#and it's such like a fucking normal looking interaction for like 2 seconds

[radiaking]

also i feel like when they're w/roger there's like a moment when coop and lucy exchange a look when he tells roger he doesn't have any more vials and i think coop is looking at her in a way that's like 'this is your fault' but it's also not like a super aggressive look either, like he's not glaring at her or anything. so i think he's also like fully aware this is also his own fault. bc like lucy says, was she just supposed to let him let that gulper take her? no. of course not. she grabbed what was nearest to her to hit it and it just so happened to be his bag w/his vials in it. but also if he left her the fuck alone and did literally anything else but that, it wouldn't have been an issue.

this is also why i think like instinctively he aims the gun at her bc he's fucking pissed and wants to blame it on her but she literally did what any sane fucking person would do. that's like why he just turns like FUCK. bc he knows it's also on him that this shit happened. is he gonna tell her that? no lmfao. but he knows it. and that's enough.

and idt until she bites his finger off that he really plans to fucking sell her but he's like. y'know what. fuck this bitch, i'm running out of time and she bit my fucking finger off, i'm done dealing w/her. and then she fucking saves him and that's when he knows he's screwed.

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Pt. 4 of the clone/reincarnation au. The bats find out Danny can be scary.

[Pt 3 here] [Pt 5 here]

Tim is pissed and terrified. He's frantically trying to find a way out of the current situation without Danny regressing on all his progress.

Danny had been with their family for almost 2 years and had come such a long way from the scared kid he was in the beginning. He's going to therapy and can handle interacting with people in general without help. He still tends to cling to familiar people in new situations, but it doesn't have to be Tim or Cass. He goes to school now as Damian's "under socialized and traumatized twin". The official story is that he was separated from Damian, then abused and denied a proper education because he was the second born as well as a meta. It's a believable story between the batfam and Danny's own behavior. But Danny has gotten so much better!

Sure, Danny still has some major issues and won't admit to having someone else's memories, but he's actively working on the former and the batfam is figuring out how to bring up the later without spooking the kid. Tim's not sure if Danny thinks they believe his flimsy excuses over weird comments or the constellations in his room that don't exist or not, but no one wants to push him. It's obvious he had a family that is all now dead, and he was experimented on until he died in the 90s or early 2000s, before he was somehow reincarnated or something into a clone's body. The running theory is that Lazarus waters were used to prolong his original life before he was tortured to death, and his soul or something got connected to the pit somehow during that time, so when that same pit water was then put in a soulless husk, Danny's essence started changing it to reflect that. It took a year and a half to get a blood sample from Danny without him panicking, but the result? Danny's blood's "plasma" is concentrated Lazarus waters, it's "purer" and thicker than the normal stuff. They had to keep their questions and tests light because the moment they commented on his weird blood, Danny had the largest meltdown he had in months, so currently, most of their theories are theoretical. Kid has a LOT of medical trauma.

But Tim is getting off topic. The reason he's freaking out is because the family got caught as civilians. It was supposed to be a nice day out. Tim, Bruce, Damian, Dick, and Danny were out at the mall. Jason was supposed to meet up with them for lunch since it was just a bonding trip. But they can't have nice things.

The only plus side of this situation is Jason hadn't arrived. And this is a plus, because the kidnappers? Joker and his goons.

It was an awful coincidence, even Joker looked surprised to see he had the Waynes. Dick, Damian, and Bruce do their best to keep the mad man's attention away from Tim and Danny. Danny's trembling form is pressed to Tim's back.

"Why does it have to be clowns? Why does it have to be clowns?" Danny is mumbling hysterically. Tim doesn't think Danny has interacted with any sort of clown while with them. Clowns are hard to come by in Gotham for obvious reasons. Meaning this is a Before trauma.

"Tell a different jok-" Dick is cut off by being hit in the face. He yelps as his nose breaks with an audible crunch and starts cursing up a storm.

Tim blocks out his family's shouting and the Joker's taunting to focus on Danny. The kid completely frozen when Dick yelped.

"Danny?" Tim whispers, only to have a gun pulled on him.

"Got something to say, brat?"

"N-no." Tim is panicking, Danny is no longer pressed into his back.

"Good. Now- What the fuck???" The goon clown's stupid face is drawn into a look of horror as he looks over Tim's shoulder.

Tim chances a look over his shoulder to find a terrifying and massive creature where his sweet little brother is supposed to be. And as Tim studies it's starry void figure, all long limbs, eerie glowing, low hissing, what looks like a crown of ice, and face of beautiful pulsing stars that move with it's expression, he KNOWS this IS his baby brother. He briefly wonders if this is how he looked Before, before remembering the gunmen.

"Shit! Don't shoo-!" Tim isn't fast enough and watches in horror as the clowns fire at Danny. His terror is for nothing though as Danny turns them both intangible til the gunfire stops. Then, his feral void creature of a brother attacks. Mauling every single clown in his sight. And Tim can respect that.

He does desperately need to get out of his binds though. Danny is going to have such a massive relapse in his ability to trust them not to hurt him because of this, and Tim takes his job as Danny's "security person" seriously. He NEEDS to be there when Danny is done taking care of the clowns.

"Re-replacement?" Tim has never been so happy to hear Jason's Red Hood mechanical voice.

"Get me untied NOW" Tim spins and demands. "He's terrified, Jay!"

"What?" Jason is totally bewildered, but complying. "Where's Danny?"

"Mauling clowns." Tim grimaces, really hoping no one dies. Danny would be devastated if he accidentally killed someone in his panic.

"THAT'S Danny???"

"Yes. Now shut up. Untie the others and help them check on everyone. I'm going to make sure our little brother doesn't have a complete breakdown that puts us back to square one." Tim tells him and starts booking it after Danny, following the trail of decimated goons. When he catches up, Danny is slamming Joker into the ground and freezing him there. Tim grabs an abandoned gun and shoots the remaining goons in the kneecaps while edging closer.

Danny says something in a language Tim has only heard when Danny is deliriously tired. Tim chucks the gun as far away from them as he can before stepping closer with his hands raised. He projects as much of his concern and thankfulness and love for Danny into his body as physically capable.

"Danny, we're safe now. You kept us safe, kiddo."

There's another gargle of his unknown language before his form shrinks then with great big flash Danny is back to his tiny fae-like form. Tim shoots forward when Danny begins to sway and wraps his little brother in a hug.

"T'm.." Danny slurs.

"I got you. I got you." Tim mutters. It's a little awkward since Danny is only just shorter than him, but Tim picks Danny up in a princess carry, tucking the kid's face in his shoulder and booking it back to their family.

"Tim?? Danny??" Dick shouts, and Danny flinches, sending Tim into his own feral spiral. He literally bares his teeth when the others get too close, making them all pause. They luckily recognize his tales. He's had a lot of feral episodes in front of them since Danny. "Okay. Okay. We'll stay right here, Timmy."

"I'm taking him home."

"Okay... I'll have Alfred pick us up." Bruce easily accepts.

"We'll deal with the cops, Drake." Damian is eyeing Danny with a heartwarming amount of concern. Too bad Tim is too keyed up to appreciate how cute the little demon is being.

Tim takes off again without a word, bundling Danny into the passenger seat of the car they took to get here. Once he's all buckled in, Tim jumps in the drivers seat and peals out of there. He's glad this car isn't a manual because it means Tim can gently reach over and take Danny's trembling hand. He rubs soothing circles with his thumb.

"You're okay, kiddo, I'll keep you safe." Tim mutters to him. "Even if I have to fight the world. I will keep you safe."

Danny starts crying softly somewhere along the way back to the manor. Tim REALLY wishes Cass wasn't in Hong Kong right now.

"Movie, music, or quiet?" Tim asks, starting the breakdown protocol they set up together. It's basically just give Danny comfort options to focus on and tapping or holding up fingers to indicate his choices. Danny taps Tim's hand twice.

"Snacks or no snacks?" 2 taps

"Water, juice, or tea?" 3 taps

"Alfred's choice or do you have something in mind?" 1 tap

"Am I or you showering first? I want to get the clown cooties off me." This time there's a tiny giggle with the tap.

"Should I stay in the room talking or such I wait outside?" The hand in Tim's grips his hand so hard he's sure he heard his bones creek, but he keeps all signs of pain off his face. A single tap.

They pull into the driveway and find Alfred standing in the doorway. Tim quietly greets him as they climb out of the car.

"I hate to ask, but could you make us some tea before you leave? We'll be in Danny's room once we're both cleaned up."

"Of course, young master. Your father and siblings will be otherwise engaged for a while. I do not have to leave for another 20 minutes at the very least and I shall have it ready in 10."

"You're a lifesaver!" Tim cheers before picking Danny up in another princess carry. Danny simply clings to him and let's him. "Do you want one of my hoodies for tonight?"

There's a nod pressed to his shoulder. While Danny is nearly as tall as Tim, he's significantly thinner and lighter, so he still drowns in Tim's hoody. The kid doesn't want to be a vigilante the way the rest of them are. He rather be the guy in the chair or upgrading the bat tech. He doesn't find the appeal in punching criminals and his bouts of being nonverbal being his excuses when asked about it. Which is valid, but Tim knew there was more to it.

Bruce actually shed happy tears over one of his kids not wanting to fight crime and being safe.

Tim walks them through their routine. It makes Danny relax bit by bit. He's nearly completely calm by the time they're comfortably shut in the small space of Danny's bed, tea sitting on the small shelf that was part of the bunk bed's original frame, Tim's phone is playing soft music from than same shelf, and fairy lights casting the whole inclosed space in a soft light. Tim cuddles this poor kid close, but is careful to not get in the way of his iPad.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" Tim whispers.

[I guess I have to now..]

"You don't. Sure, I'd appreciate if you told me, but I love you more than my need for answers." They fall back into silence as Danny thinks about it. Tim refuses to rush him and it rewarded for it.

[You knew there was more going on than a mutation, didn't you?]

"Yes.. You're not always as subtle as you think you are."

[My sister, Jazz, said the same.]

"Older siblings, so long as they're doing their job, are bound to realize something is up." Tim smiles. Committing the new name to memory.

[Yeah...] Danny sniffles a little. [I have memories from a life before I was a clone.]

"I know." Danny whips his head around to stare at Tim with wide eyes. "You let little things slip, and I am nothing if not diligent in knowing my precious people and keeping them safe."

[Stalker] Danny gives him a teasing smile, and Tim playfully pretends to be wounded, before Danny looks serious again and Tim matches the energy. [I lived for about 15 years before the 2 I've been here. I am actually Damian's age, despite how I behave.]

"Trauma does funny things to people. I don't see any reason we couldn't indulge you and make you happy."

[I have several theories about why I regress. One is good ol' trauma, but the other is because my core is only 3 years old.]

"Core?"

[All infinite realm beings and some liminals have a core. It's basically your entire being and all your organs in one. It's the most intimate thing to expose your core to someone. And if you crack a core, that's attempted murder/murder depending on how bad it is.] Danny pauses before adding [The core is your everything and will use ectoplasum to create a physical representation and use powers. The buzzing Jon and Kon heard was my core, it's what gave me powers, and I'm positive it's why I no longer look like Damian.]

"Huh...I thought your soul got tied to the Lazarus Pit or something."

[Not far off. Lazarus Pit is corrupted ectoplasum. But my core was implanted into this body by my mentor.]

"Who?"

[Clockwork. He keeps the time safe. He tried to help me, but he's very busy and the observers mess with him to keep him from noticing something is wrong.] Danny fiddles with his stylus. [He was devastated when he found what was left of me in that lab. They did so many experiments before cutting my human body to shreds til I was just my core. But I'm not a normal ecto entity who can heal from losing their body. Their bodies are just ectoplasum, they can regenerate what they need and reform.]

Tim runs a soothing hand over Danny's arm.

[But I'm an abomination even to ecto entities.]

"How so?"

[The way my core formed was unusual. I was a mostly normal human until I was 14. I was just a stupid kid showing his friends his insane parents' lab. My parents were walking OSHA violations on a good day, and I was just a kid growing in a delicate situation.]

Tim had a sick feeling, knowing this wasn't a good memory.

[One second I was just the town weirdos' completely human kid, the next I had most of the city's power grid electrocuting me to death while a portal to the infinite realm opened on top of me, flooding me with ectoplasum, that revived me. Over and over and over and over again til suddenly I was able to escape, but the damage was done. I was suddenly something called a Halfa. Not truly a human, nor truly an ecto entity. Both and neither.]

"Damn, I'm guessing neither party accepted you."

[Not at first. When "ghosts" started escaping and hurting humans, not always realizing that's what they're doing, I was the only one that could do anything. So I did. I became a vigilante. It didn't go smoothly at first, but eventually I understood them and property damage decreased drastically. Only the script flipped and suddenly there was a government agency and my ghost hating parents hunting all ghosts. Nothing and no one was safe and I had to step up again to keep people who hated me safe.]

"They caught you." It wasn't a question, but Danny nods all the same.

[I got caught. I had less rights than a lab rat. I don't want to think about all that happened there, but they eventually slowly started cutting away my human body. But I'm a halfa. I need a human body and my core was a mere infant. That's when Clockwork finally found me. He apologized over and over to my core while trying to find me a new body that was soulless. He told me he'd find somewhere I'd be safe. And next thing I know I was in this body, in an entirely new dimension, and being told to KILL my template?? I was really relating to Dani (my clone sent to kill me) on the way to that roof. I knew I couldn't kill Damian, I never want to kill anyone, but I was still curious enough to go looking. And you know the rest.]

"I'm sorry about how hard your life has been. You didn't deserve any of that. It's okay to be absolutely wrecked after everything that happened."

[Thanks]

"One last question. What was that form earlier?"

[It's new. I guess I have 3 forms now? There's this one obviously, but I also have one that looks like how I used to look. It has all my scars, but is more powerful. I don't like looking at it. Too much hurt. And now I have the one you saw. It felt like a physical manifestation of my obsession of space and my need to protect. Obsessions can influence how an ecto entity looks. A ghost's obsession is everything to them and can get depressed or violent when denied fulfilling it. Indulging in it heals, sooths, and powers them.]

"Not hard to guess yours." Tim teases before pushing the iPad away and putting Danny's cup of tea in his hands. "Thank you for telling me. I know it was hard for you."

Danny shrugs. They drink their tea is silence for a while before Danny yawns, making Tim yawn.

"Guess this means naptime." Tim puts the cups up before burying them both in Danny's fluffy space themed blankets. They're out in moments.

The next day, and with Danny's permission, Tim explains to the rest of the batfam what Danny told him. They fret over and reassure Danny they aren't scared of him, they're not sending him away, he's staying with them as long as he wants. The whole situation is a big step back in their progress in making Danny feel safe, but they all work through it. And Danny starts to willingly share more of his past and "ghost"ness.

They do have to explain to the police that, yes, Danny has a second scary form, and yes, Tim knows how to shoot a gun, but it was self-defense. There's a security video of it all, so it's all indisputable. Everyone is pissed when the video is leaked despite the Waynes best efforts, so the family gets even more protective of Danny.

Damian goes full guard dog when they return to school. Growling and snapping at anyone who so much as looks at Danny funny.

Tim is just relieved he can honestly tell Danny no one died during the mall incident. Sure, more than a few of the goons are crippled in some way, and the Joker is paralyzed from the neck down, but no one died. Danny still feels bad about it, but that's because he's a genuinely nice person who didn't have to be domesticated into not using excessive force.

[y3sterdaysproblem]

obsessed - c.s (greedy pt. 2)

part one

summary: chris finally gets you all to himself

warnings: smut

wc: 5.8k

dividers by @issysh3ll

The following few weeks were nothing short of tense.

You barely even wanted to go by Matt’s place just for the sole reason of wanting to avoid Chris and all of the feelings that came with seeing him, always asking Matt to come to your place instead.

Your sex life with him had gone back to normal. Almost. Aside from the lingering desire for his younger brother that constantly buzzed at the surface of your skin anytime you guys were intimate and you hated to admit it but you caught yourself closing your eyes and imagining it was Chris a couple of times, having to physically shake yourself out of your daydreams.

You hadn’t seen Chris much after everything but the couple of times that you did made you feel like you were actually melting into the floor beneath you. The first time was the worst, making you want to rip your clothes off right then and there and fuck him until you were dizzy.

You had just gotten to their home, not planning on staying long, just waiting for Matt to finish up in the shower so you guys could go out, and it seemed quiet enough, not hearing his brothers creeping around the house, so you felt safe from having to interact with the one person you felt like you couldn’t handle seeing right now.

You were dressed cute, ready to enjoy a day full of date activities with your boyfriend, wearing a short, black skirt with an oversized, off the shoulder sweater, wandering around the house as you waited for Matt, grabbing and putting down random little things you found in the kitchen before you found yourself in front of the fridge, staring at all the ripped out coloring pages stuck on there with magnets, giggling to yourself at the tiny ‘By Matthew’ written in the corner of some of the pictures.

You were way too caught up in your own world to hear the quiet footsteps that approached you, only realizing you weren’t alone when you felt hands suddenly gripping your hips roughly, pulling you back into a firm chest, making you gasp.

You didn’t even have to wonder for a second who it was, the touch far too aggressive for it to be Matt. A shiver ran down your spine as you leaned into the body behind you, feeling hot breath hovering over your ear, fingers kneading into your skin like they were itching for more.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Chris growls into your ear, dropping his face to press a kiss onto your neck, slowly trailing his lips down to your exposed shoulder. You let out a small breath at the feeling, your knees instantly turning to jelly. “The way you look, the way you sound.” He pauses, bringing his lips back up your neck. “The way you taste.”

Fuck.

This is exactly what you were trying to avoid.

“I know you’re thinking about me, too. That’s why you haven’t come around, right? ‘Cuz you can’t help yourself from thinking about me.” Chris reaches his hands around your hips, slowly pulling your skirt up so he can run his fingers over the crease in the tops of your thighs, humming softly into your skin. “I’ve gotten off to the memory every single night, wishing I could have you again. Remember the girl I was talking to? I can’t even look her in the fucking eyes now because all I can think about is you on your knees with my fucking cum all over your face.”

You can’t help but let out a whimper at his words, turning around to face him, his arms still wrapped around you. His hands move to your ass now, still resting underneath the skirt so he could feel your skin. “Stop.” You tell him meekly, staring up into his eyes.

He looks down at you, eyes dark as his eyebrows twitch in confusion. “Stop what?” He asks lowly, dipping his head forward to kiss your neck again, moaning into your skin while he pulls your hips against his.

You tilt your head away from him, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “Stop this,” you breathe out, hands sliding up his chest to rest there, not having it in you to push him away. “It was a one time thing, Chris.”

His fingertips grip harder against your skin, body moving forward to pin you against the fridge. “I can’t stop,” he tells you, pulling back to stare down at you again. “Now that I’ve had a taste of you, you want me to stop? I’m sorry, princess, but that’s not gonna happen.”

Your breathing is shaky as you look into his eyes, knowing he was telling the truth. You both have uncovered a part of you that would only ever be satiated with each other, even if you tried to ignore it, it would always be there, lingering in the shadows. Unless you acted on it. Which you definitely wouldn’t.

Definitely not.

“Chris,” you whisper, your faces inches closer together.

You’re dragged back down to earth by the sound of the bathroom door ripping open and the light switching off, indicating Matt was done with his shower. Your eyes widened and your hands became firm on Chris’s chest, letting him know the moment was over. He just smirked and leaned down to place a kiss on your cheek, hands squeezing your ass one more time before he pulled your skirt back down and backed away.

Matt had gone from the bathroom to his room, giving Chris ample time to scurry out of the kitchen and back downstairs to his room, leaving you completely alone and shaken up when Matt walked into your line of vision, smiling wide at the sight of you. “Hey, baby,” he greeted, walking up and placing a gentle hand on your waist, leaning in to kiss the exact same spot Chris had, the thought of that making your ears burn. “You okay?” He asks sweetly, thumb brushing over your skin under the sweater.

You look up at him and nod, forcing a smile. “Let’s go.” You tell him, and you spent the rest of the day reeling over Chris’s touch.

After that you’d mostly stayed away, unless you could run straight into Matt’s room to hide out there for the night, only seeing Chris a couple of times in passing. The few seconds that your gaze would meet, though, would still make your head spin. You felt like a little kid tasting candy for the first time and scheming to find a way to have it again. A bad little kid.

Today you were perched up in Matt’s bed, coloring in one of their coloring books happily, listening to music that quietly filled his room from his speakers while he sat at his desk, typing away at his phone. It was a comfortable silence between you two, not feeling the need to talk all the time. That’s what was so lovely about Matt is you both were more than happy to just be in each other’s presence, talking or not. There were plenty of times where you two had spent hours together without saying a word, just content with being close.

A quick thirty minutes had passed of you just humming along to music and coloring when Matt stood up, walking over to you to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. “I’m going out,” he tells you, smiling down at where you sat.

You pause your coloring and look up, confusion etched in your face. “Where?” You ask, watching him walk away to grab a jacket. “A meeting,” he answers.

You furrow your eyebrows a bit more. He didn’t say he had a meeting, you think to yourself.

You stand and follow him out of his bedroom, bare feet pattering softly on the kitchen floor. “A meeting? For what?” You ask, looking to see Chris sitting on the couch, practically melting into it. He didn’t look like he was ready for a meeting, so why would Matt be going?

Chris looks confused, too, setting his phone in his lap to watch your interaction silently.

“For my stuff I’m working on,” Matt replies, slipping his shoes on. “I won’t be gone long, couple hours.” He looks between you and Chris when he says this and your heart rate picks up a couple of beats per minute.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve come over after,” you huff slightly, sad that you’d be cooped up in Matt’s room alone.

“You’ve never had any problem being here by yourself before,” Matt points out. “Just.. keep yourself busy.”

You sigh and step up to Matt, placing a kiss on his lips. “Alright, I guess. Drive safe.”

Matt smiles and nods. “I will.”

Then he pauses. His eyes dart from yours to the pair watching intently behind you, then lock back on yours again. “You two have fun,” he says clearly before turning around and walking out the front door.

You’re staring at the door for what feels like a full minute before you slowly turn on your heels and face Chris who looks just as shocked. “What did he just say?” You ask incredulously, like your ears must’ve deceived you. Except he spoke with such clarity that there’s no way you misunderstood.

Chris swallows thickly, visibly, before he shakes his head gently. “I… I don’t know.” He answers. For the first time in his life, Chris is stunned into silence and motionlessness. It’s odd.

“He didn’t mean…” You trail off, not even wanting to say it in out loud.

Chris clears his throat and adjusts on the couch, clearly uncomfortable. “Ask him.” He says plainly.

“What?” You shoot back.

Chris shrugs his shoulders, staring straight at you. “Or don’t ask and we fuck anyway.”

You’re shocked at his directness, almost choking on your spit at his words. “Chris!”

He laughs and leans even farther back into the couch if that was even possible. “What? You don’t wanna fuck?”

You groan and walk to the couch, sitting on the complete opposite side. “Can you just… be quiet?”

Chris hums and obliges but he keeps his eyes on you and you feel them burning into the side of your face like a laser, making you whip your head around after a few moments to look at him. “Stop looking at me, too.” You grumble. Despite your words, you feel your skin starting to get hot, anticipation creeping up your legs.

Chris smirks over at you. “Do you want me to be quiet or stop looking at you?”

“Both, preferably,” is what you reply. You’re trying to think of what to do here, trying to decipher Matt’s words but it feels impossible. What else could he have meant by that?

It goes against Chris’s nature to be quiet, so you’re not surprised when he opens his mouth again. “We are completely alone in this house for hours and you want to sit there and pretend we’re not itching to get our hands on each other again?”

You groan, dropping your head forward and burying your face in your hands, trying to somehow rub your eyes hard enough to rid your mind of the thoughts you were having.

“He probably just meant a general… have fun,” you say, pulling your hands away from your eyes. You’re shocked when you open them again and see Chris standing in front of you now, leaning down to place his hands on the back of the couch on either side of you, locking you in place.

“Okay…” he starts, leaning his face closer to yours, eyes flitting down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “So let’s have fun.”

You can’t pull your eyes away from Chris’s, feeling like time has stopped. He’s hovering above you, waiting patiently for you to make the next move. You feel like you’re drunk, unable to think straight with the feeling of his breath faintly on your face. He’s quite literally intoxicating.

“You’re a terrible influence,” you whisper.

Chris lets a devilish smirk bloom on his face before he closes the distance, pressing his lips firmly on yours like he’s starving for a taste of you.

You instantly melt into the kiss, feeling all of the tension building over the last weeks finally dissipating as your hands find their way to his hair, holding the back of his head close.

Keeping his lips on yours, Chris lowers himself on the couch next to you, hands traveling down to land on your waist, applying a bit of pressure to indicate where he wanted you to go. You listened, moving your body to sit atop his thighs.

“I missed you,” Chris breathes against your lips, moving his hands around to grip your ass, fingers digging in harshly to knead at your skin. “Missed your body. Can’t wait to have you all to myself.”

You whine softly, hips dropping fully to rest on top of him, his excitement already prevalent underneath you. “You’re so annoying,” you huff, pulling at the hair on the back of his head, causing his chin to tilt up at you. “You couldn’t just leave me alone? Gotta tease me every time I see you? How the fuck am I supposed to ever have a normal relationship again?”

Chris laughs that stupid fucking sexy laugh, tongue peeking out to drag over his top row of teeth as he peered at you through lust filled eyes. “I can’t just leave you alone,” he replies. “Not when you taste so good.”

He sits up and slides his hands up your back, leaning his face into your neck to press his lips against your skin, eliciting a soft groan from you.

There was no point in backing down now, you guys were clearly longing for each other in a way that couldn’t be satisfied with anybody else, and you’re almost positive you were given the go ahead to do what you needed to do, so you finally decide to let your guard down and submit to your desires, relaxing into the feeling of Chris pressed up against you, overwhelming your senses.

“Just this one time,” you tell him, pulling back to look at him once more. He meets your gaze and nods, agreeing instantly.

“Sure,” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Just this one time. I’ll never try to fuck you again.”

You know he’s lying just from the tone of voice he’s using, but you can’t find it in you to care right now. You roll your eyes at him before slipping off of his lap, ignoring his protests as you kneel on the floor in front of him. It didn’t take long for Chris to understand what you were doing, his eyes filling with hunger as he watches you sink to your knees, peering up at him through your lashes. “You were so good to me last time,” you coo, running your hands over the tops of his thighs. “Wanna return the favor.”

Chris’s throat damn near closes up at the sight of you, feeling like he just got kicked in the chest. All he’s able to do is nod his head as he tucks his fingers in the waistband of his pants, pulling them along with his black briefs down and past his knees where you help him take them off, slipping them past his ankles so his bottom half is completely bare.

He scoots forward on the couch for you and you can’t help but smile, eyes trailing from Chris’s face down to what you were missing so badly. He was already fully hard, dick waiting for your touch and you couldn’t hold back any longer, reaching up to wrap your hand around him, feeling like a weight lifted off of you when you finally got your hands on him again. “Happy to have me all to yourself?” You ask him in a sweet voice, looking back up at him as you hover your face above his dick, pursing your lips to let a long string of saliva drip from your mouth, landing on his tip where you used the palm of your hand to spread it, causing a small hiss to leave his throat.

“You have no idea,” Chris tells you, chest heaving with deep breaths as he tried to ground himself. “Fuck, I need you.”

You smile and lower your head down, lips right above where he needed you the most. “You have me,” you reply before finally wrapping your lips around him, moaning softly at the taste of his precum touching your tongue that swirled through his slit.

Chris hisses through his teeth and drops his head back on the couch, fingers gripping into the couch next to him, clearly trying to hold himself back in some capacity. “Fuck…” he groans, hips rolling unintentionally.

You can sense his restraint and bring your free hand up to grab his dominant hand, placing it on the back of your head where you knew he wanted it, feeling him instantly thread his fingers through your hair, nails scratching along your scalp for a second. He still wasn’t letting himself go, though, and this was the exact opposite reason you wanted Chris so bad in the first place.

You take him down farther, swallowing with his tip in the back of your throat, letting a groan rumble through your throat. He let out a choked moan, damn near a whimper at the feeling, fingers tightening in your hair. He was still holding himself back, though, so you pinched his hip lightly to get his attention, looking up at him through your lashes when he picks his head up and looks down at you, eyes glassy. “What?” He rasps.

Your gaze darkens, almost glaring at him while your lips slide up and off of his dick, rubbing them together quickly. “Why you being so gentle, hm?”

Chris chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Sorry, trying to enjoy it,” he comments. You smile, knowing he really was enjoying it. “Want me to fuck your face, hm? God, you’re so fucking needy.”

You bring your lips back down and take in as much of him as you can on your own, which is only about half, before your body physically stops you. He lets his other hand come up on your head, both hands holding you firmly in place now as he starts to grind his hips up into your mouth. It’s slow, the way he’s pushing you past your limits, but the way he’s holding your head still causes tears to form in your eyes, the tip of your nose touching his stomach every time he thrusts up.

His gaze stays down on you now, pupils blown as he sees the tears starting to spill over, the visual setting a fire deep in his stomach. “You look so fucking good like this, getting used like the slut you are, hm? Exactly what you’re made for, to take my dick like this.” He delivers another thrust, this one harsher than the previous ones, causing you to gag so hard your eyes clench shut, hands bracing yourself on each of his hips. He grips your hair and pulls you off, smirking at the loud gasp of air you suck in, admiring the thick string of saliva that connected your lips and his dick. “Wanted me to be rough and now you can’t even handle it?”

You bring a hand up to your face and wipe your mouth with the back of it, sniffling a bit. “I can handle it,” you croak out. “Please, I can handle it.”

Chris brings one of his thumbs under your eye, wiping a thick tear away. “Mm, I know you can. Can take everything I give you, right, princess?”

You nod and lean back down, flattening your tongue on the bottom of his length, licking a long stripe up before taking him in as far as you could, watching his face contort as you sunk down. “You look so pretty like this,” he praised breathily, moving a fallen strand of hair out of your face. He couldn’t help but admire you, his heart racing in his chest as he watched you pleasuring him. It was a sight he’d dreamt of for months.

You only want to please him more at his words so you bring your hands down and tuck them under your thighs, pressed between your calves so you couldn’t push yourself off of him anymore, giving him free reign to use you as much as he wants. He notices this and curses under his breath, applying pressure on the back of your head again to push you down, meeting you with his hips halfway as he rolls up into your mouth, throwing his head back in pleasure. “Fuck, angel, you take me so well,” he grunts, picking up his pace as he holds you in place, the sounds of your mouth slurping around his cock sending him into a frenzy. He knew you were struggling, tears running down your cheeks against your will as he used your throat, stomach tense as his orgasm creeped its way out. “You’re gonna make me cum, princess. Want me to pull out?” He brings his eyes back down to look at you and sees you shaking your head as much as you can, indicating that you want him to finish in your mouth. He sighs and continues, hips getting sloppy and grip on your hair tightening.

He cums hard and you take everything he gives you, letting the warm semen drip down your throat, some of it spilling from your lips as he fucked your mouth through his orgasm, the base of his dick sloppy with spit and cum.

Once he’s drained, he pulls your head off of him and looks at your fucked out face, taking it all in. You had black tears tracking through your foundation, eyelashes sticking together from the wetness, and so much saliva and other fluids around your mouth it was dripping down the front of your throat, glistening on your skin. You breathe heavily and smile shyly up at him, pulling your hands out from under your thighs. “Good?” You ask him.

Chris can’t help but laugh, shaking his head in amusement. “Yeah,” he replies. “Was fucking good.”

You smile and pull your shirt over your head, using it to wipe your face and neck. “Can you cum again?” You question, raising an eyebrow up at Chris.

He returns the expression like you’re crazy, reaching down to pull you onto his lap where you settle on the tops of his thighs. “I’m a fucking grown up, I can cum again.” He snarks, slipping his hands inside your shorts and underwear, pushing them as low as he can with you sitting on him.

You giggle at his response, eyes crinkling as you laugh. “Some guys get bored after one,” you shrug. “You’d be kinda silly to get tired of me, though.”

Chris smirks and nods, glad you’re aware of how much of a prize you are. “You’re right. I’d pass out from nutting too much if you let me.” He jokes.

You laugh, feeling giddy at his words. No one has ever been so… obsessed with you before. “You’re funny,” You smile down at him, playing with his hair for a moment. The air becomes thick between you both all of a sudden, with you staring down at Chris and him feeling the effects of his post orgasm haze, his chest tightening at the sight of you. Your smile fades as you look down at his slightly parted lips, breath catching in your throat. You tear your gaze away and look back into his eyes. “You gonna fuck me or what?” You ask quietly, licking your lips slowly.

Chris smirks and stands up, taking you with him, his strength catching you off guard. You wrap your arms around his neck tightly as you squeal, not being able to do anything as he carries you around the couch, dropping your body onto the kitchen table a little more aggressively than he meant to, but you didn’t mind, both ignoring the crack that sounded through the room from the force. “You really are greedy, you know that?” Chris tells you, pushing you onto your back before he pulls your shorts and panties down your legs, leaving you fully exposed for him to have his way with you.

“For you, yeah,” you reply, biting your bottom lip and smiling down at him.

“Fuck,” Chris groans, pushing your legs up and running his fingers over your clit, making you whine. “You’re going to be the fucking death of me.”

You’re propped up on your elbows as he touches you, feeling anything but vulnerable as he stares down at your soaked pussy, wanting nothing more than to feel him on you, inside you, anything he’d give you. “Please,” you whimper, not even knowing what you’re asking for.

Chris doesn’t even feel like being an asshole like he normally was, he just gives in, bending over so he can latch his mouth onto your core, making you cry out and drop your head back on your shoulders. “Holy fuck, Chris,” you rasp out. “Missed you so fucking bad.”

Chris moans against your skin, dragging both of his hands along the undersides of your thighs until they stopped at the backs of your knees, holding them up to keep you spread open for him. He was eating you out like his life depended on it, sloppy and loud, the sound of his tongue on you filling the otherwise quiet room. You dropped your elbows out from underneath you, no longer able to hold yourself up, dragging your hands above your head and tucking your face into your bicep, moaning loudly into your skin.

He sucks your clit between his lips, letting his tongue drag over it before he pulls away, eliciting a whine from you. You turn your head back to look at him, seeing him already waiting for eye contact. “Hold,” he demands, shoving your legs down as an indicator. You obey, reaching forward to hold your own legs back for him to free up his hands that he immediately moved down, slipping his two middle fingers inside you easily. Your head dropped back down onto the table at the feeling, groaning loudly.

His mouth comes back down to work with his fingers, free hand just rubbing any part of your skin he could touch. “Chris,” you sigh, hips grinding down into him. “Not gonna last like this.”

Chris hums, fingers curling inside you expertly. “Good,” he mumbles against you, slipping a third finger inside you, stretching you even more.

Your back arches off the table, jaw slack as he moves inside you, unable to control the sounds slipping past your lips anymore. He knows exactly how to make you fall apart and it’s addicting the way he touches you, always leaving you craving more. You knew in this moment that you’d never be able to get him out of your mind and you’d always come crawling back, no matter how wrong.

“Chris!” You cry out in warning, thighs trembling as he used his fingers and tongue to coax your first orgasm out of you, soaking in the way your voice sounded as you came. He pulled his lips away and kisses up your thigh, fingers coming to a halt inside of you but not pulling out. He looks up at your face as he kisses your skin, left hand rubbing your hip gently.

“You okay?” He asks, picking his head up to look down at you. You open your eyes and turn your face to meet his eyes, a small laugh bubbling out of you.

“You kidding?” You ask, letting go of your legs and letting them fall back onto the table. Your cheeks were red and there was a slight sheen of sweat covering them, your chest heaving softly as you stared up at Chris who laughed down at you, slipping his fingers out of you and resting his hands on your hips, pulling you to the edge of the table.

“Still want me to fuck you?” He asks, grabbing the base of his dick and pressing the tip against your clit, inching his hips forward to drag it through your folds.

Your legs twitch, sensitive from your orgasm, a small whimper leaving your lips. “Yes,” you tell him, voice laced with desire. “So bad.”

Chris smiles, pleased with your answer, before he pulls back and presses himself into your waiting entrance, watching his cock disappear inside you with his mouth slightly open, sighing out a breath of relief when he bottoms out.

“Oh my god,” you mumble, eyes fluttering shut. Your body melts into his as he presses his hips flush against yours, feeling like a part of you is finally whole again. “Missed this, Chris. Needed you so bad.”

He’s standing up straight as he looks down to where your bodies connect, his hands reaching down to grab your legs and pull them up to rest your calves on his shoulders. He pulls out and starts a steady rhythm, thrusting into you deeply with every move. “You’re fucked, you know that?” He sneers, eyes moving up to look at your face that was twisted up in pleasure. “I’m gonna fucking ruin you for anybody besides me, even your fucking boyfriend.”

You crack your eyes open to look up at him, the eye contact sending shivers down your spine. “That’s your brother you’re talking about,” you quip back.

Chris laughs and shakes his head. “I don’t care who it is. Who fucks you better?” He asks, picking up pace, feeling spurred on by the mewls that tumbled from your mouth. “Tell me. Who fucks you better, me or Matt? Answer me or I’ll stop.”

You’re letting out small moans every time he bottoms out deep inside you, shaking your head at his question. You couldn’t answer that, it felt more wrong than the sex if that was even possible. It felt filthy to admit the truth out loud. You both knew the answer, but Chris wanted to hear it, wanted to hear you admit it. “I can’t,” you rasp.

Chris stays true to his word, fully stopping his movements buried inside of you. “Fine,” he shrugs. “Guess you don’t want it as bad as you say you do.”

You’re scrambling, trying to reach your hands down towards him. “No, Chris, please don’t stop,” you murmur, desperate to get him to start up again.

Chris leans down in between your legs and places a hand at the back of your neck, pulling you up until you’re leaning on your elbows again, his face right in front of yours. “Tell me, then,” he growls lowly. “Who fucks you better?”

You stare into his eyes, conflicted. But ultimately, your desires overpower your moral compass and you swallow thickly before you answer him.

“You.”

He grins, eyes dark as he watches you speak. “I what?”

You huff at him pushing you further. “You know.”

Chris shakes his head. “No, I don’t. What do I do?”

You move your hips, trying to create some friction between you two again. “You fuck me better…” you hesitate, feeling awful for saying this. Chris smirks, awaiting your answer. “You fuck me better than Matt.”

Chris hums, letting go of you roughly before standing up straight again, resuming his rough pace inside you. “Say it again,” he grumbles.

You lay back onto your back again and bring your hand down to your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts. “You fuck me so good, Chris,” you cry out. “So much better than anybody else.”

Chris digs his fingers into your thighs, using them to pull your body into his. “Whose pussy is this, hm?”

Your eyes are screwed shut as the back of your head digs into the table, back arching off of the wood while you play with yourself, body trembling. “Y-yours,” you gasped. “All fucking yours.”

“Can I cum inside you? Wanna fill you up,” Chris groans, voice shaking from the moans bubbling out of him.

You’re nodding at his question, unable to reply as you feel your orgasm crashing over you, neck straining as you struggle to breathe through it. Chris isn’t far behind, fucking you both through your orgasms, his load spilling out of you as his dick pumped a few more times, his length coated in a filthy array of your bodily fluids. The sounds of him moaning is the hottest thing you’ve ever heard, the feeling of knowing you’ve made such an intense man like him fall apart sending aftershocks through your body.

You’re both gasping for breath, your body limp against the table while Chris presses his face into your ankle, kissing the bone gently. “Fuck,” he exhales, looking down to watch you recover. “Is it bad that I never want to fuck anyone ever again?”

You laugh, eyes still closed as you imagine the stupid look on his face, one that shows he’s joking but he still looks cocky and proud. “Yeah, pretty bad,” you answer him, finally peeling your eyes open. “Wouldn’t really work, either.”

Chris pouts and leans over your body, still buried inside you contently, until his nose is brushing over yours. “No? Why not?”

You scoff and lean your chin forward, letting your lips ghost over his. “Because… it’s just not realistic.”

Chris closes the distance and presses your lips together, a new feeling blooming through you at the intimacy shared. He pulls away quick, though, as to not let it linger. “Wish I got to you first,” he mutters, so softly you almost miss it. His words make your head spin, not knowing if you heard him correctly, but then he continues. “Would fuck you so good all the time you wouldn’t have to fuck someone else. I’d treat you so fucking well you’d never even think about leaving me. You’d be so fucking good at being my girl.”

Your next exhale is shaky as you comprehend what he’s saying, though no words come out and he’s met with only silence.

“Sorry,” he sighed, kissing your cheek before standing up again, pulling out of you. “That’s just my post nut brain speaking, don’t listen to me.”

You lay there for a moment before sitting up, grabbing his bicep as he’s about to walk away, tugging him back between your legs. Once he settles back and your faces are close together again, you shake your head at him in disbelief. “You are such a younger sibling, you know that? Always want what your big brothers have.”

Chris smiles, glad you weren’t mad at what he had confessed. He drags his tongue over his upper teeth slowly before he leans in to your ear, lips brushing over your lobe, whispering softly.

“And I always get what I want.”

-

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[girlfromflor]

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | supersoldiers!141 x f!reader

two months into your shared life and you can’t possibly imagine a routine without them. simon is a subtle presence, you know he’s there and you feel him, but half of the time you don’t have many interactions – he feels you, you feel him, you understand each other. you don’t have to talk to share things, it’s like you can mentally and emotionally hold hands with him even though he’s not physically by your side. kyle is more than present, always making sure you have everything you need to comfortably carry on with your day. he has grown to lingering touches and sweet words, you often allow him to stay over the night when shows up at your door – he never asked to sleep in your room, but to know he was in the house was soothing enough.

as for john, he was more than attentive to you. he quickly realized that, in order to make you feel at ease with new things, he had to act confidently about it. you never asked for the things you wanted, so he stopped asking if you needed things soon enough, opting to take it into his own hands and do it – whatever it was. and like it was practiced, when something felt out of place, you’d speak up. like it was normal, like you’ve never even doubted it before, simply because he wasn’t doubting either.

that opened so many doors for you – as a group, yes, but specially between the two of you. you were being quietly and decisively guided by him like he was physically holding you through every step. and it didn’t take too long for you to wordlessly work around each other, his silent domination working like a heavy, warm blanket around you. you felt safe, good and protected. it was as clear as it was indescribable – what you shared –, the proof of it coming when your first actual operation happened.

it was already chaos for you, but you managed it well because you had to. there was no hesitation on the enemies’ part. no doubt, no humanity, so that’s exactly how you worked – fast, assertive and fucking precise. there was a bubbling, unknown feeling deep inside you that was egging you on, pushing you to do more, think less. 

you were already on the way to leave the village that you were assigned to defend across the border. a group of machines had gone autopilot again and were causing problems, your task was to take the people out of there and into the city. the explosion was unexpected. someone must have fired too close to the machines and then they activated self-detonation, but you didn’t have time to think about it, there was a child crying somewhere far in your back. you let go of the car’s door, turning around like a lightening – glancing at price for a split second before you started running towards the sound. no second thoughts – someone was going to do it, you just acted faster. john didn’t have to say it but it was implicit, all of them saw it as clear as day, “you can go, i’ve got your back��. you didn’t raise your gun nor did you pull out a knife. you just ran, knowing that whatever came to your way was going to be put down by john – you captain, your protector.

when you found the kid – a scared little boy, secured in the arms of an older one – he started talking faster than you could comprehend. you made out the words “fell” and “hurt” and quickly realized the older one was injured. you moved to pick the older one up, doing it effortlessly with the way he weighed nothing to you – the perks of being a supersoldier. you looked to the younger one asking “think you can run?” to which he responded with a vigorous nod. you motion for him to go, “i’m right behind you.”

john watched as you appeared from the corner of an empty house with a child in your arms, a smaller one running in their direction. johnny ran instantly when he saw you, picking the younger boy in his arms before running back to the cars as well. you reached it without trouble, stepping inside in the back seat with johnny and kyle – the kids safely seated in your lap and in johnny’s. when you got to the base’s medical center it was easy to make out a woman desperate trying to find her kids. it was extremely fulfilling to see them finding each other, knowing you were part of the reason why they could.

later that day, john was in your kitchen with you as you washed the dishes you used during dinner. the others had just left to sleep, everyone was tired, just needing some good, long night of sleep. john was leaning on the counter when he spoke, “cannot believe you sprinted to get them,” his tone soft, letting you know he wasn't reprimanding you – if anything, it was a compliment.

“didn't think about it,” your voice is a quiet, distant sound. you haven't given it much thought, but now that he’s bringing it up, it gets clearer how you had relied on them without question.

“that's what i mean,” he says, trying to make explicit how amazing it felt for him, to know that you had blindly trusted that they would’ve backed you up. how easy it was for you to trust them, trust him.

you laugh, a bit taken aback by his words. “i don’t doubt you, y’know?” you say, and is so sincere he can’t help but pull you in for a hug.

because he knew. god, he did – he felt it, the complete utter faith you had in them. because you felt how they would do anything to keep the five of you safe and together – it was simply a mutual understanding. he laughed then, matching your wave of emotions, the warmth spreading in his chest making him feel so good he didn’t care if it was coming from you or him – he knew you were feeling it too anyways. “i know, sweetheart.”

it was easy being around john, just as much as it was with kyle and ghost, and that brought a sense of ease to you all that made you feel giddy and cozy. and johnny? well, he was… trying. he still held himself back around you, even though you started giving him more openings to be himself around you. it seemed like he grew used to the habit, and it was infuriating. he tormented everyone with his relentless thinking and strong emotions, but he never acted on it. 

it must be really hard for him to do it, that’s what you’re thinking at the moment. it’s been 30 minutes since he dropped by your place to “watch a movie”, but you know he’s not even close to paying attention to it. as a matter of fact, you know exactly what is going through his mind – you can feel it low in your belly and deep in your core.

“oh, for god's sake, johnny. can you stop?” you snap, exasperated tone making it clear that you mean it – even though there was a hint of a smile in your lips.

“stop what? i’m nae doing anything,” he answers, not even looking at you as he does. there’s a smirk on his lips and a teasing edge on his voice.

“you don't need to, i can hear your thoughts like they're being fucking hammered in my head,” and he laughs at your words, because even though you shared a very crazy emotional bond, there’s no way you can hear his thoughts. you don’t mind him, finishing with “it's fucking maddening.”

“nae my fault yer mental, lass,” he manages to let out, breathless and still smiling from his fit of laughter. not even a full pause after it, he says “seriously, what’re ye even talkin’ about?”

“i'm serious. cut it out, or i'll make you,” you deadpan, tone not half as stern as you wanted it to be, and with the look in his eyes it’s clear it didn't have the desired effect.

“huh, will ye, now? i'd like to see ye try, bonny,” he turns on the couch to look at you, teasing tone and teasing tone rolling off in every syllable.

“so you know what you're doing,” you turn to him too, mimicking his movements without thinking much about it.

“oops, ye caught me,” he says, and you don’t try to hold the laugh that slips your lips. you playfully punch his stomach, and he laughs too – he doesn’t miss the way you don’t move your hand, simply laying it on his chest. “cannae help it, y'know? nae around ye,” he moves closer, his voice is lower in your ears, and it’s like his accent is even stronger now.

“that’s a lie, johnny,” you whisper, making a joke to ease the mood, “you can’t control it with anyone.”

he chuckles and moves to touch your hand that is on his chest, hand closing around your wrist and giving your arm a light tug. you laugh and move to sit between his legs – back touching his chest, head resting on his shoulder. at his lack of response you add, “you don’t have to keep yourself from doing the things you want, johnny.” tilting your head back, you hold his gaze, “it’s not healthy.”

“aye,” he says as he pushes your face back to watch the tv, his chin resting on your head. “just wasn’t sure if you’d be alright with it.”

johnny didn’t shut up about it afterwards and the boys very much liked the new pace that had been settled. still, the men had to often remind johnny to do the things he wanted. he was too afraid you’d pull away, and he knew the others thought that too because he’d often reply with “ye say that, but ye dinnae act on it yerself.”

it’s how they end up in another one of these discussions. you're in the backyard of their house, picking up some flowers to decorate your place while they are gathered on the porch watching you as they speak.

“you have to act on it, otherwise she won’t either,” kyle points out, leaning on the porch’s fence.

“aye, ya know it,” john shrugs, his eyes still on you – remembering all the times he got you to do things simply by acting confidently around you –, “casual dominance or some shit.”

“i’m nae sure that’s a thing,” johnny chuckles, finding it funny that they’re trying so hard to make him believe their words.

“watch and learn, johnny,” kyle says at last, before walking to you. he calls your name and you look up, a smile already making its way to your lips as you settle the basket filled with flowers on the floor.

the others stay unmoving, watching to see how the scene will unfold. johnny says from where they stand, “that’s nae fair, she’s whipped.”

“i’m sure she’d react the same way if it was any of us,” john is quick to jump into your defense, watching as simon bends down a bit to lock eyes with johnny and nod – he thought the same.

they fall into silence to pay attention to you and kyle. he has his hands on your waist now, pulling you closer to him. he’s talking about something silly, you’re not really paying attention because your eyes keep flickering to his lips. a nervous laugh slips to your lips when kyle calls you out on it, arms further closing around you – hugging your middle. your hands find his biceps and then slide up slowly to find their place on his shoulders. 

“what is going through that pretty head of yours, love?” kyle asks you, and he clocks your flustered state immediately. “don’t even think about lying, i already know.”

you pout then, it was unfair. you weren’t used to it like they were, so you tease him a bit, “if you know, then why’d i have to say anything?”

he smirks, a chuckle escaping his lips because it was like you were reminding him of the very reason why he was there in the first place. “you’re right, baby,” is all he says before he slowly moves down to touch his lips on yours.

it was breathtaking, the shared feeling of your joy and satisfaction. his lips are soft on yours and you have to fight the urge to rush things. one of your hands is on his shoulder while the other is settled on his cheek. his hands squeeze your waist slightly, grounding himself in the moment. you kiss slowly, tongues brushing in one another passionately, in a way that rips the air out of your lungs. you giggle when he pulls away, pulling him into a hug and hiding your face in his neck. he laughs, squeezing you in his arms, cooing “don’t get shy now.”

you leave a peck on his neck as an answer, and pull away from the hug. the others watched amazed at how easy it was for kyle to get a kiss – a bit aroused by how bad you were holding yourself back. and johnny is about to wail his complaints out when they are caught by your gaze. johnny’s words die in his tongue because – as if sensing the disturbance in the harmony you’ve set between you – you grab the basket with one hand, the other interlacing with kyle’s, and start walking towards the porch. once you’ve made your way up the small set of stairs, ghost is wordlessly taking the basket from you and stepping inside the house. john gives kyle and johnny a look that says “behave” before petting your head and stepping inside as well.

you turn to johnny, all doe eyes and flustered wishes, “say it, johnny.”

he blinks, then looks at kyle – who just shrugs with a smirk. he pats the back of his head before stepping closer to you, “uh… lass,” he starts, a bit nervous but most importantly: fucking excited that this is happening. he has to talk slowly in order to not trip over his words, simply because he wants to make it happen so bad. “can i kiss ye, bonny?”

and fuck, yes he can. he knows it, hell— price and simon know it. they can feel it deep in their chest, in addition to the overbearing need to palm their semi – they wonder how wet you are with the exchange. “yes, please,” you whisper, and just like that johnny is on you.

the kiss is a bit faster than the one you shared with kyle, but fuck if it wasn’t just as good. johnny had both his hands on your face, cupping your cheek. your hands fell in his waist, stroking softly through the fabric of his shirt. you don’t even realize when he pulls away, opening your eyes only to see his almost fucked out expression – steamin’ jesus, he’ll never neglect himself again. kyle has half a mind to pull the both of you into something more, already knowing that simon and john are trying to balance it out – otherwise, you and johnny would pull you all into a spiral that no one would want to leave. 

turns out all you needed was a greenlight. they’re sure that now you are going to be just like johnny – maybe a bit worse, it’ll depend on the time of the month.

a/n: please let me know what you think, and what you want to see in the next part!💘 | taglist: @fruitymoonbeams-blog @little-mini-me-world @bath1lda @imthatone-annoyingfriend @night-shadowblood-writes2 @z-wantstowrite @kentuckyhobbit @supernova2205 @thatghostlykid @reggiesslut @reap3erslov3

[simpee9000]

Too Easily - Katsuki Bakugo -

Based of this blurb. Part 2

It was too easy, every part of it. How you met him, how you interacted with him, how quickly he got used to you. Every part of it was too easy, too good to be true. But he asked you anyway, he wanted you anyway. You figured it was just another thing in life that came easily. He showed you another way of living, the thrill of romance. The increased heartbeat that came when next to a crush. The a flutter in your stomach when he called your name. The buzz of warmth that covered your entire being after just one kiss. CW: swearing and i think that's it? Word Count: 7.4k

General Studies was no easy task. It was assignment after assignment. Making you do ten times the amount of work any other school had regular students doing. UA wasn't only a prestigious hero school, but an overall school. If you could get in, in any way possible, you were deemed important in society.

A messed up social construct because it didn't take only intelligence but also wealth and connections with people on the school board. Nonetheless, you got in and stayed at a good standpoint for your class. Within the top three overall, if you weren't first when hero students weren't involved.

You were known across the school for how you aced every test with flying colors. Maybe you weren't the most known, since the hero students got all the praise, but right out of that, you were the most known.

It used to be Shinso, due to his 'villainous' quirk. But when he was transferred to the hero course in the second year, all the talk switched to you. It was something you were used to though. Your parents were well-known CEOs so it was nothing compared to the fame they had. Just whispers being spoken wherever you were.

You were close friends with Shinso, and still are, stopping to talk with him in the halls and going to his common room to help him study every once in a while. It gave you more connections to the hero world, and with your parents' advice in life, you made any connection possible. Life was filled with stepping stones, all hard work built into any action, and profit.

When you were with Shinso, a genuine friend of yours, you took time to talk with his friends. Ones who crossed your path when in his busy common room. Normally it was Kaminari who bugged the two of you, and he wasn't much to build off. Sero as well, who mainly flirted with you quietly. Kirishima was a good one to talk with, there was actual conversation there. Same with Deku.

Avoiding conversation wasn't easy in the common area, but you and Shinso also knew only rumors would come if you went to his room. So the two of you adapted, making the people who bugged you, join in and study as well.

That's how you met the infamous Katsuki Bakugo. He was only trying to get his headphones back from Kirishima, but an interruption was an interruption. The group yelling at him to sit down, the group being Kaminari and Mina. You could care less if he stayed or went, the rule was set for the people who consistently bugged you.

"I said two fucking words," Bakugo seethed.

"Don't care," Kaminari pointed to the set, acting like a strict parent with how he raised his chin, "Rules are rules Kacchan."

"This stupid-"

"Bakugo sit the fuck down," Mina added.

"Who do you think you are?" Bakugo raised his arm at her.

You watched annoyed at the bickering, he would definitely apply to the rule now. You looked over your work as they snapped back and forth, wanting to avoid an argument with him. Throughout all three years of high school, his reputation stayed the same. As angry and explosive as ever, and that's after calming down slightly in the first year.

"Bakugo," Kirishima sheepishly spoke out, "You're only making things worse. She's had this rule set for the past month. You're going to go study anyway, just join us."

"Fucking ridiculous," the blonde grumbled, throwing his bag on the table and aggressively pulling out a seat next to you. "I'm not staying long," he bit out, towards you.

You raised a brow and looked at him, "You're disruptive anyway."

He tsked at you, opening his book and throwing down the same worksheet everyone else had out. The sheet that Shinso finished an hour ago, with your help. Shinso was now far ahead on his English essay.

The group took over their silence once again. Kaminari and Mina, the most annoying ones, deep into their math work.

"Kaminari!" you scolded, seeing him lift his phone for a math problem, "You're going to become a hero by cheating?"

"No," he pouted like a puppy.

Before you could, Bakugo took Kaminari's phone, shoving it in his pocket. "How many times do you have'ta be yelled at to fuckin' stop?" Bakugo hissed.

"Sorry," Kaminari shrunk in his seat.

"I'll help you," you sighed, getting up to stand.

Bakugo glared at you, "I can fuckin' do it."

"I've already finished the sheet, I know how to do it," you assured, acknowledging the looks from the table.

"Who the fuck even are you?" he looked you over.

You were used to the everyday person glaring at you, out of jealousy, out of disgust, it didn't matter. But from someone who was expected to be one of the top heroes, from someone in the Big Three? It was something else. You only let yourself shrink in slightly, still saying your name confidently. Surely he would have heard you're name by now, right?

"Hah?"

"I'm going to be the valedictorian? You can't be that socially blind," you blinked at him.

His face settled into recognition, turning to glare at Shinso next, "Is that how you're getting better scores?! You little shit!"

The aggression was off you quicker than you thought. Everyone else turned their attention off you now, not caring what Bakugo would say now that he was talking to a classmate. More so yelling with how Shinso was giving him a lazy smirk back at him.

Before you could get roped back into the conversation you stepped over to Kaminari to help him with the first question on the page. It didn't surprise you that he needed help, he often needed help in math.

What did surprise you though, was Bakugo grumbling to himself when you sat back down in your seat. Not letting you settle in before he poked your forearm with his pencil, nodding his head to his paper when you looked at him.

You leaned into his space slightly and looked over his paper. He moved his pencil over the question, the same one that stumped Shinso. He was looking anywhere but his paper ignoring the fact that he was asking for help.

When you took a breath before starting to talk you instantly got a sharp glare and his hand shoving paper into your hand. Scratch paper was shoved into your space, his pencil being tossed along with it. You gave him a look that read 'seriously' to his reaction. He just gave you a firmer glare. You sighed as you wrote down the steps for him, looking over his work and circling the spots he got wrong. He only messed up on the middle step, something you almost did.

Passing the paper was also a task, he waited until he was sure no one was looking before he snagged it back. His eyes lit up with a flash of annoyance as he saw his simple mistake.

"Hey," Shinso called out to you, dragging your attention away from the blonde, "I think I'm done for the day. I don't wanna write anymore."

You looked at the time, it was barely passing 8 pm, and you'd been working since six. "Fair," you nodded, knowing not everyone was up to studying for hours at a time, "How much did you do?"

"I'm only missing a page now," he stretched out, "It's not due for a week."

"The sooner you're done-"

"The sooner you can forget about it," Shinso rolled his eyes, "I know, not like you say it every time."

"I could say it more," you huffed, grabbing your textbooks and putting them in your bag. Shinso did the same, putting his stuff away much quicker before he said his goodnights, patted your back, and left.

"Am I free?" Mina gave you puppy eyes.

"Yeah, I need to get to my dorm," you smiled at her, watching as everyone at the table sighed in relief and packed up. Taking their leave soon after.

You stayed without much thought. Bakugo was still at the table, clearly wanting to finish his paper now. You didn't want to leave him in case he needed help, it was something you did for all of them.

Only when everyone was gone did he raise his head, quickly taking in that it was only you and him left.

"Thanks, Books," he said gruffly. You knew he was one to give nicknames, having heard him yell a few in the common room, hallways, or sports festivals.

You also knew he wasn't one to hand out thanks. "No problem," you nodded at him, seeing him shove his books into his bag. "You're going to rip your work if you do that, you know?"

"Like I care."

"You should, I wouldn't be surprised to know if you've had to redo homework for that reason only," you stood up, "A folder could save you from taking time out of your training."

He glared at you, showing that you read him like a book, "Whatever," he scoffed.

---

There was no surprise seeing him in the common rooms more, or him helping your small study group. It was all welcomed, he could answer all the small questions when you were already busy. Although he took a different approach than you. Rather than calmly explaining, he yelled.

The surprise only hit when he approached you right after class. Everyone lingering in the hall still debriefing from class that ended only moments ago.

He's been the talk of school recently as well. Having gone nuts when an interviewer asked him personal questions. Ranging from how his parents were to how many people he's slept with. With him being freshly eighteen, it was disgusting. It is disgusting in general but it only gives you a good look at the way society views heroes.

It spread beyond just that, everyone watching the interview and taking it among themselves. Trying to figure out who Bakugo was dating or why he wasn't dating anyone. Piecing together any action he made towards anyone. Trying to say he was dating one of his classmates or someone he was interning with. It was annoying even for you, no one wanted to talk about anything other than his dating life. It was infuriating.

So him showing up at your class out of nowhere confused you even more. With all the rumors going around you expected him to stick to himself, like he was doing for the past week.

"Bakugo?" you asked, seeing him leaning on the wall across the door to your class. You knew you were the only one that knew him personally, in your class.

"Books," he said shortly, kicking himself off the wall and walking towards you, meeting you halfway, in the middle of the hallway.

"Do you need to talk about something?" you tilted your head, confused, "We can go to your common room, I was heading there anyway."

"Nah," he shook his head, putting his hands in his pockets. Casual as ever.

You looked around at the crowd that gathered around you. "Then what do you need?" you asked quietly, wanting to avoid people hearing your conversation.

"Go on a date with me," he ordered more than asked, face plain but voice loud enough for everyone to hear. He gave you nothing to read off.

"Excuse me?" you asked meekly.

"Go on a date with me."

"Bakugo-"

"You stupid or somethin'?" he asked, now annoyed.

"No, I'm just confused," you worded slowly, trying to piece together why he did this suddenly. Is this why he started studying with you? Despite already knowing his stuff and hardly needing help.

"Will you?" he shuffled his footing, going more ridged and less relaxed.

You blinked, looking around quickly at the audience who was now holding their breath, "Yeah," you said breathlessly, "I- sure."

"Good," he relaxed again, "I'll meet you at your dorm room."

He didn't let you add anything before he was walking away, the crowd parting for his exit before rushing up to you.

"You know Bakugo?"

"He likes you?"

"Did you put a spell on him?"

"Hire him?"

"Buy him out?"

"What's your secret?"

Knowing how to manage the media, you did what you were taught. School your expression and walk away, give nothing but keep your head high.

You dealt with people bugging you until you were at your dorm, only at safety when you locked your door behind you. You didn't even tell Bakugo your dorm number, and he didn't have your number. How he was going to get to you, you had no clue.

Your phone buzzes violently in your bug, Shinso calling you.

"You and Bakugo?" he asked immediately when you answered. Word got around quick. It's only been twenty minutes and people knew.

"Apparently? I don't know?" you ran your hands through your hair, trying to think of an outfit for something you didn't even know of.

"How do you not know?"

"Shinso," you placed him on speaker, going through your closest, "He just came to my class and asked me out in front of everyone."

"I know, that's how I found out. But seriously?"

"Yeah," you settled on a semi-formal outfit, hitting the line of whatever was appropriate.

Shinso paused in thought, "He didn't act any different around you though."

"I know," you sighed in frustration, "All he did was ask my help, apparently that means he's into me?"

"He asked for help?"

"Barely," you shuffled out of your clothes, throwing on the outfit in a rush, unsure when Bakugo would pick you up.

Shinso hummed, "He never asks for help, so fuck, maybe he does like you. Be careful though."

You laughed lightly, brushing your hair with your fingers to make sure it was still presentable, "It's Bakugo, not some kind of monster."

"He's unpredictable," Shinso warned.

"I'll be fine Shinso," you brushed off his worries. Changing into a different topic of your day. Mainly listening to him rant about a new game he bought.

A sudden knock made you jump out of your chair, whispering goodbye to Shinso before hanging up.

You opened the door with a polite smile, greeting Bakugo, who was dressed in a similar manner as you.

"Ready?" he asked. You grabbed your keys and locked your dorm room behind you, stepping into the hall that not only Bakugo occupied. The rest of your class was camping outside your room. You glare at them in response, it was rude to be this nosey.

"Yeah, where to?" you asked, looking unsure around your class.

The name of one of the most popular restaurants rattled out of his mouth.

"Bakugo, that place is a fortune-"

"I've got the money."

"It really isn't necessary."

"It is if it's for you," he said smoothly, something completely unexpected from him. Maybe he wasn't as harsh as he put on.

With no more argument coming from you, he grabbed your hand and pulled you to the elevator, finally out of the eyes of your peers.

"I don't think I'm dressed for this," you said honestly as you looked down. You'd meet the dress code easily, but it was still a well-established restaurant.

"You look fine."

You blushed warmly at that. You've been told all about his character in passing. He didn't just throw out things without meaning. "Thanks," you mumbled, following him as he left the elevator.

---

He was an easy person to talk to. No awkward silences that couldn't be filled. Nothing bad to note over the entirety of dinner. He was a gentleman, and it was surprising. Even when the press started annoying you midway through, he didn't fuss. Just told you to ignore them and continue eating. Barely giving them a second glance as he talked to you more. Seemingly curious about how your dumb presentation did.

"Thank you for listening to all my school stuff," you turned to him as you walked back to your dorm, him insisting he needed to walk you back. Despite the guaranteed safety of a hero school. "You're probably the only hero student who can keep up."

"You act like hero students are behind."

"You're in the same math class as Kaminari, it's not hard to claim that I'm leagues ahead in that field," you smiled at him, not wanting to offend him.

"Whatever," he shrugged off.

You turned back to look at the direction you were walking, you still had a couple of minutes, "Thanks for inviting me out, I'm cooped up too much."

"No problem," he said back softly, sharing your tone, "Thanks for agreeing I guess."

"I hardly agreed to anything, more so got ordered," you laughed.

The weather was nice as you walked back. Clear skies, low winds, but cold.

"Ya cold?"

"Kinda," you replied, crossing your arms to warm yourself as you focused on walking.

"C'mere, idiot," he called to you, shrugging off his jacket when you were near, throwing it over your shoulders before continuing to walk like nothing happened.

"Thank you," you said shyly, not used to being catered to, especially by him. Many have asked you out before, none of them interesting or it was easy to tell they had bad intentions, Bakugo's the first to not.

He shrugged off the appreciation, letting silence cover the conversation for a moment.

"You want to know something?" you spoke out, watching how your steps hit the ground at the same time as his.

"Hm?"

"I expected you to be a lot different."

"How?"

"Well in the sports festival you're an animal," you pointed out.

"I'm not an animal," he shook his head in disbelief.

You turned to face him, face deadpan, "You fucking growled at the camera."

Bakugo barked out a laugh at the memory. Though the laugh was violent, it was warming to hear, your smile widening.

"You even bit the cameraman," you added on to the memory, anything to keep him laughing.

"You saw what he did right?" he spoke filled with laughter.

"No?"

"Dude wagged a red flag in front of the camera so I'd look over."

"No!" you gasped, laughter breaking through.

"So I fuckin' showed him an animal."

His expression was cocky with a humorous smile, a laugh still following his words as he guided you to continue moving by your elbow.

"All the interviewers do that shit."

"Hm?" you hummed for him to continue.

"Get in your face, want you to act a certain way. Fuckin' tired of it," he huffed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah," you were warmed by how he spoke so freely, "They always ask ridiculous questions too," you added on.

"You've been interviewed?" he side-eyed you as you walked.

"Plenty of times, my parents are huge CEOs so they want to know who's next up," you answered any follow-up question he could have, used to others questioning you all about it.

"Gross."

You laughed lightly, "Definitely, the interviews are always so unsettling. Asking every personal question ever," you brought it up just to try to show him you understood him.

"You got no idea, sweets," the tack of a nickname made you flush. Looking away briefly when other students pass by you.

Not wanting the conversation to stop you continued, "I might not to your extent of course, but I've had my fair share."

"Really? What's the worst thing you've been asked?" he challenged.

"If I was willing to have sex with other CEOs in order to expand the company," you gave him a straight face.

He gave a disgusted look in return, "People like that need to be locked up."

"Yeah, hopefully you'll clear the streets for us," you bumped his shoulder with yours, "but what's the worst thing you've been asked?"

"If I fucked Endeavour's sidekick." You cringed in reply. "That, and they always ask my cup size."

A laugh ripped from your throat, your hand slapping up to his arm in response, "No way! Me too!"

He rolled his eyes, "Fuckin' pervs."

Conversation was easy between the two of you, sharing interview questions until you got to your dorm. Him opening all the doors for you on the way there, causing you to blush each time.

Few people scatter your hallway when you get back, turning their attention on you.

"Again next week?"

"Sorry?" you asked confused.

He furrowed his brows, "Did you not have a good time?"

"No, I did," you corrected, "I'm just surprised you're wanting another."

"Of course, I want another," frustration was slowly coming out of his voice, "So will you go on another date with me? Next week?"

"I- yeah," you nodded.

"Gimme your phone," he put his hand out, typing his number in roughly when you gave it to him. "I'll text you."

"Yeah," you were breathless, this didn't feel real.

"You're going to be at my common area tomorrow, right?" his face gave away absolutely nothing, brushing off the idea of a date so casually.

"Yeah," you were too stunned to form more words. He wanted not one, but two dates. And was curious what you were doing the next day. You were never one to fan girl, but with the looks he had, it was hard not to.

"Good, I'll be around," he said shortly, moving to step away.

"You're jacket," you blurted, "I need to give it back."

"Keep it."

He walked away before you could even pull it off your shoulders.

Not wanting the stares of classmates, you quickly hid yourself in your room. Letting the giddy emotions consume you. The rush of emotions from the date were running wild, and you knew better than to show those in front of him, let alone in public.

---

The giddy feeling didn't leave the next day, buzzing in your heart as you went through each class. Unbothered by the people who tried to be nosey or the first years who threatened you. It was all filled with the rushing thoughts, the curiosity you felt when Bakugo said he'd see you today.

Adding a pep to your step as you made your way into his common room, setting up your stuff to study with Shinso.

"Nice ass, I got a real good angle here."

You slapped down your uniform skirt as you straightened your posture. "Gross Mineta," you spat when you turned around to face him.

"Just enjoying the view, wish it was more than a view, like an object-"

You glared at him sharply, "I'm not an object." He was acting worse than the interviewers.

"Not yet-"

"Not ever," you seethed. When you watched his eyes widen you felt relieved to have scared him.

"The fuck happening here?" Bakugo's voice rang out, clearly being the reason Mineta was afraid.

"Nothing," Mineta groaned, "Gotta ruin the fun. Maybe later mamas," Mineta winked at you. A full-body cringe shuttered through you.

"I'll fuckin' kill you," Bakugo stepped closer, Mineta running away in response.

"Thanks-"

"Aren't you usually here at 6?" he cut you off.

"Oh," you clasped your hands behind your back, slightly swaying, "I thought I'd stop by earlier, to see you," you added sheepishly.

"Good thinkin'," he smirked, "Want to-"

Shinso's heavy steps turned your attention. "Hi, Shinso!" you greeted happily, you had so much to tell him.

"It's a bit early," he turned his head to the clock.

"She came to see me," Bakugo answered for you.

"Well not entirely- I'm still going to study at 6," you confirmed.

That night all you did was go over the English book Bakugo's class was reading in the privacy of his dorm. Nothing more, nothing less. However, he did apologize for Mineta.

---

The next month or so followed in a similar footing. Amazing dates filled with heartful talks, even ones that were had to talk about. With him it was easy. Laughing and smiling was easy.

Even the stupid date you were on right now.

"Y'know you should call me by my name."

He had to be joking. You were in the middle of a nice dinner date in his common room, with food he made. "Really? Are seriously trying to get me to call you Dynamight-"

"No idiot-" he huffed looking down at his hands for a second. He was holding his weight on the counter as he stood across from you, leaning into his palms. "I mean Katsuki."

"Oh," you blushed, "Yeah, I guess that'd make sense," you laughed shyly.

His eyes flickered to the common room. Mina, Toru, and Kaminari were all sitting there, obviously spying on you and Bakugo.

"Your cooking is great," you blurted out, wanting his attention instead.

"Hm?" he looked back to you, "Do y'like the spice? I can add more if ya can handle it."

Even after letting you call him by his given name, the conversation stayed easy between you two. Taking steady bites of your meal between talking, trying to ignore the three in the common room.

Throughout the conversation, Bakugo took your empty plate and started washing it. Having you sat on the counter next to him.

"So gentlemen like," you teased as he dried the plate and put it way. He huffed, rolling his eyes when he stood in front of you again.

"Only for you," he spoke confidently, eyes flashing towards the common room before crowding into your space on the counter. Stepping between your spread legs and placing his hands beside your thighs.

You blush at his closeness, straightening your back to gain a few more inches of space, "Bakugo-"

"Katsuki," he corrected.

"Katsuki," you fumbled with his name, "What are you doing?" you whispered.

"What d'ya want me to do?"

Your eyes flashed to the group, embarrassed that you might have an audience. Too embarrassed that you couldn't reply, biting your lip when you looked back at him. Catching his eyes falling to your lips before looking back at your eyes.

He gave you a look and a small nod to see if you were okay, clear with the idea that he wanted to kiss you. When you gave a small nod in reply, he moved his hand up to cradle your cheek. 

Gently pulling you in for a kiss. Connecting your lips with a spark running up your spine. This was your first kiss, and it felt electric. A rush of adrenaline runs through your body at the contact.

When he pulled away you chased the kiss for a moment, letting your eyes slowly flutter open in confusion. His eyes were already on the three in the room over.

"Want to go to your dorm?" you offered, eager to continue kissing him, the thrill was something you think you'd chase for a lifetime.

"It's gettin' late," he glanced at his watch, "I got early training."

You pouted your lip, "Okay, text me?"

"Sure," he patted your thigh and stepped away. Making you blush once more before you hopped off the counter to leave.

---

The relationship between you two continued like that for a while, small kisses in public. All ones you were too shy to start yourself. Even when you wanted to be in the privacy of his dorm, but without his lead you felt blind.

Everyone on campus has seen you together and knows you're dating, but you felt unsure. It felt weird to have everyone think you're dating, but you didn't know entirely. Interviewers have asked him and he just shrugged it off with a smirk. It's never been discussed more, and you had nothing to go off. All that was discussed was a promised date every week and him being around when you tutored Shinso.

All except this time.

"Where's Katsuki?" you asked Shinso once you placed your stuff down.

"Bad interview, he's in his dorm," Shinso shrugged.

"That bad?" you frowned.

Shinso looked at you like you were stupid, "It's Bakugo, it's always bad."

"Hm," you hummed in thought, looking towards the elevator.

"Want to go see your boyfriend?" he rolled his eyes.

"He's not my boyfriend," you shushed.

"Yeah? Tell that to everyone else."

"It just hasn't been brought up between him and I," you confined to him slightly.

"Then ask? I don't know," he sassed.

"Come on Shinso, I'm lost here," you begged, "I've never dated anyone before. I don't know the rules."

"Rules?" Shinso laughed, "There's no 'rules' to dating."

"Help me out," you kicked at his chair.

"Just ask him what you are, he's probably too emotionally constipated to actually ask you out and want you to just know."

"That's embarrassing though."

"Toughen up."

With Shinso's horrible enthusiasm, you were knocking at Katsuki's door before you knew it.

"What?" Katsuki snapped when opening the door, clearly in a bad mood. 

Every emotion was running through your head. Scared? Excited? You name it. It's been three months of this unknown. Dating or not. You wanted to know, you wanted to make the small next steps. Have him as a boyfriend. To meet his mom. Spend more time with him. Call him more often. Kiss him more. All the practiced words wanted to fall right out of your mouth. 

You closed your open mouth, recovering from your thoughts and the aggressive way he opened the door. He was still glaring at you confused. "I- um-"

"Spit it out."

You took a deep breath, licking your lips lightly before letting the word vomit leave your mouth, "I want to know where we stand. Like are we dating? Are you my boyfriend?" you were wringing out your hands and rocking on your heels as you rambled, "Have we been dating? If not, I'd like to. You're such a good guy and just have helped me a lot, and I'd love to actually call you my boyfriend."

Katsuki blinked at you for a moment, his glare gone but the confusion was still painted across his face. 

"Huh?"

You blinked, "I like you Katsuki, and I want an actual relationship. Titles and all, you know?" With his face just scrunching up in more confusion, you gasped, hands covering your mouth, "God! You probably already think it's a relationship, huh? I'm so sorry- I didn't mean to-"

"You like me?" he cut you off.

"I thought that was obvious?" you laughed lightly, embarrassed as you peered up at him.

He shuffles how we was standing, crossing his arms, a confused look gracing his features, "We were just dating to get rid of the fuckin' rumor. I thought y'know?"

Color drained from your face, "Oh!"

Not being able to stand any more of this mortifying experience, you turned on your heels and walked away.

Walking all the way until you were almost out of the Common room.

"You look like you saw a ghost," Shinso stopped you in your tracks.

"Heh," you forced a laugh, eyeing the door with want.

"Go that bad?" Shinso frowned.

"You have no idea.

---

That night was rough. A long shower helped you process everything. All the group outings, all the public displays of affection, not bothering to spend time together unless you were out in public, even if you were in his dorm, everyone knew. It had all been for the press, and it made complete sense. It was all he talked to you deeply about. It's why he thanked you at the beginning of all this.

And yet, despite you being the valedictorian, you were too stupid to realize.

So now you were bawling your eyes out as you hugged your pillow. Feeling so incredibly dumb to think you could pull Kat- Bakugo. The future symbol of strength. You let yourself get so hopeful and wrapped up in the feelings, making yourself blind to the obvious. 

All the small kisses you shared felt like nothing now.

After that night, you picked yourself back up. No longer distracted by him, but more encouraged. You've spent the last three months studying until early in the morning rather than sleeping, all because you didn't want to decline when Bakugo invited you out. So now, you had time. So much of it that you were unsure what to do with it.

Bakugo gave you a week to cool down, not bothering you during your study sessions with Shinso, and not texting you either. You were relieved he was letting this embarrassing moment pass.

You were mad, anyone would be. Bakugo could have told you that it was fake, but no, he let you fall for him. He could of been direct, rather than assume.

"You okay?" Shinso nudged your arm when you were too zoned out on the elevator, fearful that the blonde would appear any moment.

"Hm? Yeah, just preoccupied with my thoughts," you answered automatically, turning your head away from the elevator. It's been a full two weeks, you should be over it by now.

Shinso looked over your shoulder, "Maybe we should leave," he rushed, packing his stuff.

"What? Did you finish already?"

"No, just come on," Shinso grabbed your stuff and packed up too.

"Shinso-"

He grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the elevator, trying to close the doors quickly. 

Only then did you notice Bakugo standing at the entrance, looking lost as he watched the elevator doors close.

---

Shinso was always a good friend like that, looking out for you. He's kept Bakugo from your view more times than you could count in the past two weeks. Shinso was probably more pissed than you.

You had just hung up on him, turning to sitting down at your desk and plotting down points for an essay you had to submit later this week. Always wanting to stay two steps ahead when possible.

A soft rattle of knocks drew your attention away from your work.

"Come in," you called out, turning off your studying music and taking off your headphones. Spinning your chair to see which classmate was bugging you for help now.

"Hey," Bakugo twisted the door open.

You rolled your eyes, "Close the door, unless you want people to hear."

He slowly shut the door behind him and put his hands in his pockets, "Mindfuck said I should-"

"If Shinso sent you to do anything, I don't want to hear it," you crossed your arms.

"That shithead doesn't dictate what I do-"

"But he could," you pointed out.

"Well he's not. Ain't how his quirk works."

"What do you want Bakugo?" you asked plainly, you didn't want to be dragged along again.

He sighed, "Look, I wanted to apologize. What I did was shitty."

"Very, but I don't care at this point," you covered up your emotions, brushing past every night you've cried these past two weeks, "Yeah, you broke my heart or whatever, but it wasn't intentional. Just- you go your way, I'll go mine."

He tightened his jaw, "If that's what you want."

"It is," you lied through your teeth. Moving your chair again to face your work. Ignoring him.

"You don't have to lie if anyone asks," he spoke awkwardly.

You gave him a quick glance, "I wasn't planning to." 

---

When he left once again, you felt relieved to have that conversation over. Wanting to bury the sad story of your first 'relationship.' 

Sticking to what you knew best, school. You breezed through each test. Earning any extra credit possible and going to any internship possible. Limiting your tutor hours to hours you knew Bakugo was busy.

Your resume was solid, you'd be graduating with an associate's degree and would immediately start work with your parents the second you graduated. All while working towards a master's degree. Not only did you fill up your current time, but you'd be busy after high school as well.

Even now you were often at your parents' office when school was over, getting prepared for your role there. You'd be the youngest boss to work there, and many people were pissed. How could a freshly graduated teenager get paid more than them?

With tons of hard work. All the hard work pays off when you actually graduate as Valedictorian. Having press all in your face when you gave your graduation speech to the class. Talking about the highs and lows. Mentioning the hero course and the courage they faced, even when people thought they weren't made for it. Most of the speech was for Shinso.

The press was crazy afterward, you didn't have a moment to yourself. While you thought the press would be small since UA was high security, you were wrong. They took the funding they could get, and in return, they let people in.

Mainly the hero course was being interviewed, but you got surrounded as well.

"Ma'am! Tell us how you got such a high job position?"

"How much money will you make?"

"I'd love to get your insider opinion on the heroes here?"

"Hard work earns a lot more than just money," you answered the first two questions, "While the Heroes here are outstanding. They'll do the world a lot of good."

"Do you know any of them personally?"

"A few in Class A," you smiled in reply. You needed press and this was a great way to get your name out.

"So are you still dating Dynamight?"

The question shocked you for a moment, you thought all that dropped when you and him argued. You guess they just thought you were distant because of work. Your eyes widened, immediately looking away from the interviewer so you could compose an answer.

Unforantly, Bakugo was getting interviewed right beside you. Making eye contact with you while the press hounded him. Flying through different questions about his relationship status.

"Ma'am?"

"Um," you stuttered, unsure what to do.

 Every press training you've gone through left your mind. Bakugo's helpless face replaced it instead. He hated the press, he hated dealing with an audience. But he hated it even more when it wasn't about his work. Hating when people asked personal things or assumed things because of his looks. 

"Excuse me, I need to go save my boyfriend."

You walked away quickly, faking your confidence in your walk as you made your way to him. Regretting your decision already but it's too late to go back now.

"Is this your girlfriend?" the press immediately switched to ask when you showed up to his side.

"No-"

"Yes," you grabbed his arm, giving him a glare, "Now, we have to go spend time with out families. Please excuse us." You smiled at the interviews, tugging Katsuki away from the mess of it all. "How do you fall for such a trap?" you yelled at him in a hushed tone, looking around to make sure no one was near.

"Huh?"

You spun to face him when you finally found some space. "When they start going down that path you switch the topic, not blank, and get angry."

"Well I'm sorry I'm not miss fuckin' perfect," you hissed at you, crossing his arms.

"You had media training!" you threw your hands up helplessly.

"Whatever, are you just going to yell at me?"

You bit your tongue before you yelled again, looking around instead. "Now we have to deal with the press thinking we're dating."

"I'll just tell them no-"

"That's stupid, I just blatantly told them we were," you huffed, "We'll just sit and wait for it to go away."

"That'll take forever-"

His mom stepped into your view.

"Why are you hiding?"

"I'm not," Bakugo crossed his arms, "Mind y'business."

"Are you his girlfriend I've been hearing about?" her sharp eyes landed on you.

"No-"

"Yeah," Bakugo glared at you this time instead.

"Oh!" She smiled brightly, ignoring how you said no, "You should join us for dinner!"

"Oh, no I shouldn't intrude," you shook your head, not knowing what you would do if you said yes.

"It's not intruding! Please, my boy hardly has anyone. I'd love to get to know the girl that stole his heart," she smiled warmly.

"Ma' she has family-"

"They're actually busy tonight, so I'd be free," you shrugged, liking seeing Bakugo get antsy. 

"Great!"

---

"I'd love to know how you guys got together," Mitsuki asked as you handed you a dish to plat your food.

You and Bakugo shared a look.

"I asked her out," he shrugged.

"More than that," she hissed in his direction.

"Well," you looked between the two, not wanting to witness a family argument, "We met from me tutoring someone in his class. Started to get to know each other in passing and he asked me on a date. Not too exciting," you replied instead as you dished up.

Mitsuki shook her head, "Boring as ever, I thought his father would raise him to be more romantic."

"Where is dad anyway?" Bakugo spoke just after swallowing an inhuman-sized bite of food.

"Work needed him, he after you saw him earlier," she spoke to Bakugo before turning to you, "He'd love to meet you."

"Thank you for inviting me," you flushed.

"So, back to terms of your relationship," she started, gaining a groan from Bakugo, "I know he isn't too roped up in relationships often, the last girl he was with was in middle school! Are you the same? I know I wasn't at your age," she laughed kindly.

"Actual this is my first relationship," you poked at your food.

"The hell-"

"Watch your mouth!"

Bakugo turned to you fully, "You didn't tell me that."

You shrugged, "Never came up."

"Was I your first-"

"Kiss?" you finished for him, "Yeah."

Bakugo just stared a you for a moment, huffing before rubbing his hands over his face. Slamming his hands on the table and making his exit. Leaving you with his mom.

"He didn't know?"

You forced your eyes away from where he left, "No, we never really discussed it."

"Maybe it's time to?" She offered. A mom classic.

"I don't know," you looked down at your plate.

"He's a handful, I know, but just give him a shot."

With the way she was acting and the read on her personality, you got so far, you knew she'd slap him upside the head if she knew everything.

But maybe it wouldn't hurt to get everything out.

"I guess."

"He's room is upstairs to the right, first door."

You gave her a smile before excusing yourself.

Knocking at his door before you knew it. Just like the night.

"Fuck off."

"Bakugo," you opened the door regardless, he was holding his head in his hands, elbows on his knees as he sat on the side of his bed.

He looked up at you, "What?"

"Sorry I didn't tell you," you said honestly. You didn't fell bad about it before, mainly wrapped up in how he never told you anything.

"No- fuck, don't apologize," he stood up, "don't need to do that for me. I'm fucking sorry. I didn't know, you didn't deserve that."

You hummed for him to continue.

"I'd never of asked if I knew."

"Why did you ask me?" the question has been nagging at you since.

"Hah?"

"To fake date you, get the rumors to go away."

"You seemed least likely to snitch or freak out over it," with the way his shoulders fell, you could tell that he was saying the truth, "Your clean image also helped."

It made sense. The 'bad boy' dating the valedictorian to help graduate. So not only did you fall for the classic cliche of fake dating, but also dating the bad boy.

"You also caught my eye," he confessed, shifting his footing.

"Sure," you rolled your eyes. He likely didn't want you to call everything off. Flatter you so you stuck around for his image. You've seen it all before.

"I'm not fuckin' around."

"I don't want to hear it," you stopped him there, "I'm not falling for whatever trap you have planned."

"I didn't mean to trap you-"

"You could have told me that it was for the rumors, and I would have agreed. But no, you assumed I knew or something."

"Sorry."

"Are you?" you shot back, "Or is that to make sure I don't start 'rumors.'"

"Seriously books," he glared at you.

"What?" you glared at him, "You go from being upset that you were my first kiss, to saying I caught your eye anyway? If that was actually true you could have asked me out for real."

"Then go out with me-"

"Seriously Bakugo?" you looked at him annoyed, "How would I know now? I don't know you."

"Yes you do-"

"No I don't! I know you hate the press and that's it," you huff frustrated.

He thought for a moment, "You know I like spicy foods."

You laughed at how ridiculously this was, "Doesn't matter."

"I hate how I fuckin' sweat so much. I like working out, anything to get my adrenalin running-"

"Bakugo, whatever you're doing isn't going to work," you shook your head, "I can't let myself go into this again.

"Why not? I'm not in this for anything but you."

"There's still rumors," you sighed, "So I'll never be sure if it's for me or not."

"I wouldn't fucking do that."

"I don't know you Bakugo," you crossed your arms.

"This is fuckin stupid, I try and do what you said and you say no."

"I said I would agree then, not now. I can't just say yes to dating you when last time you rejected me."

"I didn't reject you."

"You just stood there! You didn't do anything but look at me confused! Never even brought it up after," you pointed out.

"You just sprung that on me, you can't spring shit on me and expect me to know how to react!"

You took a deep breath, "I didn't expect anything really, Just thought you'd say anything but what you did."

He glared at you, "You can't just force people to like you."

You looked to glare at the wall instead of him, "That's not what I meant and you know that. I wanted you to like me back sure, but I wasn't going to flip if you said no. The only reason I avoided you was because I was dating you the entire time you were fake dating me."

"So?"

"It's embarrassing," you confessed, "I don't want to do that again."

"Let me prove it to you."

"What?"

He stepped close to you, crossing through his surprisingly clean room, "I'll prove that this time isn't fake."

"How?" you laughed, "I don't think you can fix this."

"Lemme try."

"Fine," you challenge, out of curiosity. You couldn't get more hurt than you already were. Plus you'd be too busy for him to try anyway.

---

Part 2

Thank you guys for the love!! <3

Taglist:

@kcch-ns @saucypeanuttt @cyanide-pancakes @gold24fish @randomchaosyay @minkyungseokie @endlessfreaky @suki0 @lovra974 @okayiamkassandra @myrunawaysweets @pirana10 @ginevraxrogers @katbug37

[bluesunss]

Bad movies lead to bad decisions Choi Su-bong x F! Reader

Bad movies part 1

part 2 part 3

summary: "wanna make out?" "sure." in which -> two great friends decide making out is more interesting than watching the crappy movie playing on screen.

warnings: none, make-out session?, no game au

word count: 1.2k

a/n: enjoyy

The movie was garbage.

Se-mi was the first to warn you: it was new, the poster looked amateur, and the director had a bad reputation. You hadn’t really listened. She turned down the invitation - though you had a theory she just wanted to see her girlfriend.

Min-su rarely went out without Se-mi; she was his protector of sorts, and he absolutely feared Nam-gyu and Su-bong together. Gyeong-su had a blind date, and Nam-gyu actually did show up at one point - only to last about two minutes before saying, “Fuck this shit, I’m leaving.”

Which left just you and Su-bong.

It shouldn’t have been awkward. You’d known each other for a while, and he was more than goofy enough to carry the conversation. Except he was bored, and you had to admit, that was on you. You were the one who suggested this. Now, you regretted it deeply.

Su-bong wasn’t a patient man. He was holding back for your sake, but give it a few more minutes and he’d cave, just like Nam-gyu had. He had some empathy, but not much to begin with. And besides, he kept glancing at your skirt, which had ridden up to your upper thighs thanks to the uncomfortable seat.

Among the group, you were closest to Se-mi and Gyeong-su. Min-su was like a toddler or a kitten, too shy sometimes, always retreating behind Se-mi, making it hard to interact with him directly.

Nam-gyu was an insufferable little shit, but you tolerated him like an annoying little brother. And Su-bong… well. You’d gone to the same high school, even shared a class for a year. You used to hate him, he was the class clown, and you were a study freak, which made focusing ten times harder.

On top of that, you actually felt bad for the teachers. But over time, he grew on you, especially after that one evening when you were stuck on cleaning duty alone. That night, he wasn’t as talkative. You noticed bruises on his arm. But the second he caught you looking, he grinned and started flirting again, snapping the moment back to normal. After that, you decided to go a little easier on him.

After high school, you didn’t see each other again - until one night, walking down a random street, you spotted him with Nam-gyu in the middle of a fight. He was spitting insults at some guy over money, looking as feral as ever. You’d been with Se-mi and Jun-hee, a uni friend, when Jun-hee suddenly recognized her boyfriend in the mess and stepped in, effectively ending the brawl.

A few weeks later, the group had formed. Gyeong-su joined in, Min-su followed Se-mi, and Su-bong, for whatever reason, dragged Nam-gyu along.

Which brought you back to now.

The movie was utter garbage. No plot, awful cinematography, chaotic lighting, a soundtrack that made you want to gouge your ears out. Cliché. Half the theater had already walked out. Su-bong kept shifting in his seat, glancing over his shoulder planning the moment he’d eventually leave too - before his eyes inevitably landed back on your skirt. His breathing was heavier than normal, fingers hovering above his pocket as he wanted to reach for his vape but knew he wasn’t allowed.

“Girl, this is trash,” he finally muttered. “Like, I know you wanted this bad and I’m sorry to hurt your feelings, but I can’t. Plus, I wanna smoke or sum. My throat’s dry as fuck.”

When you did not respond immediately, he frowned slightly, looking at you properly for the first time in the past hour. “You mad, mama? I mean, I can buy you a soda or sum and wait for ya outside. But it’s hot as hell in here.”

You shook your head. “Nah, it’s shit. I agree.” You lowered the hem of your skirt slightly, only to realize he was still watching. You already knew he was dirty-minded - that was a given - but the poorly shot sex scenes in the movie had planted some less-than-pure thoughts in your own head, too. “Wanna leave?”

His gaze dragged up from your thighs as he ignored your question. “Why’d you wear that? It’s cold outside.”

You smirked. “Like you mind. You’ve been checking me out for the past thirty minutes.”

He grinned, unashamed. “Yeah, well. Your thighs’re more interesting than whatever the fuck’s going on up there.” He stretched his arms behind his head, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Ahh, bro. My neck hurts like a bitch. I’m so fucking bored.”

Without changing his position, he continued.

“Wanna make out?”

Your heart skipped. Maybe it was the dim lighting. Or the shitty movie. Or the over-exaggerated moaning sounds blasting from the speakers. But the thought didn’t seem so bad in the moment.

He wasn’t even expecting a response - just fished around in his pocket and popped a few candies into his mouth. “Want some, señorita?”

“We could.”

He didn’t get it at first. He was too busy trying to swallow, tongue pushing against his teeth to get rid of the candy bits. Then, he stilled. Blinked at you. “What?” He stared, confused. "M'sorry mama I got no clue how you answered 'we could' to wanting a candy."

You swallowed. “Not the candy. Before.”

Silence.

He stopped chewing altogether. His eyes flickered from your face to your lips and back again, mouth slightly agape.

“Aight. Bet.”

His fingers reached up, grazing the side of your face, finding a spot behind your ear, and you let go of your necklace to meet his stare. The back row was empty. The entire theater was silent, save for the occasional shifting of seats and the low hum of the movie. And you didn’t give a damn about the movie.

And… and he smelled fruity. Artificially so. A mix of his detergent and some cheap cologne. And… and he was close.

With no second thoughts, you closed the gap. Hesitantly, at first. Just a peck. But he knew his way around this - his teeth caught your lip, teasing, and his tongue pushed past before you could react. Cold rings brushed your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. What started slow quickly turned into a mess - sloppier, hungrier, his hands cradling your face as if he couldn’t get enough. Then, they dropped.

He found your thighs. Gripped. His fingers kneaded at the bare skin, pushing your skirt higher.

“So fucking smooth, señorita,” he murmured against your lips before swallowing them again.

It should’ve felt normal. Like any other make-out session in a club, with any other guy. But fuck. It was so damn different. His lips tasted like the candy from earlier, and your chest was burning, your pulse hammering out of control. Every touch scorched. You needed this.

And when you tilted your head slightly, giving him more room to move, he lost it completely - grabbing your waist, lifting you onto his lap. Straddling him, your legs squeezed tighter, and the friction between his pants and your bare skin sent sparks through your nerves. The theater didn’t exist anymore. The people coming and going didn’t exist. Just the sloppy noises of your mouths, his breath against your skin, the way his hands roamed over every inch he could reach.

Your fingers found his hair, tangling. His fingers dug into your thighs. And beneath you - you felt him.

He needed you just as badly.

Halfway through a kiss, you both froze at the same time.

Light. Doors opening. Voices. The screen dimmed. The movie was over.

Reality hit like a slap to the face.

You broke apart, breathless, wide-eyed. He ran a hand through his hair. You scrambled off him, smoothing your skirt, trying to shake off whatever the hell that was. He grabbed his jacket.

Neither of you said a word.

As you stepped into the cold night air, Su-bong just did his usual quick handshake you like usual. Neither of you spoke.

Of course, he wouldn’t mention it. He said goodbye after calling you an Uber and left.

The movie really really was garbage.

guysss lmk what you think or if you want a part 2!!

[joosthead]

skin || j.k. x f!reader

WARNING #1: explicit real person fiction ahead, dni if below 18. dni if anti-rpf

WARNING #2: explicit rpf/real person fiction content ahead. read at your own risk. dni if anti rpf, dni or read ahead if you simply don’t like rpf lol

₊˚⊹⋆ joost wants to make a song.

₊˚⊹⋆ for @spentandpent’s contest 😅🩷 (2 months late)

₊˚⊹⋆ reader: f!reader. notfamous!reader. normal au a.k.a. reader has an office job and attends university. reader is not dutch

₊˚⊹⋆ word count: 10.3k

₊˚⊹⋆ cw: smut (established relationship, consensual audio recording during sex, f!receiving oral, mirror, ruined orgasm, overstimulation, squirting, vibrator, multiple orgasms, unprotected piv, slight breeding kink, creampie), kind of really porny i can't lie. pwp. crying both out of (momentary) sadness and because cumming 🩷 reader🤝being total crybabies🤝juno

WARNING #3: rpf ahead—don't like it, don't read it. do not repost this on any other platform, screenshots or text alike. do not click ahead if you don’t want to read rpf. do not interact if you are below 18. how to block tags/words on tumblr.

₊˚⊹⋆ track(s) of the fic: “skin” by mac miller, “p power” by gunna

₊˚⊹⋆ junote: vibrator. go big or go home right 🩷 as always @howisjoostfanfictionforfree my partner in filth 🩷 @spentandpent for infecting me w the overstim brainworms 🩷 and lovely @xiaoflan for listening to me complain about this fic ! 😆🩷 i love and appreciate you all 🩷 the art for the header is by one of my amazing best friends <3

18+ only — explicit rpf content ahead, minors dni, anti rpf dni. 4th and final warning!

“Are you ready, mijn schat?” Joost asks in a soft voice, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you. 

“Ready as I'll ever be, Joosti.” 

One of his nicest microphones is set up on your bedside table, wires crossing every which way, his laptop on the ground and hooked up to it.

This was an idea that came about spontaneously, as most things regarding Joost come about; on the train home together, sharing his wired earphones with each other and listening to your playlist of liked songs when Skin by Mac Miller came on. His ears perked up and his eyes brightened at the first few seconds, and you knew you were in for it. 

There’s a woman in the first few seconds—she sounds like she’s having a positively great time, mewling softly, panting in a way that sounds almost like you when Joost is fucking you good. This was on your playlist?!?! You couldn’t fathom a situation where you’d listen to this in public, but here you were, hearing it all as you watched Joost and his mouth drop open a bit. 

Your cheeks warmed and he poked you in the side—“Oh my god,” he said, taking your hand and shaking it. “You know what this means, right?” You shook your head no though you knew the answer—”Our turn!!!!!” He said it so loud that an old lady beside you gave him a dirty look, and he just smiled at her. “Can we? Can we?” 

“Joost.” 

“I just want to hear what it’s like—if I made a song and your beautiful voice was in the background like this or you were my little producer tag.” 

“Very creative,” you laughed, sarcastic. Secretly…you two aren’t exactly public about your relationship. He would post about your anniversaries, your birthday, Valentine’s Day, your vacations; they know you exist, and that he has a long-term girlfriend, but you were so private you were almost elusive. “You want my moan in the back of your song?” 

Something so…obvious under his belt. Something so loud. It was unlike you, and you knew it would never be released, at least not in the raw form he’d likely want it to be in, but it was still something. Something that made your stomach turn in that way that felt good and not scary, even with how rarely you were in the public eye.

You existed in the backgrounds of Joost, Appie, Alanis, Stuntje’s Instagram stories; you existed as a tag of a username, a pixelated and blurred out face in Joost’s photo dumps to protect your privacy. You exist out of the spotlight, in the background, not as the beat of his song, but you figure—it is only a matter of time until you join him in the sun. 

“Who better than you? I want you everywhere, schat. Your moan will become my trademark,” he reasons, and as always—master of persuasion, at least with you. “One time. And it’ll just be between us, okay? Or mostly for me, I love hearing you.” 

You decided in a quick second that you’d do it—all Joost has ever done is protect you, and even with your easily overthinking mind, this sounds fun as all hell to the little devil in your mind that wants everyone to know that he’s yours, you're his. No one else’s. Being possessive doesn’t come naturally in any other part of your life other than Joost. 

“Okay,” you said, resting your head on his shoulder, holding his hand in yours. “Let’s do it, Joosti.” 

“Wahhh—I love you!!!” Joost exclaimed, pressing a kiss to your forehead and going back to happily looking out the window. 

“Mijn meisje,” he says softly, and it makes your stomach turn, the smooth glide of his voice as you lie back onto your pillows. You imagine how it’ll sound in the mp3 file. “Thank you for doing this for me.” 

“It’s not a big deal,” you say, shaking your head. “We would’ve had sex anyway—why not make something of it?” 

“It’s a big deal to me.” 

You nod, “I can imagine.” Joost fiddles with a dial on the side of the microphone, presses a button somewhere else, tidies the wires. “What do you think it’ll sound like?” 

Joost snickers a little to himself before starting— “Agh! Joost! Fuck me harder!” he whines, high pitched and teasing. “Urgh, Joosti, you’re so huge inside of me!” 

“I do not fucking sound like that,” you laugh, slapping him on the shoulder to his barking laughter. “Schat, you’re so tight, I think I’ll cum in three seconds!” 

“Hey!” Joost says, laughing as he leans to you for a kiss. “Okay, it might be the truth but I think it’ll sound good. As long as it’s you, we should win a Dutch Grammy for this.”

Outside the window, it’s rainy; the roof is pelted with the droplets of water of an autumn in Amsterdam, loud and incessant and comforting. Your room in this old house is humid with the moisture, but you’re sure it’s mostly just the two of you and your warmth making it feel so stuffy. 

“We haven’t even made it yet and you want a Grammy?” 

“Why not? I know we’ll get one, don't doubt us,” he grins, slinking off the bed and crouching in front of his computer. Joost’s customary wired earphones are plugged into it and he places a bud in his ear. “Mic check, 1, 2, 3,” he says, Joost Klein style, the sound waves appearing on the screen. “This issssss me and my baby’s recording session number one—“

“Number 1? The only one, Joost.” 

“Okay, okay. Recording 1 of 1. Our ears only.” Pausing a little, Joost gets that expression on his face that lets you know he’s about to say something strange and he does: “Do you think we can make ASMR mouth sounds from this? Dutch kissing ASMR or something?”

“I think we can make more than mouth sounds when it comes down to it.” 

Joost laughs, lifting his computer and placing it on the corner of the table behind the mic; gets up close to it, whispering and tapping on the wood of your bedside table like the people in the ASMR videos you both watch at his behest before bed, “Explain to them what we are going to do, schat,” you laugh and he shushes you, “This is very serious work, we have to be quiet, shhhh.” 

“Uhm…” you say quietly, stifling back a snicker as you get close to the mic from the side. “We’re going to record us fucking—“

“Bad word, schat,” Joost whispers, shaking his head at you disappointedly, “Think about the advertisers.” 

Tapping on the metal body of the microphone, you roll your eyes and start again, “We’re going to have s-word—“

“That’s better.”

“And record the sound from it so Joosti can put it in a song,” you whisper and he nods, mouthing, “Good job!” and giving a thumbs up before he brushes aside your hair to put the other half of his wired earphones in your ear. 

Immediately, you’re met with the sounds of your shared soft breathing and Joost’s hollow tippy taps on the base of the mic. When he goes quiet, the pitter patter of the raindrops upon your roof are loud enough to hear clearly. “I turned up the sensitivity so we don’t have to move it around while we’re recording,” he says, and you nod. 

“I can hear that.” Every single sound and movement you make for the coming hours will be captured on this little waveform. Your voice echoes back to you in your ears, and you scrunch up your face. “I hate my voice.”

“I love your voice, mijn schat,” he says, getting on the bed in front of you. “Sounds even better when you’re saying my name.” Smiling at him, you settle back against your pillows in your prettiest pajama set, a camisole and a pair of loose shorts, both printed with small blue flowers all over. Joost takes the ribbed fabric of your shorts between his fingers, tickling your thigh, “This one is my favorite one.” 

“Every one is your favorite one,” you counter as you open your legs for Joost to sit between.

“As long as you are wearing it, schat—of course,” Joost says, sighing wistfully as he takes the earphones out from both your ears and drapes them on the nightstand. “Are you sure you don’t want to film? You’re so pretty.” 

You roll your eyes as he laughs—it was definitely a topic of conversation after the fact, recording video of it like you have a few times before, just isolating the sound after. You argued that the sound from a real microphone would be better, and he argued, “Why not both?” 

You shut it down, telling him that your room would just become your own personal porn studio if he did both and would never go back to normal, and he died of laughter as the old lady on the train gave you a shocked look and moved away.

No filming. At least not today. 

“Do you want your song, or do you want a video?” 

“That is an extremely hard decision, baby.” 

“Make it before I make it for you.” 

“I want my song,” Joost says, simply and finally, and you nod. 

“You’ll get your song.” 

Joost lies down on top of you and the weight is comfortable as he holds himself up with one hand and cups your face in the other. 

He hasn’t shaved in a few days, his stubble scratchy against your chin as he comes forward and kisses you, soft lips against yours, his body warm and heavy and already grinding his crotch against your center as he slides his hand up your side, bringing up the hem of your camisole. 

You’re hyperfocusing on all the sounds; you’re both quieter than normal, just the smack of your lips against each others, the licking of his tongue into your mouth; the sound of fabric against fabric as he grinds his hips into yours and groans, half-hard already; the shifting of Joost lifting your tank top and exposing your tits to his dilating blue eyes, getting back up off you on his knees. 

Joost runs his knuckles down the curve of your breast and over to the other, making your nipples pebble in the already cooling air, your muscles jumping and leaping with how sensitive you are. “How cute,” he murmurs, and your cheeks burn. There’s something different about him today—if you think about it, if you were a music artist and your girlfriend let you record audio of how good the sex is, you’d be cocky too. 

The confidence looks good on him, a small smirk on his lips as you gaze up at him through your eyelashes and take off your shirt completely, tossing it to the side and lying back again. 

Joost tugs on your shorts and you shimmy them down as he rolls one of your nipples between his fingers, the sensation tying a knot in your stomach with want for him. “Why aren’t you taking off your clothes?” you ask, tilting your head to the side as he lies atop you again. 

“Just want to try something,” he says, placing a kiss between your breasts before he moves over to your nipple, taking it in his mouth and kneading the other breast in his hand. 

Grazing it lightly with his teeth, you let out a small hiss at the sensation before he closes his lips around it and sucks; your mouth drops open watching him as he does it, intent and content with his place on you. You just got him back after a month and a half away in Berlin working on music nonstop—you have an inkling that you both feel like this is where he belongs.

For a while, you both lie there as he mindlessly suckles at your tits, as you play with his hair and pretend like there isn’t a pool in your panties waiting to be addressed further than this—you don’t want to rush him. “Art can’t be rushed,” or whatever he says when he’s too busy editing visuals or tweaking his tracks in progress. 

Stifling back a sigh, you tug at the short hair on the nape of his neck, his tongue swirling around the stiff peak of your nipple. A tiny little mewl lets itself out of your mouth as he laps at it. Pulling back with a pop, nipping at the skin next to it—“Dude…” he starts. “You’re being… so quiet. Is someone a little shy, schat?” Joost grins, kissing you. 

You furrow your brows. You are but you’re not going to get called out by the most outgoing person you know like this. “No, I’m not.” 

“I think you are, you haven’t said a word.” 

“I’m not,” you insist, smiling once you realize that you have the perfect comeback. “You’re just not doing enough to make me say anything.” 

Joost’s entire face changes, falling completely flat with his eyes narrowed at you and you grin. “Oh, I haven’t done enough? Is that what you said, lieverd?” 

“I don’t wanna say it’s not enough. But definitely not enough to give you your Dutch Grammy award-winning sound bite. The pace you're moving, we’ll get a participation trophy at best.” 

“I’m not doing enough—I am lying on your tummy letting you berate me while I suck your boobs, don’t think I forgot about the last month!!!” he exclaims, voice rough and accusatory and silly, smile so wide as he jabs his finger in your face. “Don’t think I forgot!!!” 

“You’re still on that?” you laugh, squishing his cheeks, getting his hair out of his eyes. 

“Duh,” he grumbles. “It’s half the reason why I wanted to do this.” 

“Forgive me, then.” 

There’s been no time for you to call or Facetime him in this past month; only texting and one-sided voice messages from Joost pleading for you to send him a voice memo back but you’ve refused, either willingly or unwillingly. You’ve been so tired, your voice and energy all going to talking to clients and people in real life that you just couldn’t muster the strength to send him back any after a long day—Joost couldn’t call for long either, too occupied with the final touches on the album. 

He asked you one night, sleepy voice rasping about how he just wanted to hear you, and he sounded so hot—you texted back that you couldn’t sound sexy and all he said was that he didn’t care if you sounded sexy. He just wanted you. 

Still, you couldn’t let it happen.

Joost whined all the way up until his train home got to the station; all the way home in the car as you drove him and asked about his work; all the way up to now, pouting with his prickly chin on your bare chest and his arms wrapped around your waist. 

“If that isn’t enough, how far can I go to get my audio clip, then?” Joost asks. 

The both of you are competitive as can be with each other. 

So long ago, you bet him he couldn’t make you cum just from internal stimulation alone—he proved you wrong and then some. He bet you last year (and every year before that you’ve been together) that he could last all of November not cumming—you manage to prove him wrong anywhere from 2-5 days before his birthday on the 10th. Everything is a competition, everything is a game for you two, that’s what makes the relationship so fun. 

If you give Joost an inch, he’ll take a mile, and you know that better than anyone. 

“As far as you think it takes, Joosti.” 

Wordlessly, he gets up off from you and sits on the side of the bed facing the wall, in front of the mirror that’s there now—obtained at a swap meet somewhere in the city and hauled back by you both; standing against your wall, the top rounded in an arch, used mostly for outfit checks and Joost to try on a million different clothing pieces before he decides on things he wears all the time. 

“Sit between my legs, baby.” 

“Why should I do that for you?” 

“Because I want you to do it for me,” he says, looking back at you and patting his lap. “Here. Sit down or none of this will happen.” 

Usually, Joost is never so commanding—he’d rather ask you, sweetly and nicely to please do something for him. There isn’t a demanding bone in his body. And yet…

You take the seat between his legs and look at yourself as he hooks his fingers in the white and lacy waistband of your panties and pulls them down your thighs, down your calves. His lips ghost over the nape of your neck as he watches you in the mirror—Joost is always intense, always strong-willed, but it’s as if he’s come back a changed man.

“I want you to watch me do enough.” 

He hooks his hand under your right knee; you let him bring your leg up and drape it over his, spread wider than you’re used to. The same is done to the other leg; if you tried to close them, you’d be unable to. 

“I’ll get those sounds out of you if it kills me, lieverd.”

The cotton of his shorts, Tears as always; your shared necklaces resting on the chest hair that pokes out of the neckline of his wifebeater—they rub against your backside as you adjust your position on him, Joost’s warm and clothed body making your naked skin feel piping hot. 

He places his hands on your inner thighs, squeezing lightly. There is the feel; of his rough fingertips gliding against your silky skin, dancing across the jumpy nerves of the junction between your leg and the beginnings of the most sensitive parts of you.

“Do you know how hard it was for me not to hear your voice for so long, lieverd?” 

With his gentle hands, Joost spreads you open, exposing the most private part of you to both of your eyes, his chin hooked on your shoulder and looking down directly at it. You almost shrink into yourself, bringing you closer to his chest against your back, rising and falling steadily. In contrast, your breathing is so erratic, you feel as if your lungs might tire. 

The microphone will pick up your labored breathing, as much as you’re trying not to make a single sound; the mirror reflects your furrowed brow back at you as he dips his fingers inside, light and gentle, bringing the wetness back up to circle your clit slowly. 

“Mooi,” Joost murmurs, gazing intensely down at your form in his hands, putty in and between his fingers. “Look at you, hm?” 

You’ve done this so many times—watched as he’s fucked you, in the mirror or when you watch your bodies meeting, over and over again when he fucks into you, cock reaching your deepest parts. But today is something different, you can’t tell why, but it brings hot heat to your chest and cheeks, to see it so clearly. 

You can’t deny it—it’s you in that mirror, it’s you with your legs spread for him, it’s you. 

It’s Joost behind you, a mess of blonde hair, no glasses on today, his rough chin against your shoulder as he pets you slowly. 1982 exposing you, 1983 doing the rest of the work. 

“Als een mooie bloem, mijn lief,” he murmurs, two fingers spreading your lips, another rubbing your clit so gingerly you want to swear at him to go faster, harder, but you know he’ll just do the opposite of your wishes in this mood he’s in. 

“A flower?” you breathe out, and Joost smiles at you in the reflection. Still though, you know your words aren’t what he wants at the moment. 

“Pretty flower,” he says, and the smile is gone. 

The sound—the sound of his fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit, the wetness from your pussy all he needs to do so, not spit or lube or anything else. Just the slickness of the back and forth of his hands on you. 

The rain beats down on your roof, louder now, the backdrop for those filthy sounds coming from you. “You’re still so quiet, I think the mic will capture the rain more than you,” he mumbles into your neck, kissing and nipping at it. ”The quieter you are, the longer we have to do this.” 

“Is that really an issue?” you say, labored through the consistent circles of your clit. You turn away, looking at the side of his face—“Ah, my god,” you whisper, moaning softly as he brings his hand up to your nipple, rolling it between his fingers and kneading your breast. 

“Not really, but I question how much you can take.” 

“I can take a lot, you know that.” 

“If you can take a lot—why are you looking away?” 

He moves your chin gently so you're looking at yourself in the mirror again, and he’s looking at you so intently, pupils so blown out you'd almost think his irises were black. You look down at your pussy to avoid how burning his gaze is; watch as he pets at your entrance, and slides his two middle fingers inside, the stretch warm and all you’ve needed the past several minutes. 

Still you hold it back, chomping down on your bottom lip not to let any sound close to a real moan out—you’ve made the rules for yourself: not loud enough to be usable, the least amount of sounds possible, and the biggest one, proving to be the hardest as he continues…don’t say “Joost.” 

When Joost starts curling his fingers inside of you, pace slow as ever and he grinds the heel of his hand against your clit—you have to stifle a whimper, both at the sound, and the appearance of it, his fingers disappeared inside of you. “You’re really going to do this, lieverd?”

“I never said I’d make getting your song easy.” 

“I like a challenge.” Joost gives you a kiss to your temple and you smile even as he ceases his fingers moving.  “That's why you’re my girlfriend.” 

“Hey,” you giggle, and then stop giggling when he moves his fingers faster and it makes a truly blushworthy squelching noise come from inside you. He does it again—why would he stop, seeing the way your face screws up in pleasure in the mirror at the pads of his fingers on your g-spot? 

For some reason, you expected him to be nice about it, let you have a little break—but two can play this game, you know that well. 

Your wetness is louder than even the rain, his rhythm making the sound almost incessant. “Do you think we could make that the beat?” he thinks out loud and you give him a bewildered expression.

“You…no. One day I’ll understand your thought processes.”

“What do you mean? You already do.” 

You never realized how loud it could be to do any of this. Can people hear you so clearly all the time? Your neighbours, your roommates, strangers. 

The countless times you’ve fucked in backstage dressing rooms, club bathrooms, the backyard—this is what it sounds like? There is no mistaking it. On the audio recording, it’ll be even clearer. Your voice, high pitched and breathy. Joost’s voice, deep and low and rumbling against your neck. 

“How many people do you think, schat? How many have heard us?…I think they would like it, how it sounds when I’m inside you.” You shake your head, heat rushing to your cheeks and the tension in your chest rising at the same time at his words. 

“You're so wet, my baby, and this is only the beginning—what about when you cum? How loud do you think you are then? What will my fans think when they hear this, hm?” 

“Jo—mmm, fuck,” you sigh, stopping yourself from saying his name. 

This shame and arousal growing inside of you—they’re like two sides of the same coin for you, and they accompany that tightening in your stomach, so close to cumming. The impish and petulant devil on your shoulder tells you not to do it so quickly, not to let Joost get what he wants after you agreed so eagerly to this entire thing.  

You screw your face up, thinking of… paperwork and saying bye to Joost at the airport and sad kittens in animal shelters—you have never actively avoided an orgasm in your life, but this is working quite well, and it seems to be obvious. 

“Schat, are you serious right now?” You open your eyes to see yourself and Joost behind you, his lips a straight line, no amusement to be found on his normally jovial face. “What are you doing?” 

“Being a challenge, I thought you knew,” you say, voice more wavering than strong—your eyebrows furrow, a sheen of sweat on your forehead as Joost continues crooking his fingers right into your g-spot. Almost immediately, you lose your focus on keeping your climax away, melting into the pleasure of his thick fingers fucking you open. 

“Say my name, baby, that’s all I want from you.” 

“No,” you say softly, turning your head and resting it back on his shoulder—he knows what you want, and he can’t resist you. “Please?”

Joost looks at you, blue eyes so warm you almost think he’ll give you what you’re asking—a kiss, his lips on yours, but he only gets so close that your noses brush, that all you can do is breathe into his mouth and hope he gets closer. 

You try to adjust yourself, but he holds you in place with his forearms, still thrusting his fingers inside of you, your face contorting in pleasure with every single move he makes closer and closer to your face, tipping you right over the edge, right where your climax is and then—

Nothing. 

As quickly as he moved them, Joost takes his fingers out of you, resting them wet on your thigh as you tense with what you thought was going to be an orgasm, a tidal wave of bliss flowing through you. In reality, the waves subside quicker than usual without him fucking you through it, and the sensation is ruined—almost completely.

Pathetically, you let out a whimper, can’t even let out the moan or the gasp of his name he wants so badly, that’s how miserable it feels. Joost’s never done that with you before—he’s always gotten you to the peak and rode down with you through it, kissing and licking and petting you through it and even past that point, mischievous and pushing your buttons when you swear at him to give you a break from all the bliss. 

“Joost,” you pout, eyebrows furrowed and mouth downturned. “Fuck you.” 

“Fuck me? You weren’t doing what I wanted, schat, why should you get a good one out of that?” Joost scoffs, and though he doesn’t seem too serious, breathing heavily against your back with you, you can’t help but feel like you did something so wrong. “You’re playing too much.”

It makes sense now—he asked you for one thing—one thing. 

Wasn’t much to ask, either. Microphone and equipment straight from his yet to be unpacked suitcase. Joost’s one reprieve from album mode until he’d take the train back for him and Tantu to do a final once over on every single track. This stage in the process takes weeks, sometimes even months—pushing too many buttons on the control panel, their soundboards and computers and plans all prodded and poked and pushed to the limit until the project is the amalgamation of their creative vision and perfection.

This time, you pushed too many buttons; through all of this, you’ve forgotten that Joost has been at home less than 24 hours, that the train ride from Berlin to Amsterdam was 6 hours long with no stops, no wi-fi, no you to soothe his worries, only album preparations far past his self-imposed deadlines and his own thoughts. 

You’re both workaholics—it’s why you get along so well, but it means that you know better than anyone that the last thing you’d want to be after so long is annoyed, and annoyed on purpose at that. 

When he’s as petulant as you’ve been so far, you know that you can get annoyed as well, asking him to just—stop. And he does, but you couldn’t do that for him. Joost has gotten frustrated with you before, sure, it happens enough that you’re not so affected by it anymore. 

But he’s never been so frustrated before that he’s ruined your orgasm. For some reason, the expression on Joost’s face, the heat of the moment, the dull pulse between your legs at both your immense need for him and the emptiness you feel at such a clipped climax has you emotional and overanalyzing the last half hour, every bratty quip of yours, every response from him. 

“I’m really sorry, I know you had a long few days, I shouldn’t have—” Water lines your eyes, and you try to blink it away when you ask in a weak voice, “Are you mad at me?” You feel terrible. Embarrassed. 

Joost meets your eyes in the mirror, eyes widening in surprise at your emotions strung so tight; you break, a tear running down your cheek which you quickly wipe away because you feel like you're making a big deal out of things and it’s just—aghhh!!!!

“No, my baby, of course not,” he smiles, face sympathetic, lips pouting at his baby being so emotional. Such a reaction would usually make you roll your eyes at him, but he’s so sweet, you have to nuzzle closer to him. “Come here,” he says, wrapping his arms around you and letting you curl up in his lap. “You’re so cute, mijn schat,” he coos, giving you a wet kiss on the cheek as he hugs you tight. 

Joost is so kind to you, it makes you feel a bit silly—not in a bad way, just one where you’d never think you’d be sitting on his lap, naked, being comforted about having your orgasm ruined by him. Almost five years of this kindness, you’re not sure you’ll ever be used to it. 

“I just got a little frustrated that’s all, none of it was serious, okay? I thought it would be a little fun for us to try something new like that, but I should’ve talked about it with you before—I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” you say, wiping your eyes a little. “Just don’t look so serious next time, I really thought you were angry.” 

“I got too in the moment, I guess.” Joost moves your hair aside and kisses you on the lips, tender and sweet. “I’ll make up for it, I promise you.” 

With that, you nod, letting him kiss you, letting him suck your lower lip in his mouth and then lick into yours, touch so devastatingly slow it almost makes you whine again with anticipation. Joost places a gentle hand over your throat, giving it a small squeeze, and he laughs when you moan, quiet and stifled into his mouth at the pressure. “You know, you’re very pretty when you’re desperate,” he says softly when he pulls away, and your cheeks burn. 

“I could say the same about you, Joosti.” He noses at the side of your face, and you melt at the feeling of his skin on yours. “Am I not pretty all the time?” you tease, and he rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t start, schatje. Gorgeous, beautiful angel—is that what you want me to say? Lie down and hold your legs back.” 

Quickly, you get off of him and lie back down on the bed on your mountain of pillows, and he takes his place sitting between your legs, wet fingers running through your folds as he takes a look at you, all of you. “Aren’t you pretty?” 

He takes your left hand, kisses your palm then your fingers, then he places it firmly on the back of your left knee. He does the same for your right side, then lies in between your open legs, staring, examining. One finger down your slit, collecting your wetness on the tip—Joost leaves a bite on the meat of your ass, trailing kisses all the way until he kisses over your entrance, over your clit. 

You breathe heavily with anticipation, but still, you find it in you to tease. “Doing a lot of silent things for an audio recording, Joosti.” 

“Not silent—all of it is important, every second.” He shakes his head to 

“Defeats the whole purpose of the audio? Doesn't it?” You smile, flexing your ankles, feeling your muscles stretch as Joost teases your clit with his index finger, makes you open your legs wider. “The whole point is to record how good you make me feel, right?” 

“You want to be silent so badly for me, you want to play around so much—why are you calling me out for it? That I want us to have fun?” Joost rolls his eyes, but then smiles at you, trying to soothe the burn. “I like when you play,” he murmurs, then spits on your pussy, making you full body shiver when you do. “Play even more, let’s make this recording go hours.”

“And I’ll cum all I want?” 

“Careful what you wish for.” Joost rubs the spit over your bud, spreading you with two fingers and petting at it with another. “Als een prinses, schatje. Spoiled.” 

“Spoiled,” you mock, and he shakes his head at you, grinning. 

You probably shouldn’t rile Joost up so much—it’s too late for you to save yourself when he dives in, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking hard. The spit and silky softness of his tongue make you keen, how good it feels to have him on you, his lips sucking so much, so good, so wet. 

The slide of Joost’s finger inside of you surprises you, how gently he pets against your spot internally as he laps at your pussy; you sigh, having to close your mouth on purpose to not make any sound. He sucks your clit between his lips, tightening, loosening, several seconds passing as he continues the pattern, making you groan with the feeling of him eating you out so well. It’s too much; you cry out when it hits what feels like 10 minutes with his tongue on you, but is really only 20 seconds at most. 

Too much, so good—bucking your hips up, you squirm, futile against his strong hands holding you down by the backs of your knees folded almost to your chest as he drinks you in, the wet sound of his mouth smacking against you so humiliatingly wonderful you could cry. How are you supposed to stay silent now? 

“I’ll never get enough of this, lieverd,” he says before diving back in, lips wrapped around your clit as you moan out at the suction, whining as you hold onto his arms for support, because pushing against him is no use—either way, who are you kidding? The last thing you want is for him to stop, especially after that first “orgasm”. Completely breathless, you stop trying, tired hips back on the damp bed sheets. 

“Good girl, baby,” Joost praises at your defeat, your finally being subdued. The nickname makes you shudder, arousal pooling deep in your stomach, and you squeeze at his arms for some sort of comfort in response. 

Joost nips at the thin and sensitive skin of your inner thigh and it makes you yelp, then he comes back and licks through you again, fucking his tongue inside of you. 

There’s no sense of organization or pattern anymore with what he’s trying to do—he’s lost it. He’s lost it. 

Your climax hits you like a freight train, your stomach and thigh muscles spasming, any control you had—lost. “Mmmf…fuck!” you exclaim, throwing your head back on your pillows as Joost keeps sucking your clit through your orgasm, white on the edges of your vision at how intense he’s doing it. “Ugh… shit!” you cry, panting out when he keeps going.

“It’s only a matter of time until you give me what I want, schatje,” he says in a quiet, sing-song voice, then attaches himself back to you. Your clit is practically numb with pleasure now, and yet, the waves are rolling through you, erratic and wonderfully uncomfortable. 

You laugh out, tears at the edges of your eyes at how intense your nerves feel, how fried they are—“Joost, enough!” and he lets up off you. He sits back up and pouts at you, lips and cheeks wet with your arousal. 

“‘Jooooooost!!!’” He laments, cursing at the sky in jest, and you laugh at how dramatic he is. “The line is ‘Joost!!’ Lieverd! Joost!!!” he says his own name in a weird, breathy moan that you’re half sure really will make it to a final draft of a song of his. 

Holding yourself up, legs open and so wet between them, you purse your lips for a kiss, which Joost gives you. “You said we can make the recording go hours—I’m sure I’ll say it one of these times.” 

“Okay, I’m glad I say the recording can go long—I will need a minute.” As Joost pulls back, you tilt your head to the side; he sounds… strange. Embarrassed, almost, and his cheeks are pink, and he can’t look you in the eye anymore, completely different from your ravenous and intimidating boyfriend from 45 minutes ago.  “I think I came in my pants.” 

“You’re kidding,” you scoff, throwing your head back and laughing.

Joost gets back up off the bed, stands. “Do I look like I'm kidding?” he says, pointing down to the wet spot on his crotch—he must’ve ground against the bed too much, how cute. 

“You haven’t done that since we started dating,” you laugh, watching as he strips off his shorts and his underwear looks just as bad. 

“Well, I did it again. Your fault. This sucks.” Joost shimmies down his boxers, picking them up and throwing them in the hamper; it hangs on the rim, he’s already soft, and he looks at you so dejectedly, then at the ground. You start to say ‘aww’ —he’s so cute and pathetic this way, but he wags a finger at you, saying,  “Do not say ‘aww’ at my dick, you’re annoying,” and it makes you laugh harder until he’s laughing too, climbing on the bed and kissing you sweetly, pulling back only to take off his shirt and then immediately come back to you. 

Laying atop you, he wraps his lips around your nipple, pulling at it gently with his teeth as you wince in the pain and the pleasure. Joost lays his tongue flat against it, laps at it, switches to the other one. 

“I just love you,” he sighs, latching onto you again immediately after, and it makes you smile—insatiable, truly. 

A few moments of this—letting Joost lave over your skin, the stiff peaks of your breasts, sucking hickeys into the meat of them—and he’s ready to sit back against the headboard together. 

Your legs are open and his hand is between them in an instant, running his fingers along your skin. It feels strangely electric…not his fingers on you, but his arm against yours, the side of his sweat-sheened body against your hip, what it feels like to see “Thanks for today” on his collarbone and your name and lipstick mark tattooed on the other side of his neck forever. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by Joost’s voice—“Why aren’t you saying my name, hm?” he says, gazing at your lips, his nose brushing against yours. You press a chaste kiss to his chin as he circles your clit, spreading your wetness around with his fingers. “It’s mean. It is sinister, what you’re doing.” 

“You’re gonna have to work for it, I’m serious.” 

“I will work overtime, I’ll be just like you,” he smirks, and shuts you up when he attaches his lips to yours, slips his middle fingers inside of you, grinds the heel of his hand on your clit as you gasp into his mouth, let him move down and suck at your jaw, your pulse point. 

The concentration it takes not to lose it makes your eyebrows knit together. He murmurs, “Do you hear that, my love? Do you hear how wet I make you?” says it into your open and mewling mouth, the sound of it all—the squelch of your wetness at the behest of his fingers fucking your pussy. You’re beholden to him, and he enjoys it so much. The person you are at work and in life; normally so collected, preferring the comfortable quiet of your life together, now so bold to let him do this. 

“Wat een mooi geluid, mijn meisje. You have me under your spell—what will happen when everyone hears this? Your siren song, hm? Is that what you want? Everyone to know how good I make you feel?” 

The surprise on everyone’s faces that you could sound like this, all because of Joost—goofy, grinning, laughing Joost. Serious as ever about coaxing these sounds out of you as he kisses you slowly, tongue so languid on yours, tempting you, seducing you into giving him what he wants. 

You’re almost delirious, the bubbling of laughter rising in your body as you grip onto his arm, so big, three of Joost’s thick fingers nestled inside of you and curling against your spot, stroking it with no abandon. You’re stretched thin around him, squirming and twitching with the rising peak coming to a head in your body. 

He doesn’t even thrust his middle fingers in and out of you; only keeps them there, deep and to the knuckle inside of your pussy as he curls his fingers inside of you again and again, petting and petting and petting at the most sensitive part inside of you. At the same time, he circles your clit with his thumb—you could almost pass out with how good it feels, how hot you are in this room, rain beating on your roof, his mouth on yours and receiving every single moan and breath you put out. 

The only thing absent is a crackling fire and a bottle of wine to fit the mood, but you can’t really complain. 

“Happy?” he asks, smiling. 

“Joost,” you choke out, eyebrows furrowing as you gaze at him, then close your eyes, touching your forehead to his, clutching his bicep, the challenge to yourself not to say his name all but forgotten. 

“Yeah, baby?” Joost grins—in the pursuit of his craft, your boyfriend has turned evil. 

“I feel like…” you start, face screwed in pleasure, words stolen from you by his curling fingers, confused at this feeling inside of you you’ve never felt before. “I just feel…” 

“What is it, baby?” Joost teases, fucking into you, devilish. “Can you tell me? Can you use your words, like I’ve been asking you to?” 

“I’m gonna…” 

Burning hot and building up and up and up inside of you, in your stomach, in your chest, your tired thighs tensing the knot in your stomach tightens and tightens and tightens until it snaps, hard and fast; you don’t even realize the curses and almost chanting of his name tumbling out of your mouth as you look down and see—

Clear liquid runs down from your pussy, down your ass as you groan out, a punched out moan tumbling from your lips. The wet squelch around his still moving fingers even louder now—oh my god? There’s wetness beneath you now, a small laugh of disbelief coming from Joost as you gush all over his fingers and hand and writhe with your powerful climax, the bed under you wet, the comforter wet, everything wet, and all because of Joost. 

You whine and he nods, smiling at you. “Schatje…I didn’t think it would work…”

“Oh my god,” you whisper, half laughing and half embarrassed at the mess you’ve made, panting and completely out of breath. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?! Mijn schat, that’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, I think.” He takes his fingers out of you with a sound that makes you cringe, and holds his hand in the air, fingertips dripping with your wetness, shiny and slick. You had no idea you could even do that, let alone feel whatever white hot pleasure was ripping through you while you did, and you laugh at his amazement with your hands over your mouth. 

“We’ll have to change the sheets again,” you pout once you realize—you just changed them yesterday before he got here, and the other set of sheets is dirty. Ughhhhh. 

“I’ll wash the other sheets—I would change them a million times over if it meant you doing that again.”

“We’ll run out of sheets before that happens, Joost.” He hates changing the sheets, but he’s so desperate for it, obviously. 

“I’ll make new ones,” Joost says proudly, then kisses you. “Please don’t worry about the bed. I’ll take care of it, and to be honest, I would like you to mess it up even more.” Kiss on your lips. Your worries have melted away with it. “You were so good to me, yet I still didn’t get my song. Tell me, why is that, mijn schat? You want me to torture you for longer?” he says softly, kissing you on the lips. 

“It’s not torture,” you breathe out and Joost laughs. “I said your name, what more do you want from me?” 

“It’s not torture? Is that right?” he asks, and you nod, coming up to kiss him again,  “I want to be inside you, lieverd, that’s what I want.” 

Only now do you notice that he’s hard again—the same hand he used to finger you wrapped around his cock, your wetness his lubrication alongside the precum drooling from his tip. “That’s what you’ll get, then,” you say, sweet and smiling and so ready for it even after Joost has had his way with you for what feels like hours now. 

It’s your wetness that’s darkened Joost’s arm hair and the hair on his stomach; your wetness facilitating his sharp sighs as he pleasures himself to the sight of you, the thought of you, the sound of you. 

Beaming, Joost turns away to the side. “If it isn’t obvious to you, the audience,” he says into the microphone in a silly voice. “This is the first time I’ve made her squirt, and she still wants me so bad!! What the fuck!! I am sooo so lucky!!! What amazing sight, wow. Shoutout lieverd, for real!!” Your laugh is sure to be captured in the background, your small “Shoutout Joosti!” too. Joost turns back to you—”My one in a trillion, baby,” a kiss to your lips, your body being laid on the damp sheets again and your legs opening in response. 

“mijn_schatje_loml_voor_altijd_TANTUPLSDONOTLISTEN.mp3” has been running for 1 hour, 33 minutes, 8 seconds, 3 milliseconds—feels like so much longer. Joost lies between your legs again on his stomach, his cheek on your thigh, his calves in the air swinging and happy and him batting his eyelashes at you “innocently.” “Dickhead,” you laugh, knowing he wants to put his tongue on you again, and he laughs too. 

“Your favourite one, though, right?” 

“Yes, my favourite one.” You roll your eyes at his giggles but smile nonetheless at him. “I want you inside me, Joosti, don’t make me wait, please.” 

Joost holds up a finger—“One criticism—”

“Already?!” you exclaim. “What is it?” 

Joost gets up off of you and goes to the dresser to the side of your bed. You tilt your head in confusion—there isn’t much in there he could need for the rest of this, but he seems to be determined. “I think it’s the cutest thing when you call me Joosti and I never want you to stop doing that,” he starts, rummaging through the drawer. “But I think for the sake of the song, or your part in it, it would be better if you just said ‘Joost.’ Can you do that?” 

“I can do that, Joost,” you tease, your perfectionist musician of a boyfriend coming out in full force. 

“Good, good, schat. Now can you say it while I’m using this on you?” 

Joost turns around holding…Ole Reliable, the name you both call a taupe vibrating wand that was your best friend before you two started dating, is your best friend when he’s gone for longer than a month or two and your fingers aren’t enough when you two are FaceTiming…to Joost’s absolute displeasure. When he’s home, it hides in your underwear drawer—but trust, he knows where it is. 

“Be serious, Joost,” you laugh in disbelief. There’s no way that Ole Reliable will be part of this with how much lighthearted vitriol Joost has treated it in the past, calling it his “mortal enemy,” his “biggest competition.” This isn’t real. 

“It takes you like, 3 hours to cum after I’ve made you cum so many times, this will help,” he shrugs, and he’s right. You’re so overstimulated at this point that he’d have to fuck you for longer to get you over the edge, but the vibrator is a bit overkill—it’s powerful, and you’ve made your own legs shake with it countless times, with or without Joost. 

“I think I’ll end up…squirting—ew, I hate that word—even more if you use it.”

“It’s not so bad of a word, mijn schat. And either way—bed is already dirty. Why not go all out so we don’t have to clean up again?” 

Joost makes a good point, and you know he’ll want to see more of your newfound ability later on—minimizing the cleanup later sounds good, so you lie back, open your legs, run your fingers through your wet folds as his eyes widen at your eagerness. “Let’s go all out,” you giggle and he flops on top of you, exclaiming, “Yayyyyy!!!” 

It’s slow, the way he hooks your legs over his thighs, long presses the button of the vibrator, presses it again once so it turns on completely, and then recoils in surprise when he presses the largest button again and again. “Whaaattt the fuck, I didn’t know there were so many patterns in it. That is crazy. You use this?! What is ‘thumping feature.’ There are so many buttons. What…” Joost looks at it in wonder, the vibrations sure to be going through his entire forearm—that thing is strong, and you know it. 

“There are only 2 buttons, Joost.”

“That is a lot to me.”

Cycling it back to the lowest, most tame setting, he places the head on your clit, gentle; you hiss at the waves coming through you, even at the lowest rate it could possibly go. “Do you like that, baby?” he asks, voice low, other hand coming down to slip a finger in your pussy. “You look like you love it.” 

Nodding, Joost takes your hand and wraps it around the handle of the wand, and you hold it against yourself as he jerks his cock between your legs, enveloping the warm head of it in your entrance. It slips in so nice—you’ve been ready for it for hours now, you'd be surprised if it didn’t just slide in. Your eyes roll back, the back of your head hitting the wire frame of your bed, the vibrations coursing through you and his big cock parting your slit. 

“Oh, fuckkk, schat,” Joost moans as he sinks into your soaking wet pussy. “So fucking wet, baby, you feel so good.” 

Breathless, you nod, as Joost glides right in; he’s thick, but you're so wet. Three orgasms and counting for you, it’s so easy now. Angling the vibrator, you move it so you can see it all—how messy it is when he pulls his hips back to adjust how he’s thrusting into you, his pubes and happy trail wet with your juices, the hair on his thighs wet as well. What a mess you’ve made. 

“Oh my god—“ he says, rolling his neck back in pleasure once he finally bottoms out inside of you, the wand pressed against his pelvis just as much as it’s pressed against yours.  Joost bites his lip, shaking his head. Not so much of a mortal enemy, after all, is it? “How do I compete with this thing…” 

“This thing could never be you, Joost,” you breathe, and it’s true. So tired, so happy, you’re a little emotional about it for some reason. 

How he holds you so warm and safe and tight, always, never a question on if he wants and loves you—he always does and always will. In bed together like this, sheltered from the rain in your home together, your cats scratching at the door and a whole life ahead of you; on the train giggling with each other about the middle-aged and elderly side-eyeing his barking and boisterous laughter; in club bathrooms and snow covered curbs and swimming pools in your backyard and the couch downstairs. 

The rest of the world should be envious about what you have, who you hold. Joost, this house, that audio recording, and you, forever. 

“Hehe!” Joost leans over to the microphone and gloats into it, “Me—1! Vibrator—zeroooo! Hahahahah!” 

You laugh—and this, forever. You could never trade this in. 

Pulling Joost in, you kiss him sweet and slow, little thrusts of him inside of you as he moans into your mouth incessantly, every breath of his a whimper, it must feel so good—buried balls deep in your pussy, vibrator against your clit and pressed against the few centimeters of shaft that can’t fit in you when he begins thrusting inside of you sloppily, the hollow clap of his hips against you filthy as you moan out his name against the humming backdrop of the toy you're using together. 

Every nerve in your body winds itself tight around the coil in your stomach as he fucks into you, a smooth and steady rhythm that makes you lose yourself, trying to wrap yourself around him, wanting to devour him whole, wanting to make it so it’s just you and him and no one else in the world, no one outside these walls, no one else. With Joost breathing into your mouth, his sweaty bangs tickling your forehead, the taste of his tongue on yours—there might as well be no one on this earth except you and him. 

“I can't do it, Joost, it’s too much,” you whine as he keeps driving into you—god, you want it so badly, but three and a half orgasms later and you’re entirely spent, letting him do all the work as you moan loudly, no control over yourself or your body. The vibrator is pressed flush against your clit and gets you to the precipice faster than you’d like right now. 

“You can do it, baby,” he coos, and you know there’s no way to get out of this. Either way, you wouldn’t want to, legs wrapped around him, the buzzing of the vibrator such music to your ears, the feeling of his cock driving into you and Joost, a warm and heavy and perfect weight atop you. As you claw at his shoulders, his back, he holds you open with his strong hands, your squirming no match for his strength with every deep seat of his cock inside of you. “I know you can, you can do it.” 

When he says it, you believe it; you have to bite and suck at his neck in order to focus on keeping it together long enough for him to cum, apologizing to Lola in your head at your treatment of her, how she’ll be blooming purple and red by the time the sun rises tomorrow. Joost ruts into you, pressing the vibrator hard to your clit and it’s so…it’s so much, the mattress squeaks with how spirited his hips are against you, loud slaps of skin against skin and your name, his name, intertwined on this wavelength, on this track for everyone to hear. 

“Joost…fuck, Joost!” you cry out again and again, tears coming to your eyes with how hard and fast your orgasm rips through you, repeating Joost’s name like a prayer, an oath, gushing around him and too fucked out to kiss back properly when he licks into your mouth, grounding you back to this bed even as you sob out in pleasure, fat tears rolling down your cheeks at how amazing he’s making you feel. “I love you,” you breathe, blissed and fucked out tears streaming down your cheeks at how good it feels, all open and airy. 

“Why are you all sappy, baby? ‘Cause I’m fucking you so well?” Joost teases, pressing wet kisses to your tear stained cheeks, your mouth bitten red with his nips, his kisses all throughout this. 

“Yes, I love you, Joost,” you sniffle, wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing him closer even if it means the vibrator gets pushed even harder against your aching clit. 

He laughs, continuing his feverish thrusting as he finally gives you the kiss you want. “I love you too, mijn hart.” 

You don’t notice him fumbling around on the side table as he kisses you, bringing the wired earphone from the nightstand back to your ear, your eyes widening in surprise. 

“Do you hear that, mijn schat?” The feedback, his voice, doubled and almost echoing as you hear it in real life and it plays out in your ears, delayed. You have to try and dampen the rest of your senses to focus on what you’re hearing. The slopping of his hips against your ass, the low pitched vibrations of the wand, his voice. 

Joost’s voice that distracts you until you’re snapped out of it by him pulling out, stroking his cock and panting heavily, cheeks and chest and neck pink with exertion, skin shining with sweat. “What are you doing?” you mumble. 

“You’ve already done so much, schat,” Joost breathes, and you shake your head, looking up at him through wet eyelashes. 

“Finish what we started, I want it all.” 

Obediently, Joost nods, inching himself back inside you again; it sounds so wet in your ears, the microphone capturing every gritty detail, every squelch of yours and his. 

“Schat, I wanna…fuck, I wanna cum inside you so bad,” he whines, erratic thrusting with every word, losing it again, losing the practiced, methodical musician that you know so well. Even with his whining, his voice is deep, needy, chanting your name like you moaned his. “Wanna…fuck, I wanna fuck it in you ‘til it takes, I want everyone to hear it, see it, know you’re mine…mine, mine, mine…”

“Yeah, baby?” you smile, his cheek laid against your tits as he grinds against you, then goes back for long, deep strokes inside of you. Joost groans so loud against your skin, spit and sweat on the softness of your breasts; so overwhelmed, he takes your nipple in his mouth and sucks, nipping at you through his own orgasm, stuttering his hips into your pussy.

Warm ribbons of Joost’s cum paint your insides and fill you up so well, your moans finally joining his as he comes down from his high, moaning and sobbing out your name, lieverd, schat, collapsing on your chest and heaving for his breath again as you catch yours once more, satisfied with your recording together. 

“That a good enough song for you, Joost?” you smile, eyes already closing with the bliss of such a good recording session together. 

“Dutch Grammy worthy, mijn meisje,” Joost breathes, and you laugh as he reaches to the side and shuts his laptop, ending your recording. “How about another recording session later?” 

—

A month later and you’re carrying a paper bag of takeout from a few blocks down, earphones blasting a new demo from Joost and Tantu, using the spare key under Tantu’s doormat to get into his apartment from the cold. You set down the bag on the counter of his tiny kitchen, place the key back under the doormat, get three bowls together to split the takeout between, get utensils and glasses of water and what have you before you enter the bedroom studio. 

The takeout fights you tooth and nail; cheap food spilling everywhere, oil and sauce and vegetables on the counter and the rims of the bowls that you have to wipe up with the one (1. ONE!) paper towel left on the roll in the kitchen. Is this what happens when Ruby isn’t in town and they’re in album mode? You figure it must.  

You manage to wrestle it all together precariously, using every square centimeter of the one paper towel you have in your arsenal before picking up all three bowls—two of them nestled in your left arm, one of them held in your right hand. 

The door to the bedroom is closed shut—your arms are full, and you spend a few moments fussing about how to get in without having to go back into the kitchen and set down the food, but you hear Tantu and Joost’s muffled voices through the door. 

“Oh my god, I shouldn’t have skipped ahead—“

“You should've never played it, Tantu!”

“Well, you shouldn’t have kept it on your desktop for anyone to see! With my name on it!” 

You tilt your head in confusion, and then knock on the door with your foot; in an instant, Tantu opens it for you, and you hear, loud and clear: “I wanna fuck it in you ‘til it takes, I w—” before Joost slams the laptop shut and says, “Baby, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I—”

2 fics in a few weeks!! lfg!!! i hope you enjoyed!! <3 thank you so much for reading! likes, comments, reblogs always so so appreciated <3 : ) they keep me writing!! askbox anon on hereeee - juno

[shy-writer-999]

Giving Zoro a hand when he’s injured (#2)

WARNING: MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

A/N: P0rn with plot! ~5.9k words. Continuation of PT 1. Mutual pining, angst, fluff, and smut. Injured Zoro gives (afab) reader a hand this time... Or a tongue (oral sex, f. receiving). I inserted an asterisk (*) where the smut starts, so feel free to skip the plot! ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧˚

Giving Zoro A Hand When He's Injured (Pt. II)

The day after you had “given Zoro a hand,” aka, a hand job, Chopper was feeling well enough to take over your nursing duties. If you were being honest with yourself, you were disappointed. You’d miss Zoro’s feigned crankiness, you’d miss seeing him blush, and you’d also miss being able to touch his chest and arms every time you’d change his ice packs (among other things…). Caring for him for those five days was eye-opening—Zoro seemed to actually have a soft side. Or at least, you thought you saw a glimpse of it.

Coupled with your disappointment at not having an excuse to be close to him, you were tickled when you remembered how vulnerable he was with you. Zoro had been so forthright and sweet with you during the whole endeavor, and to top it off, he had admitted how badly he needed you. The last time you saw him, he was practically begging you to fuck him. Remembering how he moaned your name made your heart skip a beat.

It’s safe to say that Zoro felt the same way. He cursed himself for how much he liked you, and because of that he was second guessing your interactions. As he sat in his room bored, and when he was given the green light to walk around deck a couple days later, his internal dialogue was running haywire. He couldn’t figure out what to do with his feelings, and whether or not you reciprocated them. It’s peculiar, how flustered and timid he was with these things. You’d think he’d be strong and confident in this area, given that he was THE Roronoa Zoro, but he was quite the opposite. Because he was preoccupied with strength, with training, and with being the best swordsman the world has never known, he neglected his softer side when it came to women and emotions in general. And he wasn’t the most experienced, obviously.

Even after you had cared for him so tenderly, even after you were so close with him, moaned his name, had your hands wrapped around his cock, and kissed him passionately—Zoro was oblivious to your (very obvious) feelings towards him. He knew three things. First, that he was painfully infatuated, borderline in love with you. Second, that he wanted you to touch him again. And third, that he had to do something about it.

The problem was that he didn’t have a clue what to do about it. And he was doubting himself. He hadn’t seen you for two whole days after Chopper took over for you, and on the third day Chopper gave him the green light to roam around deck and do some light lifting.

How would he go about initiating something with you? What would the moment be like when he first saw you after all that had transpired? Should he just grab you and pull you into a kiss? Tentatively broach the subject? Pretend it never happened? Zoro was at a loss.

The first time he saw you since you helped him “relieve” some stress, he froze. It was at the dinner table and he had gotten himself a plate of food and sat down, not paying attention to anything going on in the loud room or raucous antics. He was scarfing down his food when he felt something. To be more specific, he could feel someone staring at him.

He paused and did a comedically slow look up. You were across the table from him, looking at him, and he hadn’t noticed you. He almost choked on his food. When his eyes met yours, he immediately looked away, on instinct. It was like he couldn’t bear to look at you.

“Hey, Zoro.” You casually addressed him, acting like you usually would have. To your eyes, he did seem to be acting a slightly different—he seemed pissed, honestly—but you figured that some awkwardness would be normal at first, given that the last time you saw him he came all over your hand. “How’s the shoulder and thigh holding up?”

He cleared his throat and looked back at you. His eyes were always intense and it made you squirm. It was hard to hold eye contact with him. He just looked so pissed off all the time and his gaze was, without fail, cold and deadpan.

Zoro, on the other hand, could feel blush starting to creep up his neck, threatening to take over his whole face, but he tried to fight it off as best he could. Just act normal, he told himself internally. Just act normal. Nothing weird happened. She said it didn’t have to be weird at all. But you’re acting weird. He started to argue with himself. Well, stop it, damnit!

“It’s uhh—it’s fine.” He shrugged, nonchalant. You had no way of knowing what was going on in his head. As much as you liked him, as much as you had hoped that what happened a few nights ago would have changed everything, your heart faltered. It felt like it didn’t change anything between you at all. Even though you gave him such a passionate kiss at the end, even though you said that you’d ‘have to try his cum next time’ (or something like that), even though he’d moaned your name… did Zoro really not care about it at all? Was it merely a one-time fluke, explained by how desperate he had been after days of not masturbating? His eyes seemed to suggest that this must have been the case. You thought that you would have seen something there, some small residual of the fire that had burned so brightly in him nights before but… his eyes were cold and uncaring. Your heart sank.

The rest of the crew were laughing about something and eating, so you thought the interaction between you and Zoro would go unnoticed. You would finish your food and go back to your room to be emo about it for a little while before emerging again. But, as always, Sanji had something to say.

“Hey IDIOT!” his voice cut the silence between you and Zoro. “Don’t you think you should be more grateful for having such a gorgeous babe as your nurse!? I ought to rip my shoulder next so I get to hang out with you for five whole days, beautiful~~” Sanji came over and kissed your hand, and you let out a laugh, embarrassed.

“Oh, stop it, Sanji!” You giggled. No matter how many times Sanji praised you, you didn’t know how to respond.

“My love~ can I make anything else for you?” Sanji’s signature tone was over the top and lovey-dovey. “I’ll make anything you want!”

“No, no, Sanji, I’m good. But thank you!” You waved him off with a smile and he blew you a kiss. By the time your short interaction was done, you turned back to Zoro and his seat was empty. He was washing his plate in the kitchen sink. He set it on the drying rack and walked back to his room. His abrupt exit stung. He really didn’t give a fuck at all, you told yourself, trying to fight back the pit growing at the bottom of your stomach. Now you definitely were going to be emo in your room. It was impossible not to read into that more. You didn’t see him for the rest of the night.

You felt rejected, like that sweetness you had seen from Zoro was a lie, like maybe he didn’t actually have interest in you, like you were getting your hopes up for nothing. After all, the only reason anything happened between you two was because he was in pain and couldn’t do it himself. You tried to reason the hurt away—you were just being a good friend, you told him it didn’t have to be weird or anything, you were the one who leaned up to kiss him, not the other way around. From this angle, it looked like Zoro was repulsed by you, evidenced by his own actions. He must have been disgusted by the whole thing—why else would he practically jump out of his seat as soon as possible?

Maybe him moaning your name was only a heat-of-the-moment thing, maybe the fact that you touched yourself in front of him made him disgusted, maybe you crossed a line. You were feeling all mixed up inside, sad, frustrated, emotionally unregulated, sick to your stomach. You liked him so, so much, and the painful realization that he didn’t think anything of it made you feel like absolute shit.

Well, it turns out that Zoro thought a lot about it. He was just emotionally repressed, or at least he was when it came to you. He didn’t know what to do with himself after he saw you at dinner, he felt like he needed get away from you as soon as possible, or else he was going to say something off-putting and weird or make himself look like a love-sick fool (and he definitely was one). He almost turned bright red when he realized you were in front of him; he almost lost his cool, hell, he almost choked!

Sanji speaking to you with such ease and such affection was the cherry on top. The shit cook could talk to you however he pleased, and it didn’t matter to anyone, but underneath the surface Zoro was seething with jealousy. He walked away from dinner so fucking annoyed at himself for not having anything else to say to you, so fucking annoyed at himself for not being nicer to you. His heart was screaming that he wanted to be the one who called you baby, sweetie, darling, and gorgeous. He wanted to be the one kissing your hand. But the shit cook got to do whatever he wanted, because Zoro couldn’t muster the strength or courage to get rejected. So, he shot himself in the foot, making you feel horrible and making himself feel horrible—two birds with one stone.

---

The next day Zoro was feeling a lot better. He could tell his shoulder was close to being fully healed, but it would be a couple more days until he could get back to working out, on account of his thigh. He felt better mentally, too. Sleep helped him process things; his emotions felt more worked out after a solid night of sleep. He was less annoyed with himself and had stopped spewing vitriol at himself. He was feeling clear-headed—if he saw you again, he would say thank you and not run away like last time. He was hyping himself up to do it, and his internal monologue along the lines of: Just say thank you, and move along, like a normal person. You don’t have to say ANYTHING about the handjob. Just say thank you, it’s simple! She can interpret that any way that she wants, and it isn’t objectively creepy. It’ll be fiiiiinnnneeee.

While Zoro felt better when he woke up, you felt worse when you woke up. Your eyes were red from crying. Something about that interaction with him broke your heart and got to you, so you couldn’t help it. When you had to walk past him in the hallway in the morning, you just pretended like he wasn’t there, acting like you were doing something on your phone. You wanted to disappear walking past him, cringing out of your skin. You usually would smile at him or say “Hi, Zoro!” but you kept it to yourself this morning, heart still stinging from the slight yesterday. He obviously wanted nothing to do with you.

Zoro made a mental note of you ignoring him and he almost didn’t follow through with his plans. If you weren’t saying hi or good morning to him, then something was definitely off between you two. This was a little moment that he looked forward to every day. Today had been the only day that you hadn’t greeted him in the morning since you joined the crew. It was out of character, and it worried him. But he told himself that he was going to thank you no matter what. No matter how shy or awkward he felt about it, he thought you deserved a thank you because you had been his nurse for five whole days, and more than that, you had helped him get off when he was so pathetic and desperate for it.

You rounded the corner of the hallway after passing Zoro. You thought you were in the clear, putting your phone in your pocket. Phew. That didn’t feel great, but it would have felt worse to say good morning to him and get ignored.

“Hey—Y/N?” Your heart stopped. It was Zoro. He must have speed walked down the hallway to catch up to you. You spun around to face him and he almost ran into you. He overestimated how fast you were going and when you turned around he was about three inches away from you, uncomfortably close. You were almost touching. A second passed before you both turned red and jumped a couple feet apart.

“Zoro, you scared me!” You faked annoyance hoping that it would distract from the vivid shade your face was quickly turning.

“Sorry, Y/N,” he replied, rubbing his neck in embarrassment, his cheeks flushing pink. “I-I just wanted to say thank you. For taking care of me. I really appreciate it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Oh! Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t so bad.” You offered him a smile, to which his heart twisted and butterflies fluttered. A feeling of relief crept over him at seeing you beaming at him like you always did—like he looked forward to every morning.

He had planned on saying thanks and hadn’t thought about what he would do after that. Now that his plan was executed, he was stumped—what would he do now? His heart told him that any time he spent around you was a treasure; but he didn’t have any idea on what to say, or how to rope you into spending more time with him. He didn’t know how to completely and gracefully express his gratitude without outright saying “Thanks for giving me a hand job!” And he was trying to avoid that.

He blurted out his next words. “Well, uh… Thanks. I guess I’ll see you around deck.” You smiled again and he turned the other way and shuffled off. He was dying inside. Cringing so hard that he wanted to slap himself. You’re a grade A FOOL, he reprimanded himself. What the fuck was that? ‘See you around deck’? Are you fucking twelve? That was so awkward, holy shit. I always see her around deck. Where the hell did that come from? He cringed again. He needed to disappear ASAP. He felt so awkward, like he fumbled the whole interaction. He was being hard on himself for no reason, because you thought nothing of it. You were simply tickled that he showed you some kindness, that he wasn’t as disgusted or creeped out by you as you thought earlier.

You did see him around deck later that day, much to your mutual delight. You gave him a wave and he smiled back at you. Usually, he would do some kind of head nod thingy, bringing his chin up quickly and back down, as a sort of acknowledgement. But this time he had given you a genuine smile. His lips curled into the sweetest smile you’d ever seen, and your heart skipped a beat again. It was crazy how much you liked him.

---

At dinner that night Zoro sat across from you, deliberately. He always tried to sit near you. It was the only time of day he could be that close to you, normally, and he would take any time he could get, but he rarely interacted with you at dinner. He’d spend more time bickering with Sanji, Luffy, and Usopp more than anyone, and he’d laugh a lot too. Especially if he had some sake, which was frequently.

When he sat down, you gave him another one of your smiles. “Hi Zoro,” you chirped. “How’s your shoulder? Is your thigh doing okay?” His shoulder was still covered with bandages, peeking out from under the t-shirt he was wearing, and he was still slightly limping from the huge gash on his thigh.

“Both are doing a lot better. Chopper said I can lift weights that are a bit heavier now.” His tone was gruff, and he was focused on his food, not looking at you.

“Nice!”

“How was your day?” He asked, looking up from his plate into your eyes. His eyes were as steely as ever but… they looked different. You couldn’t quite place a finger on it.

Asking as simple a question like that was not how Zoro historically interacted with you. In fact, you’re not sure he had asked something like that before. You two were friendly, you were crewmates, after all. But you didn’t talk or hang out much, one on one. Or at least, you hadn’t since you nursed him for five days (and helped him get off).

“It was good,” you answered him. “I didn’t do much, honestly. Just sort of lazed around.”

“Me too.” Zoro held eye contact with you for slightly longer than usual—his eyes lingered. He steadied himself mentally before he asked you his next question, cringing in advance, figuring you’d shrug him off. But he was dying to know the answer. He needed to talk to you.

“I’m going to have some sake on the deck after this, do you want to join?” His eyes were still locked on yours and butterflies stirred in your stomach. You realized what emotion lied behind his eyes—he seemed to be pleading. This was out of left field for Zoro.

“Sure, that sounds nice.” You responded, face feeling warmer. You were flabbergasted, caught unaware.

“Well, I’m done with dinner, so when you finish just find me on deck.” He nodded at you, offered a small smile, and got up. He went to wash his plate, grabbed a couple bottles of sake, and went outside.

---

When you went looking for him, Zoro was sitting on the upper deck with a bottle already cracked open. He was looking off into the ocean, and you took a second to take in his beauty. He looked perfect to you. His jaw was sharp and the line of his neck was familiar to you after changing his ice packs and bandages. His arms were toned, his figure manly and handsome. The setting sun was casting beautiful and golden rays on the whole scene, and he looked all the better for it. This was the man that you liked, loved, even.

You came and sat next to him, and he offered you a bottle. Zoro drank sake straight out of the bottle, so you did too. “The sunset is gorgeous,” you observed.

In his mind he answered back, you are gorgeous. But in reality, he responded with a “Mmmhmm.”

The tension and silence in the air between you felt suffocating.

“So, why’d you invite me to have sake with you? What’s up?” You asked, puzzled.

“No reason, really.” He responded, turning to look at you. He took a deep breath before he spoke again, forcing himself to say what was actually on his mind. Forcing himself to say what you deserved to hear. “I just like spending time with you.”

You turned a bright shade of red. “Oh, uh.. Seriously? That’s nice of you.” You smiled at him. He noticed your bashfulness, perturbed, and barreled onwards with what he planned to say.

“Yeah. I think I’ll miss having you as my nurse. Not in a creepy way or anything,” he cautioned and waited a beat. His heart was crying out to him—tell her how you feel! “Your presence is peaceful and you’re kind. It was nice to spend time with you.”

The look in his eyes was vulnerable and open. You’d only seen it once before, right before he opened up to you, days earlier. You were taken aback, flustered, couldn’t believe your ears. Did Zoro say that it was nice to spend time with you?

“I could say the same about you,” you smiled back at him. You didn’t know where the conversation was going, but your heartbeat was through the roof. “I had a nice time. And I don’t think you’re creepy or anything. I think you’re really sweet. So, I guess I should be the one saying thank you.”

Now it was Zoro who turned crimson.

“Thanks for what?” He asked, puzzled.

“Thanks for letting me be close to you like that.” You answered softly and your eyes met his again. His gaze was tortured—he felt like he was dreaming. Your words hung in the air.

“Anytime.” He answered, almost breathless. Then, he took the jump. After saying his next words, there’d be no going back. But the moment was in front of him, and he had to seize it. “I may not show it, but I like you a lot. To be honest, I think about you a lot too.”

You were stunned. Had he just said that? Was the sweetness you saw in him coming to the forefront? It seemed like time stood still.

“Zoro, I think about you a lot too.” Your voice was gentle.

“How?” He asked. He had to know, he needed to hear it explicitly from you. If you liked him, he needed to know. He needed you to hit him over the head with it.

“How? Zoro, if you couldn’t tell already, you’ve been driving me crazy. You’re all I can think about.” You looked at him, mired in the agony of finally confessing your feelings for someone. “I am painfully infatuated with you. I can’t even look you in the eyes half the time. I was glad to be your nurse because I like you. I more than like you. I—” you stopped yourself. You’d save those words for another time.

Something came over Zoro in that moment. It’s like he was in an alternate reality, one in which you liked him, too. He reached his hand up to cup your cheek and pulled you into the most delicate kiss. His lips met yours with sparks. It’s like you melted into him. Neither of you had any regard for what was going on around you—Sanji could have started screaming bloody murder at you and you wouldn’t have moved.

It felt like the kiss lasted millennia. When you pulled away from each other, you could see the fire and passion in Zoro’s eyes. It was like you had unlocked a completely different side of him, a side that you knew was there all along. It was a part of him that was vulnerable, sweet, kind, passionate, sensitive, and loving. You knew he was like this under the surface, and that he loved all of his crewmates and would die for them. But this side… this romantic side felt different.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.” He murmured. “Fuck.”

“Me too.” You felt like you were going to pass out from your heart racing.

“Can we do that again?” He asked. His eyes seemed ravenous. He was starving for your touch, craving your attention, desperate for your love. He wanted to kiss every inch of your body, tangle his fingers in your hair, feel your heartbeat next to his, your body warmth. But he told himself to not get carried away.

You whispered back a “yes,” and Zoro put one hand on your waist and pulled you closer to him. His other hand cupped your cheek again, and his kisses were timid and light. His touch made you feel electric. You needed more than this, and you had a sneaking suspicion that he felt the same.

You grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him closer, so your bodies were pressing. As your kisses became more intense, you bit his lip softly and let your tongue explore his. Zoro’s hand on your cheek crept downwards. His fingertips went underneath your shirt and came to rest on your waist—he wanted to feel how soft your skin was, at last becoming acquainted with it after so many months of yearning. In doing this, he had no ulterior motive. It was a privilege to touch you.

The deck was empty at the moment, to your advantage. Who knows what commotion would have run wild if the crew had seen you and Zoro with your hands all over each other and lips locked.

When you had made out for a few minutes, Zoro pulled away from you. He felt like he could be more upfront with you and confident now that you had mutually confessed your feelings.

“Y/N,” he let himself ask the question he had been pondering for days. “Did you really mean it when you said we could do it again?”

He was referring to the end of your last interaction—when you said there would be a ‘next time,’ as in, you’d be intimate with each other again.

“Of course,” you answered him. Your faces were only centimeters apart. His heart was aching for you.

“When?” His voice was hoarse and low.

Your bit your lip and responded, bolder. “Now?”

“Please.” His eyes were begging you, his brow furrowed slightly. You nodded and got up, thrilled. He followed you without a word. He had never foreseen that the night would come to this.

(*) When you reached your bedroom, Zoro locked the door behind and then practically threw you against the wall. His hands were everywhere, and his mouth was so desperate—he felt your waist, your hips, your ass, your neck, your cheeks, your hair. His kisses were needy, sloppy, went, and ravenous. One of your hands clasped his neck, the other began to roam his chest and abs. You could feel his raging erection pressing on you. You had both been fantasizing about this for months and now that the cards were on the table, you meant business.

Moments passed and your hands crept down his broad chest. You hesitated when you reached the hem of his shirt. As you placed your fingers underneath it, you touched his bare skin, palms passing over his happy trail, up to his abs and scars. You took in everything your senses gave you—how his skin felt, how he smelled, how his big hands felt on you, how forcefully he was kissing you.

“Zoro,” you spoke into his mouth and in between his kisses. “Zoro, I want you.”

He hummed into your lips and his hands similarly crept under the hem of your shirt. His hands fingers across your stomach, making you shiver; he felt your stomach and your waist, rubbed circles on your skin with his thumbs, memorizing every inch.

"Are you sure?" He asked. He needed to know if you really meant it. If you really wanted it.

"Yes."

Hearing your answer, Zoro reached his fingers for your bra and unclasped it. He went back to the hem of your shirt and started pulling it up, peeling your shirt over your shoulders and helping you slide your bra off so your breasts were bare. When he started kissing you again, his hands hungrily started exploring—his fingers pinched your nipples and ran them between his index finger and thumbs, rubbing them until you let out a whine. He kneaded and squeezed. He couldn’t get enough.

Zoro unlocked his lips from yours and bent down to latch his lips over one of your nipples while his other hand played with your other nipple. His tongue swirled, making your bud harder than it already was. He sucked on it, until it started to feel good, and you were letting out soft sounds, trying to keep the noise down. You were wet already, cunt throbbing for him.

“Zoro, please,” your voice strained. “Need you.”

His kisses worked up your chest, up your neck, and to your lips. You could feel his hard bulge rut into you. You shimmied out of your pants before Zoro picked you up, lifting you by your waist. He carried you to your bed and put you down so you were lying flat.

Sliding off his pants one quick movement, Zoro was stripped to only his black boxer briefs now. Zoro’s cock was (as you were already aware) huge. When he got on top of you, you could feel it rubbing on your stomach through the fabric and on top of your underwear.

Zoro was putting all his weight on his knees, letting his other hands explore and trail around your body. This time, his kisses trailed from your lips, down your neck, to your stomach, and then came to rest on top of the fabric of your panties. He pushed your thighs apart and held them there. Bringing his face to your panties, Zoro left one long lick from bottom to top, up your folds, to your clit. He licked at your clit a few times and you whined—the rough fabric combined with his tongue made friction that felt so good. You could feel your wetness seep and saturate your panties with each lick and kiss placed through the fabric.

He tugged the fabric aside and ran his tongue between your folds, stopping right before he got to your clit. As soon as his tongue made contact, you let out a moan, albeit a soft one. The noise was music to Zoro’s ears, and it fueled him. He neglected your clit for a few more seconds, only focusing on lapping the wetness from your folds, teasing your slit, and breathing in your scent.

Zoro wanted you to feel as good as he had felt a few days before, when your hand was wrapped around his cock. This was his way of ‘repaying the favor.’ When he finally ran his tongue in circles around your clit, you moaned his name for the first time.

Hearing his name come out of your mouth was like honey to his ears. His heart was pounding and twisting, core burning, and the only thing he could think about was you. He needed you to feel good. He wanted your toes to curl in pleasure, wanted you to cum at least once, wanted you to repeat his name again and again like it was a symphony.

His tongue lingered on your sensitive spot for a few seconds before returning to lick the glistening slick that was accumulating down your cunt. The head he gave was so good it was indescribable.

Zoro pushed one of his thick fingers into you and pulled it out slowly, eliciting another moan. After doing that a few times, he added another finger, loosening you up and drawing more slick from your core. As his fingers started to curl and scissor inside of you, he reached his head forward and started leaving long kisses and warm licks on your clit.

The sensation was overwhelming—his big hands were prying your thighs apart still, his grip was so hard it would leave a bruise, his fingers were fucking you steadily, tongue still licking long stripes up your clit, hot breath sending ripples of euphoria through you. You could only handle so much before you started to squirm. Your fingers reached down into his hair, holding it tight, pulling his face closer to you. Zoro had to hold back a grin. Little did you know, that was his mission accomplished for the night, other than making you cum, that is.

“Zoro,” you moaned his name a second time, cueing him run his tongue in gentle circles around your clit again and slow the pace of his fingers. “I can’t take it anymore. I—I’m gonna cum”.

He pulled his fingers out of you. “Don’t cum yet, ok?” Sucking your juices off his fingers, he let go of your thighs, which fell limp and wide open.

You nodded and whined again. “Okay, I’ll try.”

When he got back to eating you out, he switched it up—this time, his tongue fucked you and his thumb ran circles over your clit. The added pressure on your clit from the rough skin of his thumb drove you crazy, and when his tongue alternated from licking your folds to fucking your slit, you couldn’t handle it. Your legs clamped around him, squeezing his head, causing his cock to throb more than he physically thought it was capable of.

This time, regardless of whether or not he told you to wait, you were going to cum.

“Fuck, Zoro,” you panted, whining, “I need it. Please.” He could tell you were close. He pressed on your clit just a little bit harder, pushing you over the edge. Pleasure came crashing down on you like a wave (which, coincidentally, is what Zoro felt seeping out of you and onto his tongue). Your thighs squeezed his head harder and you moaned his name loudly, again and again, as you convulsed. Your toes curled, fingers almost tearing out his hair.

This was unlike any orgasm you’d felt before. It was more visceral—he truly knew what he was doing, which was wild, considering that he wasn’t the most experienced. But he must have had a gift for it, because that was by far the best head you’ve gotten.

He licked your clit through your orgasm, causing your hips to jerk. The pleasure was enveloping you, everything in your mind went blank except for the feeling of your orgasm and the sensation of his tongue.

When you had finished, he licked the rest of your juices off your folds, savoring it. Then he crawled back over you, looking down and pulling you into a kiss.

The thought of you tasting yourself through his kisses turned him on, too. His cock was painfully hard at this point, precum blotting very noticeable a stain through his briefs. He was endlessly pleased with himself after teasing such an orgasm out of you. When he had given you a handful of kisses, he collapsed on the bed next to you and reached over to sweetly kiss your cheek. His hand entwined with yours, and you were both out of breath, happy and sweaty together.

Zoro wasn’t overly fussed with his own orgasm and was planning on waiting until you fell asleep later to go to the bathroom and relieve himself. Tonight was about you. As long as you came, Zoro was happy. So, he smiled happily next to you, thanking his luck that the person he loved seemed to like (if not love) him back.

He figured that would be all for the night… but he was wrong.

＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／ ⊂(￣(ｴ)￣)⊃ (⊙︿⊙ ✿)

Check out part one if you haven't already! Thank u so much for reading, I hope you liked it! Part 3? Perhaps...

also here's my masterlist if ur interested!

--Z

[jawllines]

So on a Tuesday, Y/N wakes up from a fitful rest and leaves Harry’s bed to find him in the kitchen. Leaf is cradled to his chest while he speaks to someone on the phone – a designer, she thinks, they’re talking about a pattern of something, but Y/N isn’t sure. She doesn’t get to know either because as soon as Harry sees that she’s awake, he smiles, then hovers his finger over the end button, “Mael, I’ll call you a little later, yeah?” He hangs up without a second thought, and Y/N’s eyes go wide. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” she frowned and Harry waved his hand. 

“Nah, s’boring shit anyway. Chevron is a thing of the fucking past and it’s not coming back any time soon on my watch.” He turned on his stool, stretching out his legs and waving her forward, and when she got close enough, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer, until she was standing between his thighs, “You take forever to get up. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were still a human.” 

or

Harry and Y/N like being around each other maybe too much

part 1

part 2

part 3

iv.

Y/N wondered how many vampires she’d seen in her lifetime. 

Unlike the stories and movies, they didn’t lurk in the night and meld into the shadows all of the time. Their skin was pale, but no more pale than someone living in the mountains with very little sun. Their eyes weren’t red, or golden brown, or pools of black – they were just normal irises, no different than humans, the color encrypted in their DNA from conception. They were gorgeous, sometimes eerily so, but not in a way that you could easily group them by their features. It was comparable to being backstage on a runway – the people surrounding you were models, you knew that, and they were all beautiful in their own way with their own unique features. The difference is that instead of only finding them pretty in passing, it’s mesmerizing, almost hard to fathom, alluring in an almost unignorable way. 

But Y/N can’t remember ever being out in public and seeing a vampire, even if she didn’t know what they were called at the time. Clearly she didn’t, if one was able to ask her on a date and she’d just presumed she’d lucked out with an attractive man who didn’t mind dating below his league. Otherwise, they were masters of camouflage, or Y/N was just less observant than she thought. 

Because right now, even to the untrained eye, Y/N is almost positive that she looks like a vampire. Or at least that something is off with her. It’s in the way her posture is almost too correct, ramrod straight like someone straightened out her back and put her in a brace to keep her unmoving. Her chest did not rise and fall with each breath – not because the need to use her lungs had not been completely eradicated yet, but for the fact she’s taking a ton of shallow breaths through her mouth to avoid smelling anything, or anyone.  The way she holds her fork looks weird to her – she hadn’t held a fork in so long it was an unfamiliar weight between her fingers. She gave terse replies to questions, and could barely hold a conversation longer than small talk. 

To anyone looking or interacting with her, they must think she’d grown up in a basement and just recently ventured out into the world. To Harry, who sits across from her with an amused look dancing across his features, he knew she was just attempting to reacclimate into society. 

They had been out before, but normally that was at night, or early during cloudy weekdays when most of the city population is stuck in their stuffy office buildings. When the amount of humans is sparse and Y/N could amble away if being around them became too much. She’d never been forced to sit among them for longer than a couple minutes at a time, maybe waiting in a long line, or patiently off to the side when a human woman was interested in the same earrings that she was. 

That had been her toeing the water; Harry held her hand at the edge of a dock while she dipped her feet into the pool of being a productive member of society again. She would have to return to work at some point, and she would need to be able to attend social events or see her family, or her friends back home without wanting to eat them. Harry was surrounded by humans all day nearly every day and he hasn’t lashed out and ended up in a tabloid for sinking his teeth into a designer. It was possible, though it would take time, and a lot of practice – at some point she would be able to integrate seamlessly back into the human world. 

At some point – right now, it was fucking hard. 

Harry took her out for lunch, at a small deli a couple blocks from his flat. It was a day when the sky was heavy with clouds and would be for the majority of the afternoon, so they were able to venture out with no fear that Y/N would get all rashy again. All of Y/N’s fear lay within being in closed quarters with humans and pretending that the scent of their blood doesn’t affect her in the slightest. Or that the leaves of the salad she was stuffing into her mouth tasted more than just bland, rubbery nothing to a palate now keen on something metallic and sweet. And in that fear, and her overexerting her effort trying to look normal, she thinks she’s making herself look uncanny, unapproachable, and too much like she doesn’t belong. Like someone clipped her out of a comic book and pasted her in The Very Hungry Caterpillar. 

“Relax your shoulders,” Harry spoke from across the table, having already eaten half his sandwich, tucking the straw of his soda at the corner of his lips and sipping, “It looks like I just brought you out of a boarding school.” 

“Shut up.” Y/N had been saying that a lot to him today because it was two simple words that didn’t require as much effort as trying not to eat someone. 

Harry smiled, all too relaxed for what Y/N would think are pretty serious circumstances but she guesses he’s been through this so often he isn’t worried about a thing. Harry never seemed worried when they did something new, always promising her that he would know if she was going to do something stupid, because he knows her. And if the need to subdue her were to arise, then he could do so easily, or so he tells her every time she’s stressed about it. 

“You had plenty to eat before we came,” he murmured, voice just a touch lower, his brows raising slightly, “Even if you take a small little breath through your nose, you won’t feel like you need to do anything.” 

It’s difficult to talk inconspicuously about it, in case someone nosy was listening into their conversation (because Y/N is fucking nosy, so she knows someone else is bound to match her), but Harry does it easily. Y/N did eat a considerable amount before they did this, from the baggies, and even a little treat from Harry just before they’d left the flat. She was full, blood-drunk, and hazy up to the point that they were about to walk inside the shop and she’d worked herself up. 

“Mind over matter,” Harry slid his leg to her and locked their ankles together – he was resting his chin and cheek in his palm, watching her carefully, drinking her in, “Just take a small little breath through your nose, hm? You’ll see it’s not as bad as you think.” 

Y/N blinks at him, gripping her fork a little too hard, and she feels the stainless steel give beneath her grip, “I – okay,” she nodded, slow, steady – the whole point of this excursion was to start working on being able to smell humans without wanting to desperately sink her teeth into them. Before she could start utilizing feeders, she needed to be completely in control of how her body responds and reacts to stimuli like this. At least that’s what Harry tells her, and she’s inclined to believe him since there isn’t anyone to bounce off of his ideas anymore. She isn’t sure if they’re still on the pathway he used for all the new vampires he mentored or if he’d toggled it based on their situation. She could message Christopher and Naomi about it but every time she messages them, her heart yearns and aches in her chest.

“You’ll stop me if anything happens?” She knows he will, but she feels better when he’s all cocky and sure of himself. One of them needed complete faith in the situation, and it usually was Harry. 

Harry, who had been treating her all soft and tender lately. His words could still be harsh and he rolls his eyes and rumples his lips at her when she says something he thinks is stupid, and he’s patient, but even that patience runs out relatively quickly – but every interaction has a much softer edge to it. With every harsh critique of her technique or skill, (“How many times are you going to listen to the neighbor’s conversation and not me outside, downstairs, when you’re on the balcony? It shouldn’t matter how many flights up you are, this is baby stuff we’re trying to accomplish now!”) there is a gentle caress of her skin. His fingers will dance along her wrist, and he’ll slide his fingers between the slots of hers, and squeeze, before murmuring, “Let’s try again.” 

They are much closer now – Y/N doesn’t know if they’re dating, or if vampires even date, but she knows that Harry treats her like they might be. Harry pushes his nose into her neck and breathes in deeply like she’s the best thing he’s ever smelled. He entertains her musings about code and work despite not having a clue what she’s talking about or saying. At the end of the night (early in the morning) when she is thinking about lying down, Harry offers his room to her, his bed. 

“You can always sleep in here,” he’d told her, “Even if I’m not here, yeah? Just don’t stain the sheets or anything, because to keep them this pristine even with a kitten has been hell.” 

Shit, he’s even referred to Leaf as their baby a couple of times, whereas previously he’s only called her his own. “What are you doing to my baby?” Is what he would say before when Leaf is playing with one of the many feathered string toys that Harry bought her and Y/N accidentally makes her jump right into the wall. Now it’s things like, “Our baby is so happy,” when she comes up to them on the sofa, purring and kneading at Y/N’s thighs before snuggling in her lap and falling asleep. 

Things with him were soft. This certainly felt like a relationship, sometimes, but Y/N knew better than to get ahead of herself. Last time she did that she ran away from her hometown and then got bitten by a fucking vampire, so it was better to just take things a step at a time. 

“What, you think I’m g’na let you eat someone and make me look bad?” He speaks low enough that only she could hear, helped by the loud chatter of voices around them, and stretches one arm across the table, looping his fingers around her forearm, and dragging the blunt tip of his nail along her skin, “Of course I’ll stop you, dummy.” 

Y/N shivers but feels safe; he’s got a leg wrapped around hers, and a hand on her. If she tried to move, he would stop her immediately. Harry doesn’t say aloud that that’s what he’s doing, but they both know it makes her feel better when he’s got his hands on her in some way. She’d told him as much in the past when she’d looped her arm in the gap between his and his body when they first went into the grocery store. 

“Hm, is this a ploy to make me touch you in public? You’re a filthy exhibitionist.” He’d teased her at the time, but now he keeps his hand on her when they’re out. An arm wrapped around her shoulder, a hand at the nape of her neck, his fingers looped around her wrist. 

She lets herself breathe in, just a little bit, a tiny inhale through her nose. The scents weren’t overwhelming like she’d thought – there’s plenty to sift through, it wasn’t just an onslaught of the blood pumping through the veins surrounding them. Fresh bread, the fabric softener on people’s clothes, the cleaner used to wipe down tables when they were emptied – she smelled all of that too. All a mix, like when she was a human, only she could smell and separate them just a note better than she could before. And the blood – she couldn’t smell blood before, but with a belly full, it wasn’t as hard. It still made her mouth water, and there was an itch beneath her skin that wanted to be plucked at, but nothing she couldn’t handle. 

Harry drags his nails back and forth on her forearm lazily, “See?” His relaxed posture stays, leaning on his palm, “You’re not a monster, are you, baby?” 

She swallowed thickly, shaking her head, “No, I’m not,” she cleared her throat a little, “We need to –  um – we need to get Leaf chicken treats, she likes those best.” Y/N wanted to practice being normal, talking about normal things, and thinking about something else than how she’s trying not to breathe in too deeply. She didn’t necessarily explain this to Harry beforehand but he doesn’t seem confused either, just goes along with it. 

“Really? I kind of thought she liked the shrimp ones better.” 

Y/N focuses more on Harry’s scent – he smells good. He always smells so good, that whenever she does sleep in his bed, she dips her nose into the blankets and stuffs her face into the pillows (obviously when he’s not there, she would never live that down).  If she could shove her nose in the base of his throat and not stuff her teeth into his neck then she would do it all of the time. Harry does it to her, unprovoked and unannounced, burrowing the cold tip of his nose against her carotid. She used to squirm, her ear meeting her shoulder as she pulled away from him, but now she’s gotten used to it – now, she almost expects it when he comes home from work, and if he doesn’t, she’s a little disappointed. 

It’s easy to forget why she’s at Harry’s in the first place if she’s just focusing on her and Harry’s dynamic. It’s also easy to forget that she would eventually face the music when she has to confront her feelings – Niall. There was a heavy weight on her shoulders like she wore a helmet of cast iron everywhere she went; sometimes she would forget about it, it’d been so long that it was easy to let it slip her mind, but then her shoulders would feel the pressure of it periodically. 

Like when you wear glasses for the first time. At first, it is all you can think about, how it rests on the bridge of your nose, the way the frames outline your field of view. But a couple of hours in they’re merely an extension of you, you forget they’re on your face until you reach up to rub your eye and something is in the way. 

The helmet was heavy, the look in Niall’s eyes as he told her, the cold feeling that had flushed through her veins when he’d admitted it. She wondered if it felt like his own helmet had been lifted, the weight of his guilt eased by the admission. Did he know he was going to transfer it to her? Take the helmet off and plop it onto her head? 

Her heart was torn in two. Y/N wanted to hate him for it, she really did – want to cuss him out, scratch him, and spit on him – how did vampires fight? Did they bite each other? Do they punch each other? Kick, slap? Was it still below the belt to kick him in the balls or was that an appropriate fighting tactic? Harry had never taught her how to fight – she thought maybe some sort of combat training would be important down the line, but vampires don’t usually do that. Movies and books make it seem like it was a constant battle, always something going on that they needed to defeat. Vampires typically coexist peacefully, is the thing, and their only true threat are hunters but it’s often better to avoid them or flee the situation than to fight, at least when you’re new. As long as she doesn’t act recklessly then she wouldn’t have to worry. 

And in the same breath that she hated him, she owed him her life. It was a new one – a flawed one, no more flawed than her old life, but still a new life. She would have to change how she lives, eats, exists, and it’s scary – it’s so scary! But she was alive. She was still walking around, she could still work toward goals she’d set for herself, and she could find a place for herself in this world instead of bleeding out in an alley, still feeling lost and alone. 

Would she have walked away from someone in need how she expected Niall to? If she’d stumbled upon the same scene, would she have been able to ignore it? She couldn’t even ignore a fucking kitten meowing! So it was hard – her feelings were difficult to work through and that was only worsened by her not seeing him. Playing house at Harry’s flat and ignoring what happened. 

“Where’d you go?” Harry pulls her out of her reverie, and she realizes she’d been digging her fingers into the croissant she was holding, her eyes dazed. He drags his fingers along her skin again, tenderly, gently, “Hmm? Where’d my girl go?” 

Y/N feels warm and bubbly and allows herself to revel in the giddiness that comes with Harry treating her like something special. If there was one single benefit from this whole mess, it would be Harry – experiencing this homely side of him. Whether it be the connection through their blood, or their time spent together, she felt at complete, and total ease in Harry’s presence. If she was starting to spiral, he pulled her out of it just as quickly. 

“Sorry,” she murmured, swallowing, ripping a piece of the flaky pastry and laying it on her tongue – it tasted like nothing, chalky and bland, “I. . .need to figure things out with Niall soon. I can’t keep burdening you.” 

“You’re no burden,” he answered without a second thought, “Not even a little bit, but I understand needing to sort things out for your peace of mind.” He reaches forward, thumbing at the apple of her cheek, and pinching playfully, “But you don’t need to leave just for that, hm? You’re no burden to me.” 

Y/N rests on the palm of his cheek, sighing, and the smell of all the other humans in the place pales in comparison to Harry, “Mm,” she nuzzles – it’s embarrassing, how easy she is for him, but he doesn’t tease her like he probably could, “I just. . .I think, how I’m seeing it, is I would have done the same.” She explained, “If I’d seen someone, I would have done the same, you know?” Her gaze flickered toward him, “Would you?” 

“I have,” he shrugged, “You know, it’s something that you never really know what you’ll do at the moment but when it’s presented in front of you – that’s when you’ll know. You act off instinct,” he squeezes her shoulder, slipping down to her bicep, “Just how you ran to go save Leaf with no concern of the sun. This isn’t me trying to sway you either,” he shook his head, “If you decided you fucking hated him and never wanted to see him again, I would endorse it. If you decide that you’ll forgive him, then I’ll accept that – whatever you want to do.” 

Y/N nodded, “Yeah,” she ripped another piece of croissant, “Yeah, okay.”

                                                                   .                          .                         .

Despite coming to terms with what she wanted to do, it still took her a week to gain the courage to see him. Harry doesn’t push the issue, merely enjoys his time with her and Leaf until she tells him she is ready. Honestly, there were a couple of times when Y/N wondered if she should just start ignoring it again and live life peacefully with Harry, or as peacefully as she could. But still, it weighed on her, like a Niall-shaped force that stretched himself over her and smothered her in her sleep. She had dreams of confronting him, some heartwarming and with a good outcome, some horrible that left her with tears bearding her eyes. 

She needed to do it. If she did, then she could better focus on whatever the hell is going on between her and Harry. And being a vampire. . .big, important things like that. 

So on a Tuesday, Y/N wakes up from a fitful rest and leaves Harry’s bed to find him in the kitchen. Leaf is cradled to his chest while he speaks to someone on the phone – a designer, she thinks, they’re talking about a pattern of something, but Y/N isn’t sure. She doesn’t get to know either because as soon as Harry sees that she’s awake, he smiles, then hovers his finger over the end button, “Mael, I’ll call you a little later, yeah?” He hangs up without a second thought, and Y/N’s eyes go wide. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” she frowned and Harry waved his hand. 

“Nah, s’boring shit anyway. Chevron is a thing of the fucking past and it’s not coming back any time soon on my watch.” He turned on his stool, stretching out his legs and waving her forward, and when she got close enough, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer, until she was standing between his thighs, “You take forever to get up. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were still a human.” 

She laid her hands on his thighs, “I need to do it today,” she told him, and she didn’t have to be descriptive for Harry to know what she was talking about, “It’s gotta be today or I won’t.” 

His gaze softened, the pale skin of his face smoothed over into something contemplative and understanding. There’s a soft sound that pulls from his throat, and his legs squeeze around her as he nods, “Okay,” he answered easily, “Do you want to ambush him or should I give him a heads up?” 

“Will he run away if he knows I’m coming?” 

Harry pursed his lips in thought, “You know, Niall isn’t one to run away,” he started, “But he also isn’t one to admit when he’s in the wrong either, and he’s done that, so I reckon some of the things I knew about him fundamentally might be wrong. He may flee from guilt alone or he’ll respect you enough to want to hear what you have to say.” 

“Then you can let him know,” she took Leaf, scratching the soft, short furs beneath her chin, “If this is a friendship worth salvaging, then he’ll wait for me.” 

The drive, which typically felt like an hour-long adventure out to the secluded space in which Mitch’s house resided, felt far quicker than it ever had before. Y/N thought it was because this time, she actually wanted it to go by slowly so that she had the chance to collect her thoughts and plan out exactly what she was going to say, and how she was going to say it. She needed the full forty-ish minutes (accounting rush hour) to develop her script, but Harry must be pressing the gas pedal right down to the floorboards because they zip through the roads in record time. 

There’s a hazy, orange glow casting over the trees while the sun sank beyond the horizon, the other half of the sky blotching the inky black sky of a winter night. She wondered if there would be stars later on – there hadn’t been for the last couple of days because of clouds heavy with snow, that’s now freckling the earth and freezing up the soil. Y/N missed them – she feels like she hasn’t seen them in a while. 

They roll up in front of the house, and Y/N thinks all of three seconds go by before a pouting Naomi rips the passenger door open, “Shame on Harry for keeping you all to himself,” she whined, and she unbuckling Y/N before Y/N could even gather her bearings, pulling her out of the car and into her arms. Naomi looks a bit frail but she’s got the strength of someone who’s prepared for war, and she gives Y/N a bone-crushing hug. “I’ve missed you!” 

Y/N laughed lightly, squeezing her arms out from where they’d been trapped between their bodies so she could reciprocate the show of affection, “I missed you too,” she replied. 

“Oi,” he grumbled, “I wasn’t keeping her to myself, I gave her a haven in a rough time.” 

“You never let any of us come over besides Christopher!” 

Harry crossed his arms, after pushing his sunglasses up into his hair, “Why would I want you heathens in my flat? The lot of you would trash the place or steal from me.” 

“You’re just no good at sharing, you –” 

Their voices fade into the background as Y/N leaves them to bicker, a tiny quirk at her lips like the muscles in her face want to smile but are thinking better than to. It was nice, sort of, to be back; to smell all the familiar scents, like she was returning home. This felt more like home than her flat did now, just from the sheer amount of time she’d spent here. She walked the familiar map from the front door, to her room, and nearly made a pitstop to give herself more time but muscled through the desire to. Y/N took the four more steps she needed to before knocking on Niall’s door – she could smell him in there. 

“Come in.” His voice sounds stiff, and when she opens the door, the position he’s sitting in matches it. He must have heard her coming because he isn’t in the lax state he normally is – his legs are off the end of the mattress, feet firm on the floor. He sits straight, his face serious, stern. She’s so used to the nonchalant way he goes about that this is the most uncanny and makes her feel like an agent sent to question him, or a judge to sentence him. Y/N hated that, she doesn’t want it to be like that – she wants it to be normal between them. Or, normal-ish, at least. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her cat paw chair sitting at the foot of his bed. Niall followed her gaze and answered before she could even question it, “I – um – promise I wasn’t stealing that,” he replied, “I missed. . .you know – having it in here made me feel a little better. Which I know, I don’t deserve to feel good about what happened.” 

Y/N ignored him, closed the door behind her, and then plopped down in the chair, resting her back on the pink, plush toe beans, “Get on the floor,” she ordered, patting the empty spot in front of her with her foot, “Please stop sitting so straight, it’s freaking me out.” 

Niall is quick to crawl down on the floor in front of her, he relaxes his shoulders so they slump just a little, and he kicks his left leg out how he usually did when he was sprawled out on the floor of her room and they were talking. It brings some normalcy to the situation that Y/N desperately needs. She bites the inside of her bottom lip for a second before giving an unneeded clear of her throat (it was just a habit at this point, she wondered how long it would take for it to break). 

“I’m just gonna come right out with it because I don’t want to beat around the bush, and if I do, I’ll just talk myself in circles until I don’t make any sense,” she started, “At first I was so mad at you I could have slapped you and spit on you and called you names. I was pretty sure that I never wanted to see you again and that I would be fine if you were completely wiped from my life,” he grimaces at the description but does nothing to refute it, “But you couldn’t have been wiped from my life, if I wasn’t living to begin with, which – I know, it gets a little confusing and convoluted. This life I have now is. . .odd, and different, and I’m not human anymore, and maybe by all technicalities I’m not alive, but I feel like I am.” She runs her thumbnail along the inside of her other palm, following the lines in them she’s had since birth, “I feel the world around me, and I can love, and I can talk, and laugh, and work, and cry. I can do all the things that I did before and then some, so even if it is different. . .I’m still alive. And I wouldn’t be had it not been for you.” 

Niall is following along, motionless, soaking in every word, “I’m more upset that you kept it from me. It would have just been nice to know, right? What exactly had happened that night, it’d been plaguing my mind and you would ask every so often, and now I’m realizing it was less from a place of care and more you covering your tail.” She shrugged her shoulders when Niall’s face scrunched with shame, “But I can’t sit here and act like I would do something different. I don’t know what I would do, in a situation like that – I think, if I came across someone in my position, then I would have changed them too. I don’t really know how at this point, but I would have tried to figure it out. And I would have been scared, afterward, I don’t know if I would have told anyone either. But I thought we were close enough. . .at least a month in, I feel like you could have told me,” she sighed, “That’s what makes me angriest. I thought we were friends but you were just being nice to me because you felt bad.” 

“That’s not true.” It was the first time he’d uttered a word since she began, “You – maybe at the start, I was a little more protective of you because I felt bad, but the rest of it – I truly felt friendship with you. Not all of it was a lie,” he shook his head, “I wanted to tell you, I did, but it never seemed like an opportune time to. And the one chance I did get, I chickened out. But I get it, if – if you need to be angry, be angry, I honestly wish you would just slap me or hit me or something, so it felt like I was getting punished for it.” 

“I wanted to, believe me, but Harry was pretty convinced that you were punishing yourself enough for it. Listen, what I’m saying is,” she crawled off the cat paw, and took his hands in her own – they were smooth and ice cold – he probably hasn’t been eating well, “My feelings are very conflicted and confusing, and I don’t know if I forgive you entirely, but forgiveness isn’t out of the question. Do you get what I mean?” Niall hums his assent, “I know things can’t go back to the way they were entirely, but I’d like it if we could get somewhere close to it. And – and if you think about it, we’ll probably be around for decades, won’t we? I’m bound to get over it eventually.” 

Niall and Y/N don’t really hug – Naomi is the touchy-feely type, and Y/N can be when she wants to be, but Niall is much more reserved with his affections. So that’s why she is tentative and a little hesitant in embracing him, slowly wrapping her arms around his neck, but she’s pleasantly surprised to feel him hug her back tightly, “I’m sorry,” he murmured, and his words vibrated through her throat, “I’m so sorry, thank you for even coming back to talk to me. I thought surely with Harry at your side, you would’ve hated my guts.” 

“You would be surprised by this, but Harry went to bat for you pretty hard,” she peeled back just a little bit, “I mean, he didn’t try to change my opinion but his of you never faltered.” 

Niall frowned, “Ugh, it’s so hard to keep up with hating him sometimes,” Y/N laughed, “Seriously, he’ll be the worst prick alive and then he does something unreasonably kind and it’s like. . .either be a dick, or be nice, I hate the mix-up.” He gently let his arms slip away from her but he remained close, “Speaking of, I’ve been eavesdropping on him and Mitch – they never hear me coming so I can always get away with knowing shite I shouldn’t – has he told you yet? About the whole blood thing?” 

Y/N shook her head, and part of her was worried that Niall would save it for Harry to tell her, but she forgot that Niall is Niall, and through and through, he loved causing trouble for Harry at any given notice, “After Mitch’s initial displeasure that he’d been keeping it from him, he said there was something called ‘fated pairs’ or something like that. Your bodies call out to each other on a molecular level, something that was – predetermined the day you were both born. There was a lot of vampiric folklore nonsense that he spouted off, but he seemed pretty convinced. I don’t know why it affects you both in the way that it would make you horny, but, yeah. He said that it would’ve been the same if you were human – even if you were both humans, actually. That it was like a soul bond.” 

It was a lot to take in; Y/N is relieved of one stress and then immediately another is placed on top of her. Was it stress though? She doesn’t feel stressed at the thought of them being bonded together by their souls – she doesn’t mind that – but she is stressed that maybe he minded that. Because as far as Harry was concerned, there was no rhyme or reason for their reaction to one another’s blood. Y/N hadn’t even known he’d spoken to Mitch about it, and so to find out he has and he didn’t even express the findings to her. . .worries her, a bit. Did he not like it? Was the thought of being tied to her horrible? But if it was then he wouldn’t have been so doting and cuddly these last few weeks, right? 

“You look stressed,” he noted, “I would be too if I was bonded to that fucker, so I understand.” 

Breathlessly, she laughs again, “He’s not so bad.” 

                                                                .                           .                        . 

Harry gets pretty clingy when Y/N goes back. 

Though he’d promised that she wasn’t a bother, she still felt guilty to be inhabiting his home when he was at work. She’d been hearing him postpone different trips too, a couple of days in Italy, a fashion show in France – things that he always went to before, and she had a feeling it was because he didn’t want to leave her alone. It was sweet, but it made her feel guilty, so she decided it was okay to go back for a little while and reacclimate to the house. 

It wasn’t so bad – going from Harry’s modern, high-tech flat to Mitch’s Victorian-style mansion was different but it isn’t horrible. Y/N liked being surrounded by people when Harry was at work or attending some smarmy event, instead of being alone. The only downside was there was a little Leaf-shaped hollow in her heart, but Harry describes shared custody and drops her off with Y/N when he knows he’s going to be out all day or if he does have to leave for one of those week-long trips. 

The others act like she never left. She goes to the movie nights and nobody mentions what happened. Christopher gives her a big, long hug when he sees that she’s returned, then promptly warms her two mugs of “the sweetest blood” as a welcome home present. Naomi comes to inhabit Y/N’s bed and talks about pop culture and how Samuel is fucking someone who isn’t Theodore so that had been a lot of drama while she was away. Delphine starts to visit her room for Leaf – apparently, she’d grown up with a lot of barn cats, so she was very fond of them, and they find their shared love for animals as a link to start speaking more comfortably with each other. And wherever Delphine was, Saskia was close behind. Her past with cats was checkered because she had an allergy to them before, but being a vampire meant eradicating all allergies, so she hesitantly gave Leaf a pet or two. 

Leaf, all tiny and soft, loves the extra attention. 

Niall still comes to her room but not without being invited first. Y/N thinks eventually this will change, but it seems like he doesn’t want to smother her with his presence, though Y/N wouldn��t find it smothering at all. He’s still hesitant, and she gets it – Y/N liked that he respected her enough to let her decide if she was in the right headspace to see him that day or not. 

The only person who takes it hard and acts like it is the worst thing in the world is Harry. He never goes three days without coming to see her, and when he isn’t with her, he’s messaging her and calling her, asking if she wants to FaceTime in between flights. When he does come, he poses a strict, “Nobody bothers us” rule where he threatens to move her dresser in front of the door to ward off “unwanted” intruders (though they could all probably move the dresser anyway, they’re very strong). He crawled into her bed and pulled her into his body, dragging the blankets over them, “You smell too much like the others,” he’d grumble, resting his chin on the top of her head, “Hate it.” 

“You’re silly,” she’d respond but soaked in the snuggling happily — it used to be something they merely indulged in while she was asleep; before, Harry would only ever kind of curl around her or pet her or hold her when she was all blood drunk and full, seconds from slumber. Now he’s much more open and willing to do it whenever – when they were watching the telly, when they were on the ground and Y/N was painting her nails (“I should sit behind you, yeah? You can sit between my legs, and when you’re done with one hand, I’ll blow on your fingers to dry them,”) if they were outside on the deck, practicing whatever Harry had come up with for the day.He crowds her space like he was made to. If Harry was there, they’re glued at the hip, and that was just normal now. 

Y/N wondered if he would ever bring up the whole bond thing, but he seemed content not to. Still, it didn’t seem to deter him from letting her snack on his blood, which she sure only furthers the whole thing. So maybe he wasn’t concerned with it – maybe he was just seeing where it went. Y/N isn’t sure, but she’s usually good at ignoring things. If the other party didn’t want to talk about it then she wouldn’t either, it was never in her nature to press for answers. 

. . .when she was a human, at least. Being a vampire hasn’t changed her at a fundamental level, she doesn’t believe, but it has given her a new outlook on life, and a different perspective on some things. It was better to ask and get an answer that she didn’t want rather than continue not knowing something for sure. If she’d lived by that rule in the past it would have probably saved her a lot of trouble. 

So Y/N asks him outright, Leaf curled in her lap in a tiny furry heap, and Harry with his arms curled around Y/N’s body protectively. Nobody else was in the den – they were either in their rooms or out and about (with a strict curfew now, because of the whole thing between her and Niall – Mitch blamed himself for giving them a little too much freedom being newly presented). Harry suggested they utilize the tv then, instead of trying to watch it on her laptop screen. Harry tells her they should be at his flat, but since he was supposed to go three hours away for a photoshoot tomorrow, he didn’t want to leave her alone (it turns out he’d been postponing more than she had initially thought so now he was playing catch up – something about Spring deadlines and all of that). 

The screen clears as the next episode of the show they’re watching loads up, and maybe it isn’t the best timing or the best place to do it, but she has to ask before she loses her nerve. 

“Are we a. . .fated pair? Is that what it’s called?” 

She feels Harry stiffen behind her, his hold around her arms tightening only slightly as he processes what she’d just inquired. There aren’t a lot of things that could stun Harry, as long as he’s been around he normally has a response to anything and everything within a couple of seconds – but he sits with this for a little longer. His fingers, where they’d rested on her waist, began to play with the fabric of her shirt, plucking at the hem and fiddling with the stitches. The tension in the air is palpable, but it isn’t a horrible tension. Not something she wanted to run away from, at least. 

“Niall,” Harry finally muttered, like he’d been spending half of the time he was silent, trying to figure out how Y/N would have heard that, “That fucker is too good at masking his presence.” 

“Harry –” 

“I know,” he exhales, and Y/N thinks it’s funny that he does things like this not because he’s releasing a breath, but to express how he’s feeling. He nudges the side of her head with his own and dips his nose into the curve of her throat, his favorite spot, “With you at my flat, and with how you’d been eating from me still, the – how I felt for you was becoming concerning and a little obsessive. Not in like an obsessive “I’m going to kill her so nobody else can have her” way, more like a “I want to be near her and I’m forgoing responsibilities to spend time with her” kind of way. I don’t do that, for people, I’m not. . .so giving with my time, which makes me sound like a dick, but it’s the truth. I have my time and they have theirs, even if it’s someone that I’m interested in,” he slides his fingers beneath her shirt’s fabric, his nails tracing circles into her skin, “But with you, I just. . .wanted to be around you. To be with you makes me feel calm; it soothes me like putting ice on a sprain. And for you to drink from my vein and our bodies react so intensely to it. . .well, it had to be something.” 

“I was glad to ignore it and just continue enjoying myself with you, but I was getting curious. And I knew you and Niall would make up soon, and you’re so concerned about being a burden all of the time, I knew you wouldn’t take me up on my offer to stay with me. This meant I was going to be coming around her, and being way more possessive and clingy than I ever have before and Mitch always knows what’s going on in the house. He would ask me about it eventually, so I just beat him to it.” He lifted his head, and his words were less muffled when he coaxes her to lean back against his chest more, “He went into the most intricate, convoluted discussion about molecules, and vampiric folklore, and I’ll be honest most of it went right over my fucking head, except for him saying that we were bound together by our souls. That whether we had met like this, or centuries ago in my village, while I was running from war, or had I just been some random UNI student sitting beside you in class – we would always have this kind of connection. It’s rare,” he squeezes her hips, “It’s a rare thing, a really rare thing, and it used to happen more often back in the 1600s but that doesn’t mean it never happens now.” 

Y/N cranes her neck to face him, “Why didn’t you tell me?” Her brows pinched toward the center, and Harry reached out, using his thumb to press at the crinkle in her skin and smooth it out. 

“I wanted to, but – I don’t know. I kind of wanted you to conclude for yourself, if you liked me or not. I didn’t want it to feel forced because you knew about this. Other than my blood making you a filthy, horny little thing, I don’t know exactly what your feelings are for me. And I know – you told me you feel whole after you drink from me, but again, outside of that – outside of the blood, I don’t know how you feel.” 

Y/N thinks, that if she’d eaten recently, blood would be roaring in her ears and her heart would be thudding something fierce in her chest. It was one thing to have Niall tell her on a whim, it was another thing for Harry to admit it to her, all shy, avoiding her gaze and pressing tight and close to her body. It was another thing to hear him feel insecure about not knowing how she felt about him.

Because for Y/N, she’d thought she’d been incredibly obvious. She wanted to be around him always, she recognized his scent out of everyone anywhere, she felt safe when his hands were on her in some way, or even when he was just nearby. Even when he was short with her, or grumpy, Y/N had felt endlessly at ease. After what happened at the club, he was the only person she wanted to be around. The way her heart lights up when he calls her sweet names, or when she sees him for the first time in a while. How her whole mind swam at the prospect of him rather hurting his hands than letting anyone else see her vulnerable when she’d been in the sun. No matter when he lost his patience, or when he seemed upset, or even when he swore up and down that he shouldn’t be a mentor  – he was supportive, tender, and made her head feel melty and her insides gossamer soft. 

“I have plenty of reason to like you, outside of some bond,” she finally replied, wiggling in his arms to face him again – Leaf got up, stumbled out of her lap, then stretched with a silent yawn, “And it wasn’t just after eating. Just being with you makes me feel. . .complete, just as I said before. I thought it was just the blood, but when you leave for work and we’re separated, there’s a – it’s noticeable, the gape I feel in your absence.” Y/N curled her fingers up in his shirt, “I mean, how I feel for you, surpasses how I ever felt for Daniel, my old friend. As dramatic as it is, I’d thought I would never be able to love again –” 

“Oh, you humans and your theatrics,” he murmured with a laugh and Y/N smiled shyly, looking away. 

“-- but the way I’ve felt about you lately, I just don’t think whatever puppy love crush I had on him scratches the surface. Sorry, I wasn’t clear about it. I’d been so focused on trying to figure out my place in this world again and how to live life like this, that I hadn’t given myself a chance to sit and sort through my emotions. But they’re there – they’re real and scary.” 

Harry kisses her – she wasn’t expecting it, but she’d completely turned around in his lap by then so at least the angle wasn’t horrible. His lips are soft, and without the preface of something lewd, it is saccharine and chaste. Y/N shivered, her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into him, practically molding herself into the shape of his body. It was good – Harry’s been treating her delicately for a while now, but this was different. Like he was kissing something important to him. Something that he wanted to handle with softhearted gloves. 

When they part, Harry kisses the corner of her mouth, then her right cheek, her temple, over her forehead, and down the other side of her face. They’re feather-light and ticklish but his arms cage her in so she couldn’t wiggle away, helpless but to giggle. Once he finishes, he hums low and their eyes meet. 

“I’ll be keeping you, so get used to this.” He admitted, and if he’d eaten recently, then his cheeks would have flushed pink the way they do anytime he’s sentimental.

Y/N nodded and hid herself in his chest. 

She didn’t mind that at all. 

                                                              .                        .                       .

Harry couldn’t wait to see her. 

He used to take great pleasure in his week to two-week-long trips out of the country for work, whether he was going to Dubai, Milan, Paris, or other places like it. Harry would gorge on international feeders and sex and all the adoration from people who question his otherworldly beauty and get lost in his sharp gaze. It was nice to be sought after, admired, to get his fill of all the blood he wanted. He thought it was a fair trade, for all those years ago, when he’d been scrawny and worthless to everyone. 

However, now? He just can’t wait to get home. Without the sex and the gorging, there actually wasn’t a whole lot to do in any of those spots that he hadn’t done thousands and thousands of times before. It was work, strictly work, and there was no sort of pleasure, apart from the gratification of seeing one of his looks trek down the runway. Besides that, there was only one person he wanted to sleep with now, one person he wanted to be adored by, and only one person he wished to get lost in his gaze. 

And she was thousands of kilometers away from him, probably coding some program that made no sense to his brain, in his sweatshirt that he made her promise to wear and those horrific (and endearingly cute) slippers shaped like cats that she picked up from the store in honor of Leaf (who liked to chew on them when Y/N wiggled her toes). Even on the plane ride back home, he wondered how he could make it quicker – if there was a way to travel even faster than a plane. He supposes he could run, his legs are quite fast, but if someone spotted him going a little too fast to be human, then that would be a whole other list of shit to deal with instead of just tucking himself into Y/N’s side. 

So as soon as he was finished up, the models had gone home, he’d given his statement for editorials, and he’d shared one glass of wine with a designer he really couldn’t be arsed to learn the name of (he’d drank with types like Chanel and Dior in the past, so the glitz and glamor of it now are easily lost on him) – Harry was on a plane and headed home. He used the in-flight wifi to watch a movie Y/N had suggested to him, but he was barely paying attention. How could he, when he was so excited to get home to her? 

It was crazy to think this was where their relationship had ended up. She used to be nothing but an obnoxious little thorn in his side and now all he wants to do is smother her with affection and give her his blood. Y/N was so important to him, it made his heart feel heavy and full for the first time in. . .well, he isn’t sure it’s ever felt this heavy and full before. The weight in his chest is unfamiliar, and at first, it had been unwelcomed, but he likes it now. It’s as if she’d curled her body around it and took residence there. She’s always with him, in that sense of it. 

The others had gotten used to it far quicker than he’d imagined they would. He expected more teasing as well, but they all like Y/N a lot, so he guesses to tease him is to tease her indirectly and they don’t want to. The most he gets is scolded that he isn’t good at sharing, and why should he be? Harry feels like he’d spent centuries waiting for her, now that he has her – doesn’t he deserve to be a little selfish? Especially after a week of not seeing her, Harry just wants her all to himself. That’s why he suggested that she come to his flat the first day he’s back, so they could be alone. 

So he’s more than happy, after the flight, after getting his shit from baggage claim and finding his car in the mass of other vehicles parked for overnight trips, and the 30-minute long drive from the airport to his flat – to see her just as he’d envisioned her. Only with a few additions; she wore the sweatshirt, and she had on these little shorts that were filthy (but she swore up and down she wore them because they were comfortable and not to taunt him with how little it would take before her bum was out), but tucked under her thigh was Leaf’s feather toy. Whenever Y/N was working, Leaf could go from sleeping peacefully at her side to the zoomies in all of three seconds, so this was her way of keeping her preoccupied – the stick was placed just precisely so that the feather and the string hung off the side of the couch for Leaf to jump and pull at. Y/N has pretty decent thigh muscles so she’s able to keep it in place without letting it move around too much. 

She has those horrible little booties on,  but she’s wrapped up in the throw blanket that Harry usually has wrapped around him – not for warmth, of course, but the way soft fibers feel against his skin is nice. He knows Y/N is not using it for that purpose because it touches nowhere that her skin shows, besides a little bit of her face. Y/N has it so close to her so that she can smell him, and Harry is just. . .so endeared by that he could scream. 

When he walked through the door, Y/N turned to face him with a big grin. She slid her computer out of her lap, and Leaf’s toy fell to the ground once she stood, carefully stepping over the kitten, and getting up on the other sofa so she could climb over it. She gets to him quicker this way, and her arms slink around his neck, and she holds him close, “Finally,” she murmured, “A week is too long.”

“You could always come with me.” He smiled into her hair, letting his eyes close – it was good to have her in his arms again, “I don’t think they’d mind a puppy backstage.” 

Y/N peeled away from him, flicking him in the center of his chest, “Shut up,” she threw at him, but it held no real spite, and her eyes were dripping in mirth, “Should I dress myself then show up?” 

“Oh, baby, please don’t – let me be the one to dress you.” 

It was nice, that back and forth, and had Harry not felt so keyed up then he probably would have started a load of laundry, showered, gotten in more comfortable clothes and they could have just hung out for the night. 

But Harry was keyed up – a week away from Y/N meant a week away from not only her beautiful brain, but her beautiful body as well, and he was missing the sounds she’d make when his fingers slid against her. How easy she was to rile up, the way she tasted on his tongue, how dripping wet she got from even just a little bit of Harry’s blood in her. It’s precisely why he’d eaten so much before leaving, and he’s sure she could tell he’d just eaten recently, with how warm his cheeks felt they must be rosy. And that flush on his pale skin is clear as day, especially how it slithers down his throat, and if he’s really worked up, it might splotch his chest. 

“When’s the last time you ate, Sweetheart?” He inquired – the icy little tip of her nose was enough to tell him it had been a while.

“Mm, I had some earlier, when I woke up,” she explained, “But I got distracted with work, so I haven’t since.” 

Normally, Harry might chide her for that, but he’s all too excited to offer his throat, “I have a treat for you then,” he placed his hands on her hips, walking her backward, “Get on the couch.” 

Where Y/N used to start on the side of his body and eventually make her way into his lap while she ate, she just crawled into his lap now to cut out the unnecessary jostling around. The weight of her in his lap is familiar, nice, and something he didn’t realize that he missed until he was away from her. She stretches her thighs on either side of him and scoots in very close; Harry is already half hard, and he isn’t sure if he’d been like this since he saw her, or on the plane when he’d even just thought about her. Whatever it was and whenever it was, he was definitely already getting hard just from the anticipation of her teeth in his neck. It felt like young adulthood all over again, when it wasn’t “mind over matter”, and Harry couldn’t help but get hard in three seconds from one thought. 

“I missed you,” she tells him, pressing her chest up against his, her nipples were already hard and Harry felt dizzy with the want burgeoning up from deep in his belly, “So much, and you were only gone for a week. It’s a little embarrassing.” 

“I miss you when I leave you alone for an hour,” he slides his hand on the nape of her neck and brings her closer, “Isn’t embarrassing. I’m flattered that you like me enough to miss me, even. Now take what you need, baby, I ate enough to fill you up.” 

The slide of her teeth into his skin never gets old, especially when it’s his throat. There’s a bite of pain, immediately soothed over by the euphoric feeling of it not only being a vampire bite, but a Y/N bite. The way she goes about it is still so tentative to start, and unsure, like she’s worried about hurting him – but the moment she tastes his blood on her tongue, all that vanishes. She moaned against his neck like she’d been starving for months and he’d finally come to save her, her fingers digging into his body wherever her hands lie. Harry can feel her inhibitions leave her, the way she gulps, drinks him down, and takes her fill how he wants her to. 

It’s always after a minute that Y/N’s body starts to move out of tandem with her. She hates that she starts rutting against him like an overexcited puppy, but that doesn’t stop the way her hips twitch and push closer to him while she’s eating. Harry’s hand slid from her neck, to meet his other at her hips, holding her still as she rolled her hips into him greedily. “Mm, it feels good, doesn’t it, baby? Especially after not having it for so long,” Harry shuddered, closing his eyes as he melted into the feeling, “I bet your pussy is already soaked.” 

Y/N whines, and he can only imagine how debauched the scene must look from an outsider's perspective. Her hands slip under his shirt, fingers tracing along his stomach and when the muscles in his abdomen tense up, his cock throbs to match. Harry’s fully hard now, and he thinks he’s already leaking, dripping into the inside of his trousers because he was always one to forgo underwear when it caused lines in his pants. Y/N lines herself up with him, tucking him into the folds because her pussy just swallows these shorts up, and rolls into him, “That’s it,” he whispered, “Such a good girl, you can have anything you want.”

The times she bites his throat aren’t always for pleasure. Harry still tries to prepare her for the first time she will meet with a feeder, so each time Y/N eats she gets better and better. She’s learned to stop when she’s full and to not overstuff herself just because it tastes good. She also has learned to read the queues of the other person, that she might have had too much – it’d be different for a human, but she can tell by the way Harry might start feeling even a degree less warm than he began as. 

He isn’t sure what coaxes her to stop today. She pulled away from his neck and lulled her tongue over the little puncture wounds in his skin, before moving so she faced him. Y/N made a pretty sight with her hazy eyes and her mouth stained red. Before he could spend too much time admiring her, she fixes her lips against his, slips her tongue into his mouth, and oh fuck. 

She’d kept some of his blood in her mouth, so it filled his own when she kissed him, and his eyes all but rolled up to the back of his head. Who had taught her something so filthy? His cock throbs so hard in his pants and he’s leaking so much precum he’s wondered if he’s cum already – he’s sure it’s sticky and webby beyond belief around the head of his cock, and Y/N isn’t helping the matter, she’s just making it worse. 

Harry takes her by the chin, parts her lips, and makes sure they stay open. Without having to instruct her, she presses the tip of her tongue to her bottom lip, waiting patiently – normally Harry places a couple of fingers on her tongue for her to suck and bite at, so he presumes that’s what she was expecting. But Harry couldn’t help himself, and if Y/N was going to be filthy, then he was going to be filthier, so he encased her tongue and her bottom lip with his mouth and suckled at it. When Y/N mewls, he takes more of her in, sucking the taste of him off her tongue while he pries at her little shorts. He was in no mood for her to get off his lap to wiggle them down, so he tore them, shredding the fabric. 

She makes a startled sound, mixed with a moan when Harry slips his tongue back into her mouth to kiss her properly again. Harry’s head spins when he backs away from her – they could kiss forever without needing to take a single breath (or they would be able to one day when Y/N really didn’t need to use her lungs anymore), but Harry wanted to look at her. Want to see her with lips bitten red and swollen, filled with blood that Harry kind of wants to knick with his tooth and drink from. He presses at her chest just a little so she stretches back, and he gathers the fabric at the bottom of her shirt in between his thumb and index finger, pressing it up her quivering belly. 

Her pussy is puffy and swollen and soaking wet, he would’ve thought she’d been touching herself before he’d come home. He can’t tell if he wants to bury his face or his cock into it more, but another hard throb suggests he’d better do the latter or he would cum hard in his pants. He uses his fingers to spread her open, showing off the engorged bud of her clit, chuckling brightly when it pulses beneath his attention. Harry is unsure what drives him to sink his fingers lower, get three of them wet then return to her clit to slap it, but he does, and the payoff is Y/N trying to close her legs around him with the most wanton of sounds. He does it again, a little harder, and Y/N’s hand comes to grab his wrist, “I’ll cum,” she whines like that was supposed to deter him, “I’ll cum if you keep going.” 

“Isn’t that the point?” He murmured, sliding his fingers through her juices and tucking them up inside of her, petting at her g-spot for a second before slipping them back out and licking her off his hand, “Want you to cum.” 

“I wanna cum with you in me,” she sounded like she was pleading with him, and Harry had always been a sucker for pretty girls begging, “Please?” 

Harry’s quick to work the button of his trousers open, pulling the zip and removing his cock from the oppressive confines of it. He’s harder than he’d even thought, but he was right to assume that he’d leaked so much precum it looked like he’d cum. The clear fluid oozes from the tip in a long, sticky line, filling up the dip of his hip bone. Y/N ogles him with awe-filled eyes, “Whoa,” she swallowed thickly, her fingers tracing up the underside from his balls to the tip, in a move he doesn’t think she means to be as teasing as it is, “You’re really hard.” 

“I know,” he bites down hard on his bottom lip as he throbs again, under her attention, in the coolness of the air. 

“Like, harder than I’ve ever seen you,” she states, and now her palm slides against his shaft, and she squeezes experimentally, looking between him and his cock, “And you’re so wet –” 

“Y/N,” he just barely holds back from whimpering, “No teasing, Darling, I need to fuck this into you or I’ll cum all over myself. You don’t want to waste it, do you?” He inquired, and Y/N shook her head, scooting closer, “Yeah, let me fill you up, Baby, want to watch it fucking drip out of you when we’re done.” 

She visibly shivered again, and Harry helped her lift and slide his cock inside of her. Y/N moans, her face pinches up from the pressure of him against her walls but she slips right on down like he belonged inside of her. Harry thinks Y/N likes the stretch – the burn of it, as long as it doesn’t border on too painful. She bottoms out, her arms wrapped around his neck, and she smushes their lips together. The kiss is brief before she nips at his plush bottom lip and sucks it into her mouth. While she does that, Harry presses his upper lip just above hers, his fingers digging into her thighs as she squeezes around him, accommodating his size. Her walls were velvety soft and smooth as they contract around him, the ridges and bumps something he’s set on memorizing. 

Her ministrations with her mouth go to his chin, she kisses then bites her way down his jaw, to his ear, laving her tongue over the little wounds that were no doubt closing and healing over by now. Harry offers her his hand when he realizes that she must want to bite something, and he’d made the right assumption when she fits his knuckles between her teeth and chews on him. Harry laughs as she starts to lift her hips, then drops back down onto him, “You’re so fucking cute,” he chuckled, “Should we get you a chew toy? A little bone for a puppy like you?” 

“Shut up,” her words are muffled around his fingers in her mouth but she’s riding him well. It feels so fucking good, Harry is holding onto every last bit of strength not to cum before her. A damning feat to accomplish when she finds the angle that hits that bundle of nerves inside of her just right – she clamps down on him, her eyes bead with tears as she fucks down onto him, and nibbles at his fingers. 

“Do you feel good, Baby? S’my cock stretching you out nice?” Y/N nodded, whining, “You can cum for me. Don’t you want that? Cum on me and I’ll fill this little pussy right up.” 

Harry shoves the sweatshirt up so it rests just above her bare tits, or at least enough that he can visualize them and then get one into his mouth. Her nipples are still hard, so pert and sensitive for him when he pulls them between his teeth and lulls his tongue in big circles around them. Harry alternates between sucking hard and flicking his tongue, and Y/N goes from chewing on his knuckles to holding them uselessly in her mouth and moaning around them. Harry feels her start to cum before she can even tell him through these breathy little whines. 

He isn’t ashamed to say he starts cumming before she could finish – he makes sure to work her through it still, fucking through the point of overstimulation, his thumb lulling on her clit when he raised his feet onto the coffee table and started to fuck into her. Harry fills her up, his orgasm splinters through him so intensely that he thinks his vision whites out for a second. He’s throbbing so hard inside of her, he knows she could feel it each time, and in response to each one, she mewls and sighs as she finally starts to come down from her own high. 

Harry untucks his face from her chest just as Y/N drops his fingers from her mouth. He’s still tucked inside of her but his cum slicks out from around where his cock is plugging her up, too much of it to even keep inside. The feeling is a little atrocious as it cools, but the thought of what it must look like almost has him stiffening up again. 

Y/N all but collapsed onto him, and Harry oofs! dramatically, before wrapping her up in his arms. Her arms moved to hug around his waist this time, and she murmured something on his shoulder that he couldn’t quite make out. She turns her head, so her cheek rests against his shoulder instead, “I said I really missed you,” she repeated, “I’m happy you’re back home.” 

A lot of responses run through Harry’s head, including, but not limited to I’m happy you’re here with me, I’m happy you’re in my life, I’m happy my cum is dripping out of you right now, I’m happy that our fates matched in this way, I’m happy that we have a kitten name Leaf, I’m happy our souls are bound together. 

Harry doesn’t though. He thinks them, and he smiles to himself when he replies with something that he’s pretty sure covers all of that. 

“I’m happy too.” 

[softantlers]

you know, what's really interesting about the scene where lottie runs into mari & tells her "you could let it be different" is that i think we may have collectively assumed that lottie knows the spikes are in the pit. but... the pit's barrier had never been broken? obviously, lottie didn't fall in & it's not like travis told her exactly what he did... so does she really know the pit has spikes?

i am very curious about pushing back on our assumption about lottie knowing the extent of the trap because i am realizing that it's interesting to consider that all she probably knows for sure is that: a) this is where the pit is, the one we found mari in; 2) travis covered it & i walked across it.

the fact that she's playing riddler with mari in ep10 when they bump into each other & that courtney mentions in the collider interview that lottie's trying to give her a fighting chance without upsetting the wilderness is so fucking fascinating to me (source). because if you take it that lottie might genuinely believe she's trying to give mari a fighting chance in the sense that she's simply trying to prevent her from falling into a normal pit and getting trapped there... oh, that's something different.

consider this: lottie makes a small plea of resistance by giving mari information (though ambiguous) about the pit & within seconds, mari dies in the most profound way imaginable. if you were as delusional and crashed out as lottie in season 3, what would you take away from that interaction? she, like everyone else, must be surprised by the reality of the pit. if you were lottie... god, wouldn't you think the wilderness had just punished you for your transgression? you reached out and an unimaginable violence bore down on your friend immediately... how could you think anything else? another death at your feet.

personally, i don't particularly believe that lottie is omnipotent, so it's also compelling to me to think of how badly the confirmation of the reality of the pit hurts when she looks at mari's body. up until then, she knew travis had laid a trap for her, probably suspected it was terrible. but i don't think it's possible she knew how fucking horrific that trap was until now. it has to hurt.

so here is lottie with a sort of message that "this is what you fucking get when you play games with me" from the wilderness & also the knowledge that (literally back-to-back throughout the hunt) travis and akilah both hate her and wish her dead. again, i'm not saying lottie was a wonderful person in the wilderness or that she didn't absolutely hurt other people this season. but goddamn, those are a lot of messages to hold, one after the other, in the middle of a psychotic break.

[saotoru]

10.24: HOW THEY EAT IT PT. 2 + DANTE & VERGIL

SYNOPSIS: what positions sparda bros like eating pussy in

CONTENT WARNINGS: fem!reader. ass eating. oral (f). anal. ass eating. fingering. a lot of overstimulation. pussy slapping. all acts are consensual whether explicitly stated or not.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: thank you for the love on the original ‘how they eat it’!!! <3

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST | MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

DANTE- FROM THE BACK

i’m here to preach the nasty dante agenda; he loves eating you out from the back. the first thing you’re greeted with the second you come home from work is his embrace. it’s innocent for all but a moment before dante’s hands wander down to paw at your clothes. in the seconds it takes you process his intentions, he’s already making them known by sinking down to his knees behind you and bringing the hem of your pants with him. each inch of skin he exposes gets kissed, and you can feel that typical, devilish smirk against your hip. “thought about you all day,” he murmurs, splaying a hand on your back to coax you to bend over and brace on the wall. your protests—that you haven’t showered yet, or that you were at work all day—all go ignored by dante burying his face in you and inhaling. no, he ignores you and licks a broad strip from your clit up to your asshole and moans.

he’s insatiable. completely shameless as he all but buries his face in you, hands spreading your cheeks so he can lap at your pussy. you taste soft, fucking good when you’re arched for him like this, exposed, and dante groans. stubble prickles your skin as he licks higher and higher, until he’s licking your hole and rimming you. the taste of you, the way you struggle to hold yourself upright makes his cock twitch but he ignores it, sinking a finger in your cunt instead, down to the knuckle. it’s too much, thick fingers fucking inside you, at first one, then two, until he’s stretching you out with three. and when he slips his tongue inside you feel so fucking full that tears blur your vision and you reach a hand behind to tug on his hair for him to slow down.

he doesn’t; if anything he only groans in response. “you look so pretty full of me. just want you to squirt. please. i know this sloppy pussy can, lemme taste it, angel…”

VERGIL- MATING PRESS

vergil will fold you in half when he eats you out. essentially mating press, where your thighs are pushed to your chest but it’s his face buried inside you instead of his cock. strong hands keep you pinned down while he all but devours you. that’s the only way to describe how vergil eats you out—completely, selfishly. here, he can lap at you without interruptions, without your thighs squeezing around his head and pushing him away. no, here you have to lay there and take it.

he’s not doing this for your pleasure. you know that much, otherwise he would stop after the first time you orgasmed. he would’ve been satisfied; he shouldn’t be stiffening his tongue and fucking it inside you to taste your cum. he tries to drink his fill—not meaning to let out low grunts when he feels your ankles cross behind his head and lock him there. and no matter how many times you cum and writhe and plead beneath him, he wants more.

and after what feels like hours, when he finally pulls away, he can’t look away from the mess he’s made of you. your spitslicked, wet folds only makes his mouth water and vergil realizes he’s still not satisfied.

“it’s not enough.” he grunts. he pushes his hair—normally well kept, now askew—away from his forehead in frustration. “i need more of you.”

you whine. “can’t, verg–s’too much.”

he lands a slap to your pussy. not hard enough to hurt, but light enough to make you flinch and clamp your thighs shut. “take it.” theres no room for argument–that’s the only warning you’re given before your thighs are shoved to your chest while vergil takes and takes and takes.

[yuri-is-online]

Now I wanna know how Grim ranks the second years. Also I'm in pain from wisdom teeth removal

oh dear I have heard that really hurts, I hope you are ok!

The Great Grim's OFFICIAL Tier List: Take 2 (do not steal)

Riddle- 3/10. Grim likes Riddle a lot, but not in a "hench human should date him" sort of way. If Grim had the ability to understand dating beyond thinking it's cringe he would tell you he is concerned about how Riddle handles conflict and what that would mean for your relationship. He wants you to be with someone who will give you space to relax, and Rampaging Riddle isn't the best at that. Unfortunately, Grim isn't that articulate so he just says he thinks he's too short.

Ruggie- 6.5/10. Ruggie isn't someone Grim hates exactly? Sure you dating someone rich would be nice because then he could get better tuna, but the rich guys on this campus are kind of scary... the real problem with Ruggie is that he expects Grim to do his share of the work. And he isn't shy about how cute he thinks Grim's insistence that he is the one in charge, that stupid laugh will start haunting his dreams. At least the cooking is worth it.

Azul- 7/10. Grim knows he shouldn't trust Azul but he does sort of... look he likes what the sleazy Tako is selling alright? And once that sell starts turning towards a romantic relationship with you he will absolutely be a little shit trying to wing man for him with you. It's sort of pathetic watching how they interact, both of them are convinced they are outsmarting the other but really the only person who is winning here is you.

Jade- I am so happy for your ugly ass boyfriend/10. Grim would be very happy if Jade tripped and fell into a ditch somewhere. Unfortunately Jade is an eel so he would probably just swim out of it right back into your arms and fake cry about it. If he wasn't so scary he'd be a 0.

Floyd- 9/10. Grim and Floyd sort of get along? Or at least I think so, Floyd likes Grim and likes hanging out with him and Yuu. He's the most likely out of the octotrio to actually bribe Grim without some sort of trick or gimmick because he finds it funny to see just how many things the baby seal will eat. He misses a point because Grim doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of being perfect but that's ok, Floyd knows the truth c: (he's delulu)

Kalim- 9.5/10. Grim thinks Kalim is kind of stupid and keeps trying to feed him crackers, so he is a half point away from perfect but! Kalim has no problems spoiling Grim which is good enough for him. Most of the time, if he didn't have money Grim would have so many questions.

Jamil- 20/10. Jamil is cringey but he can cook. I think Grim probably would be happiest in the long run with the more "normal" guys and Jamil would probably end up being his favorite. He gets to eat good food, and while Jamil would still want him to work... work isn't something Jamil wants to govern his entire life so Grimmy would be very happy with Yuu's choice.

Silver- meh/10. I don't think Grim understands the appeal of someone like Silver tbh. If anything I think his blunt kuudere swagger scares the hoes, which includes Grim. Sure, Silver is pretty, but he also says some pretty fucking dumb things that make Grim wonder if he needs to be the smart one. Normally he'd love that but ah. He is starting to feel rather unqualified all of a sudden for some reason, are you sure you like this guy? What standard is he meeting exactly and can you maybe reconsider...

[videovamptramp]

foolish one

// ellie is one of the biggest players on campus, and reader just so happens to be the only girl immune to ellie’s charm. at least, that’s what she thought. //

warnings: fuckgirl!ellie, reader is a bit difficult, ellie is a simp for r but also a huge womanizer, this is angsty cause ellie and reader are both dumb fucks <3

a/n: part 2 of heaven is not fit to house a love (like you and i) is coming sooon, but until then here’s an ellie fic i wrote a few months ago <3

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you were known at jackson university for being a good girl. sure, you’ve been to your handful of frat parties, who hasn’t? but you always kept your grades up, and made sure you never hooked up with any of the rich wannabe’s here. not because you thought you were better than anyone, no never that— mainly because you’ve worked too damn hard to get out of your shitty neighborhood to let all of your progress get ruined by a broken heart. so you refused to date or even flirt. you had friends and you were known for being vibrant and kind, but the second someone crossed a line you’d shut them down. you could be colder than ice when you wanted to be, and as sensitive as a baby at times, but you always knew how to keep yourself together. you always kept your heart safe.

maybe that’s what attracted ellie to you so badly. the fact that you weren’t easy, and how unaffected you were by whoever showed interest in you. she’d never heard about any of the jocks or frat boys hooking up with you, and the stories she has heard she knew weren’t true. you are far too much of a good girl for that. that’s exactly what makes ellie want to ruin you. god, she seems to always notice how cute you look in those tight pants, or how beautiful your hair looks each day. she even noticed how you cut it a few months ago; nobody else did because you only cut a few inches, and when ellie complimented you on it, you actually blushed. the interaction gave the brunette hope that she had a chance.

when ellie first approaches you, it’s because she needs help in her english literature class. she normally has excessive skills when it comes to talking to girls; she’s nearly slept with half the cheer team, started drama throughout the schools debate club because she slept with three members, and there were even rumors going around about her and one of the hot professors at the school. you knew ellie williams was nothing but trouble; but there was something in those evergreen orbs that caused you to soften whenever she was near. she’d smile or blush sheepishly, and it would make your stomach flutter in an unfamiliar way that terrified you.

so when ellie asks for your help, you instinctively say yes. that’s how you end up meeting ellie in the campus library every thursday for a study session. though, it’s the fourth session and each time ellie seems to get more and more side tracked. she can’t help it; the weather is getting hotter, and those tight jeans you’ve been alternating between throughout the winter turn into tight denim shorts. that black long sleeve top you’re wearing, hugs your body just right. ellie can’t help but let her eyes roam down. you notice every time. whenever she’d look at you, her eyes would trail you up and down, and then back up to meet your gaze. she’d lick her lips and flash you that grin that made your knees weak. though you had to continuously remind yourself that her grin probably makes every girl around here weak.

“you going to jesse’s party tonight?” ellie asks hopefully, and you shake your head. “no, i have plans with joey tonight.” you confess and ellie tenses up. “joey? frat boy joey?” she asks, and you can hear the clear disdain in her voice. “yeah, he needs help studying. like you. he’s coming here after you leave.” you explain and ellie purses her lips. she doesn’t want you to be alone with joey. the library is empty and her stomach sinks as she thinks about how pretty you look tonight. “maybe i can stay extra, just so you don’t have to deal with him alone.” the offer hangs there for a moment, and it shocks you. “why wouldn’t i want to deal with him? it’s only an hour, and he doesn’t seem too bad.” you say uncertainly, though you don’t want to tell her you’d prefer not to be alone with him. you thought the library would be a little more full tonight, but the fact that there’s a frat party tells you nobody’s going to be worried about studying.

maybe that’s why joey agreed so quickly. “he’s just a creep. i’d rather you not be alone with him.” ellie states and you feel your heart lurch in an unrecognizable way. “careful, williams, it sounds like you care.” you taunt, and she stares at you with those intense green eyes. “what if i do?” she asks, and your breath gets caught in your windpipe as you lose all train of thought. “i mean we’re friends now, right? i’m allowed to care about you.” she blurts out, and you chew on your bottom lip. you’ve never heard about ellie williams being friends with any girls. except for dina who’s her roommate, but she’s dating jesse. you shrug, “i guess we are friends… fine, you can stay.” you give in, turning away before noticing her relieved expression. “but what about the party?” you question uncertainly, and she shrugs, “i’d rather be here.” she admits, and that stupid knot in your stomach returns again.

for the next few weeks you and ellie get ironically close. your library study sessions end up moving to your dorm, and ellie meets your roommate michelle. the blonde is crazy and a party animal, but it turns out you’ve both been friends since middle school. you’re so carefree in your dorm, and the posters and pictures on your wall show ellie you’re actually an extremely outgoing person, regardless of how you try to portray yourself. every time she learns something about you, she falls deeper for you. whenever she makes you laugh, her heart lurches and she can’t help but stare at you. she’s never felt this way with anyone else.

though it doesn’t take you long to bring up all of ellie’s rendezvous. “c’mon ellie, cat and katherine in the same week?? they’re friends! what did you expect?” you ask, giggling mercilessly as she tells you why cat and katherine got suspended last month. she rubs the back of her neck, her cheeks reddening. “i didn’t realize they’d tell each other!” she responds and you raise a brow. “seriously?? girls have bigger mouths than guys when it comes to hook ups!” you tell her, and she smirks. “do you?” she inquires tantalizingly, and you roll your eyes. “i don’t hook up.” you answer simply, causing her to smirk. “or you just don’t kiss and tell.” she points out, your cheeks flushing at the insinuation.

“no, i really don’t hook up. i think it’s pointless to sleep with someone you don’t actually have a connection with. meaningless sex doesn’t sound appealing to me.” you explain, and she blinks a few times. you shake your head quickly, realizing how that sounded. you didn’t want to offend her, so you rush to add on, “not that there’s anything wrong with it!!” you save yourself and she laughs. “hey, don’t stop on my account. i mean hooking up is fun, but that’s all it is; you’re right, it doesn’t mean anything.” she reveals, but she doesn’t tell you how glad she is to know you don’t hook up. she knows how hypocritical that would sound.

“would you at least consider dating?” she asks curiously, and you purse your lips. “probably not.” you respond, “it’d only get in the way of my studies.” you add while she only nods. “oh. so if i asked you on a date you’d say no?” she questions smoothly; your cheeks feel as though they’re on fire. “i’d definitely say no. especially when you were just bragging about ‘bagging’ cat and katherine in the same week.” your face expression is serious, but she can see in your eyes there’s traces of hurt mixed in your orbs. “but those are just hookups. you said it yourself they don’t mean anything.” she counterpoints, and you frown. it means something to me, the words are hanging off your tongue. but it shouldn’t mean anything to me, you think. she shouldn’t mean anything to you. she’s a player. a known player, with a reputation for ruining every girl she touches. why would i even risk it?

“if they didn’t mean anything to you, i certainly won’t either.” you argue, and she blinks at you, staring at you as if you’ve grown an extra head. “what do you mean? you’re different, you’re the prettiest girl at this place.” she admits, and you feel the blood rise to your face, “how many girls have you told that one to? seriously els, let’s get back to studying, this essay isn’t going to write itself.” you try to shut down the argument, and she deflates a bit. it’s not as though she has any more defense to her argument. she knows you’re right, and she knows she made her reputation herself.

“can you believe it, d?? she said she’d say no if i asked her out on a date!” ellie rants at the bar over the loud music. dina raises a brow, traces of amusement laced into her features. “didn’t she say it was because of all the girls you go through? i mean, i know i’m your best friend, ellie, but that’s a valid reason not to get involved with someone.” she shrugs, making ellie’s eyes widen in offense. “seriously?! who’s side are you on??” the brunette asks, making dina laugh in disbelief. “certainly not yours! because of you, rachel and carina were arguing all throughout my sociology lesson.” dina grumbles, and ellie sighs as she lays her head on the bar counter, squishing her forehead against the cool marble surface.

“she’s never going to want me.” ellie groans pathetically, and dina rolls her eyes. “wow, pull yourself together. if you really want her to want you, you need to put in actual effort.” dina starts, her tone stringent and up for no debates. ellie opens her mouth to say something, but the raven haired girl beats her to it. “seriously, this can’t be like all of your half assed attempts at getting into someone’s pants. if you really want her, prove it.” dina says sternly, and ellie sits up, flashing her a questioning look. “what am i supposed to do!? i’ve never done this sort of thing before… i just— i don’t know how to get out of the friendzone. i’ve never been in the friendzone with someone i actually want.” ellie grumbles, and dina hums in amusement. “for one, stop hooking up with every girl you find attractive. being easily accessible to other girls isn’t as hot as you think.” dina slaps ellie’s back a little too hard, causing her roommate/best friend to glare at her.

“ow!” “and actually make an effort to get to know her. text her, ask about her day, her favorite bands and artists. you said she’s smart, does she like books? ask her about her favorite book and major.” dina explains, “what if she doesn’t want to tell me those things? we’ve only been friends for two months, and she literally only talks about studying.” ellie says, her tone laced with insecurity. “y/n is nice. i’ve talked to her a few times at the library. she’ll tell you those things as soon as you ask. all you have to do is put in effort till she notices.” dina assures her, and ellie reaches into her back pocket and pulls out her phone.

“what are you doing?” dina asks uncertainly, “texting y/n about her day and favorite band and all that bullshit.” ellie slurs as she begins smashing her thumbs on the keyboard, and dina’s eyes widen. imagine your surprise when you wake up at midnight to a bunch of texts from ellie, asking you about your day, and your favorite books. the grammatical errors in the message don’t fail to make you smile, and you can’t even fight the way your heart warms.

you: go to sleep, ellie.

ellie: i can’t stop thinking about you.

you: think about me while you sleep. it’s late.

ellie: i was at the bar with dina tonight, just got to my room. gonna dream about you, princess <3

you roll your eyes at her cheesy message. of course she’s intoxicated. you have a small smile on your lips as you type back a single message.

you: goodnight ellie. don’t forget to keep a water bottle by your bed for the morning.

you aren’t sure why ellie williams seems to suddenly be interested in you. it’s a strange feeling to be wanted by one of the most wanted girls in school. you can’t help but wonder if she’s truly interested, or if you’re accusations are correct and she’s just trying to get into your pants. you sigh as you put your phone down and try to go back to sleep. thoughts of ellie plague your mind, and you hate the way her smile makes you feel all warm inside. you’re trying your absolute hardest to not feel anything for ellie williams, but it doesn’t seem to be working out very well for you. especially not when she drunk texts you the cutest things.

the texts don’t stop there. over the next few weeks ellie begins to text you daily, nonstop. she’ll send you memes, or posts that remind her of you. she’ll even send pictures of puppies she sees when she’s out in town. there was a night where you were reading, and ellie sent you a voice memo of her playing guitar and lightly singing a song she wrote. her voice made you feel as though your heart was about to burst right out of your chest. it’s been three and a half months of trying to ignore these feelings in your belly every time the brunette is near. three months of trying to keep your blush at bay, and not laugh at her horrible puns.

“i didn’t know you could sing like that.” you pipe up one day as you’re revising her essay for her english class. her cheeks turn the most adorable shade of pink, and you have to bite your bottom lip to stop from smiling. “i don’t normally let anyone know that i can sing… but you’re special to me.” she clarifies, and you stare at her, getting lost in her emerald eyes. “maybe one day you can come to my dorm, and i’ll sing for you in person.” she flirts, and you just now realized how close she’s sitting. the blood rushes to your cheeks and you have to force yourself to look away, breaking eye contact. “when will your excessive flirting ever end?” you ask her, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

ellie smirks, “when you finally agree to give me a chance.” she declares, and you can’t help but frown. “a chance? a chance at what, ellie? to get in my pants and then never talk to me again?” you ask, sounding slightly upset. ellie shakes her head quickly, “no! y/n you know i’d never do that to you.” she tries, and you sigh. “no, i don’t. the truth is, i like you and it scares me, ellie… but the way you treat girls scares me more.” you whisper, unable to look at her, ellie feels her heart sinking in her chest. she feels herself responding with one of the only few emotions she knows; anger. “no offense, but how would you even know how i treat women?” she asks, and you can hear the clear offense in her tone.

“i already told you that girls talk, ellie. i know what i’ve heard from them, and what i hear from you is no better.” you don’t even look at her as you continue revising her essay on her laptop. “look, you misspelled ‘continuity’.” you say, swiftly trying to change the subject, but ellie doesn’t let up. “the way i treat girls i don’t care about is different. i care about you. i could treat you so well, and take you on dates.” she begins rambling, and you look up at her, your eyes unamused. “have you ever even been on a date, ellie?” you ask unable to contain a chuckle. “well— erm— no, but i bet i could plan one. a better date than you’ve ever been on.” she tells you, leading you to tilt your head to the side in order flash her a curious look. “is that so? well, maybe you should practice by actually taking your next conquest on a date.” you suggest sassily, and she deflates.

i don’t want to date anyone who isn’t you, she thinks, but chooses not to press any further. instead she goes back to her room after you finish revising her essay, and even though she doesn’t text you throughout the rest of the evening, you still receive a goodnight text from her. a simple message shouldn’t make you smile or give you butterflies, but it does. you respond to her, and go to sleep, thoughts of ellie freaking williams on your mind, and you have to continually remind yourself that you’re not the only poor girl thinking about her tonight. you think about the advice you gave her, to take some poor other girl out on a date… but the thought of that makes your heart ache. you don’t want ellie to date or hookup with anyone else, but that’s wrong. ellie can do whatever she likes, you just wish she only wanted to do you.

your disheartening thoughts from last night linger all throughout the morning. you don’t text ellie back, and when she asks to hang out, you don’t even answer. you’re starting to realize the main problem is you’ve been spending so much time with her, and the closer you two get, the more you fall for those freckle coated cheeks, and evergreen eyes. you can’t help how you feel, and you know ellie only flirts with you because that’s the way she is. it doesn’t mean anything to her, and that’s what hurts the worst. to her you’re just some other girl, and to you she’s starting to take up spaces in your mind like she owns it.

it doesn’t take long for ellie to find you on a bench outside of the university after your classes. you’re reading some stephen king novel that’s pretty worn, “you’ve been hard to find.” ellie’s soft voice pulls you out of your thoughts. you look up to see her standing there with a button up collared shirt, and those jeans that make her look cuter than anyone you’ve ever seen. “i’ve been looking for you. and texting you.” the brunette says, and you shrug. “i’ve been busy.” you murmur and she frowns as she takes a seat next to you. “too busy to hang out with me?” she asks, and you shrug. “you’re a little distracting.” you admit as you wave your book at her.

she smirks, and it makes your belly flip flop. “you calling me distracting?” ellie teases, and you let a giggle escape your lips. the delightful sound causes ellie to grin. “yeah, you are. in the worst way.” you joke, and she throws her head back and laughs. she stares at you for a moment, “i have a date tonight.” she admits, and you tense up. “oh really?” you question, trying not to sound too interested. “yup. angela from kappa sorority.” she explains and you chuckle, “a sorority girl?” you ask, and ellie can hear the slight judgment in your voice. “well, the girl i want won’t give me the time of day, and i’m trying to prove i can do more than just sleep with a girl.” she explains simply, and you roll your eyes.

“where are you taking her?” you inquire, and ellie shrugs, “probably maria’s diner downtown.” she says and you nod. “nice. hope you have fun.” you sound pretty genuine, but ellie can see a trace of hurt in your features. you’re trying to ignore the way your stomach sinks at the thought of her smiling at some pretty girl, and paying for her dinner. you hate thinking about it. “maybe we can hang out before? get some studying in?” she asks hopefully, she just wants to spend as much time as she can with you. “can’t. i have to do homework before i help joey and kayla with their project for an english seminar.” you explain, and ellie only nods in a bit of disappointment.

“will you be free tomorrow?” she asks and you shrug, the thought of having to hear about how good her date went doesn’t sound too appealing. “i’ll text you.” you weakly respond and she nods as she stands up, flashing you a questioning look. “uh, okay…” she wants to say something about how upset you seem, but she doesn’t want to press. “i’ll see you later then.” she adds, and you only nod as she walks away. you try not to watch her leave, but you can’t help it. you release a ragged breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. “i’m so screwed.”

throughout the night you ignore ellie’s texts, trying not to think about her date. the next day you begin to avoid ellie as if she has the plague. it doesn’t take her long to notice. you’d leave her on read, and she checked the library but you weren’t there. all of the benches around the university that you’d usually sit at to read were empty, and you weren’t in the cafeteria. that’s how ellie ends up in front of your dorm room, knocking lightly yet adamantly. when you open it you’re wearing a pair of tight flare jeans, a pair of converse, and that cute cropped sweater that fits you well.

“e-ellie what are you doing here?” you ask, obviously surprised to see her. “you’ve been ignoring me. why?” she asks as she pushes her way into your room. your roommate is sitting on her bed, and she raises a brow, “should i give you guys privacy?” michelle asks and you nod, “yes please.” you breathe out, and the blonde nods as she gets up and reaches for her phone and purse. “i’m gonna bring lunch. for three in case you’re still here when i get back.” michelle tells ellie before she leaves you two alone. the atmosphere is tense, and you can’t even look at her.

“how was your date?” you inquire, ignoring her previous question. “is that why you’ve been ignoring me? because i went on a date?” she asks in disbelief, making you scoff. “i haven’t been ignoring you, i’ve been busy.” you lie through your teeth, and now it’s ellie’s turn to scoff. “seriously? you expect me to believe that? every day for the last four months we’ve been hanging out, and now suddenly you’re busy?” she asks, her tone stern and angry. you roll your eyes opting not to respond. this only adds to her frustration, “i mean, what gives? i thought we were friends.” she points out, her tone more fragile now, and it makes you pause. your hard expression falters, but you can only stare at her incredulously. “friends?” you ask, your tone skeptical and hurt, “a friend wouldn’t endlessly flirt with me, and pin me in the same category as every other girl in this school. they don’t say all this stuff that’s supposed to have meaning, and then go on a date with some other girl. friends don’t look at each other the way we do, ellie!” you snap and she’s staring at you with wide eyes, while her breath is lodged in her windpipe.

“you like me.” she blurts out, her tone laced with realization. you blink, “you like me, like me.” she declares, and you release a shaky sigh. “i do. but i can’t afford to, ellie. you’re not the kind of person i’m supposed to be with. i need someone who’s ready for commitment, and who has a whole lot of patience. you don’t have either of those things.” you begin to ramble, and ellie frowns. “why do you always make me seem like i’m a terrible person?? is that really what you think of me? that i’m so shit, i don’t even deserve a chance to show you i can be better?” she asks, and the hurt in those eyes makes you feel tremendously guilty. but you don’t let up, “you’re a wonderful person, ellie. you’re funny, and smart, and you always make me smile… but i don’t think you’d be a good girlfriend. i’m sorry. i think it’s best if we don’t talk anymore.” you say, your voice low and distant.

ellie stares at you in disbelief. “so that’s it?? you’re just never gonna talk to me again?” she questions angrily, and you look down at your shoes. “i’m sorry ellie.” you whisper, and she stares at you with a look of pure betrayal. “you know, i may not know what it’s like to be in love or know how to be a perfect girlfriend, but i would do anything you ask. i would never hurt you intentionally. so, you just lost someone who actually gives a shit about you.” she hisses venomously, as she turns to leave, and you have to clamp down on your bottom lip as you try to ignore the tears that are threatening to leave your eyes.

ellie leaves but you can’t watch her go. you don’t want that memory engraved into your brain. her words are all you can hear replaying in your head, and it isn’t until you can taste the salt from your tears that you realize you’re crying. you haven’t cried over a girl since high school, and now you feel like a fool for letting ellie get so close. you didn’t even let her touch you and you still ended up broken-hearted like her string of other women. but this was different, and it’s taken you this long to realize it. ellie didn’t even try to get into your pants, yet it still hurts just as much, maybe more. you can’t help but feel guilty for being so harsh, but how could you possibly give ellie a chance to break your heart for real? you’re terrified of the way you feel about her.

you: i’m sorry.

ellie leaves you on read after that, and two days go by with you thinking about her consistently. she doesn’t try to show up at your door anymore, or go out of her way to look for you on campus. ellie is now actively avoiding you, the same way you were avoiding her. the guilt and sadness was gnawing you up inside, and you couldn’t fight the urge to make things right. that’s how you ended up at jesse’s frat party. you’re wearing a tight white cropped top that ties around the back of your neck, and light blue denim levi short shorts. your hair was curled perfectly in hopes you’d see ellie tonight and get to make things right. you realize that if you don’t give her chance, you’re going to be heartbroken over all of the ‘what if’s’.

“hey y/n! i didn’t think you’d come tonight!” dina shouts over the loud music, as she stands in front of you, she has a strange smile on her face. she looks almost nervous. you smile back, choosing not to dwell on it. “hey d! yeah, i’m looking for ellie, have you seen her?” you ask and dina’s smile falters, “uh, she’s— she’s around.” dina lies horribly. as if on cue you move a bit to the side, and see what she was covering with her body by standing in front of you.

madeline from one of the sorority houses was hanging off ellie’s neck, and the brunette’s hands were all over madeline. your heart breaks at the sight; you have a few classes with the blonde and she’s on the cheer team. she’s drop dead stunning. that’s when ellie leans in and kisses the cheerleader in a way that cause the final bits of your heart to crack into little pieces. suddenly you feel like an absolute fool for coming here tonight.

“y/n…” dina tries, and you clear your throat, shaking your head, pulling yourself out of your thoughts. “do me a favor and don’t tell her i was here, okay?” you ask pleadingly and dina flashes you a concerned look. “please?” you nearly beg, your voice cracking slightly, causing her to sigh. she nods reluctantly and you rush off, making your way for the exit you just came in through. you try not to cry, and thankfully your roommate/best friend is at that stupid party trying to get laid. you let it all out as soon as you get to your dorm; your mascara’s running, and you’re sure you sound as pathetic as you look. the image of one of the prettiest girls in school hanging off ellie’s neck is now burned into your mind. you should’ve known better than to think you could actually make things work with ellie williams.

[cheezewhis]

I'm going to regret this.

Sometimes the iwtv fandom makes me worry about the future of diversity in media. I mean I expect the racist assholes to pop up and bother everyone. That happens all the time and while it sucks, there are ways to filter those people out.

My big worry is honestly on the other end, where people are so desperate for harmony they end up treating minorities like monoliths of purity. Seriously, we have a show with morally grey characters of a variety of colors, a color conscious writing team, actors who constantly discuss the nuances of their characters, and people still find a reason to fight about this. Wasn't this the ideal we were asking for???

How are we supposed to evolve the representation in media if we can't go 2 seconds without fighting about which characters you're "allowed" to like?

You can't like Lestat because then you're condoning his behavior, but you can't condem anything Louis does cause then you're racist, but also you can't like Louis more than Armand because Louis was a pimp, but also you can't like Armand because he killed Claudia, but also that was all Lestat's fault and Armand did nothing wrong and if you don't ship Loumand it's because you're racist and if you do ship Loumand it's because you just hate Lestat and Anne Rice and puppies??? or something, and Clauida is the only character you're actually allowed to like except you are not allowed to like her unless you hate Lestat or Louis because as we've established it's really Lestat's fault she died and also Louis was a bad father and is responsible for Clauida's death so you cant like him either but also you are racist for thinking Louis did something wrong because black characters are not allowed to make mistakes or be nuanced or be human but also you don't get nuance if you like 1x05, you have to hate 1x05 because that episode of the toxic abusive vampire show dared to show toxic abusive vampires and ruined your precious precious perception of Lestat but also if you still like Lestat after that then you must hate Louis because Louis is 5 fucking years old and needs to be coddled but also he's a piece of shit and you cant like him and idk i don't really hear people argue about Daniel but maybe I'm just not looking hard enough and who ever cares cause I lost the plot about 100 fucking words ago.

Like jesus fuck we'll never weed out the racist people in the fandom cause we're too fucking busy fighting each other about, like, if we should let black characters be nuanced and interact with white characters who are mean??? Istg half this fandom thinks Louis (and Jacob Anderson for that matter) is like a battered helpless child who has never been able to stand up for himself. Louis is a character built from very real pain, he's always going to be kind of sad by virtue of that, but he's not 5, he can make decisions for himself.

How the fuck are we supposed to normalize diversity in media if we can't be fucking normal about diversity in media.

Fuck. Everything. And. Everyone.

[heli-writes]

Heartbreak and other nuisances

Pairing: Pro-hero!Deku x female!reader

Summary: Love is never easy, especially when you're the number one hero of Japan. After getting dumped by his childhood love, Deku just can't seem to get it right, much to his mother's disappointment. When he meets y/n, he is convinced it will just be a one-night stand. Or being fuck buddies. His broken heart stands in his way. And you've got your own demons to fight.

Disclaimer: nsfw, smut, oral sex, fingering, vaginal sex, angst, heartbreak, bisexuality

[Please don't read if you are sensible to or triggered by the topics mentioned above.]

Minors do not interact.

Note: It's very long. This might become a series later but for now can be read as a one-shot.

Part 1, Part 2

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Deku watches the skyline of Musutafu and tries to ignore the ringing of his phone. His patrolling shift ended a few hours ago But he can't bring himself to go home to his empty apartment.

His phone keeps disrupting the silent piece of the rooftop he is sitting on. He sighs and rubs his temple. It's probably his mother or one of his friends bugging him to go out with them.

Digging through the pockets of his hero suit, he eventually finds the ringing device. Two missed calls from his mom, three text messages from Kirishima and Denki and an email from his PR manager. He decides to check his voicemail first.

"Hey it's mum again, you haven't picked up the phone after my last few calls. So I tried again. I was just wondering if you'd like to come over on Saturday for a nice dinner with me and Toshinori. You don't have to of course but I'd be looking forward to seeing you again. Anyways, just give me a call when you have time to check your messages.", his mother's voice comes out of the phone.

He sighs and types in a quick reply.

> Hey, mom! Got your message. Sorry for not calling you back, work's a lot at the moment. Thanks for the invite, but I won't be able to make it.

His mother answers immediately.

>> Are you sure? You really should take a break from time to time. We're worried about you.

Izuku stares at the screen and pulls at his lip in thought. Just when he's about to give his mother a cheap excuse, another message pops up.

>> Yo, are you in on Saturday or not?

He opens the chat and reads that Kirishima and Denki invited him to a concert on Saturday. Then, he opens the chat with his mom again.

> Don't worry about me, mom. Actually, I can't come on Saturday because I am going to a concert with Kirishima and Denki.

>> A concert? Honey, that's nice. Have fun then!

Izuku sighs in relief. Another worried talk with his family was avoided. He's sure that he cannot stand another "A hero must have a balanced life"-talk by Yagi.

He quickly responds to Kirishima's message before putting the phone away and starting his way home.

~*~*~*~

The jeans feel uncomfortable, Izuku decides. All in all, his hero costume is a lot more comfortable than his normal clothes these days. He wears it like a second skin. Sometimes he forgets to put it off when he comes home.

His phone vibrates.

>> We're downstairs. You comin'?

He quickly puts his phone into his back pocket and grabs his key and wallet.

~*~*~*~

"I swear to god, that were the finest pair of boobs, I've ever seen!", Denki ends his dramatic story of a girl he slept with last weekend.

"It's probably the only pair of boobs you've ever seen.", Kirishima comments jokingly.

Denki immediately starts to go on a rent about all the boobs he's ever seen but Kirishima ignores him and turns to Izuku.

"So, how are you, Izuku? Haven't heard from you for a while. Didn't think you'd actually come out with us tonight.", he asks him.

Izuku shrugs.

"Same old, same old.", he answers vaguely. "Is Kachaan joining us?", he quickly tries to change the topic.

"Nah, he's busy with his girlfriend. Dude's probably spending all day and night in bed fucking.", Denki says.

Izuku feels his stomach drop. Of course, he knows about Kachaan's girlfriend. They're together for little over half a year now and the press writes about them every other day. However, he kind of hoped that Katsuki would grow tired of her eventually. After all, the only person he had ever been with for longer than six months was Izuku.

Kirishima rolls his eyes. "Denki, is sex the only thing you ever think about?", he asks annoyed. Denki gives him a smug expression. "I'm young, single, and hot. Of course, it is.", he answers.

"Talking about sex, Izuku when was the last time you got some?", Denki asks his friend nonchalantly.

Izuku furrows his brows. He actually has to think about this. He had sex after Kachaan but all these hookups were meaningless so eventually he gave them up.

"Actually, I don't know.", he replies truthfully.

Kirishima pats his back. "You don't have to tell us, buddy. But remember, we're not the press. You don't have to save face around us.", he tells Izuku.

Denkis starts laughing. "Dude, I think he's being honest. Damn, then you really need to get some tonight! But don't worry, I got ya. There are plenty of hot chicks at the club I am taking you to!", he exclaims, "Let's go!"

~*~*~*~

Turns out, the club is some kind of old, rundown pub at the end of town. Part of Izuku is glad Denki took them to a place like this. It's less likely to be found by paparazzi around here. Then again, it probably also wouldn't be good to be found by the press in a place like this.

Both Denki and Kirishima don't seem to care about that when they enter the place. There's a small stage at the end of the wide room. The banner over the stage indicates that some kind of rock band will be playing soon.

The trio makes their way to the bar first. After they've gotten their drinks, they find a corner to stand in and watch the crowd. It doesn't take Denki long to choose a chick for the night and he takes off to try his luck.

"So, how are you doing? I mean really? Don't give me a half-assed answer this time.", Kirishima asks.

Izuku takes a long drag from his beer. "Been telling you, I'm fine. Work's a lot but not surprising with our profession and status.", he mumbles just loud enough for Kirishima to hear.

Kirishima gives him a worried side glance. "You know that you don't have to carry this weight alone, do you?", he points out.

"Yeah, I know."

Izuku stares into his glass. He's not sure how or if he should make his friends understand that it's not work that lies heavy on his mind.

The truth is that the grand hero Deku is lonely. Simple as that.

He thought he found somebody special in Kacchan only to find out that it was nothing special to the explosion hero. Just something to pass the time until he found someone more fitting, someone more socially acceptable.

Izuku takes another drag from his glass when the lights suddenly dimmed. "I think the show is about to start.", Kirishima points out. "Wanna get closer to the stage?", he asks and Izuku just nods in response.

The two of them walk deeper into the small crowd that is forming. Somewhere in between the people, Izuku sees Denki's blonde hair light up.

A punk rock band enters the stage. "You know them?", Izuku asks his friend. Kirishima nods excitedly. "Yeah, they're pretty underground though. They're really cool. Katsuki introduced them to me!", he tells the green-haired men.

Blaring music starts and Izuku immediately knows that this is not his kind of music. He likes rock music but more classic hard rock like AC/DC. He can see though how this is right up Katsuki's alleyway.

Memories of loud punk music blaring out of speakers in Katsuki's bedroom flash before his eyes. He remembers the layers of sweat on his skin and the taste of Katsuki on his lips.

Suddenly, he feels nauseous.

"Hey, I'm getting another drink!", he yells over to Kirishima who already headbangs to the music.

Izuku makes his way over to the bar pushing through the masses of bodies. He starts to feel really uncomfortable. It's too loud, too hot, too stuffy.

When he reaches the bar, it takes a while to place his order. When he gets his drink, he stays at the bar. He's not too keen on throwing himself onto the dance floor again.

People squeeze past him left and right to get to the bar and get drinks. Uncomfortably, he tries to shift out of their way. Suddenly he bumps into someone with his back and cold liquid drenches his shirt.

"Gosh, I'm so sorry!", a female voice says behind him.

He turns around and then there's you.

You wear a short cocktail dress that compliments your cleavage. Your (y/h/c) hair is styled perfectly. Only your makeup looks a bit cakey, probably due to the high humidity in the pub you're standing in but Izuku doesn't even notice it.

"Don't worry, it's fine.", he mumbles and tries to turn away. He really doesn't want to get recognized. Especially not over a spilled drink.

"Are you sure?", you ask unsure but before you can say anything more, the man in front of you disappears into the crowd.

You watch him disappear in the direction of the toilets. You turn towards the bartender. "Excuse me, can I order what he had?", you yell over the music.

*~*~*~*

Izuku grips the sides of the sink. He splashes water into his face and looks at his drenched shirt. Luckily, it can be mistaken for sweat.

He would like to hole up in one of these toilet cabins. He really doesn't want to get back out there. Everybody out there seems to have a great time and he feels lost in the crowd.

Kirishima is probably already looking for him. The red-haired man already suspects that Izuku is not doing too well. He takes another deep breath before pushing himself off the sink and turning towards the door.

"Hey!", a voice says right next to him when he's out of the door. It's you again. You're holding two glasses of rum coke.

"For you. As a sorry for spilling my drink on you earlier.", you tell him and offer him one of the drinks.

Great, he thinks, a groupie trying to get my attention.

"Thanks", he tells her and takes one of the glasses. She gives him a curt nod.

"See you around", you tell him and turn around to leave.

Izuku stares after you. Did you not recognize him or are you not interested in him? Why does he feel slightly insulted?

"Hey, man, there you are. We were already wondering if you picked up a chick and left us behind!", Kirishima jokes and pats his shoulder.

*~*~*~*

"Izuku, are you coming over this weekend? We'd really like to see you again.", his mother says over the phone.

"You know, mom, I'm really busy. I don't know if I can make it.", he tells her trying to avoid the inevitable.

"Then we come over and I cook you a nice meal. I still have the spare key to your apartment.", his mother proposes gleefully.

Izuku rubs his temple. He really doesn't want his mother and Yagi to sniff around in his apartment. There's still a box of Kacchan's stuff under his bed.

"Alright, mom, I'm coming over for dinner, okay?", he gives in.

"Yes, honey, that's great. We're looking forward to seeing you.", his mother tells him contentedly.

After hanging up, Izuku rubs the sides of his head and sighs deeply. He is not looking forward to this.

*~*~*~*

"Izuku, we're so glad that you could make it!", his mother chirps and immediately hugs him upon opening the door. Yagi pats him on the back.

They go easy on him during dinner. Asking polite questions about work and his friends. His mother pries a little bit too much on what Uraraka is doing lately for Izuku's taste.

After dinner, over a cup of tea, is when the real deal starts. Izuku notices his mother and Yagi changing a meaningful glance, probably a code that now it's time to torture him.

"So... honey, how's life besides work? Anything new?", his mother asks carefully.

Izuku avoids eye contact. "Not really, I guess.", he shrugs.

"I hope you don't work too long hours, my boy.", Yagi says.

Izuku shrugs again. "Well, you know what the job is like.", he tells the older man.

"Of course, of course... it just seems as if you are really pushing yourself lately.", Yagi replies.

"We're just a bit worried about you. We never see you anymore, you barely seem to go out with your friends anymore.", his mother adds.

"I went out with Kirishima and Denki last week.", Izuku tries to defend himself half-heartedly.

"And we were really happy to hear that. It's just that you seem to go out less and less.", his mother points out.

"That's not true.", Izuku starts to get irritated, "Actually I am going out again tonight."

"Oh really, with whom?", his mother shoots back. She sees right through him.

"With Denki.", Izuku says without batting an eye. Denki is probably out tonight anyway.

"That's wonderful, Izuku! How about we drive you? Then you can have a drink or two. You came here by car, didn't you?", his mother smiles. Izuku thinks it's a bit fake. It's probably because she knows he is lying to her.

"That'd be great.", he lies, "Let me check where I am supposed to meet Denki."

He pulls out his phone.

> Hey, are you out tonight? Mind if I join?

Denki answers within seconds.

>> Hell, yeah! I'm already out, just come around!

Denki writes and sends his location.

*~*~*~*

Yagi ends up driving him. Izuku feels like a teenager who is driven to a party by one of his parents.

"You know, your mother is just worried about you.", Yagi says into the silence of the car.

"I know but she really shouldn't. I'm fine.", he tells him.

"It's just that she sees the children of her friends and worries you might not have the same opportunities.", Yagi carefully says.

"What do you mean?", Izuku asks irritatedly.

"Well you know, they get married, have children. Mitsuki's been telling how Katsuki brings over his girlfriend. They plan to move in together.", Yagi explains.

Izuku's stomach plummets. They plan to move in together? There goes any hope of reconciliation.

When Izuku doesn't answer, Yagi mistakes his silence for shame.

"You know, there's nothing wrong with being single while you're young. I mean, I've been single for most of my career, but I've got to be honest with you. I regret not having children on my own and while I am very happy with your mother, I wished I had someone to share my pain and happiness when I was younger.", Yagi explains.

Izuku isn't sure what to say. I'd like a partner but he doesn't want me? I can't move on? Even if I could, I probably have no game?

"We both just wish you'd meet someone special.", Yagi finishes as he pulls up to the bar where Izuku meets Denki.

"Well, one does not really have control over that.", Izuku says flatly and gets out of the car.

*~*~*~*

"Izukuuu!! Over here!!", Denki's shrill voice rings through the entire bar. His arms are wrapped around a woman on each of his sides. The girls giggle.

Izuku would like to walk out backward again but there us no turning back now.

"Hey", he greets his blonde friend.

"My man! Was surprised to hear from you!", Denki greets him.

"Anybody else joining tonight?", Izuku asks and Denki shakes his head.

Great, now he can spend the rest of the night watching Deki flirt with random girls.

One of the girls by Denki's side gives Izuku coy eyes. "So, are you Deku? Denki's been telling us about you.", she asks him.

Izuku shoots his friend an angry glare and Denki shrugs apologetically.

"I don't know what he's been telling you, but I can assure you very little that he says is actually true.", Izuku replies dryly.

Before the girl can ask any more questions, Izuku excuses himself to order a drink at the bar.

"A scotch, please.", he tells the bartender without paying too much attention to the other guests.

"Oh, look who we've got here. Are you stalking me, mister?", a voice says next to him.

There you are, again. Your hair hangs loosely over your shoulder and you pop a few peanuts into your mouth.

"Oh, it's you.", Izuku simply says.

"Charming.", you commented dryly.

You look him up and down.

"Why are you dressed like that?", you ask him.

Irritatedly, Izuku turns fully towards you.

"What do you mean?", he says offendedly.

"You look like you were invited to dinner by your girlfriend's parents for the first time", you say pointing at his white button-down shirt.

"I don't have a girlfriend.", he informs you.

You give him a toothy grin. "Good. You're cute.", you tell him.

Izuku shifts uncomfortably. He hates it when women look at him like that. Like he's meat.

"Sorry, I don't do casual dating.", he replies.

"Too bad", you shrug, "What are you doing then?".

"None of your business", he says coldly.

You pursue your lips. "Damn, who hurt you?", you joke.

Izuku doesn't like how you seem to see things no one else does.

"I just have different priorities.", he says.

You take a sip from your drink. "I bet.", you reply.

Finally, the bartender comes back with his drink.

Without another word, he turns to leave.

"See you around, I guess.", he hears you mumble behind him.

He's not sure why he was so rude to you. You didn't do anything wrong. You shot your shoot and took the rejection in good sport. He didn't need to be so mean.

He's not even sure why he rejected you. You look gorgeous just like last time. Your outfit compliments your natural curves and your makeup really made your eye color pop. Usually, you're totally his type. He's just really not in the mood tonight.

He spends the night brooding next to Kaminari. The girls by his side catch on his bad mood and don't bother him all evening.

*~*~*~*

He tries to be more outgoing. Meet friends, do stuff on the weekend. Things to send to his mother to prove he's out there, living his best life.

He's not.

Tonight, he is going out for dinner with Uraraka and Iida. He initiated the meet-up so he really has to go through with it tonight.

He arrives too early and has to wait for the two for a while. The dinner itself was quite pleasant. Iida is too polite to pry too much about his private life and well-being. And Uraraka is busy updating her two friends about her life. Apparently, she met someone through a friend and they are getting quite serious. His mom is going to hate hearing that.

After dinner, the three of them bid goodbye with the promise to meet up more often. Izuku knows that he probably won't be able to fulfill that promise.

He aimlessly wanders the streets. He doesn't want to go home yet. It's a real paradox. When he's home, he doesn't want to go out. And if he's out, he doesn't want to return to his empty apartment.

He's feeling nostalgic tonight so he decides to go to a place that Kacchan showed him when they were still a thing. Or whatever the hell they were.

It's a bar that has seen better days. It's usually quite empty besides some regulars who are twice as old as Izuku. The perfect place if you want to avoid noisy fans and the press.

Izuku slides into the bench that Kacchan and he always sat at. After he has ordered, he takes a look around. It seems as if time stopped in this place. Ironic, he thinks, it seems as if time has stopped for me as well.

Deep in thought, he doesn't notice how the door opens again.

"Daisuke, Hikaru, you here again? Don't you guys have wives at home?", a female voice says loudly.

When he looks up, he immediately wants to hide beneath the table. It's you. Again. Do you have a tracker on him or what? Why do you seem to appear everywhere he is?

Luckily, you're not looking in his direction. Instead, you talk to the middle-aged men on the other side of the room.

"And what about you, missy? What's a pretty young thing like you doing here every other night?", one of the men says. He sounds amused.

You shrug. "Well, what are you doing here? Drinking of course!", you tell them with a grin.

The other man shakes his head disapprovingly.

"You should at least drink with people your age, not old fucks like us!", he tells you.

You stretch your arms widely. "Well, you see any people my age? You old fucks keep invading this place!", you shoot back.

"Well, what about that guy?", the man answers and points directly at Izuku.

He wants to die. Great, here he hoped he could slip out again without you noticing him. He really doesn't want to talk to you. You turn around to him and your eyes light up.

"Hey, I know you! You're the stalker!", you grin.

Izuku looks offended. "I was here first!", he defends himself.

You give the waiter a sign and slide onto the bench in front of him. Great, just what he needed.

"Really? You're alone this time?", you ask him.

He curses you for being so perceptive.

He shrugs. "Maybe some people join me later.", he tells you.

The waiter walks over to the table and sets down a drink in front of you. It looks strong.

You look him straight into his eyes and say: "Liar".

Embarrassment shoots down his back. You take a sip from your drink and laugh.

"I know what lonely drinking looks like. Why do you think I am here?", you tell him.

"I don't know. You're certainly not dressed for a place like this.", he replies.

It's true. You don't look like you belong in a shabby bar like this. You're wearing a bright blue, floor-length ballgown.

You shrug. "What's it to you?", you bite back.

Oh. Izuku's eyebrows raise. He must've hit a sore spot there. Unfortunately for you, he's feeling bitchy tonight.

"Well, you look like one of those bridesmaids that are put into a terrible dress by a bridezilla.", he tells you.

Actually, it's not true. The dress looks gorgeous on you. It fits your skin color and hair updo perfectly. A sour expression appears on your face.

"I wasn't a bridesmaid. I chose the dress for myself.", you tell him.

"Ah, so you were at a wedding!", he says triumphantly. Apparently, he can read you as well as you can him.

You shrug.

"So what's with the lonely drinking then? Why pay for alcohol here when you could've just got drunk for free?", he asks.

"Staying too long at your ex's wedding is bad taste.", you tell him.

"Ah", he says and raises his glass taking a sip, "That's the reason for your lonely drinking? Still stuck on that ex?"

"Ha!", you exclaim. "Yeah, hell no. I'm glad to be rid of him. He's his wife's problem now. Thank god."

Izuku watches you closely. You stir in your drink and keep your eyes fixed on your nails. By the tone of your voice, he doesn't think you're lying. You sound bitter, though.

"Then what?", he asks.

"How old are you?", you reply.

"Twenty-eight. Don't change the topic.", he scolds you.

You shoot him a mean glance.

"I'm not changing the topic.", you tell him.

When he gives you a questioning look, you sit up straight and put your hands on the table.

"Alright, you're twenty-eight, uh...?", you start.

"Izuku", he tells you.

"You're twenty-eight, Izuku. How many of your friends and acquaintances are getting married, moving in with someone, maybe even having kids?", you ask.

"Quite a few.", he admits.

"Alright. Considering you're here, on a weekday, drinking alone, I'm guessing you're not even close to any of those things. How does it feel when someone brings that up?", you explain.

"Not good.", he replies dryly. What is it with you and catching onto things?

You throw your hands up in the air.

"Exactly! And what's the ultimate reminder of that than being invited to your ex's wedding?", you exclaim.

"So... I'm guessing you're far away from those things too?", he asks unsurely.

You give him a deadpan look. "The lonely drinking should've given it away.", you tell him.

You sigh exaggeratedly and lean back. Then, you empty your drink in one go. Izuku watches you slightly perplexed. When you slam down your glass, you give the waiter another sign.

"You know what the stupidest part of this is?", you ask him and he shakes his head.

"I don't even want those things. I'm sure I'm not even made for these things and still, somehow, it makes you feel bad, you know?", you ramble.

Izuku stays silent and takes another sip from his glass. He really doesn't know what he's doing here. Why is he talking to a stranger about things like this?

"You could ask me now what it is that I want.", you say.

Izuku rolls his eyes. "What is it that you want?", he asks.

"Good sex. That's really all I'm asking for but men these days don't deliver.", you reply exasperatedly.

Izuku almost has to laugh.

"Maybe you're just not meeting the right men then.", he tells you.

"Well, I'm meeting men like you.", you point out. There's something cat-ish about you when you say it.

"Maybe tonight is your lucky night then.", he says suddenly feeling cocky.

*~*~*~*

This was definitely not how this evening was supposed to go. He was not supposed to end up at that bar and he definitely wasn't supposed to take you home.

But here you are, on his bed, and him over you.

He already lost his shirt and you run your hands up and down his torso. His mouth is on yours, teeth and tongue clashing against each other.

He can already feel his dick getting hard.

He grabs your waist and pulls you on top of him. Without hesitation, you pull your shirt over your head and he's quick to open your bra. Quickly, you toss it to the side.

Izuku sits up a bit so that both of his hands are free to explore your boobs. Carefully, he kneads them with both hands. He kisses the side of your neck. He plants open-mouthed kisses along your neck, over your collarbone all the way down to one of your nipples. You throw your head back and sigh contently.

He runs the tip of his tongue over the hardened bud. He takes the nipple into his mouth gently sucking on it. All the while massaging it with his tongue.

You let out a moan and grind down on his hardened cock. His dick sits right at your slit. You keep grinding down on him, desperate for friction as he continues to tease your other nipple. You can feel how your panties get damp with each second.

You grab the sides of his head, forcing him to detach from your breast. You lean forward and kiss him again. Izuku runs his hands down your back and grabs your ass cheeks. Then, he helps you grind down on him. You break the kiss to let out a groan.

"Fuck, Izuku! You need to take off these pants!", you tell him.

He gives you a grin. "Same", he tells you.

Quickly, you get off of him and take off your pants and panties. When he's done taking off his pants, you both lie side by side. He pulls you close, your naked body pressing against his, and he claims your lips again.

You let your hands wander down his body. With your index finger you draw lines down his hip and thighs, avoiding his dick completely.

Izuku breaks the kiss and groans. "Don't tease!", he tells you and you laugh.

"So greedy", you nudge him but then give into his request.

Gently you wrap your hand around his hardened member. Izuku lets out a suppressed groan. You start in a slow space pumping his dick up and down. You spread the precum on it to make it feel even smoother.

Izuku plants a kiss on your shoulder and lets a hand wander between your legs. Slowly, he lets two fingers slide in between your warm folds.

"Fuck, you're so wet.", he groans. You shift a bit to give him better access, already panting.

Izuku draws lazy circles on your clit and you can feel more wetness slipping out your hole.

"Mhm, yes, Izuku that feels good.", you moan while still fisting his cock.

Izuku leans his forehead against yours. He dips his fingers a bit deeper, gathering some wetness and spreading it around your pussy.

Then, gently one of his fingers enters you and you can't help but let out a loud moan.

"That feels good, yes?", he mumbles and you nood.

Slowly he pumps his finger in and out of you.

"Shit", you curse. You long lost the ability to focus on pleasing Izuku.

He curls his finger inside you and you jerk.

"Can you take another, baby?", he says huskily and you nod.

He pulls out his finger and pushes two fingers in.

"Fuck!", you exclaim.

You lie back opening your legs wide for him. Izuku slides his fingers in and out you, occasionally curling them inside which almost sends you into a frenzy. He leans down and starts massaging your nipple with his tongue again.

Just when you feel a knot forming in your stomach, he pulls out. You whine in protest but he silences you with a kiss.

"You ready?", he asks you and you nod breathlessly.

He grabs a condom from the nightstand and quickly pushes the latex over his dick. Then, he takes one of your legs and places it over his shoulder. He sits up on his knees and grabs the hollow of your other knee pulling your legs further apart.

"Shit, your pussy looks so ready for me.", he tells you

"Who's the tease now?", you pant.

Izuku gives you a small grin. "Don't worry, I've got you.", he says.

He leads his dick to your entrance and your heart beats in anticipation. Slowly, he pushes his cock into your pussy. You both groan simultaneously in pleasure. He enters you in one swift movement. When his dick is nestled deeply inside you, he takes a deep breath.

"You okay?", he asks you and you give him a curt nod.

You jerk your hips because you're desperate for more friction. You feel so full but it's not enough. You need him to fuck you, to pound you.

"Shit, relax.", he groans when he feels your pussy clench around him.

"I've told you, I've got you. I'm gonna fuck you real good, baby", he groans into the skin of your leg.

Then, he starts rocking in and out of you. He starts with a steady pace.

"Fuck, yes, Izuku! Please, a bit harder!", you beg him.

He gives you a cheeky grin. "Harder? You can get harder.", he tells you.

He starts pounding into you in a heavy pace and you arch your back. Fuck, your pussy feels so good. His dick rubs you in all the right places.

Izuku's dick twitches at the sight of you. Your fucked expression, your jiggling breasts and god, how good looks his dick going in and out of you.

Suddenly, he lifts your other leg and lifts himself a bit higher allowing his dick to sink even deeper into your cunt.

"Shit, yes!", you yell out. Izuku keeps fucking you like this and his balls slap harshly against your ass cheeks.

Now, you can feel the knot in your stomach again.

"Keep going, Izuku, I'm getting there.", you tell him.

Izuku pants heavily above you and sweat drops down his chest. You think he's looking incredibly sexy right now. Also, you can't help but look down where is dick and your cunt are conjoined. The sight of his dick sliding in and out of you makes your stomach coil.

"Fuck, y/n, you feel so good. You make my dick feel like it's about to explode.", he tells you.

You clench your pussy and Izuku moans in delight. He grips your hips tighter and keeps fucking you now chasing his own height. His cock is hitting that sweet spot all the way back inside of you. You can feel the knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter. You let out a breathless moan and your eyes roll back into your head.

Izuku keeps the pace hard and steady, exactly the way you need to get over the edge. When your orgasm hits you, it feels like electric shocks going down your back, your pussy clenches and then your body suddenly goes limp.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck.", Izuku groans taking up speed when he sees you orgasm on his cock. He fucks you through it and his own orgasm explodes right at the feeling of your clenching pussy. He fucks himself through his own high and then collapses on top of you.

It takes a moment for both of you to regain some thinking capacities. When his consciousness returns to him, Izuku slips out of you. You're lying next to each other, both facing the ceiling catching your breath.

„And? Did I deliver?“, Izuku pants.

He can't see it but you give him a side-eye. The questions weirds you out. Does he really need to get praised? Does he need to get approval so badly? Well, it supposedly makes sense. A pro-hero depends on the praise and approval of other people. You think it's a little bit pathetic. If he hadn't fucked you already, it'd be a major turn-off.

In all honesty, though, he did deliver. It was more than just good. He clearly proved he's got the stamina of a pro-hero. However, you don't stroke men's egos. Most men have a big enough ego as it is, so why inflate it further? Plus, this guy has girls fawning at his feet and you refuse to steep down on a groupie level. No, thank you.

For a moment you think about being mean and saying something like it was „alright“ or „okay“ but you take pity on the man. He made you cum, so you shouldn't be mean. Also, you wouldn't say no to him doing it to you again. So, be nice and keep the option open.

„I'm not sure what you expect me to say.“, you tell him truthfully and Izuku looks a bit embarassed.

„I'm not gonna sing your praise, but I tell you it was good. Definitely would do it again, but I've got an 8am appointment tomorrow.“, you say a bit softer.

Izuku props himself up on his arm as he watches you look for your clothes and dress yourself. Obviously, he knew this was nothing serious but he lowkey hoped you stayed the night. He knows Katsuki's girlfriend was a one-night stand at first who then turned into something more. Maybe part of him hoped something like that would happen to him too. Or maybe he just doesn't want to be alone tonight.

When you're dressed, you turn to him.

„Alright, I better get going.“, you tell him and Izuku only nods at you.

He doesn't really know what to say. Actually, he probably just sucks at one-night stands. It's probably why none of them ever turned out to be something more for him.

„So... see you around?“, you drawl when he doesn't answer you.

Quickly, Izuku puts on one of his well-practiced smiles and nods more enthusiastically.

„Yeah, see you around. I had a good time.“, he tells you and you look relieved. At least he isn't making it more uncomfortable than these things usually are.

You give him a quick wave and turn around to leave. Izuku holds his breath until he hears his front door fall shut. With a groan, he drops back onto his pillow facefirst.

Why does he keep doing this? He should know better. He's not made for these types of flings. He doesn't even want them. Izuku is a through-and-through relationship type of guy and yet he always ends up alone at the end of the night.

Maybe he can't hold someone's attention for more than a night or maybe Kacchan just ruined him for everybody else.

*~*~*~*

You fix the position of your panties as you wait for the elevator to reach the ground level. You quickly look in the mirror. Your hair and makeup look awful. Suddenly, you're very glad you're not staying the night. Nothing would be more shameful than to walk home like this in the morning.

You rub your temple. Your plan was to take somebody home from the wedding. So that your ex would see. Maybe that was already a stupid idea. Why would he care if his ex takes somebody home on his wedding day? It's the luckiest day in his life and there's a reason why it wasn't you standing next to him in a white dress.

Actually, it's probably for the best you didn't take someone home from the wedding. Maybe he would've laughed about it and said it fits the pattern. Y/n, the mess, never taking anything seriously, always out there for a good time but not a long time. At least like this, you left with your grace intact. Also, it helps a little bit that you looked absolute bomb in this dress.

You sigh deeply. And yet, he would've been right. After all, you had nothing better to do than go find yourself a hook-up at a random bar right afterward. Poor Izuku, he made it clear last time that he wasn't interested in something like this. And yet, he ended up in your spider's web. You wonder what changed his mind. Maybe it was the dress.

When the elevator reaches the ground, you quickly exit it and walk through the lobby in an equally quick step. There's no need for anybody to see you like this. You're almost out of the door when the post boxes next to the entry catch your eye. You stop for a moment.

No, y/n, this is a stupid idea, you tell yourself. He won't text anyway. What was that about not stepping down onto a groupie level? Then again, it was a pretty good orgasm. Hell, one of the best ones you had in quite a while.

Maybe you're still horny or drunk from earlier, clouding your better judgement, but before you can stop yourself, you pushed your business card through the slit of Izuku's post box.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

[Please comment if you'd like to be tagged in possible future parts]

[coconutdays]

drunk pt. 2

s. this is part two to this original post! my attempt at a mutual pining ??? slowburn??? with the Honored One, Gojo. Y'all fuck after one of those intense movie confession scenes yada yada.

w.c. 7.2k

w. fem! reader , gojo! x reader , fluff! , angst! , slowburn! , smut! ( I think the slowburn is lowk angsty in my opinion) y/n’s cursed technique is basically like Wanda from marvels abilities, I didn't proofread much srry, btw this is my first time executing a fully fledged fuck so bare with me I tried.

You had only minutely interacted with Satoru ever since that day you went cursed spirit hunting with him. It was normal, nothing was weird or out of the ordinary after, but everything seemed so dull in comparison to that day. Although you could say there was less of a chance to speak when he did go overseas for a couple of days. And you were partially grateful that it was like that. You couldn't fret over your feelings for him if he wasn't feeding you anything to reminisce on.

On one of your minuscule interactions with the famed sorcerer, he asked you to take his newbie first years to a cursed mansion while he would be busy scouring Spain for a key that did who knows what.

Which leads to the current situation at hand.

"What happened here?" Yuuji asks, kicking a stray pebble a few feet away and into the bushes

"The owner of this place slit the throats of everyone in the mansion at night, then shot himself in the head." You squinted at one of the far off windows of the mansion, spotting something that would have most likely been a cursed spirit.

"Gross." Nobara's face turns into one of disgust.

"What level cursed spirit does it have?" It's Megumi asking now

You turn to look at all of them, a glint in your eyes.

"Grade 1"

"WHAT?" Nobara stomps her foot, "Why is Gojo sending us out here on sui-"

"I'm here." You laugh, a red flame swirls around your irises, "I'm the second strongest after Gojo. Give me some credit."

"Gojo gives her most of his missions if he suddenly can't do them." Megumi points out, "We're safe."

"Not entirely." You shift your weight onto one of your hips and cross your arms, "I'm here to intervene if things start going south, which I hope they don't, but under the situation it does then I step in."

That was twenty minutes ago, and things had gone south.

You were ambushed by more than one Special grade in the mansion and left the three first-years to deal with a cursed spirit much akin to the one described in the correction facility that lead to Yuuji's death. The others were almost alike to it, but they were starting to speak, forming words more coherently by the minute.

"What the fuck."

There were four surrounding you, and the only reason they weren't going for the first-years was because you sealed them into the top floor with you. You would have rather dealt with this by yourself, considering you had to hold back because the first years were in the floor beneath you, but you'd have to make do with your seal.

Much to your surprise, halfway through your fight, you could hear the sounds of relief from the first-years and one less screeching curse.

Good, they exorcised it.

Both of your hands were busy repelling your opponents away from you as you neared the staircase so they could hear you.

"GO OUTSIDE! NOW!"

"But you're dealing with four of them!" Nobara started, "If you-"

"JUST WAIT FOR ME OUTSIDE! AND CALL IJICHI!"

You could hear Nobara starting to protest, but you could make out the grumbles of Megumi to place trust in you.

When you got a peek through the window of Yuuji's pink hair, you let out a sigh of relief. You didn't have to hold back anymore, but you weren't going to be able to be the one to take the first-years back to Jujutsu Tech after this.

What you considered the cursed energy equivalent of an atomic bomb was what you released within the enclosed top floor. You concentrated on it breaking apart the curses and squeezing them out of existence--much like a bomb would.

However, the aftermath would be something you'd leave the first years up to. You didn't have to hold back within the confines of the mansion, none of the students were in there, but they were directly outside, waiting for you in a position where contact with the explosion would hurt them. The moment you release your technique, the confines the mansion burst, pulverizing the curses out of existence and subjecting you to the sheer force of your cursed energy being concentrated into one subjectively small enclosed space.

Your cursed energy treated you like shrapnel and launched you headfirst into the concrete ground near the first-years. It was the last thing you remembered before everything after started fading in and out.

You were in the back of Ijichi's car, at the center with Megumi and Yuuji on either side, grabbing at your body. Why were they--

Oh, there's gaping wounds on your stomach and legs.

Nobara is frantically turning to look back from the front passenger seat again and again.

"Drive faster Ijichi!"

Maybe you could start using your cursed technique to heal-

"Oh fuck!" Yuuji starts

You start coughing violently into your lap

Was that blood from your wounds or-

"Ow."

It's the first thing you utter when you wake up, feeling an intense soreness all over your body. They're mere action of lifting up a finger sending shock bolts through your body.

"Finally someone's awake." Shoko sighs carelessly, she's on her phone looking through who knows what.

"How long have I been out?" You groan, closing your eyes to mentally prepare for her to say 3 days or something along those lines.

"Two weeks." She gets up and walks to serve you some water as your eyes shoot open, "Constricting a nuclear explosion to only the confines of a mansion was not a smart decision."

You lean up against your pillows and start to rub your sore neck, "The first-years were right outside of the mansion. I had no other choice."

"Still not your best moment." She blinks tiredly, her careless look on her face.

"How are they anyway?"

"Fine. Small cuts and bruises. They were fine by the end of the day. Gojo's got them in the classroom right now."

"He's back from Spain already?"

"He came back the day after the mansion incident. Thought you would've remembered him poking your head to see if you could hear him this morning." She started to write on a chart, probably yours.

"I don't." You start to look through your faint memories to see if it held onto anything like that.

Nothing.

"Well, you should be fine to go home already." Shoko starts to walk out of your room, raising the chart she was just scribbling on moments ago, "You check out just fine. Get some rest before they probably send you on another mission by tomorrow."

By the time you put on some clothes, provided by Shoko, and take a shower at your place to soothe your muscles, it's been a few hours, leaving Gojo to stare at an empty infirmary bed, your scent lingering in the room.

"She woke up a couple hours ago, must be home already." Shoko mindlessly says as she walks back to her office with a stack of folders in her arms.

After your shower, you're on your couch watching a comfort show of yours while you snack on some ice cream to wallow your feelings in. The reason for your being upset quite obvious.

He should've known you were awake by now. Why wasn't he checking on you.

It annoyed you, both the fact that for someone who had been at your bedside this morning, he hadn't shown up to receive you in your awake state, and that you cared so much you started thinking like his girlfriend.

Satoru didn't owe it to you to come see you. He wasn't yours to be obliged and neither were you his to expect it.

But fuck if you couldn't help checking your phone every five minutes to see if he'd text or call you. Hell, you'd love for him to show up announced any moment.

He didn't though.

You went to sleep upset that night--mostly at him--it wasn't his fault for not showing up, but your heart couldn't help but be disappointed by his lack of presence.

You got called in by Jujutsu High to help train the second-years the following day. A mission with five special grades seemed more appealing when you considered the fact that you'd more than likely see Satoru once there.

"Look who's awake."

Gojo is suddenly walking next to you as you lead the second-years to the sparring grounds. He doesn't look in your direction, merely facing ahead, but he has that same unbothered smile on his face--it bugs you.

He releases a handsome chuckle before starting again, "You drool a little when you're knocked out. Did ya know that?"

"No, I didn't, Satoru." You exhale, distracting yourself by looking for a nice spot to have the students duel.

"It's quite--"

"Shut up Gojo, we have to spar."

Both of you turn to see Makki scowling at the object of most people's irritation, including yours. She's ready to fight, earnestly tugging at the straps of her bag of weapons.

"You pain me, Makki," He grins, fixing his posture to walk away, "Alright, then. Learn well from y/n, she's the second best after all."

He walks in the opposite direction from you guys, trying to taste the last breath he inhaled when he was next to you before he had to let it go. It was his own pitiful attempt at basking in your presence rather than letting his inhibitions crumble and grabbing you by the shoulders to ask if you were okay? what the hell were you thinking? he shouldn't have sent you on that mission, he'd apologize if he let that part of himself come through. If. But he won't do that.

The second-years did learn from you. Makki the most, almost coming close to handing you your ass in hand to hand combat after taking in a bit of advice from you. Her semblance in physical fortitude was getting closer and closer to Toji Zenin every day. Nonetheless, the keyword was almost. She almost won and probably could have been closer to that if you weren't so ticked off by Satoru Gojo. You were in such a zone, honed in on the negativity he procured for you by not giving you the attention you wanted, that you barely spoke while focusing on Makki's every move besides giving advice, your usual praise and teasing gone.

You showered after, the heat of the sun and physical exertion making you uncomfortable in your own sweat and forcing you to take the quickest train to your place instead of getting a ride. And you didn't want to come across him again.

The feelings were too much.

It was why you found yourself halfway through a bottle of whiskey, snacking on a charcuterie board you ordered for the fucks of it. You're wearing another set of those "skimpy pjs" as Gojo had put it and staring out your balcony to gaze at the city's night lights.

You just want him so bad.

You want to kiss him. You want to be in his embrace and tell him he the prettiest eyes ever. And he's a womanizer, it chisels away at your heart. God, he's probably tongue deep in a pretty blonde right now. There's tears raining down on your cheeks and you don't bother to wipe them away, choosing to take another swig of whiskey and accompanying it with a slice of prosciutto to tug some of the sharp aftertaste away.

It hurts, wanting him. He just needs to get from you. You need to get away from him. Fuck the friendship, fuck everything.

ding!

There's someone at your door and you're up to check who the hell is at your apartment on a Friday at 1 a.m. like a lunatic. Your guard slightly goes up the closer you get to your door, the idea of someone dangerous being behind the door coming across your mind. There's a patch of goosebumps raising at the back of your neck, suddenly growing alert at your own thoughts as you tip toe to your peep hole.

And of course it's someone dangerous.

"What do you want Gojo." You don't bother to be much curious about it. You want him out of your face.

He's standing in front of you with his stupid handsomeness. That same bottle of whatever he ordered the other night in his left hand and his irritating smirk on his face along with those blacked out glasses. He's wearing black pants and a tight black shirt too, you can even see a sliver of a silver chain on his neck.

You don't see, hear, or even notice it when it happens, but his breath hitches in the quick fire second between your deadpan question of his whereabouts at your apartment and his teasing question at your teary face.

"Aw, you cryin'?" He tilts his head, canines bearing as his lips curve further up.

It makes you want to use his own red, purple, blue, or whatever fucking color of the rainbow on him. He's a complete ass. Satoru Gojo is a waste of your time. He should forget your address, your number, your favorite croissant filling, everything.

You just want him away from you, where he won't hurt you.

"Yes. Insensitive piece of shit asshole!" You shout, grabbing at your door handle.

"Get out of my face!"

You shut your door forcefully and carelessly, paying no mind to your surroundings or neighbors in your drunken haze.

When you turn around, he's already behind you.

The wine bottle is already on your kitchen island and Gojo's towering over you, his eyebrows scrunched just a bit and his eyes continuously trying to analyze you as his irises move back and forth. He had taken his glasses off, they were hanging off the collar of his shirt now.

Your nose twitches a bit, cursing his ability to teleport. The hate you hold for it becoming a heavy pit in your stomach.

"Get out." The twitch in your nose goes off again.

The panic of the situation is startling to Gojo. You look beautiful, the skimpy pink romper you're wearing is all consuming to him, he wants to rip it off and take you to your room. The crying fit you were just having had softened your features and god the little twitch you keep doing with your nose–

And you're angry at him for some reason.

No, he's stupid. It's his fault, you were crying and instead of letting himself worry about you like a normal person, he teased you about it. His own realization makes him scramble to fix his previous statement.

"No–look I'm sorry for asking like a jerk. Why are you crying?" He takes another step closer to you, pressuring you into answering his question.

Gojo was trying to get a physical tell out of you. You had healed from the mission, right? And sparring with the second-years couldn't have left you pummeled. He couldn't see any wounds on you.

He felt the rise of his hand to cup your cheek, to force you to look at him and tell him what was wrong.

No, he can't.

You look up at him defiantly, biting your cheek and beginning to grow angrier, angry at him, angry at your heart, angry at the tears that still manage to flow down your cheeks.

You take a step back and reiterate yourself.

"Get out, Gojo."

There's a linger of hurt in his eyes, along with confusion when his eyebrows scrunch even more. You can see he's at a loss for words when his mouth keeps slightly opening and closing and his eyes look like they're psychoanalyzing you.

You roll your eyes in a teary frustration and stomp your foot like a two year old throwing a fit when he doesn't move even in the slightest to leave.

"Please, Gojo! Just leave!" You cry, voice cracking, "Get out of my apartment, leave me alone, I don't–"

You almost yelp at the sudden intrusion of your personal space. He's got an iron grip on your hands all of a sudden, forcing them out of the way in case you try to push him away physically this time. And he's staring only dead into your eyes now, an overall concerned look on his face that overpowers his slight irritation at your stubbornness.

"Tell me why you're crying."

You try to loosen out of his grip, only for it to do nothing like you knew it would. It forces you to scrunch your nose in distaste and turn your cheek to him.

"I don't want to see you." You mutter, your voice audibly nasally and battered from the crying fit you were having.

Gojo brings you closer to him with a simple tug of his hands, he leans closer to your face.

"Why." His breathing starts to pick up and it sounds less like a question and more like a sound of offense.

"Let go of me."

"Not until you answer me." He tightens his grip on you just a little for emphasis, to show you that he really won't let go until you fulfill his request.

You still don't want to look at him. You can feel his laser like stare at you, pinning you down and pressuring you into giving him what he wants. It's all too much, his touch is searing to your skin and the fact that his body is so close to yours in hazing your mind. It's so much that you have no choice but to turn to finally look at him and it sends you back to the state you were previously in before he rung your doorbell.

You feel the hot wads of tears start to tumble off your waterline as you vomit a singular word.

"You."

He reels his head back a bit in confusion, "What, I–"

"You! I'm crying because of you!" You babble through your hiccups and tears, "And you show up like a jerk! You didn't even care that I was crying! And–"

"What makes you think I don't care about you?" He jeers you closer, his tone obviously offended now.

"Are you getting early dementia or something! You did that stupid aw you crying bullshit!" The situation growing worse as your eyes go completely bloodshot and there's hiccups continuously interrupting your speech.

"You didn't even care that I woke up! Today, you just came by to be a dick about me drooling! Yesterday, you didn't even show up to see me after I left the infirmary!"

His grip loosens a bit at your declaration of mistrust in his care for you.

He cares. He really cares. You can't keep saying he doesn't, he thinks. He left Spain the moment he got an angry text from Nobara that the mission he entrusted to you left you on death's door. He spent every free moment of his walking by or into your recovery room. He walked by your apartment last night to see if you were okay, his eyes had seen you sleeping safe and sound and it was enough to soothe his heart.

None of which you knew about, he realizes.

By now, you've broken free from his grasp, taking advantage at his loss of words, and fleeing to your bedroom. A loud bang followed the small pit pats of your bare feet on the floor, and it brought him back to reality.

Gojo now stares at the front door of your apartment, eyes still glued to where you were previously standing. He feels like his heart is stuck in his throat, unable to come out and run towards you like it wants to out of fear. He can hear his heartbeat pulsating in the cold silence of your apartment and it makes him confront himself instead of you.

You thought he didn't care and it made you upset.

And the mere fact is gut-wrenching for him.

It's so devastating to him, that his feet are suddenly driving him towards your room and his hands are opening the door.

He noticed the half empty bottle of whiskey and glass on your kitchen island as he passed by too. It makes him even more wary as he stands underneath the doorframe and sees you sat at the edge of your bed, head in your hands and violently crying.

"I care about you."

You hear him, but you don't have the energy to beg him to leave anymore or even notice him. You're spent and too embarrassed of your outburst to look at him.

Gojo wishes you could look at him. He wants the security of your eyes being there for him to bask in and it has him walking to kneel on the ground in front of you.

You feel his hands, soft and tough at the same time, pulling yours down, away from your face. It forces you to look down at him. You see the breath he lets out in relief the moment you make eye contact with him.

You're so weak, you can't help but melt into the feeling of his hands on yours now. A salty tear makes its last run on your face and you're nothing but a sniffling and hiccuping mess as you stare back at him.

He speaks again, "I am so sorry."

"Can you please stop touching me." You rasp out, suddenly becoming aware of how much more painful this is for you when he's feeding into youre delusions.

You can feel his blood stop pulsing for some reason. His hands are suddenly dead weight and his eyes widen.

"I can't do this anymore." You breathe out nasally, readying yourself to ruin your friendship with him.

"I love you Satoru."

It comes out heavy, like a massive paper weight on the air both of you were breathing.

And suddenly, he starts to feel his blood pumping again, the hands holding yours beginning to grow firm in their grip. His chest moves up and down even faster as he stares at you because his brain just short-circuited. He thought the inner works of his domain and technique were all he ever had to worry about handling, but this is taking the cake. Infinity and the knowledge it covers is nothing compared to what you just said.

"And–" You have to take a pause to stop the tears brimming on your waterline again, "it really hurts pining after you. I shouldn't be upset at you for not showing up at my doorstep yesterday like a boyfriend would. I wouldn't be if I weren't such a fool for you."

You're harshly wiping a tear off your cheek out frustration before you continue. You try to settle the now free hand away from him, on your lap, but he takes it back, still looking up at you without a trace of a word making an appearance on his mouth.

"I need you out of my life. I want to move on." You plead, "I can't be in the same room as you or else ill think about how bad I want to be next to you. I can't be this close to you and not kiss you. I want to wake up after getting hurt from a mission and not drown myself in whiskey because you didn't show up at my door to check on me."

"No."

Gojo is looking at you like you're an idiot. His face is twisted in a mix of offense and disgust, part of his nose is wrinkled and his eyebrows are twisted.

"Gojo–"

"Stop calling me by my last name." He cuts, eyes now harsh on you.

You're confused now, bleary eyes trying to understand him and how negative he seems right now. You want to say something, but everything you can think of is at the tip of your tongue and you're opening and closing your mouth like a fish on dry land.

Gojo looks like he wants to say something too, and like he knows what he wants to say, but he's struggling to just spit it out as he minimally glares at you. If you squint hard enough though, you might have just been able to see the slight gloss of sadness color over his eyes.

"I don't want you out of my life." He shakes his head, eyebrows still furrowed.

You sniffle, "But I just said that–"

You're pulled down by your hands and your face lands right smack on his, followed by a kiss ensued by him.

The kiss is enough to send you to sleep, it's soothing and everything you need to forget all your worries. And it's a little salty, a byproduct of your fit, but it doesn't seem to matter when Gojo reaches a hand up to your cheek and deepens his reach a little, a low grunt of affection coming from his throat when you let out a sigh.

It was short-lived, but it said enough.

When Satoru pulls back, he's still concentrated on looking for tells on your face, trying to make he got his point across.

"I've been putting you at the back of my mind for the past two years." He confesses sternly meanwhile he caresses both of your hands with his thumbs, rubbing soothing circles in the wake of his words. "I care about you so much I force myself not to." The last few words giving him the inclination to hang his head in shame.

"And I am so sorry it made you cry." He sighs in defeat, raising up both of your hands to kiss them as an apology. He's looking up at you with his big blue eyes, pleading for your mercy and you want to move, you want to act. It's why you lean down and give him a small peck on the lips to wake him up a little then dive back in again to kiss him.

It doesn't last long in that position–merely five seconds–until Satoru starts rising and pushing you back onto the bed softly. He pushes you forward onto the bed to make room for his legs before one of his hands is perched right next to your head and the other is guiding your thigh to wrap your leg around his waist.

Your hands run and grasp at his hair and neck, making sure to appreciate the feeling of his skin beneath your hands.

You begin to moan when he starts using tongue on you and it gets a rise out of him in the form of him grinding his bulge against your crotch.

"Satoru."

"Fuck." He groans, breathing hard as he kisses you. He can't just leave after this. He can't go back to his apartment. Hell he doesn't even know if he could pull himself away from you right now if there were a sudden emergency.

He feels you moving underneath him and he opens his eyes mid kiss to see you moving down the straps of your romper. The action causes him to pull back so he can see what you're trying to do.

"What are you doing?" He breathes, lips rosy and glossy from both of you guys' spit.

You free your arms from the thin pink straps right as he says that and look him in the eyes when you pull the spandex like material below your breasts.

"What I just did." You nod down innocently towards your boobs.

"Fuck. Fuck." He groans, reaching to palm both of them. It only lasts for a second before he starts to pinch at them, rubbing them between his fingers and eliciting whimpers from you.

"Yeah, just like that baby."

It makes move your hips up in search of him and it has him leaning back down to kiss you, needier this time. Satoru includes more tongue than anything, wanting to just be in you, in your skin, everywhere, as close as he can get.

You start to yank at the bottom his shirt soon enough.

"Take this off." You whine

Easily and quickly, he complies to your request, grabbing his shirt by the collar and taking it off of his body. He throws it behind him and is about to lean back down when his eyes go astray towards your crotch.

There's a wet patch very obviously soaking through and he can see the mold of your pussy sticking to the damp material. It makes his cock jump at the sight and he can't help but run a finger across your slit.

It makes a shiver run up your spine and a moan leave your mouth.

"You like that?" He's staring you down when you look back at him after having shut your eyes in pleasure.

"Mhm." You nod, eyebrows furrowed and eyes blown wide with lust as you take both of his hands and make him grab the material of your romper. "Take it off of me."

Satoru doesn't need to say anything as he obeys your request. He pulls at your pajamas and helps you slide it off your legs, too overwhelmed by the intensity of the situation to make any witty or teasing comments.

What wasn't part of your request was when he held both of your legs up in the air by squishing your thighs together and dove straight for your pussy.

You almost scream at the sudden intrusion of him initiating a makeout session with your pussy. The squishing of your legs making the sensation more intense for some reason. You can hear Satoru groaning into you while he sucks on your clit. He shifts his weight so that his arm is wrapped around your legs to keep them together and you wonder why he switches to only one until you feel a singular digit of his sliding into your walls.

" 'Toru." You moan, legs twitching a bit when you feel him hook a finger up and apply pressure to that one spot that has you begging for more.

"Gimme another one, please." You urge, fisting at the sheets next to you for some sort of relief.

"I got on the first flight back the second I heard what happened." He confesses, breath raggedy as he peers over from the side of your legs and gives you the other finger you asked for. His entire lower side of his is glistening, you almost feel embarrassed that it's your juices.

He continues confessing and pumping his fingers in and out of you, the squelching noises accompanying his words.

"I was scared shitless." He almost grieves, a messy confusion of his own sexual energy and his pleading for your forgiveness. Satoru starts to plant a flutter of kisses along your thigh while he keeps his eyes on you. "I love you so much." He groans, extremely turned on by the increasing pulsing of your walls and the faces you keep making.

"Yea? Oh fuck–" The last five words he uttered were adding even more ecstasy to your euphoria and had started to plummet you into your orgasm when coupled with the deeper and faster pace Satoru introduced.

"Come on, pretty. Cum for me." Satoru almost sounds like he's begging, mouth opening in awe in sync with yours at the overwhelming sense of pleasure crashing over you.

It comes out in a long mix between a moan and a whine, along with the wriggle of your hips and legs as Satoru keeps moving his fingers in and out while you ride out your high.

You're heaving when it washes over and you're about to flinch at the overstimulation of Satoru's fingers when he pulls them out and puts them in his mouth. You can see him slightly roll his eyes back when he hollows his cheeks a bit to fully clean his fingers off and get your taste out of them.

Satoru lets go of the grip he had keeping your legs up, and he gets up to quickly take his pants off, followed by his boxers, and–

"You're big." You marvel, sitting up now and admiring the view, also trying to wrap your head around the fact that he's going to hurt. He's pretty and long, reaching a bit past his belly button when it slaps against his stomach, and his girth is scream worthy.

When Satoru looks down, you look so innocent, peering at him through your lashes before focusing your gaze back on his length. He sees your thighs shift against each other–a boost to his ego and his horniness–but he can also tell you're a little freaked out by the sheer size.

"We don't have to." He heaves earnestly, chest rising and falling a bit faster than usual out of pent up sexual aggression from fingering you and watching you cum, and the need to be inside of you right now, which he'd be more than capable of stowing away for now if you didn't feel comfortable taking him.

"We can make it fit." You reassure softly and lean up to tug one of his hands to you in the bed while his eyes widen.

Satoru is in between your legs now, eyeing you down with lust blown pupils, an animal like stare that has you shrinking into the bed the more it lingers. Truth be told, he doesn't know how to act now that he's got you underneath him, legs spread, and your pretty little face waiting for him to do something.

His first move is to kiss you again, he missed your lips in the brief few minutes he was eating you out and fingering you. The kiss makes your skin crawl and pull him closer to you by the shoulders you have your arms wrapped around.

His cock lands right between your lips after that and it makes both of you suck in a breath the contact, a needy grind of both of yours' hips following.

"I want you inside of me 'Toru." You sigh against his ear as he dips his head down into your neck, mouthing and biting.

You feel his grip in the sheets right next to your head tighten and manage to get a view of his large and broad back contorting at the sentence.

"How bad do you want it?" He almost snarls, moving his hips so his cock keeps sliding between your folds, gathering your slick on his shaft and stimulating your clit in the process. His head leans down even further and he's sucking on your nipple, nipping a bit to get squeals out of you for not answering him as fast he wanted you to.

"I want it really bad." You can't stand the pulsating between your legs anymore, your hips can only move towards him for so long before you feel like you'll die. You needily scratch at his back when his other hand pinches your nipple particularly hard. "I feel like I'm gonna die if you don't fuck my pussy right now." It comes out whiny and high-pitched, the overall want for him making you pathetic.

He comes back up with a crazed stare more intense than the last one and dives for your mouth again, aggressive and overwhelming, like he wants to swallow you whole. There's teeth and tongue everywhere, you wouldn't be surprised if your lips were bleeding by the end of this.

When you're caught up in the feeling of his chest on yours and his heavy breathing against yours while you kiss, he starts lining himself up to your entrance. The intrusion of his fat tip in your hole interrupting your ability to kiss and making your jaw go slack.

You start to lift your hips off the bed without thinking and Satoru wraps his arm around your waist to keep you in place. He hasn't moved any further, basking in the invitation of your warmth and giving you time to adjust.

"It's so big." You mutter, hand in his hair and the other holding onto his back for dear life while you look at the rest you have to take.

It's the first time he even so much as smiles a little when he looks up at you and you see a glint of his canines and a glossed over look in his eyes. "Yea?"

"Mhm." You nod, eyebrows knitting when he pulls back and inches in a little further with a shallow thrust.

He drops his head into your neck, trying to keep himself from biting the bullet and completely pushing into you in one go. "Fuck." He moans when he thrusts back in again

He picks up the pace a little with every shallow thrust that gets him an inch deeper in you and by the time he's fully in, he's giving you hard and punctual thrusts. You're close to screaming every time he bottoms out, mouth open while you whine and moan. It makes him take advantage and he swallows your noises by shoving his tongue down your throat. He licks at your tongue, almost as if he's trying to wrap around it like you're doing to him.

"Love –hearin' –that –pretty fuckin –pussy –take me." He grunts against your lips, punctuating between almost every word with a sharp thrust into you. The soft squelching sounds reminding him that he's very much inside of you and making a mess of you.

"I–" You struggle to speak, the sex taking away your ability to speak.

And Satoru doesn't care, reaching a hand up to your chin to make you look at him as he keeps pummeling into you. "You what baby?"

The petname only adds to your euphoria, making it even more difficult to respond to him. But he's still got your chin in his hand, and he's not showing any signs of looking away or stopping his pace.

"I–I mmmmm–I love–love you."

His eyes soften a little, still as ravenous considering he's pummeling your pussy for the first time, but they soften just a smidge nonetheless. And he moves the hand holding your chin to cup your cheek, running a soothing thumb as he returns the affection to you.

"I love you too. Fuck you're clamping down so tight. Shit. I love you so much y/n. Don't want anybody else to have you. Oh, god. You make me so fucking crazy."

The hand previously on your cheek is now snaking its way down, stopping until his thumb is rubbing your clit and eliciting porn worthy moans from you at the added stimulation.

"You're gonna make me cum Satoru." You breathe out, high pitched and almost moaning loud enough to wake up anyone within the vicinity of your building

The warning is an incentive for Satoru to lift one of your legs up, letting him reach deeper and keep the same pace that has your pussy doing that familiar chasing spasm around his cock now instead of his fingers.

"Cum for baby." He gasps out, abs flexing as he struggles with his own pleasure. "I know you fuckin can. Please. Please. Please. Need to feel it on my dick."

By the fourth thrust in the new position your stomach drops and your legs are spasming trying to close and fidget, but Satoru's iron grip on you stops it from happening. He keeps fucking you through it, staring at you as he does, making sure to frame the picture of you coming on his cock for the first time in his head for all of eternity.

There's less resistance from you when you fall limp after and just take it. Your legs feel like jelly and fall even more moldable to Satoru's physical requests, letting him push your leg farther back and dig even deeper into you how he wants. You know it hurts, that you're supposed to at least try to push away his cock from molding into you again and again even after you've reached your peak, but it just feels so damn good to hurt this way. All you can do is squeal after every thrust of his. And when you feel his pace grow sloppier and faster, it makes you reach for his neck and hair, roping him into you.

"I'm gonna cum." Satoru's cheeks are rosy and his eyes are glazed over as he looks at you, desperation for his release written all over them.

"Cum for me 'Toru." You whine, eyes almost rolling back from a particular jolt of his hips and leaning up as much as you can to plant a chaste kiss on his bottom lip. "Want your cum to fill me up. I need it so bad."

"Please, 'Toru. Cum in me, please."

It drives him over the edge. He drops his weight on you to kiss you through the stuttering of his hips and jolts of his cum into you. You feel his warmth pooling inside of you and can hear both of you guys' labored breathing after the whirlwind sex you just had.

Satoru's rough and passionate kisses from seconds ago turned into chaste quick ones that he kept stealing from you until he shifted his weight from his palm to his forearm and cupped the side of your face, affectionally moving a stray hair from your forehead.

His sky blue eyes peered down at you, taking in the sight intensely, as if any moment you could try to push him away from your life again.

"You're so beautiful." He breathes in awe, gaze turned soft.

"So are you." You replicate his tone, cupping his face in return and appreciating the fact that he looks so pretty and handsome in the moonlight seeping through your floor to ceiling windows right now.

He grabs at one of the hands on his face and brings it to his lips, placing a warm kiss atop of it.

"I was here last night." He confesses, "I passed by your apartment to see if you were fine while you were sleeping." He wants to look away in shame. "I didn't think– There was–"

Satoru closes his eyes in frustration for a second at himself before finding his footing again.

"I've been doing everything I can to be there for you without you knowing, without me knowing, I didn't even know I was going to spend the entire day with you that other day until my mouth found a reason to make it about work."

He sighs at himself before he continues, "I care."

"I spent every moment I could waiting for you to wake up. I checked on your apartment to clean it. I looked for your cursed energy anytime I was within a vicinity of the school to see if you were recovering. I care."

You're close to speechless at his confession, resisting the urge to pull him down and litter his entire face in kisses, instead forcing yourself to speak.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you." You return sheepishly, feeling bad for the tantrum you threw at him.

"It's fine." Satoru reassures, planting a kiss on your forehead before looking down at where the two of you are connected. "How are you feeling?"

"Good." You bite your lip sweetly, letting a little bit of your love fueled smile come through while you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer in your embrace. "I could never cum like that by myself."

Satoru leers over you like a predator now, a full smile showing through and distinctly premiering his canines, his ego was stroked, "Good thing I'm here now then."

"Mhm" You nod eagerly, matching the upturn of his lips too.

"Oh. Come here." He groans and laughs a little, a hand on your back when he flips the both of you over and litters your face with kisses. Your giggles fuel him and he pulls you closer to him.

Neither of you are going to let go again.