You laughed. Loudly.

And to your absolute delight, the crowd followed suit. Quiet snickers turned into outright guffaws as everyone around you dissolved into laughter.

The saintess gawked, looking like a wet cat as she scrambled to her feet. “You’re all… MONSTERS!” she shrieked, before fleeing the room with a level of dramatics that would make even a soap opera jealous.

The prince hesitated, torn between chasing after her or staying to glower at you and Trey. Finally, with a sigh that sounded suspiciously like “I hate my life,” he ran after her, disappearing into the night.

“Well,” Trey said, offering his hand with a faint smirk, “that was… something. Care to salvage the evening with a proper dance?”

You took his hand, letting him spin you onto the floor. The music softened, the crowd fading into the background as Trey pulled you close.

“You look stunning tonight,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear as you danced.

The compliment hit you like a sucker punch, leaving you so dazed that, in your flustered state, you impulsively dipped him instead of the other way around.

Trey laughed, eyes crinkling with genuine delight. “What are you doing?”

“Shut up,” you hissed, cheeks burning as you held the pose.

But to your surprise, he didn’t protest. He let you dip him, even laughing as you pulled him back up. And when the dance ended, he kissed your cheek, sending your heart into a full-on meltdown.

“That,” he said, his voice filled with amusement, “was the most fun I’ve had at a ball in years.”

The tea party was a picturesque affair, all pastel tablecloths, delicate porcelain cups, and the kind of floral arrangements that screamed wealth and good taste. You were seated with Riddle, Cater, and Che’nya at a table tucked under a wisteria-laden gazebo, trying your best to survive the endless parade of gossip and sweets.

The conversation drifted naturally, like it always did, until someone—probably Cater—brought up the topic of Trey.

“Y’know,” Cater began, swirling his tea with exaggerated nonchalance, “Trey’s been looking at you like you personally hung the moon and stars lately. It’s kinda adorable.”

Che’nya leaned over, grinning like the Cheshire Cat he was. “So deep in love, it’s practically a romantic trench. What’s your secret, huh? Love potion? A really good pie?”

You chuckled, brushing off the comment, but then you glanced across the garden—and froze.

There he was, Trey Clover, the ridiculously perfect husband material that fate had handed you in this bizarre isekai life. He was standing a little ways off, chatting with a few nobles, but his gaze was unmistakably fixed on you.

When your eyes met, he smiled. Not just any smile—a warm, genuine, I-would-die-for-you-and-bake-you-cookies-afterwards kind of smile. It hit you like a runaway carriage.

Your chest tightened, your stomach flipped, and for a moment, the entire world seemed to pause.

Oh no.

You were in so deep.

Like, Titanic-hitting-the-iceberg-and-sinking-to-the-ocean-floor deep.

“Uh oh,” Cater sang, leaning closer with a smirk that could only mean trouble. “I know that look. Someone just had their Hallmark movie epiphany.”

You snapped out of it, cheeks burning. “What look? I don’t have a look!”

“Oh, you totally do,” Che’nya chimed in, his grin somehow wider. “It’s all dreamy and starry-eyed, like you’re in a fairy tale. Which, I guess you kinda are?”

Riddle, ever the straight man in these situations, regarded you with a mix of pity and exasperation. “Please tell me you’re not about to let these two meddle in your relationship.”

But before you could defend yourself, Cater was already leaning forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Cay-Cay’s got you covered! Wanna confess? I can totally set the mood—candles, roses, soft music…”

“I—what?” you stammered, still too dazed by your revelation to form a coherent response.

“That’s a yes!” Che’nya declared, clapping his hands together. “Alright, let’s brainstorm. Hot air balloon confession? Dramatic rain scene? Ooh, what about—”

“Absolutely not,” Riddle interrupted, his tone sharp as ever. He turned to you, expression weary. “I’ll make sure they don’t do anything absurd, but honestly, why not just tell Trey yourself? He’s your husband.”

You groaned, sinking into your chair as Cater and Che’nya continued to scheme with increasingly outlandish ideas. Meanwhile, Riddle looked at you like you’d just wired your entire fortune to a scammer and promised to fix it for you later.

Across the garden, Trey caught your gaze again, his brows furrowing slightly in concern at your flustered state. He started to make his way over, and your heart leapt into your throat.

Oh no.

Whatever happened next, you were absolutely not ready.

Riddle had been firm, as always. “A pie,” he said with the kind of authority you’d expect from someone sentencing a man to death. “It’s simple, heartfelt, and Trey would appreciate the effort. Not that I have time to indulge in frivolities like this, but… you’re lucky I know the basics.”

Turns out, Riddle did not know the basics. And neither did you.

What followed could only be described as a culinary catastrophe.

The kitchen looked like it had been struck by a flour tornado, with you and Riddle at its chaotic epicenter. Your attempt at pie dough was a war crime in the making—half stuck to the counter, half to your hands, and none of it remotely edible.

“Why is it stretching?” Riddle hissed, his face as red as his hair, holding one end of the dough while you gripped the other. The elastic monstrosity between you refused to snap, stretching longer and longer like some unholy noodle.

“I don’t know!” you shrieked back, your voice an octave higher than usual. “I followed the instructions! Mostly! Kind of!”

“‘Kind of’ isn’t good enough! Put some force into it!”

Riddle tugged one end of the dough like he was in a tug-of-war with a particularly stubborn ghost. You yanked back, and the dough elongated even further, wobbling ominously in the air.

That’s when Trey walked in.

He stopped in the doorway, taking in the absolute chaos: the flour-streaked counter, the rolling pin embedded in what used to be a bag of sugar, and you and Riddle holding opposite ends of the world’s saddest dough.

“What… exactly is happening here?” Trey asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You froze, still clutching the dough. Riddle looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole.

“We’re baking,” you managed to squeak out.

Trey blinked, then burst into laughter, the sound warm and rich like honey. “Is that what you’re calling this?”

His laughter didn’t help your embarrassment, but the way he stepped forward, gently taking the dough from you and Riddle like a benevolent baking god, did. “Alright, let’s see if we can salvage this. Flour, water… and patience. You two watch and learn.”

You stood back, flustered and hopelessly smitten as Trey worked his magic. In minutes, he turned your disaster into a perfectly respectable pie crust. He even smiled at you both as if to say nice try, kids, and it made you feel oddly warm inside.

Still too mortified to admit the pie was meant for him, you let him finish it while Riddle quietly excused himself, muttering about overdue paperwork.

You did feel for Riddle, poor guy was stuck babysitting the Prince after all. Maybe the dough was sad because of his stress.

Later, Cater and Che’nya were far too pleased with themselves when they found you.

“So,” Cater said, grinning, “how’s Operation Swoon going?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you grumbled, remembering the dough debacle.

Che’nya’s grin widened. “Lucky for you, we’ve got Plan B: flowers! Romantic, classic, and impossible to mess up.”

You weren’t sure about that last part, but their enthusiasm was infectious. You ended up at a florist with Cater coaching you through every step, from picking out the blooms to tying a ribbon. By the time you were done, the bouquet looked gorgeous.

When you handed the flowers to Trey later, he looked… stunned. His eyes widened, his cheeks turned faintly pink, and his smile was so soft and genuine that you nearly dropped dead on the spot.

“For me?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

You nodded, suddenly nervous. “Yeah. Just, uh, wanted to thank you. For everything. You know.”

Trey cradled the bouquet like it was something precious. “Thank you. Really. This means a lot.”

And when he smiled at you again, you realized that maybe, just maybe, Cater and Che’nya’s meddling wasn’t so bad after all.

You were practically vibrating with excitement as you entered the restaurant, rare flower in hand. You’d spent far too much money on it, but it was worth it. Trey deserved nothing less. The merchant had waxed poetic about how the flower symbolized eternal devotion, and you figured it was the perfect way to set the stage for your long-overdue confession.

Trey was already seated at the table, his calm demeanor somehow both comforting and devastatingly attractive. When he saw you approach, his eyes softened, and that sweet smile of his—the one that made your knees weak—spread across his face.

You handed him the flower, and his expression lit up as though you’d just handed him the moon.

“For me?” he asked, his voice full of surprise and warmth.

“Of course,” you said, a little shy but mostly proud of yourself. “I thought it suited you.”

His fingers brushed yours as he took the flower, and before you knew it, you were holding hands across the table. The atmosphere felt perfect—soft candlelight, his warm gaze locked on yours, and your heart pounding like it had just discovered cardio.

This was it. The moment to confess that you loved him.

You opened your mouth, ready to pour your heart out—

And then she appeared.

The saintess, an uninvited hurricane in the form of a woman, swept into the room with all the grace of a bull in a china shop. You barely had time to process her arrival before she snatched the flower from Trey’s hand like a seagull stealing a french fry.

“Oh, Trey, you shouldn’t have!” she gushed, clutching the flower to her chest like a deranged soap opera villain. “How thoughtful of you to get this for me!”

Trey’s face froze in what could only be described as polite murder. His jaw tightened, his grip on the table visibly white-knuckled.

You, however, were already halfway to a breakdown. “Excuse me?” you sputtered.

The saintess ignored you entirely.

Enter the prince, the human equivalent of a golden retriever who’d been hit on the head one too many times. He trailed behind her, clearly regretting his existence. For once, he seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation and awkwardly tried to mediate.

“Ah, maybe I should—uh—just give this back,” he mumbled, reaching for the flower.

The saintess responded by shoving him.

The prince, unprepared for even the gentlest resistance, stumbled directly into Trey’s arms.

Trey, now holding a grown man like a bridal bouquet, froze. His eyes darted to you, silently screaming what do I do with this?

Before he could decide, the prince looked up at him, smiled coyly, and winked.

You might’ve laughed if the saintess hadn’t chosen that exact moment to drape herself across you.

“Oh, my dear friend,” she simpered, batting her lashes, “surely you understand Trey’s affection for me. You’ll support us, won’t you?”

You were too stunned to respond, stuck holding the saintess like an overly affectionate sloth. Across the table, Trey looked like he was begging whatever gods existed for an escape route.

Finally, something in Trey snapped. Gently—yet firmly—he set the prince in his seat like a toddler being put in timeout. Then, without a word, he reached across, grabbed the saintess by the arm, and unceremoniously deposited her in her own chair.

“You’ll have to excuse us,” Trey said, his voice smooth but his expression pure I’m done with this nonsense. He grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the restaurant, not even sparing a glance back.

Oh, and he definitely took the flower back.

In the carriage, Trey was silent, his expression unreadable. You hesitated before asking, “Are you okay?”

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “I’m just… tired.”

“Of what?”

“Of not having moments with you for myself,” he said, his voice soft but full of frustration. “Every time I try to enjoy being with you, someone interrupts. I just… I want you. Just you.”

Your heart practically melted on the spot. Overwhelmed by his honesty, you leaned forward and kissed him—a gentle, tentative gesture that said everything you’d been too nervous to put into words.

Trey froze for a moment, then pulled you closer, kissing you again, this time deeper and with so much emotion that you thought your brain might short-circuit. His hands cradled your face, and the world outside the carriage ceased to exist.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his smile so radiant it made your heart skip. “I guess this means you’re mine?”

You nodded, breathless.

“And I’m yours,” he murmured, sealing the confession with another kiss that left you thoroughly, blissfully dazed.

It was supposed to be a simple stroll through the common garden—just you and Trey enjoying a rare moment of peace. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and you were basking in the warmth of Trey's smile when, out of the corner of your eye, you saw him.

The prince.

And worse, the pebble.

You recognized it instantly—the cursed rock from the original novel, the one destined to send the prince spiraling into a tragic, fatal end. It glittered ominously on the path, as if taunting fate.

The prince, blissfully unaware, strutted forward like he owned the place. He stepped right onto the pebble, his foot slipping out from under him with comical precision.

In that split second, you knew what you had to do. Annoying as he was, no one deserved to die because of a glorified piece of gravel.

You lunged forward, grabbing the prince by the arm and yanking him upright just before disaster struck.

He looked at you, wide-eyed, for all of two seconds before breaking into a toothy grin. “Ah, so this is love,” he declared, dramatically placing a hand over his heart. “Fear not, my dear! Your feelings for me are obvious, and I, in my infinite generosity, shall grant you the honor of becoming my bride!”

Trey, who had been watching this unfold with his usual calm, suddenly stiffened. His hand slipped into yours, his grip firm but not unkind as he gently pulled you closer.

“Your Highness,” Trey began, his voice polite but laced with steel, “I think you may have misunderstood something.”

“Oh?” The prince arched a brow, clearly oblivious to the warning signs.

“She's already married,” Trey said, his tone so calm and measured it was borderline terrifying. “To me.”

The prince’s eyes lit up with excitement, not deterred in the slightest. “A rivalry for their love, then? Excellent! Let the best man win!”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Riddle—ever the voice of reason (or exhaustion)—strode into the fray like a man who had been dealing with this nonsense for far too long.

“Your Highness,” Riddle snapped, looking entirely done with life. “What in the sevens are you doing?” Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed the prince by the collar and dragged him away like a scolding parent hauling a toddler out of the candy aisle.

“You can’t just propose to married people!” Riddle hissed as they disappeared down the path.

Left in their wake, you spotted Cater and Che’nya lounging under a tree, shamelessly munching on popcorn. Cater caught your eye and waved, looking far too entertained by the whole ordeal.

“Did you see Trey’s face?” Che’nya whispered loudly. “I’d give it a solid nine out of ten on the jealousy scale.”

“Totally,” Cater agreed. “Hey, Alfred!” he called to the butler nearby. “Get me a glass of wine; this show’s getting good!”

Before you could decide whether to laugh or cringe, Trey’s hand gently tilted your chin, drawing your attention back to him.

“Focus on me,” he murmured, his gaze locking onto yours.

And oh, jealous Trey was adorable. His usual calm demeanor was tinged with a possessiveness that made your heart skip several beats.

Caught up in the moment, you leaned forward and kissed him, a quick but sweet gesture that left him blinking in surprise before a soft smile spread across his face.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Cater almost spill his wine in excitement, while Che’nya clapped like a seal.

“Now that’s spicy!” Che’nya crowed.

“I need another glass,” Cater sighed dramatically, as if the sheer romance was too much for his delicate heart.

But you didn’t care. Trey’s arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer, and for once, the rest of the world faded away.

The war room was dead silent, the kind of silence so heavy you could hear the shuffle of maps and the scratch of quills on parchment. Every important figure of the empire was present—Trey and you, the Emperor and Empress, military generals whose scowls could crack stone, the Pope looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else, and, shockingly, even the Prince, for once not actively trying to ruin someone’s day.

Strategies were discussed in grim tones. Supply lines, terrain advantages, possible reinforcement numbers—you and Trey were fully immersed in weighing the support your duchy could offer. For once, even the Prince managed to look engaged, though he was suspiciously chewing on the end of his quill like a kid stuck in detention.

Then, like an uninvited storm, the doors slammed open.

“Hellooooooo!”

Every head in the room turned as the Saintess waltzed in, an hour late, as if this were a garden party and not a high-stakes war council. She was dressed in what could only be described as a fever dream of bad taste: a dress so garish and bedazzled it could probably be seen from orbit, complete with absurd feathered accessories sticking out at odd angles like a startled peacock.

“Sorry, I’m late,” she sang, twirling unnecessarily as if this was a runway. “I couldn’t decide which dress to wear. Do you think this one looks good?”

The silence was palpable, charged with a collective secondhand embarrassment that could power an entire city.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, wondering if you could claim an "upset stomach" for the fifth time this month. Then, unable to stop yourself, you deadpanned, “Yes. It’d make a great enemy flag.”

Trey choked on a laugh, quickly covering it with a cough. The Pope crossed himself, possibly praying for patience. One of the military generals muttered something under his breath, hand twitching toward the hilt of his sword. The Prince just buried his face in his hands.

The Saintess, predictably, burst into tears. “You’re so mean! I’m just trying to brighten up this dreary meeting!”

The Emperor looked deeply, soul-crushingly confused, glancing at the generals as if to ask, Does this happen often? Meanwhile, the Empress, seated beside him, was gripping the armrest of her chair so tightly her knuckles were turning white.

Trey sighed and leaned closer to you. “I’ll handle it,” he murmured, giving you a quick nod before standing.

He approached her like one might approach a wild animal, hands raised in surrender. “Saintess, perhaps we could discuss this outside—”

But no sooner had he stepped within arm’s reach did she trip. On purpose.

In what could only be described as an Olympian-level act of self-preservation, Trey sidestepped so swiftly she ended up flailing through the air like a failed acrobat.

She landed directly on top of the Emperor.

The entire room froze.

The Emperor looked down at the Saintess sprawled across his lap with the bewilderment of someone who just found a raccoon in their bed. The generals were wide-eyed, clearly waiting for his reaction before deciding if they needed to draw their swords. The Pope had started sweating through his robes, clutching his staff like it was his last lifeline.

And then, like an avenging goddess, the Empress rose from her seat.

Without a single word, she grabbed the Saintess by her feathered hairpiece and hauled her up like a disobedient child. The Saintess shrieked, limbs flailing, but the Empress dragged her toward the door with a grim determination.

“OUT.”

The doors slammed shut behind them, and the silence that followed was deafening.

Trey cleared his throat, brushing off his sleeves as if nothing had happened. “Well,” he said, returning to his seat beside you. “That was… eventful.”

“Eventful?” you hissed, elbowing him. “She just dive-bombed the Emperor!”

Trey shrugged, lips twitching. “And yet here we are, still alive. I’d call that a win.”

Across the table, the Emperor straightened his robes, trying to reclaim what little dignity he had left. “Shall we… continue?” he asked, though his tone suggested he wanted nothing more than a stiff drink and a nap.

You nodded, biting your lip to suppress a laugh as the meeting resumed. Somehow, against all odds, you managed to get back to planning strategy. But you knew this story was one for the history books. Or at least for drunken retellings later.

The negotiation room was a grand affair, with gilded walls, an impossibly long table, and an air of tension so thick you could slice it with a butter knife.

The opposing kingdom’s crown princess sat across from your delegation, radiating intelligence and poise. Her every word was measured, her presence commanding, and she somehow managed to make a simple quill look like a weapon of mass destruction.

Meanwhile, your prince was... spinning in his chair.

“Wheeeee!”

You felt your soul leave your body.

“Your Highness,” Riddle hissed, his voice laced with the kind of fury only a man on the verge of a migraine could muster. “Compose yourself!”

The prince paused mid-spin, blinking like he’d just remembered where he was. “Right, right. Negotiations. Totally got this.” He picked up a quill and twirled it between his fingers like a toddler pretending to be an adult.

You buried your face in your hands, quietly mourning the future of your kingdom.

Across the table, their saint was the picture of grace, clasping their hands as though ready to bestow divine blessings upon the room. They exuded an aura of peace and righteousness that made you think, Ah, yes, this is what a saint should look like.

And then there was your saintess.

She was currently leaning against the wall, dramatically fanning herself with a peacock-feathered fan that you were pretty sure wasn’t hers. She’d arrived late, claiming she’d been “blessed by the spirits of fashion,” and was wearing a gown so covered in rhinestones that it could probably be seen from space.

You caught Trey’s eye from across the table. He looked entirely too amused, like he was moments away from bursting into laughter. You glared at him, silently begging him to take this seriously.

He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching upward as if to say, I’m trying.

Thankfully, the Empress had come along for damage control. She sat at the head of the table, calm and unflappable, effortlessly steering the conversation back on track whenever your prince derailed it with comments like, “So, how do you guys feel about dragons?”

When the opposing kingdom’s crown princess suggested an ambassador exchange as part of the peace treaty, the Empress visibly perked up.

“That’s an excellent idea,” she said smoothly. “In fact, we have the perfect candidate.”

You felt a sliver of hope. Maybe she’d suggest Riddle—he was intelligent, responsible, and would undoubtedly represent your kingdom well. Or Trey, whose calm demeanor and charm could win over anyone. Or—dare you dream—maybe even you, since you were clearly the only one in this circus who had a shred of common sense. And the two of you could move away from this hellhole.

“We’ll send the saintess,” the Empress announced, her voice dripping with what could only be described as malicious glee.

You blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

The crown princess on the other side of the table looked mildly alarmed. “Um,” she began, clearly searching for a polite way to decline.

“She’ll be an excellent cultural ambassador,” the Empress continued, her smile widening. “She’s... unforgettable.”

Riddle’s eye twitched, but he said nothing. Trey looked down at the table, probably to hide his grin.

The saintess, oblivious to the underlying implications, squealed in delight. “Oh my gosh, finally! I’ve always wanted to travel!”

The opposing kingdom reluctantly agreed—probably under the assumption that taking her would somehow count as reparations.

When you all finally returned home, the atmosphere was noticeably lighter, as though a glittery, rhinestone-encrusted weight had been lifted off your collective shoulders.

Trey leaned over in the carriage, his voice low and amused. “Well, I’d call that a success.”

“Success?” you laughed. “We basically tricked another kingdom into taking her off our hands.”

Trey’s smile was soft as he reached for your hand. “And we averted a war in the process.”

You sighed, but your heart skipped a beat when his thumb brushed against your knuckles. Maybe you could live with this version of “success.”

Without the saintess egging him on, the prince had downgraded from menace to society to mildly annoying NPC. He still popped up every now and then, offering unsolicited advice on topics he clearly didn’t understand, but Riddle—bless his overworked soul—had finally had enough. As royal advisor, he slapped the prince with permanent probation, effectively keeping him confined to paperwork and far, far away from you and Trey.

Life, for once, was peaceful.

So peaceful, in fact, that you and Trey found yourselves back at that restaurant—the same one that had become the backdrop for two very traumatic encounters. It felt like tempting fate, but Trey, ever the optimist, assured you that lightning wouldn’t strike thrice.

And for once, he was right.

The food was good, the atmosphere was cozy, and not a single insufferable royal barged in to ruin the evening. You both laughed, reminisced, and indulged in desserts that Trey—being the baking connoisseur he was—had plenty of opinions about.

By the time you left the restaurant, the streets were quiet, bathed in the soft glow of lanterns. The air was crisp but not cold, and everything felt oddly serene, like the universe was apologizing for all the nonsense it had previously thrown your way.

As you walked side by side, Trey suddenly stopped.

You turned to face him, confused. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he knelt down on one knee, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket.

Your brain short-circuited.

“Trey—”

“Before you say anything,” he began, his voice steady but tinged with emotion, “I just want you to know that despite how things started between us... I’ve never regretted a single moment with you.” He looked up at you, his green eyes warm and sincere. “You’ve made me happier than I ever thought I could be, and if you’ll let me, I want to spend the rest of my life making you just as happy.”

He opened the box, revealing a ring—simple, elegant, and undeniably perfect. “So... will you marry me? Again?”

You stared at him, your chest tight with emotions you couldn’t even begin to untangle. And then you laughed—because how else were you supposed to process the sheer ridiculousness of everything that had led to this moment?

“Yes,” you said, your voice trembling with joy. “Of course, yes.”

He stood, sliding the ring onto your finger with a smile that could have melted glaciers.

And then he kissed you—soft, slow, and so full of love that it felt like the world around you ceased to exist.

Somewhere in the distance, you thought you heard a cat knock over a trash can, but nothing could ruin this moment.

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fxstpace · 2 months ago

Text

in the spirit of matrimony

summary: iwaizumi hajime is getting married and you and your ex, oikawa tooru, must pretend you’re still together to avoid ruining his big day. the charade, however, proves to be a lot more complicated than you thought.

⇢ pairing: oikawa tooru x fem!reader ⇢ genres: romance, angst, exes to lovers au, fake dating au ⇢ word count: 3.0k ⇢ warnings: profanity, alcohol consumption ⇢ a/n: reposted from my old blog (@/sokuroo).

Oikawa Tooru is currently using the shower in your hotel room, and you are running late for dinner with Iwaizumi Hajime because of this.

You sit on the plush armchair in the corner of the room, picking at the raised swirls and curlicues embroidered on the cushion. You’re supposed to be meeting with Iwaizumi for dinner in fifteen minutes, but Oikawa seems to be taking his own sweet time getting ready. You can’t say you’re surprised.

Irritated? Yes.

When he finally bursts out of the bathroom, looking like a Louis Vuitton model, you simply grab your purse and hotel card, and stride out the door without a second glance. Oikawa Tooru isn’t worth your time or energy—for now.

He catches up with you quickly—volleyball legs, and all that—and you can smell his perfume: Cremo spice and black vanilla. You hate the fact that you remember; you’d rather not, but he hasn’t changed the scent in five years and it’s always the little things that are the hardest to forget. In his black button down shirt and with his hair styled carefully with gel, Oikawa definitely looks attractive. He knows it, too, probably, and it gives you a twisted sort of satisfaction knowing that he can’t go about flirting with every person who catches his eye.

He simply cannot, because as far as Iwaizumi Hajime is concerned, you and Oikawa are still together.

“Don’t forget,” you mutter, just low enough that only he can hear you.

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves his hand dismissively before tucking it back into his pocket. “It’s just Hajime. Don’t worry.”

You bite back a sigh. It would do you no good to appear so visibly vexed—and it would cause Hajime to worry unnecessarily, which does a lot more harm to everyone involved. The only thing you want him to be worried about is wedding preparations and becoming a husband in three days.

Your old friend meets you at the hotel lobby, right before Oikawa furtively slips his hand into yours. Iwaizumi looks tired—his clothes look rumpled and he has dark circles under his eyes—but he still smiles at you and Oikawa in the same way: boyish and crooked. You grin back at him.

“Hey, you two.” Iwaizumi opens his arms and pulls you in for a hug. His stubble brushes against your cheek, and you frown.

“You’re growing a beard?” you ask incredulously, when you pull away.

He chuckles. “I wish. I need to look handsome on the day of the wedding. Akari thinks it makes me look rugged.” He shrugs and adds, “Personally, I can’t tell the difference.”

“How’s Mrs. Iwaizumi doing?” Oikawa cuts in. He smiles at his best friend, a quick flash of his teeth that you haven’t seen in ages. It almost makes you wish he still smiled at you like that. Almost.

“Akari’s great,” Hajime answers, the edges of his smile turning fond. His fiancé is truly the sweetest, and she’s perfect for Iwaizumi in ways no one else ever could be. It’s difficult to doubt their love, and you consider yourself lucky to have witnessed them falling for each other in college. “Really great, actually. She told me to tell you she’s sorry she couldn’t make it today, but she can’t wait to see you both tomorrow.”

Your ex-boyfriend sighs dramatically. “Iwa-chan. The only entertaining person of the evening is missing. Whatever shall I do?”

“I’m sure your girlfriend will provide ample entertainment, Oikawa,” Hajime deadpans.

Your cheeks flood with heat at the implication. You’re the furthest thing from being Oikawa Tooru’s entertainment tonight, and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s laughing internally at the predicament.

“She’s good at entertaining me with other things,” he retorts, waggling his eyebrows in that infuriating way of his. “Not funny enough, unfortunately.”

You bristle. “Uncalled for, Oikawa.”

He turns to you—the first time he’s looked at you properly since you arrived at the hotel in their hometown—and, taking your hand in his, rubs his thumb along the back of your palm. You nearly shiver; Oikawa used to do that all the time when you were still together, and the small gesture now makes a lump form in your throat.

“Just kidding, babe,” he says indulgently. “You know I make up for the lack of humour on your part.”

You have to give it to him. Oikawa Tooru is a magnificent actor.

The way he talks to you, as though both of you hadn’t walked out of the hotel room without saying a word to each other is a feat in itself. He speaks to you as though nothing has changed, as though everything about the way you’re projecting yourselves to your friend is completely natural. You close the hole in your chest where Oikawa used to reside; you will not fall for his little antics—not when he chose to leave you alone.

You roll your eyes, meeting Hajime’s fond—if exasperated—gaze. “Ignore him.”

“I’ve been doing it my entire life,” he responds.

“You are mean and I hate you both,” Oikawa whines. Both of you ignore him.

“Let’s go,” Hajime says. “The izakaya gets really crowded later in the night.”

You wipe your hands on the soft cotton of the oshibori, scanning the menu taped onto the wall. Next to you, Oikawa digs into the otoshi, and in front of you, Hajime sips on his glass of beer.

“Yakisoba noodles sounds good,” you murmur, “don’t you think?”

“I wan’ the chmmkn kraagh,” Oikawa says immediately through a mouthful of potato salad.

Iwaizumi sighs and translates, “He wants the chicken karaage.”

You scowl. You and Oikawa Tooru can never agree about things. You’re both too stubborn and hot-headed to budge from your opinions, and towards the end of your relationship, the number of petty arguments that were a result of your clashing personalities was high. At one point of time, you might have said that it was one of Oikawa’s qualities that you admired.

Right now, it just irks you to no end.

“We can order both,” you suggest. “Don’t talk with food in your mouth.”

Oikawa rolls his eyes. He makes a show of swallowing, exaggerating the bob of his throat, before he turns to you and states, “I want the chicken karaage, and I know Iwa-chan likes it more than yakisoba noodles.”

“Actually,” Hajime says mildly, “I kind of want the sashimi.”

“Let’s just order all three.” You bring your glass of beer to your lips and take a sip.

Iwaizumi looks curiously between you both. You take another sip of your beer, and you come to the realisation that for an outsider—like Hajime—you and Oikawa look absolutely nothing like a couple.

The fault is yours: You didn’t tell Hajime about your break up with Oikawa, and neither did he. Hajime still thinks you’re together. Neither you nor your ex-boyfriend are tactless enough to tell him that you aren’t dating anymore three days before he’s getting married. Iwaizumi is excited, and you aren’t about to dampen his happiness by telling him his two best friends haven’t spoken to each other in months.

That’s how, for the first time in ages, you and Oikawa Tooru decided that you couldn’t ruin Iwaizumi Hajime’s Big Day, and it was also how Operation: Pretend Like You’re Madly In Love So Your Surprisingly Intuitive Best Friend Doesn’t Feel Bad came about.

You set your beer down again, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Can I try some of that?” you ask, nudging Oikawa’s shoulder with yours.

He pauses mid-chew, chopsticks held high in the air. “Sure.”

You nudge his shoulder again, a little bit more forcefully this time. Oikawa glares at you. You narrow your eyes at him, trying to send him some sort of telepathic signal. His eyes widen.

“Here, babe,” he says, plastering a grin on his face. He picks up a chunk of the creamy potato salad that was served as the otoshi and holds it up. He uses his thumb and pointer finger to gently bring your face closer to his chopsticks. You fist your fingers, nails cutting crescents into your palms, and accept the mouthful he holds out to you.

“Good?” Oikawa murmurs, his eyes not leaving your face.

You hum. It is good, rich and tart with a touch of sweetness, but for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to verbalise it. Your gaze flits downwards as you gently pull away from his grasp. Your jaw tingles where he held it.

Iwaizumi grins at you—almost knowingly—when you pick up your beer again. He holds a hand up, calling for the waiter to take your orders.

The alcohol washes down the taste of the food, but your heart is about to leap out of your throat.

It is always alcohol that loosens your tongue, and it’s the same for Oikawa Tooru as well. The beer you had at the izakaya lowers the towering walls between you both somewhat. It’s easier to speak to him, now, and after you switch on the lights in the hotel room and kick off your sandals, you whirl around and face Oikawa.

“What the hell was that?” you seethe, glaring at your ex-boyfriend.

He pauses in the middle of taking off his shoes. “What the hell was what?”

“You almost blew our cover! Didn’t you see the way Hajime looked at us?”

Oikawa cocks his head to the side, and his cluelessness only infuriates you even more.

“God, you haven’t changed one bit!” you rant. Your chest heaves with emotion—you’re not sure what emotion, exactly. Anger? Resentment? Foolish hope? Or perhaps a cocktail of all three that causes you to feel nothing but confusion. “Hajime is getting married in two days, and I know you couldn’t care less, but for his sake, can’t you make this whole—whole act more believable?”

“You— What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” Oikawa’s eyebrows raise upwards incredulously. “You think I don’t care about Iwaizumi’s wedding? I met him before I even knew you existed.” He scoffs. “Of fucking course I care!”

“Then would it kill you to act like you still love me?” You take a step forward, eyes narrowed and index finger pointing at him. “Is that it? Is it so repulsive to pretend like you still have feelings for me, so that your best friend doesn’t worry about us?”

“That’s not it, and you know it,” Oikawa snarls, a frown marring his features. “We should’ve told him as soon as it happened.”

Hearing him refer to your relationship as it feels like a slap to the face. You falter, cursing yourself inwardly.

Of course he doesn’t care for you now. Why would he, after he decided that long-distance relationships were too much effort? I don’t see us working out in the long run, he’d explained over FaceTime. I’m sorry.

Two days later, you declared yourself officially single. You burrowed yourself in piles of work and forgot to tell Iwaizumi Hajime because talking to Hajime would remind you of Oikawa, and you weren’t ready for that yet. Eventually, you just… didn’t tell him.

That’s why it came as an unwelcome surprise to you when you walked into the hotel lobby and found Oikawa Tooru waiting there, with his arms crossed over his chest and his suitcase by his feet. You’re here, he’d said, and you wanted to punch yourself for the way your heart somersaulted in your chest.

You finally find your voice again. “But we didn’t, so would it kill you to just… not be so fucking obvious?”

Oikawa remains stoic, though you suspect he’s just as agitated as you are. “Yes. I don’t want to do this at all.”

Something in you breaks. How easy it is for Oikawa to break your heart. You’d given him the fragile thing, made of glass, and he had knocked it over like it was a house of cards more than once.

“Fine,” you grit out, bending down and picking up your footwear again. The alcohol buzzing in your head isn’t enough—you need to stop thinking, need to find some way to stop yourself from constantly imagining him. “See if I care.”

You shoulder past him and place your hand on the doorknob.

“Where are you going?”

If you really strained your ears, you could almost hear the imperceptible concern in Oikawa’s voice. You brush it off; he doesn’t have any feelings towards you, as he’s made so amply clear.

“Why do you care?” you retort, before pushing open the door and heading in the direction of the hotel restaurant’s bar.

The room is dark when you open the door.

It’s a little past one in the morning—or so one of the bellhops had said when he kindly escorted you back to your room. Your mind is swirling.

It seems even getting yourself batshit drunk isn’t enough to eradicate all thoughts of Oikawa.

The walls spin. You stumble inside. Your hip bumps against something solid—a table, probably—and you let out a startled yelp.

Oikawa’s voice is like a balm, soothing your feverish forehead, when he says your name.

How are you supposed to get over him? How are you supposed to go back to living alone when you’ve had this taste of what it could be like, regardless of how authentic it is?

The answer is clear as day: You cannot.

A pair of hands guides you by the shoulders to the bed. Oikawa is careful, gentle with his hold on you. You sprawl on the bed sheets, the fabric cool against your cheek. He appears like an outline in the darkness.

“Are you okay?”

“God,” you mumble, screwing your eyes shut. “You can’t keep doing this to me, Oikawa.”

He remains silent for a moment, before he clears his throat and says, “You asked me why I care about where you go.”

You don’t say anything.

“I just do,” he continues, “and I don’t know how to explain it. But I do care.”

His fingers are warm when he caresses your cheek. The last thing you do before succumbing to sleep is murmur his name—a curse, but somehow reverent.

When you wake up the next morning, the sheets next to you are rumpled. There is no sign of Oikawa anywhere in the room, but there is a tall glass of water placed on the bedside table.

Through the pounding of your head, you squint at the note written using the hotel stationery placed beside it.

Drink up. Hajime and Akari are bringing us breakfast.

Breakfast is a lively affair. You’re glad to see Akari again, happy to see the to-be-newlyweds so patently in love with each other.

Oikawa keeps his hand on your thigh, steady and comforting, and offers you golden smiles whenever you catch his eye, and you swallow down the awful lump in your throat.

The day passes by in a blur.

It’s on the day before Iwaizumi’s wedding that Oikawa Tooru kisses you.

Wedding photos are unnecessary, you think. After all, you’re not the one getting married. But Akari had been insistent that you and Oikawa take some pictures together, and you couldn’t refuse her beseeching gaze.

Oikawa, clad in his dapper suit, with his hair styled using copious amounts of hair gel, places his hands on your waist and draws you in. His fingers bunch up the material of your dress. The photographer asks you to place your hands on his chest. His heartbeat is a steady thrum underneath the pads of your fingertips.

“Is this okay?” he whispers, leaning in.

You nod.

His mouth tastes like spearmint and the chocolate muffins he’d shared with you at breakfast.

The afternoon passes by in a daze.

As you walk through the wedding venue, noting all the decorations and the flower arrangements, Oikawa slips his hand into yours.

“You don’t have to,” you say. “No one’s here to see us.”

“I want to,” he replies simply. He is serious now, not his usual boisterous self, the way he is around Hajime and Akari. “It’s a nice place, no?”

You press your lips together. His words are oddly reminiscent of what he said the night you were drunk. Your stomach twists into knots, but if you don’t ask him the one question that has been nagging at you since then, who will do it for you?

“Tooru,” you say.

He stiffens. It’s the first time you’ve used his first name since you broke up with him.

“Why didn’t you tell Hajime we broke up?” you ask.

His shoulders loosen and his mouth twists upwards in a crooked, sad sort of smile.

“Because I love you, and breaking up with you broke me in some way.”

Your voice is quiet when you ask, “Why did you?”

“I didn’t want to be the one holding you back,” he says, just as quietly. “I didn’t want you to be constantly worrying about someone who didn’t even live in the same country as you. You deserve someone who will be there for you. Someone you can come home to after work, and talk about your day, and cook dinner together with. I couldn’t give you that.”

You want to hit him and kiss him at the same time. What a stupid, idiotic fool you’re in love with.

“Silly,” you say. “I only want you.”

The wedding happens on a sunny afternoon, and it is beautiful. Akari is radiant, and Hajime tells her that he’s the luckiest man ever. They are in love, and looking at them doesn’t hurt anymore. Your ex-boyfriend turned current boyfriend presses his shoulder against yours and gives you a small, knowing smile when he catches you almost tearing up. You nudge him back, and his smile grows into a grin that envelops his face in gold.

(“You’re the golden one,” he’ll tell you later, pressing feather-light kisses to your collarbones and cheeks. You’ll say he’s wrong.)

Right before the crowd disperses, Oikawa takes your hand and brings it to his lips. He presses a soft kiss against the knuckle of your ring finger.

Later, he whispers to you that it’s all in the spirit of matrimony.

Oikawa Tooru is using the shower in your bedroom, and he’s running late to catch his flight back to Argentina, and everything is perfect.

#oikawa x reader #haikyuu x reader #oikawa fluff #haikyuu fluff #oikawa angst #haikyuu angst #oikawa x you #haikyuu x you #oikawa tooru x reader #hq x reader #oikawa tooru fluff #hq fluff #oikawa tooru x you #hq x you #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #hq #oikawa tooru #haikyuu.

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evilminji · 1 year ago

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You know what Damian deserves?

A Grand Chunibyo Epic Drama Romance of his very own. Something to REALLY make his parents wince and take a good, long look in the mirror. Because... YEP. Yep that's definitely Their Son all right.

They suddenly feel like they should apologize to several long suffering individuals.

Just?

Damian needs to meet a Fellow Dramatic, Too Serious, Feral Gremlin, "I AM The Heir Apparent! My Blood Is Mighty And My Heritage Noble!" Little NERD? Someone who matchs him, beat for beat, with all the flamboyant Stabby Drama and rooftop dramatic chase scenes of his parents but now?

With Ghost Powers!

Because she is a PRINCESS. In search of someone Worthy(tm) of her Hand(tm). Not because her DAD told her too, obviously, no no. She overheard some of the Ancients talking about how that's how THEY got married. And knows that princesses usually get spouses chosen for them. So SHES gonna chose!

Perfect plan.

And who BETTER? Then the Blood Son of... THE BAT*dramatic musical sting*! Prove yourself, Robin! *lunges with a blade!*

Obviously, love at first dramaticly back-lit monologs followed by sword fight and dramatic escape. She's a formidable opponent.

But? Who IS she? This dramatic Chunibyo WEEB of a child? She! Is Danny's SECOND Clone Daughter. It was discovered? The only way to truely, PERMANENTLY, stabilize Dani? Was to get cells from a stable Clone.

Meaning one that WASNT rapidly aged.

Danny was... conflicted. He was against creating a kid JUST for giving medical aid to his other kid. But? He WASN'T so against the idea of having a kid? Like... a baby. Doing Dad Stuff. Cause... cause he wasn't 14 anymore. He's just graduated college. Has a stable job.

Dani suggested they go for it. But only if they were sure it wouldn't hurt the kiddo.

And it didnt!

She was and is PERFECT. The light of their lives. A delightfully ghost raised little Stabby Feral Honey Badger Gremlin of a young lady! But she's ALSO? Missing! And Danny, king of the Infinte Realms, is Losing His SHIT.

WHERE IS HIS BABY!?

Dramaticly martial arts fighting in the rain, DUH dad! She has to defeat the boy she likes, drop a symbolic gift at his feet, then leave with a cryptic but Cool And Meaningful Statement! You wouldn't GET IT, you're so OLD!

Dick blames Bruce for this. You see this? Do you Bruce? This is YOUR genetics at play! You added AL GHUL DRAMA to your nonsense and now he's discovered dating!! Look at him! He's pining! Dramaticly training in early hours! He's gotten JON involved!

Just? Let JLA Dark have FUN for once. Let them see THE princess of basicly EVERYTHING... harrasing Batman... by trying to date his obviously willing son... and just go "Read at 12:37" sorry Bruce! Looks like they're out of the office! Doing.... uuuuh.... MAGIC STUFF *sounds of popcorn being popped* YEP! Maaaagic! He he he >:D

@lolottes @ailithnight @nerdpoe @hdgnj @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom

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soobnny · 7 months ago

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dating him | yang jeongin

❝ why’d you come into my life so late? ❞

guys this one’s a secret romantic

even the boys are shocked when he tells them he has a gf now so casually

like WDYM ?!!??

anon said this but picture the boys eating at a restaurant

and the boys r like the food here is crazy good like how’d u find this place

and he goes idk my gf recommended it

and then there’s silence

before all hell breaks loose

bc wdym … wdym u have a gf and u didn’t tell us ????????????

dramatic faces of betrayal from hyunjin and han i can imagine bc their baby didn’t tell him

i think seungmin would know just bc they’re dorm mates and i think jeongin trusts to ask him advice without BOOKING him to the boys

he seems nonchalant on the outside, just a silly boy

but he’s the sweetest

i think he’d treat love so gently ☹️☹️

he’s always wanted to explore romance, always wanted to find it

he couldn’t ever admit it out loud bc he knows he’d get teased

he was the boys’ baby after all

and since he was the boys’ baby, by association, you were now their baby too

u two are the couple they adore

they act like they’re ur parents

chan dad mode activated

anyways he’s kind of emotional and sensitive

so i think the both of u navigate through love for the first time together

it’s a lot of ups and downs

BUT …. it’s led to him realizing just how much he loves you

i totally believe you’d go on either the most goofy dates or very expensive dates

no in between

he’d be the type to treat you and have staycations at 5-star hotels

you’d just cuddle and watch movies and eat room service

YES I SAID CUDDLE

even the boys were shocked when they saw it for the first time

bc ?!!!???? their baby ?!!!?? physical touch ?!!?

jeongin never minds when it’s with u

but it’s also something he’s had to learn

he’s very appreciative of ur patience

anyways back to ur dates

i can imagine u guys just buying a bunch of strawberry cakes and doing a taste testing

like u’d record it and everything

u can’t post it bc he kisses u like 928373 times in that video

there’s a makeout session like once

oh, and dinner dates

and very competitive rock paper and scissors over who pays for the food

except when he loses, he’d cheat and say he’d go to the bathroom but he’s actually paying for it

so keep ur eyes on that boy

i think he’d also be the type to really enjoy clothes shopping with you

you’d just put on a fashion show for each other

he’d end up buying a few things he rly liked on you

he’s got good fashion sense

might sneak in a matching item or two

maybe some shoes so it’s more subtle

jeongin also loves playing tourist in ur own city

the two of u would just walk around

visit some tourist spots

take pictures even

it’s just rly funny and rly cute

it feels a lot like being a kid again with him

u guys even buy useless toys for kids and bring them back to the dorm

😭😭😭😭

this includes like those little charms for kids

u two end up making craft bracelets and necklaces

and even tho they look ridiculous, u wear them in public

this is ur own version of promise rings

anywahs minho ends up taking some of the toys u’d bought for his cats

when the boys come home, u two are usually just cooped up in jeongin’s room

bc he wants his privacy!!!!!!!!

but when he lets it slip, and u two fall asleep on the couch, expect lots of pictures taken

i’m sorry

the boys are also emotional

they’d wake u up so u guys can have dinner together

he’d get so blushy and embarrassed and threaten his hyungs ofc

han jisung: when will it be my turn ???

they just want love from innie too

UGHHGHG kicking each other’s foot under the table while eating

he loves annoying u

but u love annoying him equally

when u aren’t over at the dorms

he’d be the type to text you random links on youtube at 3am

those charlie bit my finger type beat

gorilla destroys crocodile epic video

jeongin also gives me the “sends u things” vibe

u’d suddenly receive flowers without warning

or get those “did you eat?” texts and if u say no, yeah, best believe he’s already delivering food to u

hmmmmm u’d probably be his plus one in fancy events

but u guys end up ditching those to eat at fast food chains

yes … in ur very fancy dress and his rly sexy suit …. out in a fast food restaurant

u guys get weird looks but

jeongin doesn’t mind 🙁

as long as he’s happy with u

AWWWWWWWW

u guys also attend or volunteer for charity events together

i think he’s rly found his match

treat each other well !!!!!

congrats on finding love

note. credits to user @.luvknow for the layout of this post! let me know what you think! please discuss these with me i’m crazy

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jjscrybaby · 16 days ago

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first dates <3

jj maybank x fem!reader | fluff | (friends to lovers, just pure adorableness tbh, sexual jokes, kissing, smoking weed.)

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

“So, what does a date with JJ Maybank look like?” Your arm was linked through his, the two of you walking down the beach; the gentle breeze had goosebumps spreading over your bare skin. Sue you for wanting to look nice.

About 97% of the days you’d spent with JJ were in a bikini, pyjamas or just some old denim shorts and a crop top. You never tried to look nice for him, because you didn’t have to. He wasn’t your boyfriend, he was your friend. Ever since Sarah had started dating John B your circles had merged and the two of you had become particularly attached at the hip. Maybe you should have realised sooner you had feelings for him, but the line between friendship and romance is difficult to differentiate sometimes.

Surprisingly, you weren’t confused when he asked you out. It felt normal, felt right. You’d given him a sweet smile, kissed his cheek and told him to pick you up at seven.

“I can’t say I’ve been on many,” he admitted, shrugging his jacket off to put on you. “But, usually, I start with food.”

“You always do,” you tease, putting your arms through the hoodie with a grin. He linked his fingers through yours, throwing you a wink as he changed directions. You didn’t realise where you were headed until you were stood outside. “You want to have our first date at the Wreck? We eat here all the time.”

“You love the cheeseburgers,” he shrugged, holding the door open for you. The bell jingled above you, you looked back at him with a giddy smile.

Kiara, luckily, wasn’t working tonight so you didn’t have her eyeing the two of you like an overbearing mother. A waiter came over to your table and he ordered, knowing just what you wanted without you having to say a word. He’d decided to sit beside you instead of opposite, in a little booth in the back, you were pretty sure it was just so he could rest his hand on your thigh.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” he complimented. You’d decided on a sundress, knowing he had a thing for them.

“You’ve told me several times,” you teased, tucking your hair behind your ears. “You look beautiful, too.”

“Aww, thanks,” he laughed, making you giggle.

First dates were usually awkward, you’d always need at least two glasses of wine to loosen up. You hadn’t even had a sip for this. You adored JJ, he already knew everything about you so there were no awkward conversations needed to be had. He’d held your hair back whilst you threw up in a bush after one too many tequila shots, so you couldn’t possibly embarrass yourself. You felt completely relaxed, it was the best you’d felt in a long time.

Your food and drinks arrived, his hand didn’t stray from your thigh the entire meal. He flirted with you nonstop, but you very quickly realised he’d been doing that since you met. The teasing comments, the unsubtle looks, it was nothing new; and yet you still blushed every time.

“What’s next?” You asked as the two of you left the restaurant, his wallet the only one feeling a little emptier.

“The nice meal wasn’t good enough for ya?” He joked, arm around your shoulders.

“It was exquisite, but I think you can do better,” you shrugged, reaching up to hold the hand he’d wrapped around you.

“We’ll see.”

The arcade was your favourite place on the island, not for the games, no, they were fun but they weren’t the reason you loved it so much. You went there purely to people watch. A variety of people came into the arcade, and you loved to make up fun stories about them. And, of course, JJ knew that.

“What ‘bout them?” The two of you were sat, sipping slushies and looking around the room. You’d played a few games, he let you win every time, and now it was time for the real fun.

“She’s pregnant but hasn’t told him yet, because it’s not his baby,” you replied. He gasped dramatically, making you snort into your cup.

“Who’s the daddy?” JJ asked, subtly pulling you closer to him so your back was leaning against his chest.

Your cheeks went pink, but you chose to ignore it and take another sip of your drink; even as he let out a chuckle. “That guy.” You pointed to an elderly man who was standing in the corner.

“Damn, he’s still got it,” JJ murmured. You giggled, turning to face him with an amused smile. Your faces were inches apart as he grinned back at you.

For a second, you thought he was going to kiss you; he cupped your cheek and gently stroked his thumb over your cheekbone, but just as you were about to lean in he brought his hand back, licked his thumb and then rubbed it over your top lip.

“Slushie juice,” he explained, licking his thumb before looking around the room again. “Ooo, what about her?”

You were on his back as you walked back across the beach, your feet were hurting because you decided to wear uncomfortable shoes that went with your dress and you’d refused to walk any further. He didn’t even flinch, just bent down in front of you and waited. He was carrying your shoes, babbling on about something John B had done.

“Where are we headed?” He asked, adjusting his hold on you. “The Chateau?”

“On the first date? Who do you take me for?” You smirked.

“Says the girl who slept with Brandon Gibbs after the first date. Am I not good enough for you?” He replied dramatically.

“Hey! You promised to never bring that up again,” you whined.

He laughed, suddenly stopping in his movements to drop you back down. Instead of giving you your shoes like you expected, he sat down on the sand and waited for you to join him. “There’s one part of a JJ Maybank date that we haven’t done yet.”

“On the beach? Dirty,” you smirked, sitting down next to him.

“Shuddup.” He pulled out a pre-rolled joint from his pocket, waving it in your face. “My speciality.”

“Did you grow it?”

“I’ve had enough of the smartass comments, baby.” You couldn’t come up with another one, not with the way the pet name left his lips. He’d called you baby plenty of times, but something about that moment just made it feel special.

You shared the joint, passing it back and forth as you talked softly to each other. By the time it was finished, you were sitting in his lap with your eyes half open and kisses being pressed to the side of your head.

“So, how’d I do?” JJ murmured, lips only inches away from your ear.

“10/10,” you replied, running your hand through his hair with a lazy smile. “Best date I’ve ever been on, hands down.”

“Well that’s good to hear,” he grinned. “You think I did good enough for a kiss?”

“Mhm, maybe,” you teased, turning your head so your lips brushed against his. He let out a shaky exhale, cupping your cheeks in his warm hands like he’d done earlier on; except this time, there was no juice.

His lips moved smoothly against yours, hands pulling you as close as humanly possible. His tongue licked over your bottom lip, causing a hum to leave yours.

“Do you want to go on a second date?” He murmured against your lips.

“And a third,” you grinned.

When you both finally pulled away, both your lips were puffy, your hair messy and cheeks flushed. Neither of you had ever looked happier.

“C’mon, you’re carrying me to the Chateau if you want that second date,” you stated, standing up.

“Am I gonna be the new Brandon Gibbs?”

“Not anymore, you’re not.”

#jj maybank #outer banks #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank prompt #jj mayback imagine #obx

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d1s1ntegrated · 7 months ago

Note

Imagine Shigaraki with shy bookworm reader, who just hides her face blushes behind a book when she feels like he’s nearby?🤭

bookworm (nsfw)

shigaraki x shy!reader oneshot

summary: shigaraki catches you reading a verrryyyy dirty novella, and makes those chapters feel real.

btw this wasnt proofread, sorry if there are some minor mistakes!

cw: dirty talk, p/v, rough sex, overstimulation, corruption kink, slight breeding kink?, oral (fem rec), groping, shiggy is a hugeeee perv, mean shiggy, shy reader, missionary, teasing, dacryphilia, begging, minimal use of y/n, degradation, slight book abuse (sorry! but its for the plot)

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

"what are you doing?" shigaraki's voice cuts through the paragraph you were halfway through, causing you to jump. you slide your bookmark slowly between the pages.

"just reading" you answer him softly, and he scoffs.

"tch, again?" he rolls his eyes, "are you gonna do anything else today?"

you shake your head, reopening to the page you left off on. "probably not. it just got good" you retort, and refocus your eyes onto the dramatic scene. you look up at him over the top of the book- he's perched up on the arm of the old couch, picking at the already-ripped hangnails on his calloused hands. you watch him secretly for a few seconds before you plant your nose back into the book again, sighing contentedly. he suddenly interrupts you again by sliding down the arm and plopping down onto the worn seat. he audibly sighs and groans, and you tilt your head at him.

"is something wrong, shigaraki?" you ask innocently, and he huffs.

"tch. no. i'll leave you be" he slinks off the couch and heads over to the bar. you watch as he runs his slender fingers through his baby blue hair, and smile to yourself. he throws himself onto a barstool dramatically and you giggle lightly, but catch yourself.

"you know" he starts from across the room, "if you spent half as much time with the league as you do reading, you might actually learn something useful" he says matter-of-factly, and you bite your lip, fighting the urge to say something back.

its not that you weren't involved with the leagues missions- you were their perfect alibi. a small bookshop owner who just so happened to settle into the wrong part of town. it wasn't your fault the league found you useful, and it certainly wasn't your fault that their bribe was far too good to pass up. keep the shop, and you, out of chaos's way, and they use your place as not only a hideout, but a resource for information.

over the past few months playing pretend with them, you actually grew comfortable with the villains. toga came to the shop regularly with magne to read every trashy romance novel and gossip with you about boys. kurogiri would pop in and out on the premise of "needing information per tomura's request", and twice and spinner both enjoyed the comic section from time to time. you didn't see much of dabi, but when you did, he'd flit through the horror section, then secretly the romance section, ultimately to leave without a word, with a few books tucked under his coat. you acted like you didn't notice, because after a week or so, they'd return to their spots on the shelves. the only one you didn't see regularly was shigaraki.

shigaraki avoided seeing you as much as possible, and you subconsciously did the same. he liked to stay in his secluded hideaway, left to his own devices (literally, his devices. aka his PC). but when you started living at their base because your lease ended, and you didn't have the money to renew it AND keep the bookshop running (undercover work is hard, y'know!), you realized fast why exactly you didn't like coming face to face with tomura.

not only was he kind of an asshole, not to mention competitive, with a sharp and venomous tongue, he was so, so hot. his scars decorated his face like little strokes of paint on a canvas. his angular nose and carmine eyes were placed so perfectly on his pale skin. his thin lips dragging upwards into a predatory grin whenever he spoke of all things horrid. withal, the little birthmark just below those lips, that you found yourself fantasizing about kissing from time to time. just to see what it'd be like, of course. pure curiosity, nothing more. overall, the man was a picture-perfect portrait of your worst nightmare antagonist from the books you loved so much.

you weren't afraid of him per se, but you damn sure were intimidated. so you kept your head low, and your voice down around him. you were typically the quiet type, but something about him made you silent. as if one wrong word would cause him to turn and grip you tightly with all five fingers, turning you to nothing more than a fleeting memory.

he got off on your timidity. he looked at you like a helpless bunny, and he was the big scary wolf. you'd never admit it, but you got off on it equally the same. so when he'd approach you, you'd shove your face further into the pages of your book, as if getting closer to the words would save you from his vermillion gaze.

"i'm sorry, shigaraki. i just figured the further i stay away from the league's...well, anything, it would be safer for us overall." you masterfully answer him as to not provoke him. he stands from his seat and cracks his knuckles, dragging out his next reply.

"that doesn't mean you have to be completely oblivious to the world around you." he slowly approaches the back of the couch, and you feel yourself heat up at the proximity. he leans over the couch slightly to get closer, and you instinctively raise the book to cover everything up to your eyes. you blink at him and he smirks.

"what are you reading, anyways?" he snatches the book from your hands with three fingers and flips through it, eyes widening at the passage he lands on. he raises his eyebrows and you sink into yourself, covering your face with the sleeves of your oversized jumper.

"please," you croak out, "can i have it back?". your pleading sends a devilish smile to creep onto his face, and he shoves the book back into your hands.

"i didn't know our perfect little y/n was so, so filthy" he draws your name out with a teasing tone.

your face flushes and he chuckles.

"and here i thought you were the spitting image of innocence. seems as though i thought wrong for once" his face is inches from yours, his fingers tapping against the back of the couch. you can smell the combination of redbull and musky cologne on him, he's so close. you inhale sharply, breath hitching in your chest as he saunters around, swinging himself back over onto the unoccupied seat of the couch.

you don't answer as he asks another tantalizing question, causing him to lean over onto your legs, repeating it.

"i said," he raises his eyes to meet yours, "why'd you turn so quiet all of a sudden?"

you shake your head and look up at him, hovering over you.

"i'm always quiet..." you reply shakily, and he laughs.

"you're so pitiful, y/n, you know that?" he snakes a hand up to your thigh, drumming four fingers against the exposed skin under your shorts.

you nod and try to ignore him best as possible by reopening the book. this makes him even bolder, as he pinches your thigh, between thumb and forefinger, causing you to gasp out from behind the novel.

"don't act like i didn't see what you were reading there, slut." his voice is lower now, and his words slice through the core of your stomach and send pangs of heat through you. you giggle nervously as he creeps further, covering your very obvious desire with chapter 32 of your now clearly smutty book. he chuckles and drags his fingers under your sweater, tucking his ring finger down as not to hurt you. he trails up, underneath the hem of your bra, and forcefully pinches at one of your already-puffy nipples. you stifle a moan as you feel your core liquify, and he groans at the contact of your soft flesh on his cold, rough fingers. he pushes himself on top of you, your legs automatically spreading open for him as he drives his still-clothed hips down to meet yours. the friction alone drives you both wild, and he growls.

"you ever read any books where the villain gets the girl?" he asks, his voice thick with lust. you don't answer, but peer at him over the top of the book again and nod.

"is this one of them?" he flicks the back of the book and you jump, but nod again.

he hums passionately at your reaction and answer. then, without warning, he grips onto the hem of your shorts with all five fingers, sending them off of you into a pile of dust. your eyes widen, and you frown slightly. at least they were old, and already kind of ready to be replaced. he laughs and undoes the button of his jeans, yanking his pants and boxers down with them. you watch as his cock springs free, taken aback by the sheer size of it. it's not huge, but it's lengthy still, with a pretty dusty rose tint to the tip. it glistens with precum already, and he strokes it with three fingers as he watches you squirm, body clearly acting faster than your mind.

he grinds his dick down between your legs, brushing against the soft cotton of your underwear. he exhales sharply at the contact, and you bite your lip, feeling your wetness pressed against the material.

he pushed the seam of your panties to the side and dips a slender finger inside of you, and you gasp. he curls it, massaging one of your spots before promptly removing the finger and placing it into his mouth, sucking your essence off his finger with a slick pop, moaning.

"fuck, you taste better than i expected" he grumbles, and you whimper out a "hmm?"

"i don't know why i expected you to taste like paper or somethin'" he snickers and lowers his head down to your heat, licking your clit lazily. you moan out loud this time, with breathy little pants as his tongue dips into you. where he learned this, you're unsure, but his devouring sends your head back against the arm of the couch, unable to stifle your desperation anymore. he shoves a finger back inside while his mouth licks and nips at your swollen clit, and you feel yourself cresting towards orgasm. your eyes flutter shut as the tension inside of you builds, further and further, driving you insane. you whimper at his rapid movements, and the tight strings inside of you snap suddenly, sending white-hot currents to ripple through you. you clench tightly around his finger and he laps up your cum greedily, groaning at your collapse.

"i'm gonna show you why it's so important to pay attention to the outside world, baby" he whispers in your ear as he positions his cock to your opening. you nod and he presses the tip in slowly, emitting a small gasp from the both of you. he shudders as he slips it in, feeling you already clenched around his length.

he yanks the book from your hands, uncovering your face. he tosses the book to the floor and wraps four fingers around your neck gently.

"need you to pay attention to me baby, those words aren't gonna fuck you like i will" he thrusts into you hard, disallowing you to adjust fully. he pulls out and you breathe deeply, but he doesn't wait. he shoves it back in forcefully, the tip smacking against your cervix. you groan out in a mix of pleasure and pain, and he tightens the grasp on your neck slightly.

"look so good like this, slut, taking the big villains cock like this" he grumbles out into your ear, and you melt into a pool of desire. his words are enough to send you, but you hold back, craving more of him. he begins rutting into you rhythmically, slamming into your core with soft "slaps". he brings his hand off your neck to grab your face, pressing his cracked lips to yours. he shoves his tongue into your mouth and you taste yourself, sending a shiver down your spine. his moans tangle with yours as he picks up speed, and you feel as he sequentially grinds against your clit, the soft hair creating friction on your sensitive spot. you whimper at the contact and he bites on your lower lip.

"tell me how much you like this, filthy whore. tell me how badly you want my vile seed inside of you." he growls against your lips and you shiver again.

"i, shigaraki, please, i need it" you stutter out, and he groans.

"you're so pathetic. you want me to ruin you, huh?" he ends the question with a hard thrust, a shockwave of pain coursing through you. you nod and he continues, "what a depraved thing you are. you sit in front of me every fucking day and tease me, you know that?" he snarls.

"yes, i'm sorry, shigaraki, i'm sorry for being so filthy" you cry out, and he sends a swift slap to your thigh.

"don't apologize. i don't need an apology. i want to hear you beg." he sneers.

"please, shigaraki, please" you follow his orders dutifully, and he smiles wide.

"please what, wicked baby?" he thrusts into you hard and fast, his breathing staggering.

"please, let me cum, please, i need it, i need you to break me" you admit with tears rolling down your cheeks. he growls again and smacks your thigh again, digging four fingers into the pliable flesh again.

"break you? oh no, slut. i'm going to make it so that even the gods will turn their backs to you. you're mine, and by that, you're just as sick as i am now" he snaps, his voice a raspy and heavy breath. you clench tightly around him, his cock stretching you painfully still as you feel every ounce of purity in you dissipate. your moans and cries permeate the air with a sharpness that the whole city could hear, and you shatter forcefully around him, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him closer as your hips buck up, riding up to the intensity of the orgasm with a rushed mantra of "fucks, please's, and yes's." your own voice shocks you as the peak hits you, causing you to shout his name out with offensive indulgence.

"fuck, tomu, oh fuckfuckfuck, tomura" his name spills from your lips like honey, and he fractures inside of you at the sound. he pushes himself as deep as he can, hissing as he spills inside of you. the heat seeps through your entire body, feeling the stickiness coating your walls deeply. he twitches inside of you as he crashes down from his own orgasm, and sucks in air sharply as he pulls out slowly. the pain immediately hits you, choking a sharp cry out of you.

he hovers over you still, nipping at your neck. you sob out from overstimulation as he pumps his cum inside you more with a finger again for a few seconds before pulling it out.

"had to make sure it was really in there" he whispers, and you huff weakly.

"so?" he asks quietly, growling next to your ear, "was it comparable to your shitty book?" he teases. you nod and glance at the book strewn on the floor.

"better than." your voice is strained from the screaming, and he chuckles. you reach down and grab the title off the floor, shoving it into his hands, and on instinct he grabs hold of it with only a few fingers. you shake your head and motion with your hands.

"get rid of it." you say dismissively, and he gives you a confused look.

"it was only a placeholder for you anyways" you shrug, and with a snicker, he wraps his hands fully around the book as it crumbles to dust in his hands.

"does this mean you're done with the reading?" he asks snarkily, and you shake your head.

"no, it just means i'm done trying to compare you to a few chapters."

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

eeeenjoy! i went kinda hard with this one ngl. i lowkey really wanted a reason to write a little out of my usual loser!shiggy style, and something took over me for this.

thank you as always for the request <3

#shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki #mha shigaraki #tenko shimura #myposts #shigaraki headcanons #bnha #mha #my hero academia #myfics #myoneshots #shigaraki smut #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #bnha shigaraki #shigaraki x reader oneshot

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pinkhoneydrop · 7 months ago

Text

LoveIsland: EpisodeOne

Welcome to week one in the villa I’m so happy to see everyone together. I hope you’re ready to spend the summer getting flirty and maybe a little feisty. Keep your goal in mind throughout the week when you make your choices!! - Liz

BIG SHOUTOUT TO @finelinepie THANK YOUUU SOOOO MUCH I APPRECIATE YOU SO HARD!!!!!!

///

You didn't think you would be this nervous when you signed up. You had been a fan of the show for a while and got an ad to apply. At first the idea of charity seemed like a good cause to objectify yourself but after some deliberation with friends you quickly realized that you craved the dramatization of the show.

… “You might find the love of your life, you never know.” Your best friend sat across from you in a local cafe. You explained to her the email you received inviting you to join the show this season.

“What if I regret it?” You laughed at yourself as you leaned back in the cafe chair. A lump formed in your stomach from just thinking about what you had done.

Sending in your audition tape while drunk after a night out was probably not the best idea.

“Promise me you'll go and try it out. Try and find a man or even just get laid. You need it and if anything, you leave with a shit ton of money. What's the harm in that?” ...

Maybe your friend was right. Maybe you would fall into a whirlwind romance with your dream guy. But you might not either and that was fine. Living with your best friend forever if you ended up embarrassing yourself on national television was also fine? Right?

For a while before the cameras started up you sat by yourself. All the contestants had their own vans with an obstructed view of the villa. South Africa was a long way from home. The lush landscape and harsh temperature added to the anxiety of meeting everyone you would be spending the summer with. You leaned back in your chair and closed your eyes trying to prepare yourself. A knock on your trailer door and a high-pitched voice alerted your senses.

“Need you all in 5.”

“Here we go.” you whispered to yourself. You looked in the mirror and adjusted yourself. You were wearing your favorite color and felt like you would never truly be ready, so you fluffed your hair and exited your trailer. Three other girls exit as well. The three of you walked along with some crew members to separate spots and each of you entered one by one to a mini bar. Palm trees lined the edge of the deck and tall tables stood in the middle between the bar and the end of the deck. You sighed as your turn came.

“Oh my gosh hi how are you I’m Leila.” A girl who was much taller than you with a head of dark curly hair smiled and greeted you as you walked towards the bar. “Wow, she's cheery. If everyone is like this then summer should definitely be fun.” you thought to yourself as you smiled at her. Not only was she cheerful, but she was also beautiful. A green bikini sat on her hips and wrapped around her shoulders. You chuckled nervously to yourself. Leila took notice and sparked up some casual conversation with you.

{cut to interview}

… “Hey, I’m Leila I’m 26 years old.” music played in the background as Leila spoke during her interview.

“Originally from just outside Manchester and I'm here to find the love of my life.” She smiles as a blush rises to her cheeks and giggles a little as the camera angle changes.

“The other girls better watch out; I've been known to be a bit feisty back home.” the music fades out and the camera returns to the bar…

{cut back to camera 3}

“It's so nice to see a friendly face first thing. I'm kind of nervous.” your smile weakens as you talk to Leila. Not too long after another girl walks in.

“Holy shit.” Leila says as the girl gets closer. You turn to have a look and almost pass out. Long tan legs leading up to the tiniest bikini bottoms that probably ever existed. Your eyes widened and you were lost for words. The girl spoke before you could even form a coherent thought.

“I’m Chloe.” Her voice was a bit high, but you supposed it might have just been all the traveling catching up to her. You watched as Leila gave her the same cheerful smile that she gave to you. Chloe gave a short smirk and twisted her neck to look at you next. Her blonde hair seemed to flow with her movement.

“Y/n.” You stuck your hand out as you introduced yourself. Chloe just looked at it and headed for the bar to get a cocktail.

“Gosh, a bit cold now, isn’t she?” Leila frowned as she watched her. You raised your brow and decided this might be a long summer.

{cut to interview}

… “Hii I’m Chloe I’m 25 from Glasgow and I’m just living life.” Music plays again as another interview starts.

“I love a good English boy who gives good chat and has pretty eyes.” Chloe winks and laughs at herself.

“If my girls would describe me in one word it would be...Maneater.” …

{cut back to camera 3}

“I hope I’m not the only one drinking today.” Chloe spoke as she set three glasses on the table in front of you. It was odd. At least you thought so, but you took the drink anyway hoping to calm yourself.

“Oh, I’ll absolutely take this, thank you, Chloe.”

“No problem girl.” A large smile graced her lips as she watched you drink.

“Guess I’ll have another one as well. Thanks.” Leila was polite enough to escape a glare from the blonde, but you immediately noticed the tension between them. “Interesting…”

Just before anyone could continue the conversation another girl walked into the villa.

{cut to third interview}

… “I’m Genevieve I’m 27 from Dewsbury but I live in LA currently.” The brunette was calm as she spoke and smiled at the camera.

“I’m trying to find work as a model. Navigating LA life is hard but navigating my love life is harder. I just seem to always find my worst match so hopefully it’s different here.” …

{cut to camera 2}

Her confident stride and striking appearance instantly drew everyone’s attention. Chloe, the first to react, sized her up with a quick, appraising glance before flashing her trademark bright smile.

“Well, look who decided to join the party,” Chloe said, her tone dripping with a mix of faux friendliness and thinly veiled competitiveness. Genevieve smiled graciously, taking in the room. “Hey everyone,” she greeted, her voice smooth and inviting.

“I’m Genevieve. I hope I’m not too late.” Leila, who had been nursing her drink, immediately stood up and walked over to Genevieve.

“Hi Genevieve, I’m Leila,” she said warmly.

“Nice to meet you. Want a drink?” Genevieve’s smile widened.

“Sure, I’d love one. Thanks, Leila.”

As Leila prepared a drink for Genevieve, Chloe leaned in closer to you. “Another model, huh? This should be interesting,” she whispered, her eyes never leaving Genevieve. You could sense the undercurrent of tension in Chloe’s voice but chose to stay neutral.

“Yeah, let’s see how things unfold,” you replied quietly, taking another sip of your drink. Leila returned with a drink for Genevieve, who accepted it with a grateful nod. “So, Genevieve, tell us a bit about yourself,” Leila encouraged, her genuine interest in breaking the ice.

“Well, I’m 27 and I’ve been living in LA for a few years now,” Genevieve began.

“I’m trying to break into modeling. It’s tough and I have to keep the lights on by serving, but I love the challenge. And, of course, I’m here to hopefully find the right guy.”

The other girls listened intently, some nodding in understanding. Chloe, however, remained somewhat aloof, swirling her drink thoughtfully.

“LA, huh? That must be quite a change from Dewsbury,” she commented, a hint of skepticism in her voice. Genevieve nodded, unfazed by Chloe’s tone.

“It is, but I love it. The energy, the opportunities—it’s all worth it.” Chloe smirked, leaning back in her chair.

“Well, good luck to you babe. You’re going to need it.” Leila shot Chloe a disapproving look before turning back to Genevieve.

“Don’t mind Chloe. She can be a bit much sometimes as were learning,” she said with a wink. “We’re all here to find love, after all.” Genevieve laughed lightly, clearly not perturbed.

“Thanks, Leila. I’m looking forward to getting to know all of you.”

You didn’t know how Leila did it. Keep up the niceties with all these women. The relationships right now were all surface. This is the time to be strategically quiet. Or in your case just nervously so. As the conversation continued, the initial tension began to dissipate, replaced by curiosity and a tentative camaraderie. The girls were eager to see how Genevieve would fit into the group dynamics, and despite Chloe’s initial frostiness, there was a sense of anticipation about what the next days would bring.

{cut to camera 1 in a wide shot panning over the girls and host}

“Hello ladies and welcome to the villa. We have you here today in this beautiful villa to hopefully find some love, friendship, or fortune. We have gathered you here on the lawn beside the pool deck to introduce you to the guys.” The sun was high in the sky as you stood on your marked spot. The girls lined up next to you all giggled and cheered at the introduction. You smiled along and tried to calm your nerves. Were they really about to just parade a bunch of hot guys around for you to ogle over? You looked to the right, and you saw Chloe and to your left you saw Genevieve and Leila. Not knowing too much about anyone yet you felt a little out of place. 6 weeks with these people and you would be competing with them the whole time. Not a single one of them seemed to share the nerves building in your body. The camera crew hustled about, and you stood to attention after adjusting your bikini bottoms on your hips.

{cut to camera 3 on the pathway}

“First we have Daniel Jones, he is from south London.” a blonde man with a toned physique who walked down the path leading to the pool deck where the host was standing. “He's cute.” you thought to yourself.

“How are you doing this morning Daniel?” the host turned to speak with him. The sun beat down on everyone but despite that the girls all smiled at Daniel.

“I'm doing great now that I have some eye candy to look at.” Daniel's words came out confidently as he smiled at each of you on your marks. He was definitely fit. Tan skin shining in the sun and a pair of navy-blue trunks on his waist. You eyed him from your spot, and he winked at you in acknowledgement. Heat manifested in your cheeks at the gesture.

“How are you today, ladies?” His voice was smooth, catching your attention and no doubt the other girls as well.

“Alright Daniel, go stand on that first mark and let's see the next guy, shall we?” The host smiled and turned to face the pathway.

The sun was high in the sky that morning as the next guy came out. All of the girls adjusted themselves as the cameras cut back and forth between them.

“Here we have Elias, he is from London but lives in LA. Elias, how are you?”

Elias was gorgeous. Dark hair sitting atop his head and muscles peeking out of darker skin that looked perfectly Sunkissed. He wore deep rust orange shorts and had his ears pierced. You blushed as he caught your eye and sent a small nod in your direction.

“I'm doing alright.” His voice was deep and gravely. You could only imagine what his personality was like as he stood at attention. A couple of the ladies snickered at one another, and Elias smirked at the attention he was getting. Just like Daniel, Elias moved to stand next to his mark.

“Ladies, how are we feeling about the selection so far?” The host spoke to all of you and garnered some exclamations from the whole group.

“The selection is fit; how can we complain?” Genevieve spoke up first. She was beautiful to look at and if you were one of the guys you definitely would want her to couple up with you. Long brown hair with highlights framing her face. As you were admiring her, your thoughts were interrupted by a rather whiney voice.

“Yeah exactly, but I have to say I'm excited for this special guest.” The next girl to speak was Chloe and she turned to give the other girls a light glare as if she were daring them to challenge her. Chloe was a natural blonde with green and brown eyes that peered into your soul. You made a mental note not to get in her way if you could avoid it.

The host continued on and introduced the next man to the group. All the ladies gave him their attention, as it seemed he was a crowd favorite as soon as he was in sight.

“Ladies, this is River Davis from Michigan.”

River was hot, you have to admit. Lighter hair shaved low on the sides and defined muscle tapering into his trunks. Your eyes traveled trying to find a decent place to look that wasn't suggestive.

“Nice to see you, River.”

River smiled at the host and took her hand for a light shake. Turning his attention to the ladies he kept his smile and stood up straight.

“Nice to see you too. Ladies, how are you all doing?” His voice was deep too. Elias might have some competition with this one you thought. All the ladies replied in various ways as the men stood on their marks.

“Before we get to coupling time, we have one more guest joining us. Our celebrity guest this season is…” honey smiled at the group as she paused for effect.

All the ladies waited with bated breath to hear and see who was coming out next. Your breath caught in your throat as you saw brown hair through the bushes.

“Harry Styles!” The host turned and began clapping.

Harry emerged from the trail looking amazing. Tan underneath his inked skin, Trunks resting low on his hips exposing the ferns and a freshly cut head of hair to match his mustache.

“Hello everyone, m’Harry.”

You almost melted after hearing his voice in person. There was just something about him that made you feel at home, and you didn't even know the guy yet. Did you want to get to know him? Part of you felt like maybe you shouldn't, like it would be better to remain a fan of his work and omit yourself from the possibility of him being an asshole.

First choice is coming next episode!!!!

The islanders

@chelseawgnr @rafesfavoritegirl @finelinepie @sunflower-golden-vol6 @unlikelystay @sarah-ev @playhousebunni @gem1712 @indierockgirrl @boldlycoolkitty @wherearethewatermelons @tpwkvickysblog @harrystylesconcepts @superiorfemme @vashapnin @sassamanda77 @henrysteelsmurryme @littlenatilda @devilsqueen722 @ashleighsss @b3ccaaa @x100preme @lomlolivia @fanfictioncafe @racshouse42 @crazygirlinthisworld @harrys-flower @bloodywickedlips @harryshousewitnessprotection @champagnepronlemsxxxx

@harryhad-alittlelamb

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #hslot 2023 #harry styles x black!reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader smut #Harry styles choose your own adventure #love island

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red-riot-unbreakable-heart · 27 days ago

Text

Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 8

Previous Chapter: Part 7 | Next Chapter: Part 9 Coming Soon!

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Shoto Todoroki x Fem Reader! 💋

Genre: Fluff, Romance, S*xual Tension, Smut

🚫🔞THIS IS AN ADULT BLOG CONTAINING EXPLICIT CONTENT. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, A18+ ONLY.🔞🚫

CW: MDNI!, A18+, kissing, romance, sexual tension, spicy scenes.

Chapter 8: The Party Part 2 / Shoto’s Revenge

She shrugs and gives you a knowing half smile. “Sometimes people need a little push!” She starts to notice the room getting quieter as everyone waits for her to call out the next participant. “Speaking of which…you’re next!”

You look up in surprise as the crowd around you cheers and starts to chant your name encouragingly. Mina scoops up the bottle off the floor and holds it out to you expectantly.

“Come on, Y/N!”

“Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!” Your friends chant around you.

You can practically feel Shoto’s gaze burning into your back as you stare down that problematic glass bottle.

Shit.

-----------

“Huh!?” Oh no. Oh helllll no. You weren’t planning on participating in this crazy game – especially not when Shoto is off the table. “No, Mina, I’m okay. Really.”

Mina pouts, but relents. Instead she turns to Hagakure. “How about you, Toru? Want to take a spin?”

“You know it, girl!” Toru cackles, shifting in her seat.

Mina turns back to the group and signals for attention. She’s going to make such a good hero one day – she can so easily control a room and grab the spotlight. If only she would stop pushing things too far all of the time…

“Allllright! Toru’s up next!” She passes the bottle over to your invisible best friend and scoots back to give her some space. Toru wiggles with excitement, her bracelets jingling on her invisible wrists as she leans forward and gives the bottle a hard spin.

The bottle ricochets across the floor, whirling round and round. You feel the excitement rolling off of Hagakure in waves as she waits to see where it will land. Within seconds, the bottle’s pace slows and it comes to an abrupt stop. You look up eagerly to see that it’s pointing at Mashirao Ojiro.

“Oh!” Toru says softly.

For once, The Invisible Girl is absolutely speechless. You imagine she’s blushing as she takes in Ojiro’s equally shocked face. Across the circle, Ojiro’s jaw is slack in surprise. He quickly closes it and absentmindedly straightens his hair as the group is watches on and laughs.

You narrow your eyes and glance over at Mina, suspicious. How is everyone being miraculously paired up with their crushes!? She’s definitely rigged this game somehow, you just know it. She’s playing matchmaker somehow!

You refocus on Toru, who seems to be frozen in place.

“Get over there girl!” You and Mina push Toru up and she stumbles, nearly tripping over the glass bottle. Ojiro hops up to meet her in the middle and catches her arms before she can fall.

“Um…hey.” Ojiro says as he steadies her. Everyone looks on eagerly; this game is truly a spectacle to behold.

“Oh, Ojiro!” Toru says theatrically as she bounces on the balls of her feet. “This is so embarrassing! My face is bright red!”

Ojiro actually rolls his eyes at this, he’s used to Toru’s dramatics at this point.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” One thing you like about Ojiro – he’s steady and reliable. If anyone can balance out Toru’s constant chaotic energy, it’s The Tailman. “But…maybe you should take the lead here – I can’t see your face?” He says weakly, staring at her hard as he tries to discern where her mouth is.

Toru wastes no time, throwing her arms around Ojiro’s neck and pulling herself up she can crash their lips together. Ojiro’s face is bright red and his eyes are wide in shock as Toru all but climbs on top of him. You and Mina laugh so hard you feel like you can barely breathe. For a moment, all thoughts of Shoto have left your mind as you watch one of your best friends have her first kiss with her crush.

Ojiro’s eyes slide closed and he wraps his arms around Toru’s back and waist, holding her to him in a sweet embrace. They’re flush against each other, and he lifts her up a bit so that she’s standing on top of his shoes.

It’s kind of weird to watch Ojiro make out with an invisible partner. You can see Toru’s body since she’s wearing clothes, of course. But her head is completely invisible, so you can see right through her. Quirks make intimacy hella weird sometimes. Through Toru’s nonexistent head, it looks like Ojiro’s lips are flattening and pursing of their own accord.

Finally, Toru breaks apart from him and reaches up to ruffle his hair. He smiles stupidly down at her invisible face. They break apart and she skitters back over to you and Mina to reclaim her seat. Ojiro stumbles back to his seat next to Kirishima, who claps him on the back kindly with a smile.

“Eeek! I had my first kiss!” Toru whispers urgently in your ear.

“I know! I was there!” You laugh.

At the break of action, the sound of babble swells in the room again as everyone gets back to chatting and laughing. The mood in the room is good; everyone is a tiny bit buzzed and feeling warm and fuzzy.

“What was it like!?” You ask eagerly, sitting forward to hear every word.

“Soft! Warm! Hot! Ojiro is a good kisser!” Toru squeals. You and Mina laugh happily as your friend wiggles with joy. “I hope that this night never ends!”

Mina checks her bedazzled phone. “Oh! The rest of the group is here!”

You and Toru look up towards the entrance and see that a small group of Class B students have entered the building. Mina, ever the master of ceremonies, waves them over and has them join the circle. Itsuka Kendo, Setsuna Tokage, Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu, Juzo Honenuki and Yosetsu Awase find spots on the floor. Honenuki waves at you in greeting, and you return the gesture with a friendly smile.

“How did the distraction go!? Did Hatsume’s creepy little machines work?” Mina asks Kendo excitedly. The red head smiles back wickedly.

“We definitely fooled Mr. King into thinking that Mineta needed his help. He took the bait hook, line and sinker.” Honenuki cackles out.

“Wait…Neito – weren’t you supposed to be part of the distraction alongside Kendo?” You ask your friend. Neito looks a bit embarrassed when he answers.

“Well…I needed some extra time to get ready and Kendo said she could handle things with Setsuna, Tetsutetsu and the Class B gang. Plus I didn’t want Mr. King to think I was always running around tattling on my classmates. He told me recently that I need to work on being a bit more ‘social’ and ‘likeable.’ I just couldn’t bring myself to let him down again.” Neito says smoothly. This tracks – Neito has a ten step skincare regimen, after all. You can only imagine how much time he took to primp ahead of his big night with Shinsou.

“We thought it would seem more authentic if the class rep took the lead here.” Tetsutetsu chimes in, grinning widely. “And Mr. King totally bought our lie when we told him Mineta was getting bullied and strung up on the flagpole as a prank. We watched him run over to where Mineta was hanging and boom! He was instantly covered with drones. He didn’t even land a hit while we were watching.”

“Wow sounds like Hatsume really does know what she’s doing here.” Toru says in awe. Mr. King is an experienced hero, so Hatsume’s drones being able to go toe-to-toe with him is truly impressive.

“The trick wasn’t very manly of us, I’ll admit.” Tetsutetsu says, running his hand through his hair guiltily.”…but it sure was effective!”

“Yeah I really tried to make it seem like we’d been casually walking through the area when we noticed Mineta had been ‘attacked.’ Hopefully Mr. King won’t think we were connected with the drone nonsense.” Kendo says uncertainly.

“I’m sure it’s finnnneee!” Mina says, throwing her arms out wide. “Hatsume knows what she’s doing. And so does Mineta – he’s got skin in the game.” You glare at Mina when you remember that you had promised to kiss the little pervert in exchange for his help. As much as you hate the whole situation, you do truly believe that the kissing offer will keep Mineta on-task. He’s unlikely to betray you all where sexual favors are involved, after all.

“So what’s going on?” Tetsutetsu asks excitedly as Kirishima passes him a bowl of chips and a drink. “What did we miss?”

“Well you guys only missed a little – YaoMomo, come over here and give it a spin!” Mina calls out across the crowd. Momo has joined Shoto in conversation and looks up in surprise.

“No, no I’m alright!” She waves Mina off, blushing. She’s wearing a sensible lavender turtleneck and expensive looking blue jeans, flawless as per usual. “You all keep on playing without me.”

“Come onnnnn Momo!” Mina whines, scooping up the glass bottle and proffering it up to your creation-quirked friend.

“No, really! I must refuse.” Momo says, her eyebrows arched nervously as she tries to wave Mina away.

Momo and Mina continue to bicker (if you could call Momo’s polite declining bickering…okay Mina continues to bicker at Momo and she tries to turn the spotlight away from herself).

Your phone buzzes a few times in your pocket and you slip it out, hoping its Shoto.

It’s not.

Nope - it’s Honenuki.

Honenuki: Hey.

You glance up – the pale skeleton-faced young man is looking up at you with his wide grey eyes from across the circle. No one notices - everyone else is focused on Mina and Momo’s back and forth.

You type.

Y/N: Hey! You were part of the distraction team? I thought it would just be Kendo calling over Mr. Vlad King.

Honenuki: We all thought it would look more believable if we did it in a group. We told Mr. King we were walking back from the library when we heard yelling and found Mineta. Mr. King told us to head back to the dorms in case a villain had broken through the UA barrier.

Y/N: Oh shit. You think we’ll go into lockdown?

Honenuki: Nah. We told him it looked like a student prank, and he seemed to believe it.

Y/N: That’s gnarly. You could get in SOOO much trouble if he finds out this was all a fake set up.

Honenuki: Yeah. But isn’t it worth it for one night of being reckless teenagers? We’re all so good most of the time.

Honenuki: It can be a little fun to walk on the wild side.

A tiny lion emoji accompanies the text.

You smirk, glancing up at him to see his eyes crinkling at the corners to indicate that he’s smiling.

Honenuki: By the way

Y/N: ??

Honenuki: You look really cute tonight

Oh.

You feel a blush bloom in your cheeks, warm and rosy. You dart a quick look up at him and see that he’s still staring you down, eyes intense. You don’t know what to say…

After a moment’s pause, you start typing.

Y/N: A girl’s gotta look her best for an illegal party, ofc!

Honenuki: You always look cute though. Just thought you should know J

Um…okayyyyy!? Is he…flirting with you!? Honenuki liking you…like-liking you…that is not a possibility that you have considered?

You’ve been so caught up with your tryst with Shoto Todoroki that you haven’t really been paying attention to any other men. Your brain flies back through the text conversations you’ve had recently with Honenuki – sharing jokes, swapping music. Oh shit. He’s been flirting with you the entire time! And you’ve been…flirting back?

Your brain is reeling with the revelation. You stare down at your phone screen. You should type something. You should say something. You’re taken, aren’t you? Sure, you and Shoto haven’t put a label on…whatever it is that the two of you are! But you’ve agreed not to hook up with anyone else, right?

Your mind feels a bit hazy. The feeling of being wanted by two different men is a little intoxicating.

You think about Honenuki – his sweet messages and his chill demeanor. He’s kind – you know he’s always willing to help a classmate with training or math homework. You’ve heard nothing but good things about him in passing. He’s also strong – like Shoto, he’s one of the few students who gained admission to UA by recommendation and he’s currently at the top of Class B’s rankings. There’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that he has the potential to be a powerful hero.

You bite at your lip, staring at your phone screen blankly as you brain continues to cycle through Honenuki’s positive qualities. On top of his academic success…you have to admit that he’s kind of hot. Perfect skin and shaggy hair. You’ve seen the way he fights in battle; you imagine he’s well muscled under that floral shirt of his. You even like the haunting quality of his skeleton-like teeth. There’s something so genuine about him – he’s open and can put anyone at ease. He’s uncomplicated.

In a world where Shoto had never asked to kiss you, you can see yourself continuing to encourage Honenuki’s advances. If you hadn’t started hooking up with Shoto…would you and Honenuki have gotten together? You’re overwhelmed as you think back to all of Honenuki’s previous messages and the way he’s been treating you so tenderly lately. How could you not have realized earlier that he’s been giving off flirty vibes!?

The atmosphere of the spin the bottle game is far too horny and must be influencing you, because a vision comes to mind of being alone with Honenuki. Your mind scrabbles together a quick flash of white hot images – your hand running down his bare toned chest; his strong hands enveloping the curves of your waist; his grey eyes widening in surprise when you whisper his given name, “Juzo.”

Toru grabs your arm and shakes you from your wild, fuzzy thoughts.

“Y/N! Girl! Are you okay!? Why are you staring at your phone like that?” She tries to make a grab for the device, but you spin it out of her grasp before she can get a good look at the screen.

“Sorry…I was checking to see if Hatsume texted us.” You lie quickly. “I wonder how her distraction is going.”

“Oh!” Toru says in surprise, clearly having forgotten about Hatsume and Mineta’s role in the party planning. “I’m sure she would have sent us all a group text if there was a problem.” She turns back to her conversation with Fujita, leaving you alone with your thoughts for a moment.

You think a bit more about Honenuki and Shoto, two wildly different guys. While Honenuki has confidence and a unique charm, he lacks Shoto’s intensity and vibrancy. With Shoto, each conversation feels like unlocking a new video game level – you’re always learning something new about him. His upbringing, his passions, his sense of humor. Getting to know Shoto has been such a joy - he’s complex and sweet and kind in ways you never could have imagined.

As tempting as it is to innocently flirt back with Honenuki over text…you feel a strong sense of loyalty to Shoto. Sure, the two of you aren’t officially in “a relationship,” but the growing bond you share is intimate. You can’t imagine your day to day without Shoto – his tiny smiles in the hall, the way he sends you odd little texts about Pokémon and his love of cold soba.

And so you leave Honenuki’s text on read. You’ll need to sort through your feelings more later in the comfort of your own dorm room and decide how to approach the situation further.

Mina’s shrill voice brings you back to the present.

“Momooooo!” Mina whines out, throwing up her hands in exasperation. Your attention snaps back to your arguing friends. “Class B did so much work to help us throw this party. Joining in on some of the official festivities is the least we can do to show our appreciation. Plus weren’t you saying earlier how important it is to participate in cultural activities? This is prime teen culture right here!” Mina gestures wildly at the empty bottle lying in the middle of the circle. You’re honestly in awe of Mina and the way she can just make up convincing shit like this.

“Well…I suppose I did say that.” Momo bites her lip, thinking. “As deputy class rep I should participate in such an important show of friendliness between our two classes! And if Todoroki went through with it, I expect I can too.” It seems that this is what Mina was banking on. She grins like a Cheshire cat as Momo walks over to join them.

“Alright Momo, all you need to do is spin this!” She presents the bottle in all of its glory. It seems to sparkle with possibility under the florescent lights.

Momo accepts the bottle and flings it across the ground with an enthusiastic spin. It spirals across the floor, turning end over end before coming to a stop in front of Class B’s Yosetsu Awase. Awase’s eyebrows dip down and he mutters a curse under his breath.

He looks up at Momo, and based on his expression alone he looks either angry or terrified. Kendo laughs heartily and pats him on the back. “Go on, Awase. Go get your kiss.”

Momo watches him with fretful eyes. “Awase. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want - ” The welding hero raises a hand, signaling her to be quiet. Despite the gesture, he can’t bring himself to fully look her in the eye. The welding hero gets up slowly and crosses the circle to reach her, his cuffed blue jeans and dark Doc Martens make him look effortlessly cool. He reaches her in two strides.

Awase is taller than Momo by a few inches – his boots giving him the slightest boost. She looks up into his face nervously, her brain clearly whirring as she tries to devise a strategy to get out of this nerve-wracking situation. Maybe if she makes a break for the door everyone will magically forget this whole silly game and her role in it? Her eyes dart between Awase’s lips and the exit. He finally lets himself look at her, a dark scowl clouding his features.

“You know.” He says quietly, causing everyone in the circle to lean in a bit to catch his words. “I think you’re the smartest student in our year. Maybe even the smartest in the entire school.” He looks away, his skin red with embarrassment, sweat beading at his forehead. “I’ve been wanting to tell you that for a while.”

“Oh.” Momo covers her mouth and looks at the ground with embarrassment. “Thank you, that’s so kind.”

The room is so quiet, Present Mic would find the space absolutely offensive. All eyes are on Momo and Awase.

“You cool with this?” He asks, jerking his head to gesture at the crowd of classmates circled around them.

Momo blushes and looks away once more. “Well it is an important coming of age event, isn’t it? And I don’t want to stand in the way of building class unity, of course.”

This matter-of-fact response draws a slow smile out of Awase, his scowl melting into a light grin. “Oh, of course. Class unity is super important.” He takes a deep breath to steady himself, pressing his hands deep into his pockets as he leans into kiss her. Momo shuts her eyes as if she’s afraid, but as soon as their lips meet she leans into it eagerly. The smooch lasts for a few moments before Awase jumps backwards, face overheating. He looks up at the ceiling in embarrassment, hands still pressed into his pockets.

“Thanks Yaoyorozu!” He says too loudly and too enthusiastically. “I’m glad we could contribute to uniting our classes! See you around!!!” He turns and rapidly exits the room, disappearing into the hallway. Everyone turns to look at Momo, their eyes wide and interested to see what she’ll do next.

To everyone’s surprise, she bursts out laughing. Her mirth is infectious, and before long the entire room is giggling and guffawing, all tension of the room broken. Classes A and B are hanging out and having the time of their young lives together, it definitely feels as if new bonds have been formed.

After a few minutes, the laughter dies down. Kendo runs after Awase and returns a few minutes later with him clutched in her big fist. He looks abashed, but he’s laughing too.

Momo rejoins Todoroki and Tokoyami on the sidelines, and you watch the group of them warily for a moment. Momo is blushing like crazy, though, so you feel its safe to assume that her affections lie with the Class B Awase, not with your sweet Shoto Todoroki. Awase walks over to join their conversation, and after a few moments of chatting, its clear the tension between them has broken. Chatter breaks out amongst the rest of your classmates, and you watch out of the corner of your eye as Shoto smiles, happy to be included and making friends.

You try to shake your jealous insecurities from your body – after all, Shoto deserves all the friends. He deserves comfort and love from all areas of his life. You realize that you can’t be the only source of affection he receives – he’s a full person, not some romance novel character simply created for the protagonist’s need fulfillment and sexual fantasies.

You let yourself come back down to Earth, and out of your head. You listen in on the chatter surrounding you -

“Kendo – do you think we can train together sometime? You have some really awesome moves with your quirk!” Ojiro asks the Class B rep, and Sero chimes in as well: “Yeah, I’d love to spar with you and see Big Fist in action!” Kendo smiles at the compliment and makes a promise to reserve gym time together in the coming weeks.

Nearby, Tetsutetsu and Kirishima are chatting animatedly about their favorite chivalrous heroes. “Have you seen this interview of Crimson Riot from the ‘90s!?” Kirishima taps his phone to hastily pull up an old video on the web. “This has got to be my favorite video of him in his classic costume.” Tetsutetsu and Honenuki crowd around his shoulder to watch, even Setsuna glances over with interest.

Across from you in the circle, Shinsou and Monoma sit talking softly to each other. Shinsou still has an arm around Nieto, the blonde leaning gratefully into his side and basking in the attention. He cracks a quiet joke that brings a smile to Shinsou’s lips, his eyes crinkling in response.

You take it all in – the joy, the laughter. You’ve got a glowy feeling bubbling up in your chest. This is why you all threw the party. This is certainly a night to be remembered. Everyone is happy and bubbly and bonding. You try to take a snapshot of the scene in your mind. It really doesn’t get any better than this, does it?

“Hey, Y/N – are you good?” Toru reaches over and shakes your shoulder, pulling you from your sappy reflection.

“Oh, yeah.” You say, refocusing on your friend next to you. “Just got lost in it all for a sec. I forgot how good a party could be.”

You feel Toru radiate happiness as well – you don’t need to be able to see her expression to know that she’s on Cloud 9. “I know what you mean. It’s really nice to hangout like normal teenagers, right?”

“Yeah, it is.”

Hmm. Normal. You’ve never really thought about it that way. Toru’s got a point – going to the top hero school in the country has certainly come with its sacrifices.

You’re truly not like normal Japanese teens – its rare that you get a night like this to just hang out and be silly. To flirt with classmates and get to know people outside of training and studying. You look around you – how many of these people do you truly know? If you weren’t all constantly cramming and training 24/7, what hobbies would your classmates have taken up? How would they choose to spend free time?

Training to be a hero is a just cause, a task worthy of sacrifice. But you’ve gotta wonder…throwing yourselves fully into this lifestyle so early in your lives at such a crucial time of social and emotional development…how good can that truly be in the long run? Will you all develop into well-rounded, emotionally adjusted humans? Or will you be at a disadvantage in regular society because you spent all of your youth on training and hero-work? It’s an interesting idea worth more exploration – you wonder what Shoto would think of it all. You make a mental note to ask him for his opinion later on.

“I wish we could do stuff like this more often.” Toru sighs, resting her invisible chin on an equally invisible palm. “It would be nice to get to know everyone as people, not as heroes-in-training.”

“It’s like you read my mind.” You laugh, throwing your arm around Toru and pulling her close. “I’m glad we threw this party. And I’m glad we’re friends.” You see your friend shimmer in the light next to you, her joy manifesting in her quirk’s light refraction.

“Me too, I’m glad we became BFFs!” She leans into you and whispers “Also I’m glad that Ojiro has such defined biceps…because honestly wow.”

You laugh at this, trying to see if you can get a good look at Ojiro’s arms from your seating position. Unfortunately, his arms are covered with thick sweater sleeves, so you’ll have to trust your friend on this.

“I’ll take your word for it.” You say under your breath as you check your watch before turning towards Mina. “Sato said the sweets should be ready about now.” Mina nods and looks off to the kitchen where a few of your classmates are bustling around baking goodies for the rest of the group.

“Alright, let’s do one more spin before we take a snack break!” Mina calls out over the crowd, her voice cutting through the bubble of conversations like a knife through butter. “We need more Class B representation…Honenuki, why don’t you come up?”

The crowd around you quiets and everyone’s eyes land on Juzo, waiting for him to step up to the plate and spin.

“Heh, alright.” Honenuki clicks his teeth and gets to his feet, chill as ever. He strides two long steps towards your group where he accepts the empty bottle from Mina’s protective grasp. He catches your eye and winks before turning back towards the center of the circle. Your stomach does a weird little jump in response to the gesture. Once again, you acknowledge to yourself that you enjoy the flirtatious attention. You imagine what it would be like to meet Shoto’s eyes across the room and for him to wink at you like that. Your secret love affair would no doubt boil the air between you.

You refocus on the game at hand – Honenuki stands at the center of the room. He’s wearing a floral button down with light wash jeans that hug his legs in a pleasing way. For the second time that night, you note that he’s definitely attractive, and his chill vibe seems to put everyone around him at ease. If all the attention is making him nervous, he doesn’t show it.

He places the bottle on the ground and gives it a slow, leisurely spin. The glass rotates slowly across the floor a few times, everyone eagerly looking on. After a moment of slow rotation, the bottle rolls to a stop and it’s pointing…straight at you.

Honenuki turns to face you, his wide-eyed look of shock mirrors your own.

“Ooo, looks like you gotta kiss Y/N!” Mina squeals out, grabbing your arms and hauling you to your feet.

“Wha-?” You ask, clearly stunned as everyone’s eyes focus on you. You turn to look quickly from Mina to Juzo. The sudden shift of everyone’s attention to you is over-stimulating and your brain feels like it might short circuit.

“You’re up, Y/N!” Mina whispers as she pushes you towards Honenuki. “It’s all you!” You stumble forward and try to ignore the giggles around you. Class B has started up a chant of “Juzo! Juzo! Juzo!”

Honenuki’s pale cheeks darken under all the attention, but when you look up to meet his eyes again you notice that they crinkle in the corners. He can’t quite grin with his mouth, but with a pang of warmth you realize that he smiles with his eyes. He meets you in the middle, taking a small step towards you.

Every nerve in your body feels alive. You don’t like the way that everyone is staring at you and Honenuki, waiting for the two of you to act. A part of your overwhelmed brain wonders vaguely if Shoto is watching. Will he step in here? Will he say something to stop this from happening? Will he claim you as his own before the combined audience of Classes A and B!?

“You know, I was really hoping it would be you.” He says softly. You’re fairly certain you’re the only one who hears the sweet words underneath all of the chanting.

“Oh! Really?” You say breathlessly. Your classmates start to shush each other as they try to listen to your conversation. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Shoto staring at you, mouth agape as he watches Honenuki take a step closer to you.

Juzo’s wide eyes look down at you, his gaze warm. “I’m not the best person for this game. I’m not really built for kissing.” He laughs, pointing at his face. The florescent light glints across his bright teeth.

“That’s alright.” You say, unsure of what to do next. Juzo takes another step towards you until his face is just a breath away from your own. He smells like the clean dorm soap, as if he’s just had a shower.

“Despite the fact that I don’t have lips, I have always wanted to try. Do you mind?” His words are so gentle, so vulnerable. You look up into his large grey eyes and nod, giving him the go-ahead to move forward. You feel Shoto’s hot gaze burning into the back of your head, but there’s nothing to be done about that right now. You can’t reject Honenuki – not here, not in front of the entirety of the Hero Course. Not when he’s being so sweet and open.

You try not to feel guilty as you lean towards Honenuki. Besides, Shoto participated in the game too, hadn’t he!? He’s already kissed that strange girl from the Support Course, so what right does he have to be upset about this whole thing?

There’s another guilty thought nagging at you as well…you feel bad for how much you’re enjoying Honenuki’s intimate attention. It’s wrong, isn’t it? Are you leading him on now that you’ve realized he’s flirting with you? Should you put a stop to this and expose your situationship with Shoto to the entire room to show Todoroki that your heart and body are loyal to him alone? The thoughts and feelings are all much too complex to sort through quickly, so you decide to just go along with the game and let Honenuki kiss you. You can do damage control and figure out your feelings later.

Juzo reaches one hand down to rest on your side, his fingers spread gently against the curve of your hip. The delicate touch is almost intimate, and his closeness is making your head foggy. He brings his other hand up into your hair, cradling the back of your head as he leans down to bring his face to your cheek. You feel his smooth, cool teeth make brief contact with the side of your face. You can’t wrap your head around how he manages to make the “kiss” so tender, so sweet. After the brief contact, he pulls away to look at you.

“Was that okay?” He breathes, nervous for your answer. You respond by shifting so that you can give him a kiss of your own (it’s only fair). You bring your plush lips to his cheek in turn, planting a soft smooch on his pale face.

The joint classes cheer and clap as you pull away. Honenuki is blushing a sweet strawberry hue as you pull your face away from him. His eyes are sparkling with an emotion that you can’t quite place. He squeezes his fingers lightly on your hip before releasing you.

“Thank you.” He says to you kindly before turning to sit back with his classmates.

You feel a tingle of butterflies in you stomach from the gentle, focused attention Honenuki gave you. But at the same time…Honenuki’s sweet kiss doesn’t make you feel quite the way that Shoto’s kisses do. You turn and search for Shoto in the crowd. Your heart sinks down into your stomach when you can’t find him.

“Alright, everyone! Cake time!” Mina claps her hands and everyone gets to their feet, breaking the circle. The group starts to move towards the kitchen area where Sato has whipped up an amazing array of baked treats. The scent of baked chocolate wafts into the room enticingly, but you feel sick to your stomach as you search the crowd unsuccessfully for your icy-hot hookup.

You loiter behind, needing a moment to collect yourself after your very public romantic interaction with one of Class B’s top students. You watch as members of Class A and B joke and laugh together on their way towards the scent of Sato’s delicious sweets. You turn away from the commotion, hoping the redness in your cheeks has started to disappear.

You hear quiet footsteps come up behind you and for a moment, you fear that it’s Honenuki. You have so many mixed emotions you’re not sure what you’ll say to him.

“Y/N.” Shoto’s soft, steady voice breaks through over the chatter. You spin around in surprise and all but crash into his solid chest.

“Shoto, I - ” He cuts you off with a short hand gesture.

“Mind if we talk?” He asks quietly, glancing around to make sure you aren’t overheard. You nod weakly and follow him into the hallway outside the common area. “This is a bit more private.”

You lean against the wall and wrap your arms around yourself, shivering with discomfort. You’re not really sure what to do or say. What just happened between you and Honenuki, between Shoto and that girl…did that technically count as cheating? What you and Shoto had together…it wasn’t truly a relationship, was it?

Shoto turns to look at you, and you take in his face with shock. His features are screwed up as if he might cry – his eyebrows are dipped down and he’s biting his lip. You’ve never seen an expression like this on his typically unreadable face.

“Shoto – what’s wrong!?” You reach up to touch his beautiful face and he flinches as the contact. You keep your hand steady as it cups his cheek.

“What just happened…I think I’m having a complicated mix of emotions.” He says uncertainly, finally leaning into your touch. “I don’t know how to process it all.”

“Okay. Yeah, me too.” You say almost breathlessly, dropping your hand to your side. “Let’s talk it through.”

There’s a pause, neither of you know quite what to say. You stare at each other mutely. Shoto’s still chewing on his lip anxiously, a habit you’ve never noticed before. Finally, he takes a deep breath and decides to speak.

“You kissed Honenuki. And I didn’t like it.” He says simply. Your stomach drops.

“Okay…when you say you didn’t like it – what does that mean? Can you identify what you were feeling in that moment, and what you’re feeling now?” You prompt, needing more context. Shoto thinks on this for a moment.

“I felt jealous and a little angry. Maybe the feeling is…possessive? But I don’t know if it’s right for me to be feeling that way. I don’t own you, I don’t have sole possession of your time or the right to your body. We never discussed any sort of commitment to each other.” He pauses for a shaky breath. “And right now I feel…still a bit angry, but mostly sad and disappointed.”

“Disappointed?”

“Yes…I thought that maybe the way that we touched each other…I was hoping that kissing and touching would just be for the two of us. Then I saw the way he looked at you, how he touched you so gently. It looked like it came so naturally to him. And for me…well, I’m awkward. I know I can be…” He trails off, searching for the right words. He makes a strange, tight-lipped face when he finally says: “Emotionally stunted and inexperienced.” The phrase sounds unnatural on his tongue, and your eyes widen in surprise. It’s clear that he got this language from someone else – it just doesn’t sound like something Shoto would say. You roll the words over and over in your brain as he continues to speak.

He still can’t make eye contact with you as words tumble from his sweet mouth. “I just keep thinking…that if you would rather pursue Honenuki physically, romantically…then I need to step aside.”

“What!?” You hiss out, completely dumbfounded by this dramatic confession. Shoto is spilling his guts here in the hallway and you have no idea what to say to any of it. Finally, his mismatched eyes meet your own – they’re filled with sadness. In this moment, he looks impossibly young and unsure.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself, hoping to regulate your nervous system a bit before you dive in. You’re not sure how to work at this complicated knot of thoughts that Shoto has just word-vomited out into the hallway. You try to remember the basic de-escalation skills you’ve learned in class. Miss Midnight had once advised the class that in certain situations, the best approach to supporting someone is to reassure them and make them feel safe before getting to the heart of a problem. You decide to go that route.

“Shoto.” You say softly, trying to keep your voice even and warm. “Thank you for sharing these thoughts with me. I appreciate that you feel you can be open with me about these things. The first thing I want you to know here is that I care about you and I want us to talk through this the best we can.” At your words, you see Shoto visibly relax, his shoulders softening at your gentle tone of voice.

“I’m going to be honest, I’m figuring this out as I go. I don’t have all the answers and I’m not sure how to talk about some of these things with you – but let’s try our best to communicate together here. Alright?” Your brain is moving a million miles per hour, but you take another deep breath to calm it. You pretend you’re in an emergency situation and that Shoto is the victim of a natural disaster. You need to calm him. You need to listen to him. You want him to listen to you. It’s okay not to know everything; you just need to make sure he feels seen and heard. “Now I want you to take a deep breath with me.”

“Alright, Y/N.” Shoto says, matching your breathing to take a slow, rumbling breath. You deep breathe for thirty seconds, maintaining eye contact with Shoto. You put a hand over your heart and monitor your heart rate as you breathe, and watch as he mirrors you. You feel yourself getting calmer with each passing breath – and you hope that Shoto feels similarly.

You remind yourself that Shoto has an incredible amount of trauma from his childhood that you don’t know about. You’re guessing that he never learned to properly regulate his emotions the way that you had growing up. You were lucky enough to have parents who took the time to teach you how to process feelings and situations. You are quickly realizing that Shoto never had this as a kid – his father likely forced him to be malleable. As a result, Shoto tends to respond much more reactively to high stress situations. You may just be a teenager, but you have a few regulating tools that you can share with Shoto to help him cope. You make a mental note to suggest therapy to him some point in the near future.

“Shoto. I want you to know that I am a safe person to talk about feelings with. I’m going to try my best to be calm and even keeled if we need to work through difficult emotions. I know I kind of blew up at you when I thought you were romantically interested with Momo, but from now on I’ll put effort into giving you the benefit of the doubt and addressing things straight forwardly.” You pause to let him digest this. You try to filter all your thoughts into simple language. “I’m having a lot of feelings right now, too. I don’t want us to be afraid of talking to each other like this. I think we can really help each other process by talking things through. Are you up for that?”

Shoto continues to breathe deeply, his chest rising and falling slowly beneath his cute navy sweater. He nods. You wonder if stress makes him less verbal.

“To start, I do not think that you are “emotionally stunted.” We’re teen

agers, so of course we’re going to be inexperienced with things. We’re still figuring it all out! But there’s certainly nothing about you that’s “stunted.” For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been very in tune with emotions and are extremely kind and empathetic. I’ve never heard you use that turn of phrase before – did someone else say that about you?”

“Oh.” Shoto looks away, avoiding your confused gaze. You get the feeling that he regrets speaking the phrase ‘emotionally stunted’ aloud. “Natsuo said it when I visited home recently.”

You feel a pang of anger deep in your gut. Why can Shoto’s family be so callous?

“Why did he say it?” You force yourself to keep your tone even.

“Mm.” Shoto hums uneasily, searching for the right words to explain what had happened. “We were having dinner and he was arguing with my dad. He was blaming him for a bunch of things that had happened growing up. He said “the way you treated us as kids is the reason why I’m so angry all the time, Fuyumi is such a people pleaser and Shoto is emotionally stunted. You’ve ruined our lives.”

“Oh. Oh my goodness. Shoto.” There’s no way you could have anticipated this sad fucking trauma dump and you aren’t quite sure what to say. You try to remember if Miss Midnight had given you any other good advice on talking with trauma victims. You recall her telling you to ask gentle questions to better understand, if the person seemed like they wanted to talk. “How did that make you feel?”

Shoto looks very uncomfortable as he thinks through his next words. He shifts from foot to foot anxiously. “It made me feel stupid, Y/N. Like everyone else knows how to approach social situations except for me. Like I’m just a clueless idiot.”

“Shoto. Shoto, you’re not an idiot. Not at all.” You mumble, running a hand through your hair in frustration on Shoto’s behalf. “What Natsuo said isn’t right. And it’s definitely not true. I think that you just tend to be more private with your emotions. And that’s perfectly alright. Over the past few weeks you’ve been emotionally vulnerable with me plenty of times.”

Shoto chews on this for a moment, really letting your words roll around in that interesting brain of his. “You really think that, Y/N? You’re not just trying to make me feel better, are you?”

“Shoto. I promise you I will never lie to you. I respect you and value your friendship too much for that. I swear you are not emotionally stunted. It sounds like Natsuo is having his own issues and decided to unnecessarily shit on you and the rest of your family to upset your dad.”

“I didn’t think of it that way.” Shoto says, breathing out a deep sigh of tension. “He was really angry at dad that day.”

“It sounds like he’ll say just about anything to get under your dad’s skin. And he didn’t just pick on you – he talked some smack about your sister as well. Do you think Fuyumi is a ‘people pleaser?’”

“No. She’s kind and independent and she takes care of us all the best she can since mom went to the hospital. I have never thought of her as a people pleaser.” Shoto says almost instantly.

“So if Natsuo is wrong about Fuyumi, then he’s likely also wrong about you. Right?” You try to help him make the connection.

“You’re right.” Shoto huffs out another deep breath and rolls out his shoulders stiffly. “I’ll need to think more about this.”

You nod quietly in confirmation. You can’t even imagine how much family and childhood trauma Shoto has buried that he needs to process. From what Shoto has told you and implied with stories about his past, this comment from Natsuo is likely only the tip of the iceberg of Todoroki family drama. You decide to divert his attention away from family issues so he doesn’t get stuck in an anxiety loop about it.

“And here’s another thing I want you to get through your mind – I don’t want you to ‘step aside’ for Honenuki.” You take a step closer to him, crowding his space. In typical Shoto Todoroki fashion, he does not move to step back. He just stares down at you questioningly. “I want you. Romantically. Emotionally. Physically. I don’t want Juzo Honenuki the way that I want you.” You say, vehemently.

Shoto raises his hand as if he’s going to caress your cheek – his hand hovers mere centimeters away from your soft skin before he drops it back to his side limply. You mourn the loss of the almost-contact with a light ache in your chest.

“But what about the way he kissed you?” Shoto has this wrecked look on his face as he says this, it’s as if you are a complete mystery to him. “It looked like…it meant something.”

You think about this for a moment, trying to figure out the right words for Shoto.

“I think that I liked the kiss in a way – but probably not the way you think! I liked having the attention the kiss gave me. It was nice to have a public display of affection like that…and also the way that Honenuki focused so much energy on me in just a few seconds, it was definitely thrilling. But I suppose that’s the entire point of Spin The Bottle – it adds a layer of intensity onto everything. All in all, I think he’s nice. But it’s not quite the same as when I kiss you.”

At these words, you see Shoto visibly relax. His shoulders seem to become a little less tense.

“Plus, he’s not a member of the Squirtle Squad.” You add, smiling. Shoto snorts lightly through his nose at the joke.

He’s quiet for a beat before he asks you a question you aren’t expecting: “Is this how you felt when you thought that I was hooking up with Momo? That’s why you were so angry, wasn’t it?” Shoto says slowly, realization dawning on him. “I have been very confused about that, but I think now I understand.”

You exhale loudly, still embarrassed about the whole Momo debacle. “Yeah, admittedly I massively overreacted to that whole situation. I was just having so many feelings and I thought what has been happening between us is too good to be true. And so when I thought there was even the slightest chance that you were hooking up with Momo…well, I got jealous. And possessive. And that’s not fair to either of us. You were open with me from the start and I let my insecurities get in the way of the truth.” Now you’re spilling your guts right outside the biggest party of the century. You hope to God that no one walks by and overhears the two of you.

“Ah…so this feeling I’m having – it might be insecurity?” Shoto says thoughtfully. He bites his lip and you can see the wheels turning in his brain as he pieces it all together.

“It could be! It sounds like you’re having a big combination of emotions right now, and you might need some time to sort through it all. But that’s totally fine! You can take all the time you need to figure out your feelings.” You say warmly, and Shoto’s face finally relaxes into a soft smile. He appreciates the guidance, and the permission to just feel.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Shoto says gently. “You know…I’m always impressed at your ability to approach difficult situations with thoughtfulness and kindness. That’s why I like you so much. You’re going to be such a great hero.” You glow at the words. You feel your cheeks heating up as he stares at you with that intense eye contact of his. You notice for the first time that his grey eye has flecks of hazel around the iris.

You break the eye contact, looking at your shoes as you share your next thoughts. “Listen, Shoto…at the expense of being a bit mean to Honenuki…he wasn’t nearly as good a kisser as you.” You say, holding your hand out for Shoto to take. He gratefully accepts, slipping his fingers into yours and interlocking them. It feels good to finally touch him. All night, he’s been just out of reach. His fingers are warm and comforting as they press into your own. “He didn’t really ‘do; it for me, you know? Also, this is called waffling.” You can’t help but snort out, enjoying the confusion on Shoto’s face. You nod your head at your joined hands.

“…waffling?” He says weakly, looking at your interlaced fingers with wary interest.

“Yeah, because our fingers are crisscrossed together, kinda like how a waffle looks? Oh never mind.” You shake your head with a grin, making a mental note to show Shoto a picture of an American style waffle later on Google so you can explain more in depth.

“I feel like I learn something new from you every time we talk.” Shoto tilts his head to the side, doglike, as he considers your interlaced fingers. “I grew up with little to no exposure to pop culture, and so I feel like I’m missing a decent amount of context for modern romantic practices.”

“Shoto. My dude. What are ‘modern romantic practices?’ You can just say dating.” You say mockingly, but he knows you don’t mean it. He cracks a smile, and the butterflies in your stomach rejoice at the flash of bright Todoroki teeth. You squeeze his hand softly and then recall that you have feelings to work through as well. Since you’re both being so vulnerable and share-y, you’ve got plenty of questions to fire back at Shoto. “Hey – can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” He squeezes your hand back lightly.

“How did you feel kissing Fujita?”

An embarrassed sort of look crosses over his features – he subconsciously wrinkles his nose in discomfort.

“Is that the name of the girl from General Studies? Shinsou’s old classmate?”

“Yes. She’s very nice – I got to hang out with her before the party. Apparently she’s friendly with Mina.” You say, trying to speak kindly of a girl who very well could be your romantic rival in the quest for Shoto Todoroki’s dick.

“Oh. I didn’t even think to ask her name.” Shoto says in surprise. “That’s rude of me, isn’t it?”

“It all happened so quickly, I’m sure she wasn’t insulted by you forgetting to ask her name.” You try to sound casual, but you’re bouncing a bit on your feet. You’re nervous about what he might say about the kiss.

“Were you jealous, Y/N? The way you were jealous when you thought I was seeing Momo in a romantic context?” There’s a teasing smile pulling at the edge of his lips, but he has the decency to bite it back.

“Um, well, of course I was jealous when you kissed someone else! But I also know that it was just a game, and so I didn’t let it bother me so deeply.” You think back to the gentle way he had kissed the young woman’s cheek. “I was most envious of the fact that you were able to kiss her out in the open, in front of all our friends. Nothing was hidden. She was allowed to gush about it with the other girls, and it wasn’t a big secret. I wish…” You trail off, flapping your free arm in exasperation.

“Y/N. That kiss meant nothing to me.” The sentence tumbles from his lips before he can even think. He squeezes your hand harder this time and holds your gaze. “I was embarrassed that I was put on the spot like that. Everything happened so fast and I didn’t feel like I could say no. I wish I could have said no.”

“Oh.” You say, a sinking feeling in your chest. “Shoto, you should absolutely not have felt forced to participate. It was meant to be a fun game to bring everyone together and to be silly. I’m so, so sorry you essentially felt forced into it.”

“It felt like my brain wasn’t working quickly enough. Mina was just talking so fast, and everyone was looking at me. I was trying to keep a cool head but I was overwhelmed by all the eyes staring at me.”

You are going to need to have a talk with Mina about this, you have a feeling not everyone else was thrilled and comfortable with their role in the game. Shoto was likely not the only one feeling so distraught right now.

Shoto’s eyes roam the wall above your head as he thinks out loud. “How am I going to be a hero if I can’t make quick decisions under pressure?”

“Oh my goodness, Shoto! You can’t think like that!” You’re a little startled at how rattled he seems to be about this whole thing.

“Sometimes I don’t understand things as quickly as everyone else. I feel like I’m always a little behind socially.” He admits, eyes still dodging your own. “And at this point, I’m not sure if I’ll ever catch up. My Dad always says so, at least.”

“Shoto.” You reach out and grab his hand in an attempt to ground him. He’s clearly in an anxiety spiral downwards. “Shoto listen to me – everyone learns and grows at their own pace. Like I said earlier…we’re teenagers and we’re just figuring things out! It’s alright if you don’t understand every social situation right away. Being a hero is about having your heart in the right place and having quick reaction time in battle. You have both of those things in spades. As for the social awareness – well as a hero you’ll have a PR rep who can take care of all that. And as a hero-in-training, you have me.” You smile up at him. “You can always ask me for my perspective on a situation. And I can try to step in next time something gets too overwhelming – I can be your social buffer!”

His stormy expression seems to soften a bit and he finally meets your gaze. “You’d do that?”

“Of course!” You say resolutely. “And like I said – a hero is defined by their true heart and their willingness to jump into action to help people in trouble. Your heroism isn’t measured by your inability to resist peer pressure in high school.”

“Well when you say it like that…” Shoto shrugs, clearly feeling a little silly for his intense reaction to the spin the bottle debacle. “Maybe I’m overthinking this. I have a lot to process about tonight.”

“Yeah. Agreed.” You say, relieved that the two of you are figuring it out. But still…you need to be absolutely certain that you’re on the same page about everything.

“So you’re saying you didn’t have any feelings while kissing Fujita?” You ask slowly, trying not to seem too upset by the whole thing. After all, Shoto had admitted to feeling overwhelmed and not wanting to participate in the crazy game the first place.

“Oh. Well…she was kind of cute, I guess. But I didn’t really feel anything when I kissed her face.” He thinks for a moment. “It wasn’t like when we kissed for the first time. The first time our lips met, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Like I needed more of you as quickly as possible or I would explode.” You feel your cheeks heat up a bit at these words.

He continues, “That’s really my only baseline for this sort of thing. So similar to you and Honenuki – it was a pleasant experience, but it didn’t really “do” it for me.” He smiles as he meets your eyes. He squeezes your hand yet again, a secret language you’re creating together. He’s trying to convey that he feels comfortable physically this way only with you.

“So it seems that we both feel similarly about the whole experience.” You say, giving his hand a squeeze back.

“That does appear to be the case.” Shoto agrees. “And it seems like we are both very attracted to each other.” He steps closer to you, getting into your personal space.

“Mmhmm.” You say distantly, looking up into his sparkling mismatched eyes as he leans down to capture your lips with his own. A spark ignites in your chest as your mouths connect and it feels so goddamn right. You drop Shoto’s hand so that you can wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer. You need him so badly you wish you could pull him into you somehow, for your bodies to meld and become one being.

Voices down the hall cause you to jump apart. You stare at each other with wide eyes – this is bad. If anyone sees the two of you together, your cover will be absolutely blown. It’s one thing to be seen kissing during Spin the Bottle, it’s another thing to get caught canoodling together in secret. Mr. Aizawa’s whole “no relationships” policy reverberates in your head. If someone were to see you and Shoto and start a rumor about the two of you being together…well, it was only a matter of time before your teacher catches wind of it and puts a swift end to your sexual exploration of Shoto Todoroki.

“Quick. Hide.” Shoto hisses under his breath, as the voices grow nearer. You look at him blankly, a proverbial deer in the headlights. There’s nowhere to hide – you’re in a damn hallway!

Shoto rapidly looks left and then right, searching for a way out. The hall is much too long and neither of you lives on this floor – by the time you manage to get to the end of the hall to the staircase, you would already be caught together. Despite this, Shoto grabs your hand and pulls you down the hall in the direction of the stairs. He stops in front of a door and wrenches it open, roughly pushing you inside. You yelp in surprise as you trip over something and almost fall to the ground. Shoto scoops you up in his strong hero arms and closes the door behind you both with a soft thud.

You try to take in your surroundings, but the room is dim and crowded with shadowy objects. It takes you a moment to piece together where you are.

“Oh my God – this is the janitorial closet. I didn’t even think to hide here.” You breathe out, realizing that you had just tripped over a mop. Shoto nods and presses against you in the small space, his tense body imploring you to keep quiet.

The voices get louder, and you realize that its Kirishima and Mina discussing something heatedly.

“I can’t believe you did that!” Eijiro says roughly. “In front of everyone. Mina, that was really shitty of you.”

“Well excuse me – weren’t you saying just last week that you wanted to kiss me? You wrote me that little note and everything. ‘Oh Mina, I think about your lips every day.’ Or some poetic shit like that. I didn’t think you’d have a problem with it.” Your pink friend shoots back defensively, her tone scalding hot.

“Mina…Mina I’ve been wanting to kiss you so damn badly. But not like that. Not in front of all our friends and classmates.” Eijiro says in a deflated sort of tone, the fight seeping out of him. “That wasn’t how I pictured our first kiss going.”

“Oh, so you’re embarrassed by me? Well you can fuck all the way off then.” Mina says almost shrilly, completely missing the point Kirishima is trying to make.

“Really, Mina? You really mean that? You’re acting like you don’t know me at all.” Eijiro sounds heartbroken, yet angry. “Fine. Enjoy the rest of the lame party – I’m going to bed.”

“Eijiro – wait.” Mina says, her tone panicky. She clearly wasn’t expecting things to go this way.

“No. I need some time alone.” He says soundly, adding: “I need you to respect my personal space for once.” His tone is cold as ice. He stomps off down the hall to return to his room, clearly finished with the conversation. You can just picture Mina looking after him, crestfallen.

You hear let out a loud Mina groan of frustration. She lands a hard kick on the janitor closet door and you nearly jump out of your skin at the unexpected bang! After a moment, you hear her footsteps headed back down the hall and towards the party.

Your heart sinks a bit. Mina has been mooning over Kirishima for a while now, and you know that this confrontation is likely to crush her boisterous spirit. However, you think that if Kirishima was uncomfortable with the kiss, he has the right to air his grievances. After all, hadn’t the teachers been trying to teach you all about the importance of consent in relationships? You chew on your lip, not sure how to feel about the situation. Mina had certainly pushed things a bit too far for certain classmates with her exuberant approach to Spin the Bottle. She is definitely going to need to learn to have a bit more empathy and situational awareness when it comes to handling crowds as a Pro Hero – not everyone appreciates being told what to do.

“I should go after her.” You whisper to Shoto, who’s still holding you securely to his chest.

“This seems like a private matter between Kirishima and Aishido. She sounds angry and may want to be left alone. Plus…how would you explain how you overheard them arguing?” He has a good point there – you’re not sure how you would explain to your friend that you were ease dropping on her from inside of the janitor’s closet. “I think you need to give her a couple of minutes to sit with this.”

“And when did you become so great at reading social interactions?” You say, half teasingly. “Weren’t you just telling me you weren’t great at things like this?”

You can picture Shoto’s bright smile in the dark. “I just know that if I were in either of their shoes, I would need some time alone to process my thoughts and feelings. And I’m fairly unhappy on Kirishima’s behalf. It seems like everyone could use some time to cool off.”

“Ugh…you’re right, Shoto. I know you’re right.” You try to put yourself in Mina’s shoes as well. You bet she’s feeling pretty embarrassed right now and likely needs a hot minute.

“I think maybe I need to get better at sorting through my feelings.” Shoto says thoughtfully. “I appreciate the way you are able to guide me through processing how I feel, but I would like to get to a point where I can do that on my own. The better I become at managing my emotions and feelings, the less likely I’ll be to lash out at people the way my father does.”

In response, you reach up and caress his soft face. Now that you’re alone, he easily leans into the touch in a way that’s heartbreakingly sweet. He lets you run your hand through his bangs and into his hair, touching him so gently that he lets out a soft sigh of contentment at the contact. You almost forgot what a sucker he is for a light touch.

“You, Shoto Todoroki, are a good person.” You say as you continue to comb your fingers through his soft hair. “You are not your father. You are soft and sweet and strong.” He closes his eyes, focusing on your voice and your gentle touch in the dark. “You are good.”

His eyes flutter closed and he leans into your touch. He breathes slowly and deeply, you can tell he’s savoring this time with you. You try to commit this moment to memory – the smooth curve of his cheek, the steady beat of his breathing, the way his long lashes flutter as he opens his mismatched eyes to look at you.

“Thank you.” He breathes, turning his head so he can plant a soft kiss on the palm of your hand. “Thank you.” He says again more quietly, bringing his hand up to cover your own as he presses his lips to the pulse point of your wrist.

You stand like that for a bit, breathing together in the thick darkness of the janitor closet. With a thrill, you realize how trope-y it is to be alone with a hot guy in a closet during a big illegal party. You feel like you’re in a high school romcom or something. Based on what he says next, Shoto seems to be having the same train of thought.

“I like it when you remind me that I’m a good person, and that I’ll be a good hero. Your confidence – it gives me so much strength.” Shoto pauses and interlaces his hand with your own, bringing your waffling hands down to rest at your hip.

“You know…” Shoto says slyly, eyes wide and endless as he throws you a hot gaze. “I like being good. But being locked in this closet with you, while all of our friends are just a few feet away…well, I’d kind of like to be a little bad for a moment.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“What do you mean?” You ask, surprised at the sudden shift in his tone.

“Let me show you.” He says, his voice dropping lower as he drops your hand and moves to reposition you both.

He easily spins you around so that your back is now against his chest. He places his hands on your hips – and it’s not the gentle way Honenuki had held your hips earlier. No, Shoto is being rough on purpose. This is a side you’ve never seen of him before. And goddamn you love it. Your pussy comes to life at the motion. You make a mental note to invest in more panties – Shoto is really giving your underwear drawer a run for its money today.

Todoroki’s fingers hold you in a grip that’s almost bruising as he presses against you. He slowly kisses a trail up the back of your neck before sliding his hands up over your top. He reaches your breasts and begins to knead them lightly over the fabric of your shirt and bra. You groan at the unexpected sensual contact, feeling a spark flare in between your legs in response to Shoto’s touches.

“I’m still feeling a little jealous of the way Honenuki was able to kiss you in front of everyone. Would it be alright if I…explored those feelings?” Shoto finds your nipple through your bra and gives it a pert squeeze.

“W-what do you mean?” You practically purr out as he returns his lips to the curve of your neck.

“Let me show you how jealous you made me.” He whispers wetly into your ear, tracing soft circles around your clothed breasts with his fingertips. You feel yourself start to get wet from the simple motion.

“Dude we shouldn’t – there’s no lock on this door.” You try to resist temptation as he continues to plant kisses on your exposed skin. Maybe if you’re stealthy the two of you can sneak up the stairs and into one of your dorm rooms? You’ll need to be careful, though; especially with both Classes A and B all buzzed and hanging out in the dorm building.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ve got it covered.” Shoto says, and you can hear a smile in his voice. He releases a hand from one of your boobs and reaches out to grasp the door handle. In the low light coming in under the doorjamb, you watch as he freezes the doorknob shut, a sheet of ice running across the knob and part of the door. “No one can get in now. No accidental interruptions.”

Okay, you were totally not expecting that.

“Honenuki made you this jealous?” You ask as he wipes a few ice crystals onto his pant leg.

“Yeah. I’m feeling kind of…aggressive? Possessive?” Shoto tries to name the emotions pumping through his veins like fire. “I want to show you that I can give you things that Honenuki can’t.”

“I thought I already made it pretty clear that I like you more than Honenuki, Todoroki.” You tease; he puts his hands on your hips again and pulls you back into him. You can feel him starting to become hard against the smooth curve of your ass. He grinds into you slowly and you gasp at the contact.

“I know, and I’m grateful you’re reminding me. But I still feel an overwhelming need to show you – physically.” He draws you into his arms, his head dropping onto your shoulder. “Would you be up for something new?”

You don’t even need to think. “Yes.” You feel something electric and hot zipping through your veins – what could Shoto possibly have in mind? Despite his claimed feelings of “aggression,” he’s still being so sweet and gentle with his words. You muse that even though Shoto has a flame burning brightly inside of him, this Todoroki is nothing like his father.

“Would you be okay with me…using my teeth a bit? I’d really like to leave a hickey on your skin.” He nuzzles your neck with his nose, causing goose bumps to break out across your body at the touch.

“Y-yeah.” You stutter out, absolute putty in his hands. “Just nothing too big. Make sure it can be easily hidden under my clothing. You know Mr. Aizawa’s rules about hooking up.”

“Now why,” Shoto plants a kiss on your neck. “Would you” another kiss “mention Mr. Aizawa at a time like this?” He’s teasing. Had someone asked you a month ago if Shoto Todoroki was capable of teasing, you would have said absolutely not. But now this beautiful boy is kissing your neck and roasting the hell out of you. Jeez.

“Alright. I’m going to go very slowly, and I’ll do it on your shoulder just to be sure it doesn’t show.” He continues to kiss down your neck and towards your collarbone.

He brings his hand up to your collar so he can move the fabric of your top aside to expose more skin. “Can I take off your shirt? It might make things easier.” He gets back to kissing as he awaits your confirmation.

“Please!” Is all you manage to choke out as you feel his tongue run across your clavicle. He drops his hands down to the hem of your shirt and slowly pulls it upwards, the soft fabric flowing against your sensitive skin like a river. You raise your arms up above your head and he guides the top up and over your head, your hair becoming staticky as he goes.

“Much better.” He breathes as he carefully places the shirt on a nearby shelf of cleaning supplies.

You stand there in your bra and shiver as the cool air hits the bare skin of your stomach. “Oh no, you’re cold.” Shoto brings his hot hand down to rest on your belly and modulates his temperature with his quirk, slowly warming you up. Satisfied with your body temperature, he resumes kissing across your shoulder. He uses the colder of his hands to lightly pull your bra strap down your shoulder so he has better access to your smooth skin.

“Alright, you ready?” He asks calmly, tracing over your collarbone with his cold finger. You shiver, this time with anticipation.

“Yes.”

“Good.” Shoto ghosts the edge of his teeth across the length of your shoulder before choosing a spot close to your neck.

“Holy Fuck, Shoto.” You hiss out and you can feel him smile against your shoulder as he sinks his teeth lightly into your delicate skin and sucks, leaving a tiny mark. He kisses the area repeatedly before sucking on the skin more roughly, ensuring that a small bruise will form. After a few moments more, he runs his tongue soothingly along the hickey. At this point you’re dripping wet with both of your hands holding on to Shoto’s hot arm for dear life.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He says, almost smug as he traces an icy finger across his handy work. “What would you like me to do next?”

“Touch me, please.” You whine out, almost desperately. Shoto obliges, bringing both his hands back to your breasts to play with your nipples over your bra.

“Like this?” He asks softly, continuing to kiss and suck along your shoulder.

“I need more!” You throw your head back into his chest, and he runs the palm of his cold hand down your toned stomach. He pauses his hand just above the waistband of your skirt.

“You know…” Shoto breathes thickly as he continues to feel your tummy under his fingertips. “I’ve always been attracted to how muscular you are.” This takes you by surprise.

“Really?” You manage to whisper out, you try to ignore the way that your cunt is throbbing with need between your legs. “Sometimes I convince myself that you’d go for someone more petite and feminine.”

Shoto pauses, drumming his fingers thoughtfully against the smooth expanse of your waist. With each movement of his fingers, you can practically imagine how it would feel to have him repeat the rhythm on your clit.

“Hm. No.” He seems to be deep in thought. “I’m attracted to the way you take care of yourself and train to be a good hero. Sometimes…” He pauses and licks his lips, sounding a bit embarrassed as he says this next part. “Sometimes I get turned on when I see you lifting in the gym. Or when I see you throw one of our classmates across the mat during sparring practice. Your strength is just so…sexy.” He says the last word low with want before he presses a hot kiss to your neck.

“Oh!” You know he’s not intentionally talking dirty to you - but the way he’s praising you and divulging his secret horniness for your strength is so damn hot. You can’t believe you ever wondered if he’d go for a more petite girl like Fujita. The way he’s praising your physique and workout routine is too genuine, too adoring. Too horny.

“You like watching me bench press?” You say cheekily, recalling a moment a few months ago when you had made awkward eye contact with Shoto at the gym. At the time, you’d thought it was just a coincidence – your eyes had accidentally met while you were completing some reps on the bench and he was doing pull ups nearby. But now that he had divulged his attraction to your lifting…

“Yes.” He buries his face in your neck, radiating heat. “The look in your eyes when you bench. Fuck.”

“How hard are you right now, Shoto?” You groan, rolling your ass against him. He makes a noise in the back of his throat in answer to your question. “Yeah that’s what I thought. Unzip your pants – I want to give you a handy.” You start to pull away from him so you can turn around, but he holds you fast in his arms.

“No.” He says soundly, surprising you. You’re certain that most men aren’t quick to turn down a hand job. “I appreciate the offer, but there’s something else I want to do right now. If you’re up for it.”

“Oh yeah?” This whole situation is unexpected – hooking up in a closet during a secret party? Yeah, definitely not on your UA bucket list. You tilt your head so you can look at him more clearly. His eyes are stormy, his hair mussed up just so. He looks so devastatingly hot and needy, you practically cum on the spot.

“I’ve been wondering…” He says quietly, running a finger back and forth on your lower stomach, causing your pussy to quiver in your panties. “What would it feel like to touch you…more intimately?”

“More intimately?” You squeak, and you feel his fingers slide under the elastic waistband of your skirt, tracing gently across the delicate skin of your waist. You feel your pulse quicken as you realize what he’s getting at. He kisses up your neck and you feel his breath in your ear – hot and wet. He traces his fingers across the waistband of your panties now, moving his fingertips in a slow, circular motion. You’re so wet you can barely stand it. It’s not a stretch for your brain and body to imagine how that motion would feel on your bare pussy.

“Ever since you gave me a hand job for the first time…well, I’ve been wanting to return the favor.” Shoto says softly, and your brain feels like its full of static. Is he saying what you think he’s saying? He wants to finger you and get you off?!

Of course, you’ve thought about this scenario before. You’ve gotten off to it about a dozen times – picturing the way that Shoto’s fingers would feel curled up inside of you and pulsing against your most intimate spot. But you’ve never been touched before like that, and to be perfectly honest you weren’t sure how to ask Shoto if he’d be up for it. In your mind, a dick is so much more straightforward. Just jerk at it and eventually you’re likely to get it right, right? Would it take Shoto a while to figure out the complexities of female anatomy? What if he thinks it’s gross how wet you get, or how gooey you feel inside?

You blush at the thought, but your body is so needy for him that you shove all of your insecurities away and lean more into his touch. Clearly he’s wanted to do this for some time. And everyone needs to start somewhere before mastery, so he might as well do it for the first time with you, right?

His fingers flutter just above the hem of your skort, uncertain. You shimmy your hips lightly, encouraging him to go further. He sucks in a breath and moves his fingertips smoothly under your waistband, feeling the gentle pull of the elastic. His movements are confident and precise – you wonder if his actions are partially fueled by his raucous jealousy of Honenuki, because after a moment of playing with your skort’s waistband, he slides his fingers beneath the thin fabric of your panties to explore your pussy.

You groan at the sudden contact – his strong fingers fan gently across your vulva, taking in the feel of it. Experimentally, he traces a single finger between your lips and dips it towards your core.

“You’re so…wet.” He barely breathes out into your ear as he swipes his finger around the lips of your pussy, feeling your slick spread across his fingers. He unintentionally hits your clit and you moan at how good his calloused finger feels against you. He mimics the motion, eliciting another sweet sigh from your lips.

“Oh…does that feel good?” He whispers as he rubs a slow circle around the spot, testing the waters. You nod breathlessly as you enjoy the way he’s playing with you. He caresses you like that for a big, letting you really get a feel for his fingers. You groan when he draws his hand away, wanting him to continue on.

He lifts his hand to his mouth and starts sucking on his pointer and index fingers.

“Shoto, what are you - ?” But you shut up as he slips the hand back beneath your skort, his saliva covered finger doing wet loop-di-loops around your clit in a way that makes you see stars. “Jesus – fuck! Shoto! Sho…” You start mumbling nonsense as he pleasures you, drawing a finger down to poke at your entrance.

“Can I…can I go inside?” Shoto whispers thickly, asking for your consent.

“Yes. Yeah. Please.” You’re practically begging. He wastes no time and slowly slips inside you. You’re so wet and turned on that you take his finger into you easily. As he softly pushes a finger into your needy cunt, you can’t help but moan at the light stretch. You’ve never felt so full before. Your pussy clenches around his finger and he gasps at the slight constriction. He starts to slowly thrust his finger in and out of your pussy, letting you enjoy the feel of the smooth penetration.

“I’d like to see Honenuki do this.” He whispers as he finger fucks you softly. You whimper in reply.

“I have something to admit.” You gasp out as he continues to finger you, slowly slipping his pointer finger in and out of your slick entrance and gauging your reaction.

“What?” He says absentmindedly, completely focused on the way your gummy walls squeeze his finger with each light thrust. You wonder if he’s imagining how his cock would feel pushing into your tight heat.

“You know how we used Mineta as a distraction to get Mr. Vlad King away from the party?” You say breathlessly.

“Yeah.” He kisses the side of your neck, wet and open-mouthed.

“Well I promised that in exchange for his help…I’d kiss him.”

Shoto pauses his movements, causing you to moan at the loss of friction. He then shifts his position, leaning so that his back is against the door. He places his free hand on your stomach, his other hand still between your legs. He pushes you forward so you’re almost bent double. He slides his fingers around your swollen clit before slipping back inside your entrance. He adds a second finger, stretching you our and pushing into your core insistently. He starts to thrust his fingers inside you at an almost brutal pace that causes the air to leave your lungs. Your ass bounces relentlessly against his clothed cock as he works at you.

“I’m going to need you to stop.” Thrust. “Kissing.” Thrust. “Other.” Thrust. “People.”

The authority seeping into his voice, paired with his two skillful fingers pushing inside you are too much to bear. If it weren’t for Shoto’s strong hand holding your stomach and anchoring you, your shaking legs would be giving out right now. Your pussy flexes and flutters around his hungry fingers, pushing you over the edge.

“S-Shoto. Shoto! I’m gonna…I’m gonna…”

“Please, Y/N.” Shoto groans from somewhere near your shoulder, sounding desperate. “I want to feel you finish around my fingers.”

And that’s literally all it takes.

His needy words bring you to the brink and you try to stifle a moan of satisfaction as you cum on Shoto’s capable fingertips. It’s so delicious and oh so terribly dirty. Your legs continue to shake and your head falls back against Shoto’s steady body as you absolutely lose yourself to your pleasure. You don’t give a fuck if anyone hears you, you’re too far gone as you cry out “Shoto!” over and over, relishing the way his name sounds on your lips. It’s like an oath, a prayer as you ride out your orgasm in this tiny supply closet. You almost forget that mere feet away, the biggest party the UA dorms have ever seen is continuing to rage. You vaguely wonder what your classmates would think if they knew how slutty you are, drunk on the feel of Shoto’s hand in your panties.

Shoto gets a feel for your orgasm and tries to match the pace of your frantic hips – he’s a gentleman, after all. He wants to help you ride it out as long as possible. He lets out a moan of pleasure as you thrust and grind back into him with abandon. The swell of your ass bouncing back against his cock is too much, and you hear Shoto curse under his breath.

When you finally stop thrusting back into his fingers, he takes the hint and slowly slides his hand out from your pants. His fingers are absolutely soaked.

You watch in awe as he brings his hand to his lips without hesitation, sucking for a moment on fingers covered in your slick. “Wow.” She says quietly. “You taste…really good.”

“Jesus Christ Shoto.” You say, shaky legs nearly buckling under the weight of his hotness. He wraps his hand around your waist, holding you steady. He ghosts a kiss across the nape of your neck, your shoulder, wherever he can reach at this odd angle. You stand there in silence until your breathing slows – your back against his chest.

He smells amazing, intoxicating. You don’t think he’s wearing cologne – but he’s covered in this indescribably clean, expensive scent. Your cloudy brain guesses that it’s some kind of fancy shampoo that only old money has access to. You want to bathe in the scent, marinate in it. You try to commit it to your memory.

Shoto’s chest rises and falls in time with your own breathing. It’s gentle and it anchors you to the moment. It makes you long for bed – if only it was the end of the night already. If you could sink to the ground, you could probably fall asleep on the closet’s carpet. You want to tuck yourself into his soft sweater, surrounded by that delicious expensive shampoo scent. He holds you to him, giving no sign that he wants to let go.

When your soul finally finds its way back into your body, you shake your head to clear it a bit.

“Shoto…” You whisper, voice thick and sleepy. “Shoto, can I get you off now baby?”

Shoto smooths his hands over your hips appreciatively. “That’s alright…I, um. I’m fine.”

You blink awake, brain rapidly putting the pieces together. You think back to the way you were insistently rocking your ass against him, the way he had cursed under his breath earlier as he worked you up to your orgasm.

“Holy shit. Shoto did you just…? Oh my god. You came in your pants didn’t you?” You step forward and away from him, and his hands release you easily. You turn to look him up and down, eyes wide.

Shoto meets your eyes, cheeks red with shame. His pants are absolutely ruined – you can see the damp spot where his dick is pressed up against the fabric.

“Touching you like that…it was too much. And the way you were grinding on me. I couldn’t…” You can tell he’s ashamed from the way his voice wavers and dips. He doesn’t even attempt to cover himself, he just lets his arms hang at his sides uselessly.

“Shoto – no. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about!” You quickly try to reassure him. His eyes are bright with humiliation as he looks down at himself. “You just need to throw those pants into the wash and everything will be good as new.”

Shoto actually chuckles at this, the mood in the tiny closet shifting and instantly becoming lighter.

“Y/N…you’re just so sweet. I can’t even begin to explain to you the things you do to me.” He reaches out and drags you back into his arms. “I’ve never been so attracted to someone in my life.” He squeezes his arms lightly around you, holding you to him. Your hair is soft against his cheek as he snakes up hand to hold the nape of your neck. No one’s ever held you like this, so tenderly.

He exhales softly, his breath warm as it lightly tussles your hair. “We should get back to the party, shouldn’t we?”

“Can we just go clean up and go to bed?” You say, your voice drawling lazily. “We can sneak up to my room and snuggle up with my plushies. We can sleep in tomorrow.”

“That’s tempting.” Shoto presses a kiss to your temple. “But I think that the party crew is going to miss their leader. And I think that Mina could use a friend.”

He’s right. You know he’s right.

“Yeah.” You take a deep breath in. “And Hatsume can’t hold off Mr. King forever. I should check in with her.”

“That crazy support course girl is involved in this?” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“That genius crazy support course girl is involved in this.” You amend, laughing quietly. “Let’s get out of here, Shoto.”

He nods and scoots away from you so he can place his hot hand on the frozen doorknob. Steam fills the room as he melts down the ice around the door and you marvel at how much control he has over his quirk.

He cracks open the door to the hall and you both blink uncomfortably in the light that shines into the closet with a brightness that’s almost violent. Shoto pops his head into the hall and quickly comes back inside to huddle up next to you.

“It’s all clear, Y/N. I’m going to head up to my room and change. See you back at the party?”

You nod, suddenly all business. “See you back at the party, Shoto.”

You both dart out into the long empty hall, going your separate ways. You skitter up to your room to change your panties and tame your hair. Shoto veers off towards his dorm to change out of his own pants.

Neither of you notices the pair of sunglasses that lies abandoned on the closet floor.

End of Chapter 8

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Author's Notes:

Okay hey fam!

How we doin'!? I hope it was worth the wait for Chapter 8!

I'm dying to know how you all felt about these latest Spin the Bottle developments 👀 Quite a few of you predicted that The Reader would end up "kissing" Honenuki and I love that! Honestly I think that Juzo Honenuki would be SUPER hot in bed 🤷‍♀️ He's so sweet and tender and idk the skeleton face is cool AF. Honestly happy to be back in the "smut zone" with this chapter - I hope you enjoyed the spicy scene towards the end.

Not gonna lie, this chapter has been the hardest for me to write so far! There are a lot of emotions that are getting processed here - The Reader is trying to learn from her mistakes and give Shoto the benefit of the doubt after she assumed that Shoto and Momo were hooking up. But she's jealous that Shoto kissed someone else and she wants to talk about it! Shoto is processing the fact that he didn't want to participate in the game in the first place! It brings out a lot of his insecurities! PLUS he is jealous AF when he sees Honenuki smooch our dear Reader! On top of that...literally everyone is horny in this chapter. Writing the dialogue for the post-kiss discussion between Shoto and the Reader this was TOUGH!

Also I'm getting way too precious with this story and trying to make it something that satisfies everyone/avoids plot holes. I think I will need to be a little less strict with myself about the plot here to keep things fun and keep updates going regularly. This story is pushing me a lot as a writer and I'm excited about that! But TBH I'm also just here to have some smutty literary fun. This is my first long form fic so I'm gonna try to give myself some more grace as I write.

Anyway...that's all for now folks! I hope you have a lovely New Year! I can't wait to see all the good things that 2025 has in store for all of us! <3

XOXO,

Red Riot Unbreakable Heart ❤️

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❄️🔥THE ICYTHOTS🔥❄️

Want to join or be removed from the tag list - let me know! Once again, this is an ADULT ONLY blog. The IcyThot club is exclusively dedicated to the Shoto's First Kiss series and will only include A18+. Do not request to be added unless you are over 18. If your blog is ageless/your age isn't listed in the bio you cannot be an IcyThot member! I'm also adding the "sexual content" label/tags.

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