#around at this point. i mean no not really but i am smiling about it. :]

[pagesfromthevoid]

Honey & Glass | r. r.

Robert "Bob" Reynolds x superpowered!reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, not a lot of Bob interaction just yet, Valentina and Walker need their own warnings

Author's Notes: I love him, okay? I'm not even sorry.

Masterlist | Talk to Me! | AO3

Six Months Before the Void

“Sergeant Barnes, if you would just give me a chance –,”

“A chance to do what, exactly?” Bucky asked, turning to face the young woman who had –for the better part of an hour –been following him through the charity event.

“Help with your campaign!” She explained, throwing her hands in the air. “Sir, you’re an icon. A legend. So it genuinely pains me to say this. But you suck at talking in front of the camera.”

He stared at her for a long moment, considering what she was saying. Okay, sure –he wasn’t great at interviews. But he was polling better than everyone else running against him. That had to mean something, right? He rolled his neck, pushing aside an annoying tingle that had shot up his spine. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” she continued, stepping in front of him, putting her hands up as if she could stop him from leaving. “You’re thinking that you’re polling better than everyone else running against you, and that has to mean something.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “How did –,”

“And it does mean something –but it won’t if you don’t learn how to address the public. The whole ‘man of the people’ schtick gets old fast when it’s less endearing and more ‘is this man actually qualified?’”

He doesn’t have time for this, he decided, shaking his head. Then he reached out to just move her –something he didn’t really like doing, but she was too persistent and kind of annoying, so he needed her to go away.

“I’m not going away!” She exclaimed, ducking away from his touch –as if she anticipated it. “Also don’t manhandle people –sir, do you realize how bad that looks? Like, our mayor does enough of that.”

“How are you doing that?” He demanded, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her to the side. Though his grip wasn’t tight –he didn’t want to hurt her.

“Doing what?” 

“Can you read my mind?” He demanded again, glaring down at her.

“I mean…,” she dragged out the phrase, making a ‘maybe’ sort of motion with her hands. “Listen, I told you I knew what you were thinking. But that’s not all I can do –and I can use it to help you.”

“Why on earth would you want to use your superpowers to help me run for Congress?”

“Because I actually think you can do good for Brooklyn,” she insisted, and Bucky swore that she was being genuine. “I am being genuine, sir. I care about my city. And I do think you can do a lot more than most can. But you need a public relations specialist and I am really good at my job. Theoretically, at least.”

“Theoretically?” He asked, frowning deeply.

“I mean, you would be my first client because I finished my Master’s like right before the Blip then disappeared technically, but I know I can be really good at my job if you just give me a chance. Please. I’ll even do it for free!”

“I’m not –you’re not doing it for free. I’ll pay you –,”

“Yes!” 

Present Day –D.C.

“Any word on our friend?” Bucky asks, glancing at his PR specialist slash assistant slash…well, everything, really. 

He isn’t sure how to describe the young woman who stood next to him, because she’s a jack of all trades at this point in his very short Congressional career. She started off managing his social media and helping his public image before the election. Bucky had to give credit where credit was due: the girl is good at her job. Her speech writing skills are solid. She keeps his message and support consistent. She even managed to get him less stiff and weird on camera. She keeps him on schedule and pushes him through things he doesn’t want to do, with both a smile and a snarky comment that lightens his frustrations. 

Her abilities came in handy quite a bit in these tasks. Between reading the minds of the people around her –knowing what they wanted, how they felt –and being able to project positive thoughts into a crowd…well, Bucky is glad she was so persistent six months ago.

But then she had a run-in with one of his opponents supporters, showing up to work disheveled and frustrated.

“It’s nothing,” she had insisted, “Just some asshole who thinks I’m a monster for helping you.”

Bucky decided that he could teach her a few things too.

She was a fast learner, and a willing student. If she got knocked down, she got up again and immediately sought feedback and improvement. While she’s no super soldier, she is able to hold her own if she needs to —after a few months. Bucky taught her how to handle a weapon or two, she taught him how to use Twitter and TikTok (which he hated, but damn did it help his numbers). It’s a good partnership.

The latest lesson is a bit of espionage –nothing super intense. Bucky is working on how to get Valentina Alegra de Fontaine impeached –and while his assistant was a great asset in confirming that Valentina was, in fact, guilty…well, the public doesn’t know he has a mutant in his employment. And while Bucky has no issue telling anyone, she does –and it isn’t his secret to tell.

“None of my family knows,” she explained over a beer one night after another charity gala. “I don’t…It’s not something I need anyone to know. I already know what everyone thinks; I don’t need them to start thinking specifically about me too. I don’t think I could handle it.”

“Her assistant –her name is Mel –is on the fence about her boss,” she explains, clicking away at her phone as she sends him over her notes. “I tried talking to her but she pretty much immediately beelined for the door when I got closer.”

“Who's the unapproachable one now?” He jokes, grinning down at her as he grabs a champagne glass for both of them. 

She snorts in response, taking a sip of the bubbly he hands her. “Still you, sir.”

“Fair enough,” he agrees, nodding some as he looks around the room. “Anything else?”

“She’s getting rid of any and all evidence of O.X.E and something called Project Sentry,” she continues, though she’s hiding her lips behind her glass. “I couldn’t figure out what that was –I’m sure something ratchet.”

“Ratchet?” He asks, frowning deeply.

“Terrible,” she offers. 

Her and her millennial slang. He couldn’t understand it half the time.

“I’ll try to get closer –,”

“Don’t,” he interrupts, stepping in front of her. “Cool it for the night. I have some angles that I can work with; I need you to do what you do best now.”

“Get people to think you’re not a weird old man from the forties?”

“...yes.”

“Can do, sir.” She salutes him, grinning up at him. 

Bucky shoos her away, shaking his head, then heads off to locate Congressman Gary about his findings.

*****

She sees coordinates.

She knows she promised Bucky she wouldn’t get closer to Valentina, but she never promised she wouldn’t pay attention to Mel.

“I know you’re avoiding me,” she comments as she slips behind Mel with a polite smile and glass of champagne. “I don’t know why. I thought we were like…I don’t know, two peas in a pod. Assistants to weirdly powerful people –,”

“Oh, I’m not –,” Mel starts but bites her tongue. “I’m not avoiding you. Just super busy. You know, being an assistant to a weirdly powerful person.”

She nods, sipping her drink thoughtfully. But Mel is focused on her tablet again, and the coordinates are flashing in her mind as she looks at a name –John Walker. U.S. Agent. Dime store Captain America. She makes a face behind her glass, unable to help it. 

The same coordinates flash again, indicating that Walker was being sent somewhere to get rid of someone named Belova in Utah. 

She hums as she jots down the coordinates in her phone, fully intending to send them to Bucky.

“Well, well –finally, I get the pleasure of meeting the little girl who’s made our junior congressman remotely functional,” Valentina announces from behind, catching her off guard. “You know, you could do a lot better.”

She smiles politely, though she wonders if it looks as forced as it feels. “I don’t think I could, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Valentina hums, bumping shoulders with Mel, who looks painfully uncomfortable. Her thoughts are loud. What is she doing? She literally told me not to talk to this girl. Why is she talking to her? What’s her angle? Is she trying to fire me? Do I want to be fired?? “Could work with us –I bet your skills would do wonders.”

She narrows her eyes at the inflection –at the implication –in Valentina’s tone. “I think you have an excellent assistant already, Ms. de Fontaine –,”

“Oh, I don’t need another assistant. Mel is perfect,” though her tone sounds…alarmingly poisonous. “You, though…you could be so much more than just Bucky Barnes’ pretty assistant.”

“I am more than that, ma’am,” she argues, narrowing her eyes. 

“I think you have the potential to be a hero,” Valentina continues, ignoring her. “Think about what you could do with those powers of yours.”

“I don’t –,”

“Oh please,” the director of the CIA interrupts. “Number one, it’s obvious that you can read minds. You know way too much and have almost no contacts in D.C. Just because everyone else in this room is oblivious doesn’t mean I am. Number two, you have an actual talent –something that can literally calm down the worst of the worst without even touching them. Think about what you could do with that.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but stops herself. Valentina is manipulating her. She knows that the director is. It’s obvious, and Valentina isn’t even trying to hide it.

“I’m making an impact here,” she says, though she’s not half as confident as she was before. 

“Are you, though?”

“More so than a woman experimenting on humans and destroying the evidence.”

Valentina laughs –well, snorts really, because her laugh is not from amusement. “Shit, you know. I thought I could get you. That’s unfortunate. Now you’re just a liability.”

Her brow furrows and as she’s about to call out –for Bucky, for someone –there’s a high pitched screeching in her ears and everything goes fuzzy. She curses out loud as Valentina calls for help –as someone helps her up and leads her away. She can’t hear what’s going on –she can’t see what’s being presented to the crowd. But through blurry eyes, she can see Bucky trying to make his way through the crowd. 

She’s blacked out before she knows if he’s going to help her.

*****

Her head hurts.

That’s all she can focus on.

There’s a dull ache in her skull like someone took a screwdriver and tried to scramble her brain through her ears. 

The pain, however, is overcome by the sound of gunshots echoing in an empty room.

She rolls over, bumping into a crate or something, and tries to push herself onto her knees. There’s yelling and gunshots and she’s barely able to think let alone move. But she manages to get herself sitting up, eyes screwed tight as she presses her head into the crate behind her. She needs to get her bearings. She needs to figure out where she is and she needs to call Bucky because she fucked up and now she’s probably in danger and –

“It’s getting kind of tense out there,” a voice whispers –trembling, soft. 

But she’s not expecting anyone to be so close to her and she screams out, throwing herself away from him. 

The gunshots stop, and there’s a silence for a moment as the weapons shift towards her and this man she doesn’t recognize. Though, she’s certain that even if she could see properly without feeling like her brain was bleeding, she wouldn’t know who he is.

“And who are you?” Someone asks, and she can hear footsteps coming closer. 

She tries to mask herself –hide from whatever is probably going to kill her –but the moment she even considers her powers –there’s another violent jolt down her spine and she cries out in pain.

“Oh,” the man above her says, putting his hands up. “I’m –I’m uh, Bob. I don’t –well, I don’t know who she is –,”

“Don’t involve me in this,” she hisses as he points to her, though she looks up as John Walker peers down at her. She glares at him through squinted, bloodshot eyes. 

“Aren’t you…Bucky’s assistant?” He asks, holstering his gun.

She nods once, swallowing hard. “Yeah…yeah, I am.”

“How the hell did you both get in here?” the Russian asks.

“I don’t remember,” Bob admits, still trembling some as he looks down at her on the floor. “I found her like that –,”

“I think I was kidnapped,” she explains as Walker offers her a hand to stand. She slaps it away and slowly pushes herself up. “Fucking Valentina –,”

“So just to confirm,” the Russian begins. “Valentina sent…all of us here, to kill each other. Plus two civilians?”

“I think she sent me here to get killed,” she offers, leaning against the crate to hold her up. “I, uh, can read minds and shit.”

“Ah, okay. Liability,” the Russian confirms, as if it was obvious. “Doesn’t explain Bob though.”

“Wait, you guys were sent?” He asks, and she’s taking a breath and finally finds herself focusing a little better.

She glances at Bob now, taking a moment to finally look at him. He’s in scrubs, disheveled and confused. She, probably inappropriate for the moment, thinks he would be kind of cute if he was a little more cleaned up. Or least not in scrubs. 

There’s not a chance in hell she can read his thoughts –her brain is still a mess. She tries to focus her gaze, blinking away the fuzziness that had overwhelmed her. Things were getting clearer; their thoughts —though still fragmented and scrambled like a TV without signal —were finally breaking through. He’s standing there barefoot and it's hard to believe that he wasn’t just…here already. He seems too confused to have snuck in, and more importantly too scrambled.

“I don’t think it matters, really,” she finally says, standing up straight. “We need to get out because Valentina is absolutely trying to kill all of us.”

“Okay, these two —yeah, I get it,” Walker argues, motioning to the Russian —Yelena— and the other woman —Ava —she’s gathered. “But I’m a decorated war vet. I was Captain America —,”

Bob suddenly laughs, and the sound feels almost unnerving in the situation they’re in. She turns to him, his fragmented thoughts loud and…and scary.

Walker isn’t amused. “What’s so funny, Bobby?”

Some thought —or maybe emotion —flares up in Bob but he just laughs uncomfortably again. 

“You keep saying you’re Captain America,” he explains, wringing his hands. 

“And why is that funny?” Walker presses and his thoughts are getting louder now too. 

“It’s just…you’re an asshole.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Walker looks mortified and angry. Yelena is clearly holding back her laughter while Ava is more focused on getting the hell out. But Bob is laughing —boyish, timid, and dare she admit it, kind of cute. And she can’t help but laugh now too. 

“Oh, god. He’s got such a point. God bless you, Bob, thank you so much for seeing things clearly,” she agrees, putting a hand on Bob’s shoulder. “Walker’s literally the worst.”

There’s a moment. The room shifts, like how it shifts when she uses her powers. But it’s darker, and she’s familiar with her room she’s standing in. It doesn’t last though. As she’s trying to figure out where she is, it shifts back. 

And suddenly she’s back in the vault, hand on his shoulder, and everyone staring at her like she’s lost her goddamn mind. Maybe she has, because she’s worried she’s accidentally lost control. And that’s never happened before. She’s usually in far more control —but she chalks it up to anxiety and shakes herself out of it. She didn’t mean to do it; it wasn’t on purpose. Bob does seem a bit put out by it though; blue eyes wide as he stares at her like he’s done something wrong. 

“Sorry, I —,” he starts, but an alarm goes off, interrupting her thoughts and she drops her hand from Bob’s shoulder. 

“We need to get out of here,” Yelena states, pointing to the clock on the wall. “We find the console that controls the barrier, Ava can get through and open it from the other side. Once we’re out, we split up, we find an exit. Walker, keep assistant girl and Bob alive.”

There’s arguing, and their thoughts are getting louder as she’s finally coming into focus again. She wants to argue and remind them what her name is but it seems redundant at this point, given she’s probably going to die. 

Oh. Oh god. She’s actually going to die. She’s actually enough of a liability that someone wants her dead and she’s going to die in a vault underground, with a bunch of assholes and some guy named Bob. Her hand grabbed at her chest, trying to ease that panic as she fell against another crate, sitting down and breathing hard. 

“I’m going to die because I’m too good at my job,” she mumbles to herself. “God, what the fuck?”

“You’re not going to die,” Walker insists as Yelena shouts out in discovery. Walker turns his attention to the Russian, hurrying over to smash the controls in with his shield. 

“We might die,” Bob offers, as if that was reassuring. He sits beside her, hands in his lap as he picks at the skin around his nails. “It’s fine, I think.”

Another yell of triumph and they both watch as Ava phased through the walls, finding an escape. If she wasn’t so scared of death, she would have been wholly impressed. Bob patted her shoulder awkwardly —though she pulled away. 

“Don’t —I don’t want to accidentally make you see my thoughts,” she explains, frowning deeply as he drops his hand. “I appreciate the thought, Bob. I just —I don’t want to freak you out.”

“Oh,” though he doesn’t really seem to understand what she means. 

“Come on!” Walker suddenly screams, hitting the door. “Where the hell is she!”

The two civilians stand, moving to stand behind Yelena and Walker. The timer is counting down and the thoughts around her are…alarmingly accepting of their fates. Walker and Yelena both seem to be totally fine if this is where the line ends for them. And Bob…well, his thoughts are still fragmented and confusing, but he seems just as willing to die down here as the other two. 

“Oh my god,” she whispers, covering her eyes. “You’re all suicide risks.”

[sturniololuvz]

Can you maybe do one where their sister is at a party but she doesn’t come home when she’s supposed to and they go out at like 1am to look for her and find her sat drunk at a bus stop talking to some homeless guy

“1AM”

It was nearly 1:07 AM when Chris’s phone lit up again. Another call. No answer. He slammed it down on the counter, jaw clenched.

“She’s not picking up,” he said, trying to stay calm.

Matt, who had just finished throwing on a hoodie, grabbed his keys. “She said she’d be back by midnight.”

Nick looked up from the couch, concern written all over his face now. “You think something happened?”

“I don’t know,” Chris muttered. “But she’s sixteen, she’s at some party full of idiots, and she’s not answering her phone. We’re going.”

Matt didn’t even argue. Nick was already grabbing a flashlight even though they’d be in the car. It was just instinct.

The car ride was quiet except for the occasional buzz of one of their phones. Still no answer. Chris drove like a man possessed, jaw locked, eyes darting to every sidewalk, every corner.

“I swear,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone, “if something happened to her—”

“She’s fine,” Matt said, though he didn’t sound convinced. “She’s probably just… drunk or forgot the time.”

“That’s the problem,” Nick mumbled.

They circled near the party house, but she wasn’t there. A few drunk teens were still stumbling out onto lawns. Chris rolled down the window.

“Yo,” he called to one guy, “you seen a girl? About five-four, black jeans, hair in a ponytail?”

The guy blinked. “Uh… she left like an hour ago? Said she was getting an Uber?”

Chris cursed and rolled the window up.

They turned a corner, heading toward the main street. And that’s when Matt pointed.

“There—bus stop.”

Under the dim, flickering light of the shelter, their sister sat on the bench, legs crossed, phone dead in her lap. Her eyeliner was smudged, hair a mess, and she was clearly drunk. She was talking animatedly to an older man bundled in coats, a shopping cart beside him.

Chris hit the brakes hard and was out of the car before it fully stopped.

“Are you serious right now?!” he yelled as he jogged toward her. “What the hell are you doing?!”

She blinked up at him, face flushed and expression sleepy. “Chris?”

Matt and Nick were right behind him. She held up a finger. “This is Greg. He gave me a granola bar.”

Chris stopped short, eyeing the man. Greg held up his hands, peaceful.

“She was cold. I gave her my blanket. She was nice.”

Nick stepped forward. “Hey, man, thanks. Really.”

Chris knelt in front of her, checking her face, her arms, her hands. “Are you hurt? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she mumbled. “Phone died… couldn’t get an Uber. So I sat down. Greg’s cool.”

“You scared the hell out of us,” Matt said, voice breaking a little.

Chris exhaled shakily. “You ever pull this again, I swear—”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, eyes glassy now. “I didn’t mean to…”

Chris’s voice softened. “You’re lucky we found you. Do you know how many bad things could’ve happened?”

She nodded, and he helped her up, wrapping his hoodie around her shoulders.

They loaded her into the car gently. She curled up in the back, leaning on Matt. Nick turned in the front seat to look at her.

“Also… you reek. Like a wine cooler threw up on you.”

She smiled faintly. “Still better than Chris’s cologne.”

Chris glared at her in the rearview. “You’re grounded for, like, the next decade. Starting tomorrow. Tonight you’re sleeping with a trash can next to your bed.”

As they pulled away, Nick rolled down the window and tossed a twenty to Greg.

“Thanks for looking out for her, man.”

Greg smiled. “She talks a lot.”

Nick grinned. “Tell me about it.”

⸻

[aphrosheir]

>>> Red Hair, Red Wine, Red Handed Pt. 1 <<<

[A/N: Like, omg. I've been gone for so long. Anyways, enjoy this Melissa fic. I've been cooking up for the last week. I don't know if it makes sense? I hope it does. Melissa and (Y/N) are idiots. Barb is tired of it. Ava wants drama. I hope I did the amazing storytelling of Abbott Elementary justice—everyone say thank you to Quinta! This has like, a lot of Easter eggs. Have fun finding them. I really had a lot of fun writing this.

ITALICS ARE CONFESSIONALS!!!

For the sake of... fitting the word count, this "oneshot" is going to be split into 3 parts.

If y'all enjoy this, I have an idea—completely unrelated to the plot of this one, but set in the same universe—but I'm not too good at keeping those promises. Depends!]

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

"So, like I said, Melissa should be the one hosting the party!" Jacob announces to the rest of the faculty with finality and glee.

"Calm down, Hill," she warned, giving the man a side glare. "Just 'cause the rest of youses cooking ain't shit, doesn't mean that I'm gonna turn my house into your personal hotel for Christmas."

"I love Christmas. I do. But you think I’m cleaning up Jacob’s Pinterest Turkey Disaster 2.0? Fuggedaboutit."

"Melissa," Barbara clutched her pearls, a look of betrayal crossing her face as she turned to her work wife. "I'll have you know that I make a darn good prime rib and sweet potato pie for my homeboy, J. Christ!"

Janine stares at her work mother with concern, wondering how much pop culture has Ava and (Y/N) been able to slip into her morning coffee today. Her boyfriend, Gregory, on the other hand, just stares at the camera, pointed at them with eyes that pretty much sums up his exasperation.

Meanwhile, (Y/N) is off giggling at the other side of the faculty lounge, enjoying the seed she had planted. She was, after all, a kindergarten teacher. She knew how to have fun.

You see, Christmas was about a week away. (Y/N), ever the one to die without drama, has thought of a most brilliant plan to fuel her desires: A Christmas dinner for the faculty. Chaos at every corner, burnt food, terrible presents, and even worse karaoke. It was perfect.

"What are you giggling at, shortstack?" Melissa's eyes snapped to the girl, her glasses now perched on top of her head and phone on the table. Her enchanting hazel eyes are now on (Y/N).

Well, shit.

(Y/N) loved the Abbott crew. She loved the drama, chaos, and the occasional camera crew that came with them. She loved them like her own family. But she loved one of them a little more than the others.

Oh, how the raging fire draws in the naive moth.

"Me? Well, Melissa, I know that you love me, but what do I have to do with this?"

(Y/N) ignored the burning of her cheeks and sent a wink to the redhead's way, playing down her insanely noticeable crush; flirting shamelessly and fighting like an old married couple—or two immature children, depending on the day.

But the crew was used to it by now, especially Barbara, who raised a perfectly plucked brow, seeing how far the two would take it before finally realising.

"Melissa and (Y/N) are two extremely smart and capable women." Barbara states with the passion and theatrics that the kindergarten teacher usually carries, but her smile drops at the end of the statement. "But God knows that those two are about as oblivious as the walnuts in Ava's oats."

Melissa responded as eagerly as (Y/N) had started, pursing her lips. "Don't play dumb with me, dolcezza. I've shared lunch with you a lot of times. I need someone who isn't gonna burn down the kitchen with water."

"Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti asking for help?" Ava's voice cut through the thick, unyielding tension in the air, clearly looking to stir the pot.

"I am so tired of them dancing around each other. And not to mention that (Y/N) basically treats me as her personal diary! She doesn't even pay me. I cannot take this anymore."

"(Y/N), you are quite literally a little miracle."

"Shut it, Coleman." (Y/N) bites back at Ava, hopping off the table where she was seated, before waltzing towards Melissa. She got up right on the redhead's face with a sickly smile, "But then again, how could I ever resist you, mi amore?"

Pretending to roll her eyes, Melissa returned to her already cold macchiato with a scoff. "I still can't host, though. I don't want to be cleanin' up after y'allses drunk asses."

"Oh, well, I can host! Just as long as Janine helps me with the decorations," (Y/N) volunteers, and she swears she could hear Melissa's thick accent muttering about her being a suck-up or something.

"What?" Melissa exclaims at the camera, her glare piercing through the lenses.

Janine squeals, sending a shock through the spines of the faculty. "Of course, I'll join (Y/N)! It'll be an honour."

"I can plan!" Jacob announces, standing with the two girls.

"Okay, so I already have a Pinterest board ready, a playlist we can listen to, and matching outfits!"

"It's like if the sun and Redbull had a baby and them babies were triplets." Ava chimed in, staring at the three youngest members of the faculty exchanging ideas at a hundred miles per hour.

As the clock ticks its last tocks to the end of their break, Jacob stands in the middle of the room, "So, (Y/N) is hosting. She'll be cooking alongside Melissa, and the rest of us will bring a dish of our own—Gregory did you put this in here?"

"I had to."

"Put what where?"

"Open parenthesis, asterisk, caps, underlined, "EDIBLE", exclamation mark, exclamation mark, exclamation mark, close parenthesis."

The glances exchanged in the room ranged from eye rolls, knowing, mischievous, and downright evil. Later on, Gregory would come to regret his choice of words like a monkey's paw.

"Alright... Well, let's continue. I'm in charge of overall planning, Ava and Barbara running Secret Santa, Gregory, and Janine on décor, O'shon gets the karaoke machine—goodluck, and Mr. Johnson with the clean up. Be there before 4. Any questions?"

A unanimous chorus of "no" from the crew—and a helpless "I ain't cleanin' up no love juice, y'all hear me?" from Mr. Johnson—signalled the end of their meeting. But before Melissa could walk out of the break room, (Y/N)'s fingers danced lightly on her waist.

"You can come a little early if you want to have a bit of fun." (Y/N) 'whispered' theatrically with her signature wink, letting the message ring through the lounge. Emerald-green eyes shoot her a dangerous glare—equal parts mischief and warning.

Barb offers a sign of the cross while Janine is mentally cursing herself for agreeing to come early, too.

"Get a damn room." Ava groans, walking between the two with a force that separated them before stopping at the door frame. "Let me know which one, though."

The crew stares at the cameras.

"Stop it." Gregory states, devoid of emotion, as he just so happens to be beside Ava and spit out the freshly brewed joe he attempted to gulp down back into his "#3 Best Teacher" mug. "STOP IT."

"I think you just broke my man," Janine declares with concern as Gregory's stiff speedwalk carried him into the safety of his classroom.

The day could not have come any sooner for (Y/N), as Melissa actually took up her offer of coming early, claiming that she needed as much prep time as she could have.

"Ava, I don't know what to wear," she muttered on the phone, feeling herself slipping from reality. "I mean, yes—these dresses are absolutely gorgeous, but I don't think they're it, y'know."

The complaints turned into a grumble, making Ava roll her eyes at her friend's antics. "Baby girl, what do you mean 'it'. You don't wanna be lookin' like no clown there."

"Ava Eva Coleman."

"I know, I know. But, girl. Trust me when I say, Red will be all over you anyways! I mean, come on, have you seen the way she looks at you? I swear I could've seen her drooling that one time you were sick and stuck in hoodies for a week."

It was now (Y/N)'s turn to roll her eyes. As much as she was grateful to find an older sister in Ava, she knew that her boss exaggerates... Well, everything.

"Seriously, don't you have any dresses I could borrow?"

"I love you, (Y/N), but these dresses were made for Ava Coleman—and Ava Coleman does not cook."

"Then what am I supposed to wear?"

"Wear the red dress."

"But, Ava, that's too—"

Before she could protest, the hang-up tone beeped through her bedroom and made way to the brain-crushing silence that followed.

Just as she had put down the brown Mac lipstick that Ava had given her, the doorbell had rang, and her heart dropped to her ass. Curses flew around her as she almost burned herself on the iron she had left on her vanity.

Ding.

Ding.

Ding.

The rings became even more impatient, and (Y/N) could already feel the scalding remarks that the redhead had in-store for her.

"I'm coming, jeez," (Y/N) yelled, padding down the stairs. "Really, Schemmenti, you could've just said that you missed me."

"As if, shortstack. I could say the same for—"

Melissa's quip hung in the air as she took you in, surprise flooding her. But as quick as she was shot down, Melissa was as quick to regain her composure. Of course she did. She was used to the game that you two had played, ever since the first day you've stepped foot into Abbott.

"Well, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you got all dressed up for me, huh, dolcezza?"

That damned nickname always got butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Stepping back, she let her into the quiant home with a smirk. "You don't look all that bad either; a Philly 11 indeed."

"Yeah, yeah. I still need to fix all of this after we cook, though."

"Hm..." Melissa hummed, raking her eyes over the house. "A house at your age? I'm surprised (Y/N)."

"Okay, I have like... The faintest idea of how old she is. Like, she barely looks 11!"

"It's my father's. One of his properties that he so graciously lent to me. But, I am paying it off. I insisted." (Y/N) looks at the bags hanging on Melissa's fingers, spotting a perfectly wrapped gift in a bag amongst all the cooking supplies she hauled in. A very welcome distraction from whatever the conversation was leading to.

Without another word, she reached down to grab them and set them out on the counter.

"(Y/N), what the hell do you think you're doing," she exclaims in her classic Schemmenti fashion. "Gimme those back."

"Calm down, mi amore." (Y/N) deadpanned, unknowingly letting the nickname slip. She walked over to the massive tree, standing in the middle of her living room and gently placing the gift down. "This is probably the only time you'll see me actually be helpful, and I'm honestly wondering who you got for Secret Santa."

"It's for her. Of course, it's for her."

Melissa looked away from the camera with annoyance. "I don't even know the first thing about the girl."

"I just—she wouldn't shut up about this corny little jawn she found online. Had to call in a favour from a guy I know. Cost me a good chunk'a beer. And gas. And my morals—but hey, who's got 'em in this day and age?"

"Don't even think about peeking, shortie." Melissa fires at her, something triggering her flight of fight mode as her usual quips didn't have the edge thay she had to her voice now. "I could ask you the same thing, seeing as your gift is as huge as Ava's ego."

"It's for someone real special, Red." (Y/N) said in an almost dreamy sigh, Melissa's face contorting into something of a blend between confusion, disgust, and something else that (Y/N) couldn't quite place. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it, hm?"

Melissa pursed her lips again, thoughts running through her head like Sweet Cheeks in his wheel, yet thought better than to push it. The classic Schemmenti move to push away genuine feelings and to opt for:

"Well, just don't expect me to cry for anything less than a thousand buckaroos, hon."

"You're assuming it's for you? Wow, Schemmenti. You wish."

"It's for her. Of course, it's for her." (Y/N) let out a laugh that one could only call deranged. "It's always been Melissa."

"Got her this top of the line, custom-made knife set. My friend, Gordon, recommended it to me. It's heavy for all the chopping that Melissa does and with ornate wood handles with her initials because Italians like the pizzazz."

Clang.

"Shit."

"Mel, you okay back there?"

"M'fine." Melissa replied gruffly.

"But see, that's the thing! That's why I stick to flirting. Melissa is not ready for a relationship. She barely even handles non-romantic emotion properly!"

The camera cuts to Melissa raging a war on the automatic stove—hitting it with a frying pan with a war cry, pushing the buttons relentlessly, staring at it and hoping it'll catch on fire and disintegrate; cursing (Y/N) for having techy gabortz in her kitchen that is crushing her damn pride. "(Y/N), your thingamajig is shit! Stoves are supposed to have knobs, not opinions!"

"And besides, I doubt she even likes me."

[bbambiiiiiii]

Armand watched Secretary(2002) EVERYONE CLEAR OUT. No, I’m just kidding, but I did write a Drabble about if he did 👀

Pairing: Devil’s Minion

Rating: 18+ but it’s not really explicit

“Have you ever… tried that?” Armand turned to Daniel, adjusting his legs underneath him, body dipping into the plush couch.

Daniel seemed caught off guard. He wasn’t expecting to be asked that. “Tried-” he paused, his mouth slightly open. He looked at the TV, then back at Armand, then back at the TV, and again at Armand.

They had just finished watching Secretary, a film Daniel had seen maybe a billion times over, but for Armand, it was his first time and he was curious.

Daniel cleared his throat, opting for the hopeful avoidance of the topic through clarification. “Um,” He links his fingers together. “What uh- what…specifically are you asking if I've tried?”

Armand smiles. He’s amused. He inches his body just slightly closer to Daniels, trying to indicate his intrigue—though for Daniel it felt more like Armand was coming onto him. “That dynamic. Their… relationship style. Have you tried that with anyone?”

Daniel blinks.

Has he.. tried that…

“No. I… haven’t had the chance to.” Daniel sniffs, trying to break the—one-sided—awkwardness.

Armand inches closer yet again, he’s now on his knees, almost crawling towards Daniel on the couch. His movements are cat-like, it would be cute under normal circumstances, but Daniel couldn’t properly focus.

“So you’re interested then?”

Interested…?

“What?” Daniel swears the room feels like it’s spinning.

At this point, Armand is on Daniel’s lap, his body completely shifting over, so his back is on his legs and he’s looking up at Daniel.

“That dynamic? Are you interested? You said you haven’t had the chance to try it, so you’re interested in trying it then?” Armand reaches up, brushing a finger across Daniel’s chin.

Daniel is quiet. He’d never fully thought about it. I mean he’d had ideas, he’d had thoughts about Armand but he never…fully fledged anything out. He wasn’t even sure if that’s what Armand meant by-

“I’m offering to try it with you, Daniel. I’m curious. Stop overthinking it.”

Armand lifts himself, pushing his hips back so he’s properly sitting on Daniel’s lap—albeit sideways—and he cups his cheek with his hand.

Daniel is taken aback, his mouth is left slightly open. “I- are you sure? I mean I’m not very good at telling people what to do and-“

Armand cuts him off, pressing a soft but lingering kiss to his lips.

“Oh, I see.” He chuckles slightly, clearing his throat.

“You’ve got it backward, Daniel.”

Daniel tilts his head, his mind still blank from being kissed on a whim.

“What?”

Armand pulls himself away, getting up off of Daniel, and stands up. He stares at the man for a second, his eyes are…sparkling.

“Can you hold your arms out for me?”

Daniel’s confused, but he holds his arms out in front of him anyway. “Is there something wrong? Do you need blood?”

Armand shakes his head, biting back a smile. “I do, but not from you.”

He sounds almost sadistic… like he’s mocking Daniel. “I’m going to go feed.”

He steps forward and wraps his hands around Daniel’s wrists. “And you.. are going to keep your arms right here until I get back.“

Daniel slowly nods, though he doesn’t look as if he fully understands. “Why… am I keeping my arms out?”

Oh, he’s so cute.

Armand slowly rubs his wrists with his thumbs. “Because if you don’t…”

He sucks a breath in, he’s getting worked up.

“Because… if I see you’ve moved these pretty arms of yours..” he slightly shakes Daniel’s arms.

“I’m going to bend you over this couch…” he presses a kiss to Daniel’s wrist.

“And I’m going to punish you for disobedience.”

Daniel doesn’t respond; the only hint that he understands being the shakiness in his breath.

Armand finally lets go of the man’s arms, letting them hang in the air, he’s sure they’re at least sore by now.

“Well, I’ll see you when I get back.”

[milatiny-xx]

deals with the devil | c.jh

pairing: choi jongho x gn!reader summary: when you challenge jongho to a soccer skills test, he accepts with one very special condition. tags: tooth-rotting fluff mostly!!! wc: 2.6k a/n: BIG BOY ALERT. i am convinced this man gives the best snuggles and that he means absolutely every single thing he says so seriously. when he says ily, i imagine you can physically feel it through his eyes. he also snuck up on me BAD bc the more i see of him the more i feel like i might be in love w him?? x

⊹₊⟡⋆ masterlist | taglist ⊹₊⟡⋆

"This is boring and too easy," you whine. "Let's do something harder."

You and Jongho are at the park kicking a soccer ball around. Jongho dribbles the ball and then flips it up with his toe, catching it. He balances it against his hip as he comes to stand next to you.

"Something harder like what?" he whines back, imitating you.

You chuckle, punching his shoulder playfully.

"Hmmm," your eyes flick around the soccer practice fields searching for an idea. You point toward one of the goals that has holes in the net to serve as targets. "Ooh! Like that! I bet I can hit every single one of those targets in the net."

"Ahhh, really?" he raises his eyebrows, the hint of a smirk tugging at his cheeks.

"What? You don't think I can?"

He takes a step back, his eyes dragging up and down your figure. You feel heat spreading across your cheeks and ears, and you shift nervously. He lets out a loud laugh. Just once and then his expression turns totally serious.

"No. I don't think you can."

You scoff, placing your hands on your hips.

"What? Why not?"

He shrugs.

"I just don't think you can. Your footwork is too sloppy."

You narrow your eyes at him. If you didn't know any better, his dismissive attitude would probably really hurt your feelings. But you know him. The jokes, the teasing, the mocking—it's how he flirts.

Luckily for him, you can dish it out just as well as you can take it.

"We'll see about that."

You stomp past him toward the net, making sure to accidentally brush your shoulder against his arm when you pass him. You stop in front of the net and fall into a stretching routine. This bet totally doesn't matter to you, and there's no reason to stretch since you've already been kicking the ball around for an hour. But every time Jongho makes fun of you, you show off to tease him back.

What a perfect opportunity to display your...assets. You bend at the waist, sticking your bum in the air as you reach for your toes. As you come back to standing, you arch your back just slightly. You turn your head to look at him, pasting a pair of innocent doe eyes onto your face. His eyes are dark, shamelessly observing your ass.

"Oh, excuse me, can I help you?" you purr.

His eyes shift to meet yours, sparkling mischievously. You smirk as you lift your arms above your head. Jongho bites his lip, his sweet smile breaking across his features. You smirk again, a little too pleased with yourself as you let your head fall back to stretch your neck.

You pry open one eye, peeking at your boyfriend. Now he looks slightly glazed over, his gaze still running up and down your body. His cheeks are a little flushed, a telltale sign that your plan is working.

"See something you like?" you tease.

He huffs and presses his lips into a line.

"That's enough," he scolds, but his eyes still sparkle with interest. "Just kick the ball now."

"Hm? Well, I have to get my stretches in. I don't want to be sore tomorrow."

"Stretch later when you're home alone," he replies, eyebrows raised. His hand snakes onto your back as he presses the ball against your chest.

"Trying to get me in trouble," he mutters, shaking his head.

You pretend to pout, sticking your bottom lip out. Your hands close over his on the ball. He lets it slip from his grasp.

"Fine," you reply. "You're lame."

He widens his eyes, making that face he always makes as if to say try me. You drop the ball in front of your foot and look up to study the net. Jongho stands off to the side, his strong arms folded over his chest. With the sleeves of his hoodie pushed up to his elbows, the chorded muscle of his forearms is on full display. You giggle quietly to yourself as you sneak a peek before refocusing on the task at hand.

You carefully maneuver the ball across from the net, lining it up with the first target. After a couple of practice kicks, you set yourself up behind the ball. You take a deep breath and rear back.

Jongho yawns dramatically, drawing out the sound. Your foot skids to a stop before it comes into contact with the ball. Your shoulders fall. Shooting a glare toward your boyfriend, you blink.

"Will you be kicking the ball any time soon?" Jongho asks.

"I was just about to until the most God awful noise I've ever heard interrupted me."

"Hm, must have been a bird or something."

"Hmm. Can I, please?" you gesture toward the ball.

He holds his hands up dismissively, nodding. You recenter yourself and zero in on the target. Right before you swing back to kick it, you look at Jongho.

"You're gonna be silent?" you confirm, eyebrows raised.

"Mhm. You won't even know I'm here."

You narrow your eyes, clearly unconvinced but reset again. This time, you manage to get a kick off, sending the ball sailing through the net and perfectly into the hole that you had targeted. A smile curves across your face. You shoot Jongho a satisfied grin as he tosses the ball back to you.

"One down, four to go," you say proudly.

"Ah, wait, wait," Jongho holds up his hands. "We forgot to discuss the conditions."

"The what?"

"The terms. What happens if you win, what happens if I win. Every bet has them."

He walks toward you as he explains. You chuckle, turning to face him and crossing your arms over your chest. 

"Okay, fine. If I win, you have to do aegyo special for me, and I get to record it and keep the video."

You beam at him, twisting your shoulders side to side to be extra cute. Jongho rolls his eyes, his head lolling back. Despite his clear frustration with your request, when he looks at you again, his eyes are soft and sweet.

"Just for you?"

"Just for me."

He sighs deeply.

"Fine."

"Yayyy! Okay, what do I have to do if you win?"

"Hmm..." his eyes narrow, and he raises his fingers to his chin as he considers. A terribly wicked smirk crosses his face, and he leans in closer to you. "You have to give me a shoulder massage."

Your mouth screws up at his suggestion, embarrassment flooding through you. Heat spreads through your face when your eyes drop down to take in the size of his big shoulders.

Oof, your man is sooo big...

"Alright, deal," you reply. Jongho nods, humming quietly in approval. "Now go away. I need to lock in."

He snickers. You look back at the goal, trying to refocus yet again. You jump when you feel Jongho's palm connecting with your ass. Bewildered, you glance over your shoulder at him.

"Kick straight!" he says cheerily, as if he'd never even touched you.

"Cheeky..." you mutter.

Heaving a deep breath, you kick the ball into the second target. Perfect accuracy. Jongho tosses the ball back to you, and you go for the third target. The whizzing of the net is music to your ears as the ball passes through just right.

"How are you feeling now? Do you regret making fun of me yet?" you shout teasingly.

"You still have two more, jagiya. Don't celebrate yet."

You huff and set up for the fourth shot. You take it and, again, perfect accuracy. It sails through the target without a problem. You cheer for yourself, dancing giddily. Jongho walks the ball back, his lips pressed into a tight line. You giggle as he stops in front of you, dropping the ball lifelessly at your feet.

"Ah, the only thing better than winning an argument against you is knowing that the prize is you doing aegyo specially for me," you coo, cupping his cheeks with your hands.

He sticks his tongue in his teeth, reaching up to remove your hands. His palms are warm around yours. You wiggle your fingers in between his, and his grasp closes protectively around your digits.

"How about an adjustment to the original deal," he suggests.

"What kind of adjustment?"

"Let me guard you on the last one. If you kick it into any of the targets, even the ones you've already hit, I'll sing in the aegyo video, too."

Your eyes widen, a gasp slipping from your lips.

"Oh, you knew exactly how to get me to agree, huh?"

"Wait a second, don't you wanna know what you have to do for me if you fail?"

"Okay. It doesn't matter because, whatever it is, I'm sure it'll be worth that."

"If I steal the ball from you, you have to give me a full body massage."

"Full body? Define full body."

He steps closer, angling his head to the side. His eyes, concentrated and studious, drop to take in your lips.

"Why don't you make me an offer, and we can negotiate?"

You giggle, feeling silly under his intense gaze. You tap his chin twice with your fingertip.

"Choi Jongho, ever the businessman."

You beckon him closer and raise up on your tip-toes to whisper what you're willing to do for him. You brace yourself on his bicep, fingers greedily digging into the muscles there. You feel his body stiffen as you spill honey into his ear. His head snaps to the side, eyebrows quirked as he looks at you. Emboldened by his closeness, you maintain eye contact with him and stand by your promises. He bites his lip.

"Yeah, I think we can make that work," he says.

"Good. Shall we?"

He nods, gesturing for you to pick the spot. You line yourself up with the target that looks easiest to attack and drop the ball, putting your foot on top of it. Jongho cracks his neck and comes to stand on the other side of the ball. He walks slowly, quirking his brow into a half smolder. He waves to an imaginary crowd as he saunters toward you. You giggle, rolling your eyes.

"Any day now," you joke.

"I'm just acknowledging the fans. You can't rush that."

"You would know all about that, I guess."

"Mhm."

"Are you ready?"

"Whenever you are."

You remove your foot from the ball, bending your knees. You glance up at him. He looks so precious, his gaze focused on the ball, eyebrows knit in concentration, little frown. For a split second, you consider letting him overtake you if it means you'll get to kiss all over his pretty face.

But then his earlier tease echos back to you. And the next thing you know, you're dribbling around him, passing the ball between your feet.

You turn your back toward him, guarding the ball to keep him from taking it. You don't mean to press up against him, but you hope it might work to your advantage nonetheless. The two of you continue like that for a few moments, with your feet moving closer to the goal and his body trying to push you back.

Suddenly, he straightens and stands completely still. You stall, glancing back at him to make sure he isn't hurt. He takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you back against him and preventing you from moving forward. You yelp, struggling against his grasp.

"Tha-that's cheating!" you shout in between laughs. "You can't-"

You get cut off when Jongho's foot slips between your ankles. You gasp, barely nicking the ball with your toe to push it out of his reach. He grunts and then laughs, high-pitched and cutesy, the way that makes your heart flutter.

You sprint toward the ball, but he's right behind you. Wheezes spill from your chest as you try to balance laughing at his antics while running after the soccer ball.

You groan frustratedly as you push back against him, starting to lose energy. As you glance over your shoulder at him, your eyes lock onto another target—one that might help you win this bet and get your long desired personalized aegyo video from the Choi Jongho. You giggle to yourself before lurching forward and pressing your lips against Jongho's.

He goes frozen, obviously not anticipating your change in strategy. You allow your eyes to flutter closed, leaning your head back against his shoulder. You can feel the exact moment he buys in—his head tilts forward, nose brushing your cheek, lips pressing harder onto yours. Opening one eye, you see that his are closed. You smile into the kiss for just a moment before breaking away.

Taking the ball with you, you laugh as you kick it toward the goal. It passes through one of the targets.

You cheer, holding your arms out to mimic the shape of an airplane as you run in a circle around Jongho. He stands still, mouth gaping open, disbelief on his face. He glances between you and the goal a hundred times before it finally seems to sink in.

"But you...you cheated," he holds up a finger, matter-of-factly.

Too giddy to care about minor details, you grab ahold of his finger and prop your chin on your fist.

"Hey, you cheated first," you counter. "Me cheating back just means that we're even. Means that I win. Means that you," you boop his nose, "owe me aegyo. AND a song."

He closes his eyes, his shoulders falling. You wiggle in excitement as you wait for him to come to terms with it. His eyes flash open and, before you have a chance to react, his arms are around your waist again. A shriek erupts from your chest.

You twist in his grasp, trying to push him away but laughing too hard to really fight back. He buries his head in your neck, nuzzling his nose against you.

Somehow, he lowers you onto the ground, and your play fight ends with you propped in his lap. Your head falls back against his chest while the last of your giggles fade out.

Jongho's chest rises and falls evenly behind you. His chin is propped on the top of your head. You thread your fingers through his, and his thumb rubs rhythmic circles across your knuckle. You maneuver your head to look up at him. He gazes back down at you, the affection in his eyes so clear it's almost devastating.

You blink twice in a row, a sign that only your boyfriend would know. He smiles, leaning his head down to kiss you again. Your clasped fingers tighten. Jongho's lips are soft and sweet, surprisingly gentle but always hungry. When he pulls away, you smile softly.

"I hate it when you're right," he mutters, voice low. "But I love you, anyway. And, of course, it was my intention from the beginning to let you win. If I don't give you this video now, you'll bother me about it for the rest of our lives." (a/n: it sends me that mr. man always claims he meant to lose whenever he loses a game ateez plays 💀)

You roll your eyes but chuckle and nudge your nose against his.

"I love you, too," you respond. Your serious tone goes silly when you add, "So much, that, even though you lost, I'd still be willing to give you that massage we discussed."

"Ohhh...really?"

You giggle and nod.

"Mhm," you bite the inside of your cheek. 

"Deal."

He lowers his lips again, but you press a finger there to stop him, "After I get my aegyo."

Jongho laughs, shaking his head.

"Deal."

taglist: @rileylovescats @wooyoungsbrat

[msfantasy-taboo]

I’ll make you mine

Dark!Izuku Midoriya x Player!Reader

Summary: Y/n is a heartbreaker, that chose the wrong person to mess with.

A/n: your friendship group describe in the story are original characters.

“Okay it sounds fucked up but hear me out.” Your best friends brace themselves for your controversial take. Luckily for them, the music is blasting so loud, any potential bystanders will not be able to hear your twisted thoughts. “There are so many HOT people out in the world, who were bullied or abandoned when they were younger and they just cannot escape this narrative that nobody wants them. So as soon as anyone shows a indication of interest, they absolutely fold to your every whim. They’re just so desperate and eager to please you. It’ll be the best sex you’ve ever had.”

You burst out laughing seeing the shocked faces of your friends.

“That’s some psycho shit Y/n.” Lin, says smiling humorously. She is just as bad as you, if not worse. At least you don’t just hit it and quit it. You like to stay and play with your hook-ups until they fizzle out.

“Yeah… that’s a little unhinged.” Jiro says awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck, looking incredibly uncomfortable.

“Damn, you take advantage of people like that for real?” Mina asks sipping her cocktail.

“Is it really that bad?” An embarrassed blush adorns your cheeks. “I mean, it’s not like they don’t know it’s just a hook up. If they get all delusional about it, it’s really not my problem.” You begin to scoff swigging your spirit filled glass to your lips.

Lin speaks up again. “Sis… I know you are a player which like … i am too… but like that’s fucked… I hope for real - that you aren’t doing that.” You roll your eyes, not wanting to be lectured by someone with a broken moral compass. At least you would tolerate a lecture from Jiro or Mina, but not from your roommate of all people. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me! I say this with genuine concern. One day your going to accidentally get involved with someone with too many screws loose and end up dead in a ditch! The day that happens. Imma be standing at your casket telling you I told you so.”

You scoffed again, feeling your bestie being overly dramatic “Uh Huh”

“Whatever- i don’t think I’m doing anything wrong. I have a type just like everyone be else...speaking of which.”

An awkward green haired Izuku Midoriya stands next to the staircase descending into the club, sheepishly scanning the crowd for you.

He had hauntingly beautiful emerald eyes. His chiseled jaw and large build deserved to be shamelessly gawked at. You avoided hooking up with mutuals to prevent any awkwardness and drama amongst your friends, but he looked so damn fine.

“Seriously Y/n, don’t play him. Midoriya has been through enough. He doesn’t need your games messing with his head.” Jiro warns which only serves to spur you on further.

“Oh?” You smile menacingly, clearly Mina and Jiro haven’t heard that you’ve hooked up with Izuku so many times, you’ve lost count.

He was too irresistible and his god sent hips gyrated you into another euphoric reality. Your doing everything in your power to keep him around as long as possible.

Jiro and Mina stand from their seat, rushing to Midoriya with a flurry of warnings of your antics. Izuku greets his two friends, listening to their concerns and complaints, politely nodding along. He seems to calm their speech, passing them a black card and pointing them to the bar.

After the two girls hesitantly walk off, Izuku continues to move amongst the crowd until he finally reaches your table and has the biggest goofy smile plastered on his face. “So apparently your a dangerous villainess who is going to try and get into my pants and that I need to be careful not to get caught up in the art of your seduction.” Izuku laughs as you shyly nod.

“Whelp, you’ve caught me. I guess you should punish me for being bad right?” Izuku only smirks, leaning into your ear.

“The kind of punishment that has you riving and begging for mercy.” A tingle shoots your spin as anticipation warms your core.

“Well you better take me back to my lair and bring me to your mercy.”

The door to your apartment is thrown open, and slammed close again. Not a moment later as your legs remaining tightly wrapped around your lovers hips. Your core ever so slightly grazing his crotch as he continues to hold you into him, his lips never daring to leave your own.

You can feel him acting twitchy, under your teasing grinds and caressing touches.

Your thrown onto your back, your lover urgently stripping as you slowly scotch further back onto the mattress.

You noticed a wildness in his frantic movements, a level of desperation your all to familiar with.

He just about dives on top of you, flipping your skirt up and ripping your flimsy panties from your body. Feverishly grabbing his bobbing member, and begins to press the fat mushroom head into your slightly slick hole.

“H-hey, slow d-down.” You utter as a relieved groan escapes Izuku, right before he begins to pound mercilessly into your unprepared box. “Yo-you for-forgot the c-condom!” You yell, his fingers digging in painfully to your hips. The mixture of pleasure and pain was making your head go numb as the sensation of Izuku’s desperate rutting throws your nerves into pleasure.

Your logical thoughts slip right out the window as you continue to let Izuku pound you mercilessly. The forceful angle hits a spot you never knew you even had. I guess you could just take a plan b in the morning.

“Ah- god-Izu, I love how you fuck me.”

“Tell me you love me.” Your fuzzy brain processes his words.

“Yes, god Izu, I love your coc-“ He shoves his thumb into your mouth, wrapping your lips automatically to the intrusion, you suck at his finger until he yanks it out and draws circles along your clit.

“Say it again!” He commands.

“I love you-oh my god.” You just about squeal as he pounds his hips harshly into your own, making you feel like your being Jack hammered.

“Ah yeah baby, I love you too!” He calls as he shoots his whole load into your sopping, pulsing organ.

You sigh in relief, coming down from your ecstasy. Reality is quickly crashing into as you realised what just happened.

“Oh Y/n, you have not idea how relieved I am to hear you say that. You know, I was really worried there for a moment, that maybe you didn’t love me. But I was worried over nothing! I can be pretty silly like that sometimes.” Horror fills your guts. “I knew that if we just have sex, we’d connect again instantly. Sex is so powerful like that, how it just draws people together and connects them.”

“Um, Izuku, I don’t actually… ah fuck it…Dude, i don’t love you. Seriously, I don’t know what ever made you think I did.”

Izuku sits back, taken about by your directness, his lips begin to quiver.

“But you said-“

“I was trying to say ‘I love your cock’ not that ‘I love you’ seriously…. Like what else do you want me to say?” You say, your harsh and blatant words tearing apart Izuku.

“Wait, I’m confused, why did you have sex with me if you don’t love me?” He asks which makes your brain twist to make sense of his logic.

“Is that a joke? Because it’s sex, I’ll have sex with just about anyone.” You admit. It sounds terrible out loud but it’s the goddamn truth.

“That can’t be true, because sex is a sacred activity that only soulmates do together.” He says, denying your claims, grabbing your hand and pressing fervent kisses to it.

“Huh?!” You just about screech. Scrambling from the bed to get dress and shove Izuku out of your apartment as soon as possible.

“You’re Not Right in the head Midoriya. Anyone can have sex, what do you think hookers do?” You ask, shoving Izuku’s clothes back into his arms and begin to direct in to the front door.

Relief fills your body when you finally convinced Izuku to get out of your apartment.

You’re disappointed that you had to cut loose such a good fuck buddy who always left your cunt quivering, but you can’t keep fucking someone who’s crazy.

Meeting Izuku Midoriya was a real eye opener.

Broken people seeking validation through the means of sex are prone for ending in disaster. Finally, you understood what Lin was trying to say to you in the club that night.

Luckily for you, Midoriya’s head wasn’t completely unscrewed, he understood…eventually.

You will just have to cool it on social events and let Izuku latch onto another girl to harass.

Which brings us to tonight. Instead of clubbing with your girlfriends like you usually do. You sit alone in front of the TV as you paint your nails.

“Tonight we have to report a recent tragedy as a suicidal officer worker jumps to his death after Japans Number one hero was unsuccessful in convincing the jumper to step off the ledge.”

There’s no way.

The jumper is the dilf from the coffee shop this morning who gave you his phone number.

And Izuku, there’s no way that’s a conincidence.

Running to the door, you throw it open only to see Izuku Midoriya himself standing there.

“I just can’t, I can’t let you go. If I can’t have you, I’ll make sure no one else will.” You stood feeling nothing but stunned. Stun from shock at missing all of his red flags, stunned the man you met only hours early is not dead because of Izuku and stunned, that he said that horrid classic line no woman will ever want to hear.

“You know, maybe you have too many friends that is drawing away the love you could just give me me. Maybe if I get rid of them too, you’ll finally have some to spare for me!” He says, turning suddenly like a man on a mission until you grabbed his arm.

“Wait Izuku! I was- just confused… no one’s ever loved me like you have so I got scared… and - and I tired to push you away. I’m sorry. Please forgive me, I love you so much.” You spout quickly, your tone far from authentic, but Izuku doesn't seem to notice only looking off to the exit with a hint of determination still staring beneath the surface.

“I dunno you seemed pretty certain, you didn’t love me. But if I just got rid of your friends then-“

“No Izuku! Let me show you serious my feelings are for you. Let’s make love… please Izu, baby, I need you so much. Please come make love to me.” You beg, pulling him through your door as he trudges in slowly, you begging calling him away from the dark task he was about to carry out.

Suddenly, his dark haunting eyes are locked onto you.

And you don't need a mind reading quirk to read what his eyes are saying.

They're undressing you, and already imagining the many ways he will have you in a puddle beneath him.

You wished you were pretending, but there is something so god damn intoxicating about Izuku’s dick that it makes your mind melt in anticipation.

At least if you are trapped with him for the rest of your life, you won’t go without good sex.

Izuku and you stand outside the club your friends always meet at once a month. He’s holding you in a tight embrace, he’s trying to enjoy your presence right down to the seconds.

“God I’m going to miss you so much my love.” He whispers, placing his head between the nook of your neck.

“It’s only an hour Izu, no need to get all emotional like that.” He chuckles lowly, giving your arms an almost painful squeeze.

“Aw sweetheart, if I didn’t know you better, i would’ve thought by your tone that you wouldn’t care.”

“No of course not. I will miss you too baby, I’ll see you later tonight where we can cuddle up on the couch and watch your favourite movie hm? But if you make me leave earlier I’m going to be really cranky.” You taunt Izuku which makes him shake his head.

“I won’t make you leave early, I promise.” He kisses your cheek one last time. “See you later, I love you.” You blow him a kiss and enter the club, internalising your eye rolling and groaning at the cheesy behaviour.

You see the girls pressed up against the glass, they had witnessed EVERYTHING, your sweet talk, your mushy kisses. Jiro and Mina look elated, but Lin… she looks disturbed.

Making your way towards your usual private table, you take your seat acting as if nothing was new.

Mina squeals in uncontained delight.

Before another word can be spoken. An incredibly handsome man stands near you, tapping you on the shoulder, he slips you a piece of paper with his number on it. “You look so beautiful, if your interested, give me a call some time.” He bites his lip, you smile politely and decline his offer handing him back his piece of paper. He nods in understanding and leaves you alone.

Sighing an exasperated breath you pick up your preordered drink and begin to gulp quickly at the contents.

“Don’t act so coy! Who knew that our heartbreaker would be worn down by our Izuku.” Mina celebrates.

“I never thought I’d witness you turning a handsome man away. Congratulations, if anyone could do the impossible, it would be Izuku.” Jiro hugs you.

The two girls retreat to the bar ordering a special round of celebratory drinks to celebrate Izuku taming the untameable.

You look off in boredom, sipping away at your favourite booze. Your bestie stares holes into your side, demanding a silent question. But you do not dare utter a single word of explanation. Besides, there was no reason to, your bestie knows that you would never willingly settle down, not even for an open relationship.

Your bestie shifts, taking a shot of vodka. Seemingly understanding the entire situation. “There’s nothing you can do about it is there.” You shake your head.

“Nope.” You pop the p, taking a long sip of your drink.

“You sure?” Her concern etched into her brows, she’s disappointed at the turn of events, she knows that your resigned to your situation because the cost was likely too high.

“Yep.”

“You stupid bitch.” She reprimands, angry that you found yourself in such a position.

You groan. “I know.”

“I told you.” She spits, pulling out a dart and sticking it between her lips.

“I know.” You mutter, holding the lighter out for her. “This is my life now.”

[deswhomst]

🦋 I think this one was for the microfics??? Why is my memory so bad- ANYWAY

Tedromeda with Tonks? Fluff or angst I don’t mind… but I’m thinking a Tonks coming out to them about being gender fluid or Tonks being a metamorphosis(?) for the first time?

Up to you really! I don’t mind! Also take your time my love! No pressure!

[500 followers event ask game]

thank you for the ask and i’m sorry for taking so long! <33 this was great to write i hope i was able to capture the experience well but if i have misrepresented it, i am very sorry and feel free to call me out on it so i can better my understanding.

Mother, Mother | @black-sisters-microfic | Tonks & Tedromeda | Word Count: 930

Andromeda wished she was one of those picture perfect mothers who always knew what to say—who always knew what their kids needed—but it has been evident time and time again that she’s far from that. She truly does try her best but she knew what having a difficult mother felt like and she lived in constant fear that she’ll make her daughter feel exactly as Druella had made her feel.

Nymphadora was eighteen now, freshly out of Hogwarts and already enrolling for the Auror training programme. At her age, Andromeda was hiding a pregnancy and leaving home, which makes her think that she didn’t fuck up that bad, right? At least, Nymphadora knew that she could love whomever she pleased and her parents would support her.

Druella Black could never.

Still, that didn’t mean that Andromeda and Nymphadora never struggled. It came almost naturally to Ted, though—parenting and all. She supposed that it helps that he wasn’t a Black.

“Relax,” Ted whispered. “I can hear you worrying, darling.”

“Easy for you to say,” Andromeda snapped unfairly. “We both know that Nymphadora didn’t call this family meeting because she has an issue with you.”

Ted sighed. “We don’t know what she wants to talk about, Andy. Why are you assuming it’s an issue with you?”

Andromeda crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back into the sofa stubbornly, choosing not to answer the question.

“I know you both have been fighting a lot recently,” Ted began tentatively, “but not everything is an attack, yeah?”

“I don’t want her to be so upset every time we talk,” she admitted, blinking aggressively to keep the tears away. “I don’t want to sound like a fucking baby but I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, Ted.”

“Hey, go easy on yourself,” he said gently. “I promise you it feels worse to you than it is. ‘Dora’s just at an age where she gets easily irritated.”

“By me, alone?”

“She just values your opinion more than anyone else’s.”

There was the sound of a crash outside which signaled Nymphadora’s arrival. Andromeda sighed but made a note to refrain from criticizing her daughter’s clumsiness because those remarks were exactly the type of thing that fed her irritation and drove her away.

“You okay, kid?” Ted asked as soon as she was inside the house.

“Fine, Dad,” she replied, brushing off her clothes and taking a seat on the chair opposite her parents. “Stupid step at the entrance—I never see it.”

It took everything in Andromeda not to point out that it wasn’t the step’s fault.

Ted chuckled. “Maybe we can do a renovation. It’s been years since we changed things around.”

See. Ted always knew what to say.

“Yeah!” Andromeda piped in, a little too enthusiastic. “That sounds like a great idea. We could all work on it together.”

“Sure,” Nymphadora shrugged. “But first I should tell you both why I called this family meeting.”

“Go on,” Andromeda nodded, passing what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

“I—I don’t like being called Nymphadora,” she started. “And at first I thought it was only because the name is so stupid but it also just feels too … feminine.”

“Too feminine?” Andromeda repeated hesitantly.

Nymphadora nodded. “I don’t always feel like I’m a girl. I know this may be something you both have never heard of but I’ve done a bit of research and it’s really helped me understand how I feel about gender.”

Andromeda was admittedly having a hard time following but she didn’t want to hurt her or say the wrong thing so she quietly nodded along.

“Can you elaborate?” Ted said. “I would like to know more so I can get it better.”

“So—it’s like, I sometimes identify with one gender and with others at other times,” she explained. “Sometimes, I don’t identify with any gender at all. It varies, honestly … the term is called genderfluid, if you wanted to know.”

“What—what would you liked to be called?” Andromeda asked. “If not Nymphadora, I mean.”

“I like Tonks, actually,” she shrugged. “I don’t mind “Dora” either but sometimes my friends called me Tonks and I really liked it so I started telling everyone to use that.”

“And you’re our kid then? Not daughter?” Ted wondered.

Nym—Tonks shook her head. “Sometimes, I’m your daughter. Sometimes, I’m your son. Sometimes, I’m just your kid.”

It suddenly occurred to Andromeda that Ted refers to her as both kid and daughter while Andromeda solely has stuck to daughter. She also realised that she was the one who named her Nymphadora and called her that all the time, unlike Ted who used ‘Dora as well. Maybe some of Tonks’ frustration towards Andromeda came from here.

“Another thing,” Tonks continued. “I don’t hate being called she but I also like he/him and they/them. People usually stick to just she/her if they know it’s an option but I would really love it if you could alternate between all three maybe? Not many people do.”

“Got it,” Ted nodded, then with a smile, he added, “Tonks.”

Tonks grinned back at him and Andromeda doesn’t remember the last time she had seen them so happy.

“Mum?” she said, looking at her expectantly.

Andromeda smiled like it was the easiest thing in the world. “I’m so proud of you for sharing this with us, Tonks.”

And that grin was now aimed at Andromeda.

It would definitely take some time getting into the habit of these changes but it will all be worth it if it made her child happy and feel supported.

[fionnaskyborn]

there's something to be said about the very specific feeling of frailty you feel when you come face to face with just how little you've experienced. twenty-odd years on planet earth and you haven't really watched all that many movies. an unlived life facing an uncertain future. i do not know where to point the finger of blame because i live untethered from my past, floating in the present with no clear point of reference no clear definition of who i am or what happened to me and how i turned out the way i am (fucking. can you guess why five is my favorite game. insert that one lyric from that one modest mouse song.) but you're still here, and you can still learn, and you can catch up, but it still feels like you're a pitiful little nobody looking for excuses trying to explain why you're still new to the whole being alive thing. i've got a good head on my shoulders, though, for all that's worth, so i think i might be fine.

in other news, i watched scarface tonight. it was certainly a movie. don't really understand how the movie made it big, but it did have some damn good music. i mean, i don't know. i'm still learning about the world i live in. maybe it really is as much of a masterpiece as people make it out to be and i'm too dumb to see the reason why it's considered a classic. maybe i'm right. i can't tell at the moment. it's kind of a beggars can't be choosers situation - if you ain't watched that many movies, then you can't really be a good judge of quality. but, oh, well. it's one more movie watched. it's a win because i watched a movie. and i'll watch more movies.

[reignpage]

Munchkins

The different ways the JJK men eat pussy

Gojo: like it’s a game

He thinks shit be funny when it’s really not. Fingers spreading your lips apart, he’ll coo at the quivering of your hole. 

“Oh look, she’s talking to me,” he mutters to himself, grinning. “Hi, pretty baby. Whatcha trying to say? ‘You’re so handsome, Satoru?’ And, ‘You’re the best lover I’ve ever had?’”

When he continues his little conversation, you know he’s genuinely getting lost in his own delusions. A whimper of frustration leaves you. That grabs his attention and with a mock gasp of shock, he presses an apologetic kiss right on your clit, sucking as hard as he can to really get his point across. 

“Awwwwww, baby. I’m sorry. Bet you were feeling left out, huh? Okay, okay. Time to get serious.” 

And then a wide tongue is splaying flat against your entire pussy, spreading your wetness around as he motorboats your sloppy cunt, humming a breathy laugh at the juicy sounds that he elicits. “How’s -ha- this? Better? God, you taste so good. Been eating pineapples, haven’t you?”

“S-shut up, Toru,” you groan. 

“Hey, don’t be mean,” he grumbles with no real heat. 

The orgasm that washes over you is powerful and you can’t conjure a single word out even when he quizzes you like an idiot, rubbing in that he's made you feel so good, you're left silent and dumb. “What day is it? No, I don’t think it’s ‘oh fuckkkk.’ Let's try so something easier. Can you recite pi to the one hundredth digit, baby? No? Yeah, me neither. Aw, you look so pretty. I should take a picture, shouldn’t I? Okay, okay, hold that face. Gonna get a camera.”

Geto: like it’s a test

“Come on, pretty.” He pulls away from your cunt, lips glistening with your juices and you have to fight the urge to close your legs from sudden embarrassment. “You’re pulling my hair too hard. How am I supposed to give you all my attention if you’re pulling me away, hmm?”

Lying down on his stomach, he’s placed himself in the most comfortable position for him to do everything it takes to bring you pleasure. And just as he said, locks of his silky black hair pool through your fingers as you tug every time the tip of his tongue rolls your bundle of nerves with expert precision. 

“Sorry, Sugu,” you find the clarity to whimper out. 

His arm reaches out to grip a breast and the weight makes his eyes roll back. As if punishing you for distracting him, he pinches a nipple and shoves his tongue inside your pussy, feeling the gummy walls clench down. Your back arches. “’s okay, pretty girl. Just —mhm so well-behaved— focus on the pleasure, alright?”

"Oh, Suguru, I can't. S-so good, oh yes, right there."

A thumb finds its way onto your clit, rubbing in precise and controlled circles; he knows just how you like it. Your moans get louder and louder. “Close? Tell me what you need. Talk to me,” he pleads. 

The smile that fills your blurry vision after a wonderful orgasm blinds you. His eyes explore your face, seeking every twitch and sigh like it fuels him, and maybe it does because his hard, leaking cock pushes in slowly, massaging every pleat inside your pulsing walls. 

“Let me hear more of your beautiful moans. Fuck, I can’t get enough of you.”

Choso: like an addict

You’re kneeling in the living room, pulling fibres from the plush carpet. Shorts pulled down, you can do nothing to stop the man moaning behind you as he sucks your clit with no technique. His tongue is venturing all the way down and all the way up, chasing after the taste of you. 

“Fuck! Choso, w-what is wrong with you?”

The day had started like normal. On your way to the kitchen, he murmured something about how good you smelt, and, without warning, tackled you onto the ground. This is so typical of him; he eats you out in the shower, against the front door, the window, in the car, in a park, and so on and so forth. And he does it all shamelessly.

“Sorry, I just -mhm- c-couldn’t help -ah so good- myself.”

It’s wet everywhere and not just from the waterfall of juices streaming out of your pulsing hole. Choso’s drooling —no, practically slobbering— all over your thighs, lapping up every drop. Despite all the times he’s tasted you, he can never get enough. 

Most days you have to fight him off, throwing pillows at his face and swatting his wandering hands even when he pouts and asks, “But why?”

And when you cum, mind completely blank as you pant desperately, face firmly planted on the carpet as his hands hold your hips up, his mouth doesn’t stop. 

“Ah, can I have one more?” He presses his cheek to your slit with a squelch and smooshes it, enjoying the heat against his clammy skin. “Please?”

You roll your eyes.

"No, don't crawl away. That's not nice. Oh, do you wanna do it on the kitchen counter? Okay!"

Toji: like a big meanie

“God, she’s talkative today, ain’t she?”

In his defence, you deserve this. He had just come home from a long day being a killer for hire and fell on the bed with just a grunt. You should have let him rest, you knew that, but in your defence, he’s sexy as hell.

Literally walking sex. 

“Y’r soaking the bed like a slut, look at you. Didn’t you grow out of this habit, ma? What kinda example you trying to show to our kid?”

His fingers are pummelling inside your pussy, curling against your G-spot without mercy. The pressure he’s building inside rivals the vacuum of his mouth on your clit. “Just had to climb up and sit on my damn face, didn’t ya? Couldn’t keep it in your pants? What? I don’t give it to ya enough? No, ‘course not, cause this dirty pussy always needs to be stuffed full, doesn’t she?”

There’s no particular rhythm to your grinding, and your desperation makes the corner of his scarred lip tick up. When you look down, your eyes meet his and the wink he sends you drives you over the edge. 

“That’s a new record ha. Must have been pent up, poor baby. Good thinking taking what you want when you need. Proud of ya, kid.”

Out of breath, you ask with a little shame, “You're not mad?”

SMACK!

Your asscheek is burning from the slap and you fall down on the bed with a ‘fuck you!’

“How long have ya known me, dumbass? I could be bleeding from a bullet in the chest and I’d still let you ride my dick.”

Nanami: like a man in love

“Sweetheart, are you sure I’m not distracting you?” 

For whatever reason, your husband still feels guilty about his desire despite all the years you've been together. Watching you slave away at the stove was apparently a stimulating sight. In his own Kento way of saying ‘thank you,’ he had cuddled up behind you, pressing kisses on your neck with his hands wandering down your curves. 

Moaning, you do your best to stir even when his face is shoved in between your thighs, suckling on your pussy from behind. “Ken, you silly man. Of course you’re —ngh!— d-distracting me but it’s a good —oh, Ken— distraction, d-don’t worry.”

“Really? Oh, that makes me so happy, darling, because I really couldn’t hold on any longer.” Even when he’s being absolutely filthy as he forces naughty squelches out of your sensitive pussy, he’s being so sweet — occasionally, he lays kisses on your clit, whispering praises like he’s spell-struck. “My lovely wife. My beautiful wife. My darling love.”

His warm breath and his even warmer words pushes you to the light and you’re spasming in his hands and on his mouth. 

“That’s it, honey. Such a good girl. How did I get so lucky?”

Then, sweaty and elated, he stands to full height and smothers you in a kiss. Distantly, you hear the click of the stove before you’re carried away, bridal-style to your bedroom. Your giggles makes him smile and, when he lays you down gently on the bed, he takes you in with a sparkle in his eyes. 

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Let me show you my sincerity, sweetheart.”

Sukuna: like a liar 

When you had wandered into the garden, you hadn’t expected that you’d get pulled to the side, off the path, and pushed against a tree. Before you can process anything, your lips are being devoured by his — sharp teeth, unforgiving lips, and a growl echoing in your mouth. 

A big hand worms its way through your layers and tears off your flimsy panties with one yank. Just as the cool breeze meets your slit, a palm covers the entire area. 

“Kuna, w-what are you doi—Ah, fuck!”

A long and wet tongue prods its way around, rolling your clit with reckless abandon. You hear both mouths, from his face and his hand, growl in satisfaction at the taste of you. “I could sense your growing need, woman. It was overwhelming. And as your king, I must fulfil my duty and grant you one moment of pleasure. Rejoice in my benevolence.”

That’s definitely not the case since you were thinking of nothing but what to cook for dinner but you know him; he hides his desires with what he knows best. 

Deceit. 

“I’ve barely done anything and look at you, writhing like a worm. How pathetic,” he snarls. Sukuna kisses your lips the way he eats your pussy: like he’s desperate and hungry — positively starved.

Your orgasm is practically forced out of you, taken like it was always his to begin with. Deep in the back of your mind, you hope no servants have wandered near, or hell, stepped foot in the garden at all because your moans and whimpers were unreserved.

“Your moans are grating on the ears. Try to do less squealing like a mouse when you take both of my cocks, woman.”

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ how long does it take to fuck your brother's best friend? (four whole days)

synopsis. suguru comes home to visit from college at the same time you do—except he brings satoru along. this is going to be a long break

word count. 8.5k (i am tired of this tomfoolery)

contents. college! au, brother's best friend! satoru, fem! reader, minors do not interact, three-year age gap (you're both early twenties), slightly mean satoru (when you’re kids), slight enemies to lovers, jealous! satoru, mentions of reader having an ex-bf, male masturbation, satoru is taller + carries reader, cunnilingus, fingering, handjobs, unprotected sex, brief mentions of alcohol (satoru), creampie, pet names (baby + sweetheart), not proofread i could not be bothered i’m sorry

notes. this was not supposed to be this long bye i am embarrassingly down bad for the blue-eyed freak

everyone knows that where there is satoru, there is suguru—and likewise, where there is suguru, there is satoru.

they’re a bit of a packaged deal, really. satoru befriends your brother in what you think must be some twisted stroke of luck—there is no way suguru would lower his standards for some rich bastard who’s had life made for him since the day he was born. but apparently, he does, and you’re stuck with a white-haired nuisance in your house at least once a week. for years.

you’ve known satoru since he was a whiny, snot-faced, and spoiled little brat. back then, he used to call you toothless—you were six, it’s normal for children at the age of six to lose a few teeth. just because satoru is nine and has grown his teeth back doesn’t mean he escaped the toothless phase himself—but satoru is just a jerk like that, pushes your buttons, and calls out your insecurities to get a good laugh.

you don’t smile with your mouth open even once around him that summer, not until suguru assures you that regardless of how many teeth you have, you have a lovely smile.

when you’re twelve, puberty does its thing, and now you’re stuck with acne-prone skin—also a normal occurrence for people your age, but satoru makes sure to point out the giant pimple on your forehead every time he sees you. you make sure to let him know his haircut is as awful as his sense of style, and suguru tries his best not to choke himself with his charger as you both bicker.

satoru is gone that entire summer for a family cruise that you’re sure costs double your house—he comes back frighteningly taller than you remember him within the span of just a few weeks.

it’s been like that since you were kids. he comes over, finds a new thing to pick on through his smug grins and smooth chuckles, and you fume as you bite back with just as snarky rebuttals. he makes sure to never cross the line of going too far—it’s more for suguru’s sake, you’re fairly sure—but stays right on the dot of getting just under your skin.

he’s annoying. a jerk. a rich snob. a privileged dickhead. he’s rude and disrespectful, with no tact, let alone any semblance of respect. you don’t understand what could possibly make suguru want to hang around such a douchebag, but suguru cares about satoru—and satoru has always been there for your brother.

you don’t understand it, but you respect it. as long as he doesn’t wet your entire bathroom sink and mirror in the mornings after he stays over, you suppose you can coexist.

but you haven’t seen him in ages—not outside of suguru’s instagram stories and posts. it’s been a long few years since the two of them have left for college, and by the time you leave too, life has its funny way of working, and, well…you don’t bump into him anymore. it doesn’t occur to you that satoru is not the same guy you used to know until you come back home to visit after your second year of college.

“suguru,” you call, “i borrowed your hoodie. but you can have it back—”

you cut yourself off when you open the door to your brother’s room, and lo and behold, stands a very shirtless gojo satoru, the white-haired and blue-eyed asshole you’ve had to deal with since childhood. except he’s way taller than you remember him—just how much does this guy grow, exactly? his shoulders are broader and….and since when did he have abs? there’s a small tattoo just under his collarbone—when did he even get that? his hair is also longer, just enough to fall over his forehead and curtain those striking blue eyes of his.

he looks…well, handsome. very handsome, in fact. dangerously handsome that it catches you by surprise as you blink.

he’s still shirtless, holding his t-shirt in his hands as he grins.

“hey, toothless,” he greets, voice deeper than the last time you heard it—but it still sounds relatively the same. you think you’d always recognize satoru’s voice, whether you’d like to or not. and, of course, he just has to still use that ridiculous nickname after all these years. “long time no see.”

“i have all my teeth now—i have for a long time, y’know. and put a shirt on, you freak,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “where’s suguru?”

“what, you don’t enjoy the view?” he motions at his bare torso, like the shameless bastard he is, “most girls love this view—”

“and yet, you’re still single,” you cut him off, staring at him pointedly.

he grins impossibly wider, tugging his shirt over his body swiftly—you have to exercise all ounces of control not to gulp as you watch his biceps flex.

“keepin’ track of my love life?” he wiggles his brows, “i know older men can be appealing but have a little class. your poor brother would lose his shit if you went after his best friend—”

“satoru,” you sigh, pinching your nose, “do you age backward or something? how are you still this obnoxious after so long?”

“i practice in the mirror,” he winks, “it’s my charm.”

“that’s hardly charming,” you roll your eyes, “anyway, whenever suguru comes back, let him know i left his hoodie, yeah?”

“sure,” he chuckles.

and then you close the door as you leave—right before you stop, pause, and open it up again as you’re sticking your head back in when you make a shocking realization.

“wait, how long are you here for?” you ask, eyes wide.

he has the audacity to look smug as he taps his chin and pretends to think—“oh, y’know. just the rest of break. my old man took my mom on some trip, so i’m killing time here,” he shrugs.

great. lovely. wonderful. just what you needed.

you wish he’d drop dead—maybe suguru will finally be forced to go outside of his one-man circle and actually befriend some respectable people.

“you can’t just stay at your place?” you hiss, “it’s certainly big enough.”

“well, why be lonely in an empty home when we can have fun here?” he hums, “consider yourself lucky—you get to be housemates with me for a—”

“keep to yourself,” you warn, cutting him off again through narrowed eyes and a dangerous glare—satoru only looks more amused, raising his hands up in surrender.

with that, you turn again and almost shut the door when he calls for you—“hey, toothless,” he says lowly, making you pause before turning to him with a raised brow. he smiles—it’s so unlike that usual smirk of his…somehow this one is a bit gentler as he murmurs, “you look good. grew up well, y’know.”

you blink. you’re not ready for that…didn’t expect a compliment from gojo satoru himself—especially not after all this time of throwing mediocre insults your way.

you decide he must be messing with you, so you purse your lips as you click your teeth in irritation. “yeah, sure,” you say dryly.

you can hear his chuckles as you close the door again—this is going to be a long break.

—————

just as expected, the house is simply not big enough for you and satoru.

the first time you run into him happens to be first thing after waking up—you’re walking up to the door just as he twists the knob and opens it, walking out shirtless. again.

this time, however, he’s got beads of water rolling down his skin from his shower, right between his pecs, as a towel hangs around his shoulders. you can see his tattoo from up close now, a small infinity sign right under his collarbone that contrasts against his pale skin.

how tacky, you think—just as you’d expect, even his choice of tattoos is questionable.

his hair is wet—it’s sticking to his forehead instead of the multiple directions it usually scatters around in that messy way it always does. you’ve only felt satoru’s hair once—when you were fifteen, and you’d hit him in the back of the head as you walked past him at the breakfast table. he’d made a jab at your dark circles. tests were around the corner, and unlike satoru, your grades actually mattered. you didn’t expect his hair to be so soft, but it is, and you almost itch to twirl the strands around your fingers for a quick feel.

instead, you scowl and stomp off to your room as soon as your dishes are washed.

his hair is probably just as soft now—maybe even softer now that he actually probably cares to look after it. you’ve heard suguru grumble about using two-in-one shampoo too many times when he comes back from spending the night at satoru’s. for a second, your fingers twitch to reach up and brush through a few strands on his forehead—just to feel them because they look soft. nothing else.

the urge is quickly killed as soon as he opens his mouth, however.

“oh, hey there, roomie,” he grins, “you’re really doing all you can to catch me half naked, huh?”

“don’t flatter yourself,” you grumble.

“i’m just sayin’,” he chuckles, “that’s twice now. if you ask nicely, i might walk around like this just for you.”

it’s way too early for this.

by early, it’s actually late noon. now that finals aren’t killing your free time, you stay up until ungodly hours to catch up with your social life—and it doesn’t help that you can hear satoru and suguru stay up playing video games the next room over, either. suguru is probably still sleeping.

that’s a bit of a shocker, in fact—usually, it’s satoru that has to be dragged out of your brother’s room to have breakfast (or brunch, really) before the kitchen is cleared up. why satoru is up first is beyond you.

maybe it’s just a cruel way for the universe to enjoy watching more of your veins pop.

“does that apply to asking you to leave? because then i suppose i can ask rather politely.”

he grins, eyes sparkling with amusement as he shoots you that smile with those pearly whites that irritate you to no end. you’re not sure why, but something about his smile looks so much different nowadays—something about it just seems so….mature.

that’s a word you didn’t think you’d ever use to describe satoru.

“mm, not quite,” he hums, “you’re still stuck with me.”

“whatever,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. “move, i want to shower before suguru wakes up.”

“you have time,” he steps to the side, letting you enter the bathroom, “he’s probably not waking up anytime soon—woah.”

satoru’s shirt is on the floor—why, you may ask? because he’s an annoying idiot who doesn’t have to clean up after himself when people have always been around to do it for him. he never has to care to aim and toss his clothes into the hamper because the maids will pick up after him anyway. old habits die hard, you suppose—you’ve listened to suguru complain about satoru’s messiness not improving even after being his roommate for the last few years. it’s never been your problem, but you don’t appreciate it now that you’re slipping over the fabric on the tiled floor, falling backwards with a squeal.

but satoru’s quick—he catches you with those strong arms of his and wraps them tightly around you, keeping you securely in place as he steadies you against his chest.

his bare chest, in fact.

you can feel the slight dampness seeping into your shirt, and you can feel his hot breath on your neck as he exhales in relief once he makes sure you’re safe. you almost shiver—almost, but you manage to scrape together enough self-control to stay painfully still in his grasp.

“you okay?” he murmurs gently, voice a low whisper against your skin. there’s no bite to his words. no amusement or teasing or even smugness. it’s genuine, the way he checks on you.

this is…new. very, very new.

“yeah,” you breathe, letting out a sharp breath. and then—“maybe keep your clothes in the fucking hamper next time, though.”

“sorry,” the smile in his voice is almost audible—you can’t see it from where you are, but you can hear it in his voice. you roll your eyes, and satoru makes no move to loosen his arms around you. for some reason, you don’t move.

you’re not sure why, but you just don’t.

“you’re still just as messy, huh?” you roll your eyes—he laughs, and it’s a smooth, boyish chuckle that almost makes you wonder for a moment if this is why girls seem to love satoru so much despite his god-awful personality.

it’s a pretty beautiful sound—you hate that you have to admit that to yourself.

“yeah,” he admits, “it drives suguru nuts.”

“yeah, i can’t imagine why,” you snort. it’s like that for a moment—satoru’s muscled arms around you and hard chest pressed against your back. finally, you clear your throat. “you can let go now, you know.”

“right,” he mumbles, slowly pulling away—and when you turn to face him….is that disappointment? on his face? you don’t get a chance to be sure because then he’s bending down to pick up his shirt before he’s standing—he’s already wiped the expression from his features completely by then. “sorry about that, toothless. i’ll keep my shirts off the floor next time.”

“that would be so kind of you,” you smile sarcastically.

and then you shut the door in his face and exhale as you lean against the wall.

this is going to be a longer break than you thought.

—————

the next time you run into him, it’s late at night. everyone is asleep—even your brother and his headache of a best friend, if the silence tells you anything. you can’t sleep, though, so you make your way to the kitchen to hunt for snacks. you’re skimming through the pantry before your eyes land on a surprise—a box of strawberry pocky sits nice and enticingly, right there for you to open and devour.

you grin, reaching over when—

“those are mine,” satoru calls, stepping into the kitchen, “brought them over myself. you should ask before touching people’s things.”

“you literally ate my leftovers the other night,” you say incredulously.

“those were yours? i thought they were suguru’s.” he raises a brow in surprise, making you click your teeth in irritation.

“the principle of asking still applies,” you purse your lips. and then defiantly, you open the box and grab a pack right before his eyes.

he scowls—but you know he doesn’t actually mind because he waits for you to finish grabbing yours before taking the box and grabbing his own pack and a coke from the fridge. you both take a seat at the kitchen table, across from each other, as you open the packaging and silently eat your newfound snack.

it’s satoru who breaks the silence first.

“do you still throw away the ends of these?”

you huff indignantly, not meeting his eyes as you take a bite off the strawberry-covered end, stopping at just where the cookie portion is uncoated. “yes. i’m eating these for the coating—not the bland biscuit part.”

“what’re you, five?” he snickers, earning a glare from you. defiantly, you pop the end of the pocky stick into your mouth just to prove a point—and then the look of distaste makes him cackle louder. 

“shut up,” you hiss, “you talk too much.”

“the ladies love it when i do,” he bats his lashes—you stare at him blankly, unimpressed.

“yeah, as if.”

“hey, my ex-girlfriend totally did,” he defends.

ex-girlfriend? that’s a bit of a shocker—you didn’t know satoru dated anyone in the last few years, you haven’t seen or heard anything of it through suguru’s end. in all realness, you didn’t even think satoru was the boyfriend type…but then again, he’s not really the anything type. he just kind of exists to take up space and be the bane of your existence. 

“i hope the poor girl is recovering well after dating you,” you shake your head, feigning a concerned look on your face that makes him roll his eyes—they’re still disturbingly bright even in the dark kitchen, dimly lit by the slightest bit of moonlight pouring in through the small window.

“i dated her freshman and sophomore year,” he says casually. you also didn’t expect that—that it lasted that long. something about satoru doesn’t strike you as the long-term relationship kind of guy. something about him doesn’t seem like the relationship kind of guy at all. not because he’s the type to mess around casually, but because he seems the type to seem disinterested all around—he’s snobby like that. “she was…alright, i guess.”

yeah. very snobby.

“you are such a sick bastard,” you spit.

he snorts, taking a bite of his pocky as he shakes his head in amusement. you’re as feisty as ever—it’s always fun riling you up, even if unintentionally.

“hey, it’s not like she was bad. she was just…well, she wasn’t interested in me like that either,” he shrugs, “i think it was just the sex. it was good, can’t lie there.”

“you’re so gross,” you roll your eyes, “have some decorum.”

“what, you’re still sixteen?” he raises a brow, lips curling into a smirk as he reaches for another pocky, “can’t say the word s-e-x?”

“i don’t broadcast my sexual activities out in the open,” you shrug.

satoru chuckles, taking a bite that more or less finishes the entire stick in one go before he presses a finger to his lips, “shh. don’t say that too loud—suguru will come chase you from his room if he hears.”

“suguru,” you groan, “he’s such a pain to have around sometimes. y’know i dated this one guy last year. i think suguru might’ve paid him to dump me.”

“i know. he definitely thought about it,” satoru hums, “he used to go off about it all the time. he was right, though—that guy was a total prick.”

something about you is mildly shocked that satoru knows about your private life—sure, it’s not outrageous or even the slightest bit unlikely that suguru mentions you. satoru and suguru are best friends, and you happen to be suguru’s sister—of course, suguru is bound to mention you here and there. it’s just the fact that satoru even pays attention to anything to do with you that surprises you—although you suppose it would be a good way for him to find his next source to push your buttons.

“i’m not surprised you think he’s a prick,” you nod, “it takes one to know one, after all.”

“oh yeah?” he snorts, waving you off, “i do, in fact remember anniversaries, y’know.”

“okay,” you sigh, defeated—your ex-boyfriend is admittedly not at the top of the list of your brightest choices. not even up halfway on the list. in fact, he’s so low on the list of good choices you’ve made, that willingly choosing to interact with satoru feels like an exceptional decision in comparison. and that’s saying something. “he was pretty bad. but he was really hot. when a guy looks like that, his values are the least of my worries.”

it’s a joke—you’re sure he knows that. but satoru takes a long sip from his coke, silent for a moment. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so serious, especially so suddenly.

“he can’t be that hot,” he mutters.

“oh he was really hot. probably the hottest guy i’ve ever talked to—” satoru bites his pocky a bit aggressively at that, “and he was so tall. maybe taller than you—how tall are you again? anyway, he was pretty enough to overlook his shortcomings.”

“he’s probably not taller than me,” he grumbles, frowning. you snort—men and their fragile little egos, you think in amusement.

“he was,” you tease, “he was so tall, i’d let him do whatever he wanted.”

“that’s a terrible way to look at it,” he scrunches his brows, “you shouldn’t let some guy walk all over you because he’s tall and his face is a bit easy on the eyes—”

“i know you’re not talking—”

“i’m serious,” he cuts you off. something about him reminds you of suguru for a moment—like he cares who you’re with because he has a reason to. as if you mean something to him, as if knowing someone who doesn’t deserve you has you in their palms is upsetting.

but then you shake the thought out of your head—satoru doesn’t care. he’s never had a reason to, and you don’t exactly plan to give him one, either.

“okay, dad,” you roll your eyes, “i learned my lesson. i have standards now.”

“good,” he nods—and then, as if to keep himself in character, he adds, “because i don’t want to help suguru kill someone, and it’s over something lame like forgetting his little sister’s anniversary. i’d like to go to jail for something more badass.”

“you and badass don’t belong in the same sentence,” you raise a brow. “let’s be realistic.”

“oh yeah? that’s rich coming from—”

“guys, it is five in the morning,” suguru grumbles, throwing a water bottle at satoru’s head. you glance at the kitchen entrance, eyeing a half-asleep and very irritable suguru as he crosses his arms, “can’t you idiots fight over who’s more of a loser at reasonable hours? some of us like to sleep.”

“want one?” you offer your pack of pocky, holding it out to him.

suguru blinks, contemplating for a second before sighing and trudging over.

“yeah,” he mutters, flicking your forehead. “gimme that.”

you watch woefully as suguru takes the entirety of your pack, swiftly sitting next to satoru and leaving you empty-handed. satoru snickers obnoxiously at the deflated look on your face—and then he holds out his pack to you.

you look between him and the pack for a moment before giving him a genuine smile. it’s a rare sight—he drinks it in as you carefully take one and bicker over something with suguru.

you’re pretty when you smile, he thinks—pretty enough that if you had horrible values (which you don’t), he might feel inclined to understand your (awful) reasoning for a moment.

and then he blinks and shakes the thoughts out of his head—it’s going to be a long break.

—————

satoru meets you when you’re six. 

he’s nine at the time, and he feels on top of the world knowing he’s three whole years older than you—in hindsight, three years is not a very large gap, but to nine-year-old him, it feels like centuries. he’s remembered you as the fun little drama queen that’s too easy to poke fun at for years—that’s all you’ve always been: suguru’s younger sister who puffs her cheeks out and scowls way too often to be normal, the girl that’s way too easy to tease than should be standard. 

somehow, he wasn’t expecting for you to come back so grown…and so hot. suddenly, it really hits him that you’re not a kid—have not really been for a long time now. he’s always treated you like you’re way younger than he is, way too little to be in his presence and be worthy of it—but you’ve really become a fine young woman.

a magnetizing one, in fact.

it’s now his third night at your house—your parents are as lovely and welcoming as ever, and suguru is always a good time to be around. but somehow, satoru is not satisfied. not anywhere near sated by the few, minimal moments of contact with you. 

when did you get so pretty? although, as much as satoru has always liked to poke fun at you, you’ve never been ugly. not even a little—but you’ve grown into your features better, outgrown the awkward teenage era of your life, and now present yourself with a newfound confidence that just looks…so good. satoru doesn’t see his best friend's kid sister anymore—no, there’s something so alluring about you now.

the nail on the coffin that solidifies he’s officially screwed is when you mention your ex-boyfriend—why would your dating life make him this irrationally angry? why is the thought of someone being on the receiving end of your praise (and shameless heart-eyes) so aggravating for him? 

he doesn’t know—but what he does know is that the raging boner has been killing him all morning ever since he woke up from…well, less than proper dreams about you.

so now he’s here, forehead pressed against your shower wall as the hot water hits his back, swollen cock in his fist as he thumbs at the tip, teasing the slit just the way he likes. he thinks about you—how he’d show you what makes him feel good, how you’d probably learn fast and take care of him just the way he needs. 

your hand would look so much daintier compared to his—smaller, but he’s sure it would still feel infinitely better. 

he bites his lip, fighting back a moan as he strokes himself slowly, pre cum smeared along the length of his hard, aching cock—red and angry at the tip, leaking with more pre cum no matter how many times his thumb collects every drop. 

“f-fuck—” he breathes, and his voice lets out a shaky, breathy little call of your name—he’s screwed if anyone hears it. he’s sure you and suguru will both band together to kill him, but thankfully, the words are lost in the sound of the shower running. “fuck baby,” he says hoarsely, voice cracking ever so slightly as he whines. 

it’s soft and quiet, the noises he makes—careful and deliberately hushed to make sure no one hears the improper way he’s thinking of you right now. but fuck, your tits are so pretty when you walk out of your room in a t-shirt in the mornings—he can just tell you’re not wearing a bra. he can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop trying to picture what they’d look like uncovered and bouncing.

“jus’ like that, baby,” he pants, whimpering softly as he squeezes around his tip, teasing himself with that slow, painful pace of his. 

satoru is sure that if it were you, that if the hand stroking his cock right now was yours, you would never let him cum so easily—you’d drag it out just like this, pump him slowly and twist your hand around him in a pace that’s painfully not enough before ever thinking about letting him come undone. 

it’s just the way that you are—never ready to back down from a challenge, unwilling to go down without a fight. but he loves it, he thinks—lives for the way you keep him on his toes and work for the satisfaction. 

“more,” he gasps, “n-need more—gimme more, sweetheart.”

he imagines it—the way you’d kiss his jaw, maybe even the corner of his mouth, as you hum. say please, toru, you’d probably say—and fuck, he’d kill to hear you say toru. 

“please,” he rasps, “please, baby. d-don’t tease.”

he can practically hear your light giggles, the sweet, okay, baby. no more teasing, that you might whisper. he’d also kill to hear you call him baby—he’s almost nauseous at the idea that some other guy must’ve heard the pet name from your lips before him. and then he lets himself pump his erection faster, squeezing tighter as his thighs quiver while he stands in the shower. 

fuck—you feel so good. you’re not even here, but he’s sure you do, and he’s desperate to envision it. it practically hurts—the way he’s so hard and swollen and ready to release. just for you, he wants to tell you, he’s going to cum all for you. 

“baby,” he whimpers, “‘m so, so close—fuck ‘m gonna cum. ‘s for you—gonna cum for you—ngh, sh-shit.”

and then there’s cum on the tile walls, on his hands, on his abs as they flex with every labored breath. satoru cums—hard. his eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted with a silent cry as he pants and strokes himself through his high. you’d kiss him, he likes to think, on his jaw and cheeks and maybe the tip of his nose as you sit on his lap and work him through his orgasm. you’d watch him closely, take in the way he comes undone for you, maybe even call him your pretty boy as he paints your hand white with his seed.

would you praise him? murmur softly into his ear and seal the gentle words with a kiss to his skin? would you stroke his hair from his face as you admire his blissful, fucked out little expression? maybe he’d ask you then—maybe he’d ask you to admit he’s way more handsome than that douchebag you dated as your hand holds his softening cock, sticky with his release.

god, what he wouldn’t do to see your hands coated with his cum—did you do this for your ex? did he look as hot as you claim he was when he came for you? the thought makes him sour—he grits his teeth and clenches his jaw at the idea, panting and catching his breath as he stares down at the mess he’s made.

he should feel bad—this is wrong. so, so wrong—suguru would kill him if he was aware satoru was lusting over his little sister. but it felt so fucking good—he’s never cum as hard as when he’s pictured cumming for you. 

it can’t be that wrong, if that’s the case—can it?

——

“suguru,” your voice is shrill, deadly—like you’re out for blood. “next time you jack off in the shower, maybe clean the fucking wall? are you joking?”

“wha—i definitely cleaned that,” suguru defends. 

oh, fuck, satoru thinks—he forgot to clean that. so he makes himself very scarce and stays within the confinements of suguru’s bedroom—his messy habits are starting to really catch up to him. if his defense, he really would clean that up…it’s just that he was a bit distracted. 

“so you admit you jack off in our shower? our shower?” you sound inconsolable, downright devastated, and borderline hysterical. having siblings seems like a lot of trouble, he thinks—but then again, sometimes satoru is jealous of your bond with suguru. it’d be nice to have someone in his family he can actually depend on. “keep that shit for your bedroom, you jackass!”

“well, how am i supposed to do that when satoru is there? you tell me.”

“i don’t know! figure it the fuck out—you guys probably jack off together anyway.”

“what?” suguru sounds appalled, “we do not—that’s outrageous.”

“whatever,” you say—you sound almost murderous as you warn, “next time you better clean up your fucking mess, you asshole.”

satoru can’t help but smile a little—your pointer finger is definitely held up as you scold suguru—you’re so cute when you’re mad, he thinks. he almost wants to step out and catch a glimpse, but he decides against it for now.

silently, satoru thanks his best friend for taking one for the team—even if it was unknowingly.

—————

it’s night four. 

satoru has surprisingly kept to himself—he even promptly looked away after meeting your eyes in the kitchen yesterday morning as you walked in for breakfast. that’s…new. a lot about satoru is new. 

he’s taller and more muscular now—at one point, suguru used to tower over his scrawny little form. now he’s seemed to grow into his body, seemed to learn how to style himself better, and actually do his hair a bit. it’s still messy now that he’s just lazing around in your home—but it’s oddly handsome. 

scarily handsome, in fact. 

you don’t enjoy the idea of thinking about the jerk of your childhood like that—but ever since you felt the hard press of his chest against your back, sometimes you wonder what it’s like to know satoru outside of just your older brother’s obnoxious friend. 

maybe, somewhere along the line, had you put your pride aside and actually tried to get to know him, maybe you both could at least be friendly. but then again, there’s never been any real animosity between you two—you can share a lighthearted talk from time to time, like that night in the kitchen. 

you decide not to dwell on it too much, decide that he’s not really worth your thoughts when he’s just a guy who’s always been a bit too spoiled to learn how to be humble. instead, you go down to the kitchen to grab another pack of strawberry pocky—satoru will just have to deal with it. if he doesn’t want his snacks eaten, he shouldn’t keep them in the pantry where anyone could stumble across them.

you walk into the kitchen until—oh. it’s satoru. again.

“oh, hey,” he grins cheekily, taking a sip of his coke—he needs to break the habit of having so much sugar this late at night…but then again, why would it matter to you? “stalkin’ me?”

“for an unwelcomed guest, you sure do talk a lot,” you roll your eyes, making his lips curl into a smug little smirk. 

“i don’t know—your parents seem to love having me over. what if i become their newest son?”

“i doubt my parents are looking to adopt you,” you raise a brow, slightly amused. 

he hums, sipping his coke before blinking at you through those long, perfect lashes of his. “well, there are other ways to blend into a family. marriage, for example, is a great way.”

“you and my brother might as well marry each other,” you snort, “no one else will do it.”

“who said anything about suguru?” he winks, chuckling when your face twists into an exaggerated look of horror—always as dramatic as ever, you are. he can’t help but find an endearing side to it now.

satoru stands, walks over to where you are and stands in front of you as you scoff, shaking your head as you huff out a disbelieving chuckle. 

“that’s pushing it,” you muse, “marrying you would be the last open option i’d have left—and even then i doubt i’d ever take it.”

“yeah?” he raises a brow, leaning in so close, you can practically feel his breath fan over you. he smells like expensive cologne and your shampoo—why is he using yours instead of suguru’s? before you can even ask him what he’s doing, he throws away the empty can of coke in the trash can behind you, eyes bright with amusement as your breath hitches.

it’s like he knows—the fucking asshole.

“yeah,” you breathe, “you don’t deserve me,” you try to say matter-of-factly. it comes off a bit more breathless than you intended—the air feels suffocating. maybe because satoru is so close, maybe because his breath is on your face, maybe because all you can smell and feel and hear is him. 

you can’t find it in yourself to pull away—why aren’t you pulling away? it’s just like that day he caught you, when his arms wrapped around you and all you felt like doing was lean into his chest. what about satoru and you has shifted so quickly to make you want to do that? what makes him so easy to fall into when all you’ve always known was to shove at him?

he hums, leaning in closer and closer until his forehead touches yours. “you know who didn’t deserve you?” he asks, “that shitty ex of yours.”

you look up at him with wide eyes, speechless as his hands find purchase of your hips, grabbing them and pulling you closer—and against better judgment, your hands lay themselves across his chest. it’s as firm as you remember it. 

“how would you know—”

“heard suguru rant about it all the time,” he murmurs, “how he forgot your dates. got you a shitty birthday present. didn’t show up to your anniversary. made you hang out with his friends and didn’t even meet half of yours. you’re tellin’ me he deserves you more than me?”

“he was hot—”

“yeah? and i’m not?”

he’s cocky—you hate that about him. always did. but he’s so close, so intoxicating, so irresistible, and fuck, he is hot—so incredibly hot, you’ve been losing sleep over it the last four nights no matter how hard you try to deny it. 

“satoru, what are you—”

“y’know, i’ve been helping suguru pick your birthday presents since you were twelve. i’d pick you the best gifts,” his nose is brushing against yours now, lips just millimeters away from his as he speaks—“and i never forget an important date. i’m very punctual too, believe it or not. i’d meet your little friends—show ‘em what a catch i am when you introduce me.”

“and what am i supposed to do with this information?” you ask defiantly.

it’s a last-ditch effort—you both know this. you know exactly what he wants you to do with this information. 

“i don’t know, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “what do you think?”

and then you’re kissing him—because fuck, satoru is right there, and how could you not? his chest is under your palms, his lips are right against yours, and you can feel his thumb rub circles into your hips. 

so you kiss him—loop your arms around his neck and tug him closer and press your lips to his. he groans, responds almost instantly as his mouth molds against yours, kissing you deeper as his hand moves to cup your cheek.

your lips are softer than he thought, and his hair is silky against your fingers. you tug at the strands, grab a handful, and feel them against your fingers like you’ve wanted to for so long. and when he nips at your bottom lip, who are you to deny him? your lips part, letting his tongue slide in and taste you with a breathy sigh that makes your knees wobble. 

“s-satoru,” you stutter, whispering between kisses, “suguru might come in like last time—”

“god,” he groans, head burying into your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the skin, “don’t fucking talk about your brother right now. please.”

“my room,” you say urgently—it’s all he needs to hear before his hands are on your ass, grabbing you as you wrap your legs around his hips. it’s urgent, the way his mouth is back on yours—he doesn’t pull away even once the entire walk to your room, not even when he lets your back fall onto the mattress as he hovers over you, pressing kisses along your collarbone. 

no bra, he notes happily, his hand sneaking under your shirt to toy with your pert nipples. 

“god, you’ve been driving me fuckin’ crazy,” he mumbles, tugging the hem of your shirt over your arms and tossing it over his shoulder. he stares, takes in the sight of the same tits he’s been fantasizing over for the last few days in awe. “you know that? been thinkin’ about these for days,” he says lowly, cupping your tit and massaging as he presses a kiss to your jaw. 

“you’re shameless,” you mutter, snorting before you cut yourself off with a gasp as he squeezes your nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers and pulling a soft whine from you.

“shhh,” he chuckles, tilting his head toward the wall next to you, “don’t want suguru to hear, do you? that wouldn’t be nice, would it?”

“it’ll be worse for you than me,” you grin, tugging at the hem of his own shirt, indicating you want it off. he grins widely, wiggling his brows and making you purse your lips.

“wanna see me shirtless again, huh? third times the charm, as they say,” he winks. you would retort with something as witty, but then your eyes fall on that tattoo again—right under his collarbone, making your hand reach out to trace it with your thumb. 

“what compelled you to get this corny little tattoo of yours,” you grin, giggling as you trace over the small infinity sign. 

for the first time, you think you witness satoru shy, blushing as he rubs the back of his neck and chuckles awkwardly. “that…that was an accident. when i got drunk for the first time.”

“oh,” you snort, “you’re so weak, satoru—”

“do me a favor, sweetheart,” he hums, cutting you off, “as much as i love when you say my name, say toru for me, yeah? i wanna hear it.”

you roll your eyes, huffing as your hand finds the back of his head and pulls him into another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he grinds the throbbing erection in his sweats over your heated core. 

“toru,” you say breathlessly, “more.”

that’s all he needs to hear—satoru doesn’t waste a second before he’s crawling between your legs, sliding your cute little pajama pants down your legs before meeting your dripping pussy.

it’s wet—so wet, he almost wants to chuckle and tease you a bit. just for old-time's sake. but the ache that shoots down to his cock reminds him that he’s in no position to tease you when he’s not faring any better himself. so he spreads your legs, kisses lightly at your clit in a feather-like touch that has you whimpering and clutching the sheets in anticipation.

“how pretty,” he mumbles, “been hiding this pretty little thing all this time. what a perfect pussy.”

“satoru,” you gasp in embarrassment, hands reaching for his hair and tugging him closer to where you need him most—equal parts because you really need his mouth on your cunt and equal parts because you really need him to shut up. 

but he chuckles, takes his time to spread your folds open with his thumbs, and watches in wonder as you flutter around nothing, arousal dripping and leaving a mess. it’s perfect—you’re perfect, and he wants to take his time with you. 

“god, you’re soaked,” he groans, chuckling as he murmurs, “that’s fuckin’ cute.”

before you can even whine at the way his words are shameless, his mouth is back to kissing your clit, lips wrapping around it as he sucks and rolls his tongue along the sensitive bud. his fingers sink deep into you, pushing past your folds and slowly bullying into you until the tips of his fingers curl and brush against a spot that makes you squeal. 

you gasp a breathy, “fuck, toru—” before he hums around your clit, vibrations making you whimper as he thrusts his fingers back in to hit that spot again. it’s sensitive, the way he makes you feel—your nerves are on fire, and your head is light, and fuck, it feels so good you can’t help but sob brokenly and squeeze your thighs around his head. he moans against your cunt, pulling his fingers out before letting his tongue lick a stripe along your slit, tasting you with a sharp inhale. 

“f-feels good,” you whimper, biting your lip as your eyes crinkle at the corners from squeezing shut.

“yeah?” he hums, kissing your inner thigh, leaving a wet little sheen of his spit and your arousal on the skin, “that’s a good girl—just keep telling me how good i make you feel, kay?”

he could stay buried nose-deep into your pussy for as long as you let him—tongue alternating between fucking into you and rolling over your swollen clit, hearing the broken little gasps and whines of his name as you repeat toru over and over again like a prayer. his hand grips at your thigh, sinking his fingertips into the plush skin and rubbing soothingly with his thumb as you rut your hips and grind against his face. 

satoru has half a mind to watch it again—to lick and suck at your core again and again just so he could burn into his mind what you look like when you cum. it’s divine—like he’s halfway to stepping into heaven and has to pause just to admire the sight before him. 

your hips leave the mattress as your back arches, and your fingers tug relentlessly at his roots as your walls quiver, letting satoru taste every drop of your release as you press a palm to your hand and try to keep yourself from squealing at the pleasure.

suguru is right next door. you can’t wake him—can’t let him know this is what you and his best friend get up to in the late hours of the night. 

it’s not until satoru pulls away, catching his breath as he wipes the wet trail on his chin does he realize how hard he is—how badly he’s aching as his cock strains against his sweats. he hisses as he frees himself; ridding his sweats and boxers and wrapping a large hand around the tip of his erection and smearing the leaking pre cum along his length. 

you watch in awe, reaching over and replacing his hand with yours. satoru was right—your hand is infinitely smaller than his, and yet, it feels a great deal better. so much better, in fact, that his arms shake as he hovers over you, burying his head into your neck and groaning as you slowly stroke him, squeezing at the tip and rolling your thumb through the slit.

he didn’t even have to show you what he wanted, what makes him feel good, what makes his mind fog with pleasure and burn through every nerve. no, you figure it all out on your own, pulling strangled moans and hushed gasps from him that make your clit ache once more. 

“fuck, baby,” he pants, “can’t last long like this—c’mon, g-gotta feel you.” gently, he pries your hand from his thick, pulsing cock, laying it against your stomach as he peers down in fascination. “i’ll be right here,” he hums, drawing a line on your skin right where his tip ends, “see that? that’s where you’ll feel me, sweetheart.”

“then let me feel you,” you murmur, cupping his cheeks and brushing a thumb over the skin, “fuck me, toru—wan’ it so bad.”

so he does—drags his tip along your folds and collects the slick pooling at your entrance before pushing his tip past your folds, splitting you in half as he slowly buries himself to the hilt. his jaw is clenched, breath labored as he waits for you to adjust, lets you kiss his cheeks and nose as you murmur how handsome he is, how perfect he feels, how good is to you. 

“that asshole ever make you cum?” he asks lowly, “he ever eat your pussy like that? make you cum hard enough you had to cover your mouth so you’re not screaming his name?”

“no,” you breathe, quivering as his thumb rolls over your clit in slow circles, still painfully still as he stares down at you, “n-no, never. just you—only you—”

“good,” he grins, “that’s what i like to hear. and when i make you cum on my cock, make sure to tell me he’s never done that either, yeah?”

“you’re full of it,” you scoff, “always have been.”

“and you’re full of me,” he says cheekily, chuckling as you glare half-heartedly. “can i move, baby? please? need more, ‘s not enough. n-need more—”

“yeah,” you whimper, pulling him closer, chests brushing against each other as your lips meet in a sloppy kiss, “yeah—need more too, toru.”

satoru, in all his years of knowing you, has never seen the side of you that could be this gentle. the side that glides your hands over his back, feeling every flex and every pull of his muscles, gently caressing the skin like it’s holy, like it’s not worthy of marks—instead to be worshipped and revered with thoughtful touches. your lips sear into every part of him they can find—his lips, his forehead, his nose, his hair as his face digs into your neck. even your voice is a gentle whisper of his name, so soft and careful, it’s like saying it wrong could break him. 

your hips buck up in tandem with his, meeting his rhythm as he slams into you, his balls slapping against your skin as he buries his cock into you as deep as it’ll go with every harsh thrust. you can feel his tip kissing against that sweet spot in the back of your walls, your abused cunt sucking him in and hugging around him as he groans. 

the friction feels sickening, like he’ll pass out any second, like he’s floating between the precipice of pleasure and the edge of consciousness. 

you do that to him—he doesn’t know how or when or why, but you make him feel like he doesn’t have a grip on his own senses. he doesn’t mind it so much, he thinks—doesn’t hate the idea of letting himself fall into your palm and wrap around him. it feels nicer that way, like it’s where he belongs.

“fuck, ‘s so tight,” he rasps, whining into your neck as your hand cups the back of his head, holding him in place. his hips are rutting into you sloppily now, barely maintaining the rhythm from before as he nears his high—but that doesn't stop him from angling into you perfectly, slamming into your sensitive spot every time without fail. “c-cum—’m gonna cum. cum with me, sweetheart.”

“‘m so close, toru,” you sob—and then, just as his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing harsh, desperate little circles to get you over the edge, you cum again—harder than the last time, spasming around his cock and pulling him in as you squeeze around him. “t-toru,” you gasp brokenly, “fuck, ‘s good—so good.”

“baby,” he moans lowly, “fuck, you’re so perfect. prettiest thing ever—prettiest pussy ever. i, sh-shit—” your orgasm quickly has him falling into his own, hot, thick ropes of cum spilling into you with every twitch of his cock, sweet little noises pulled from his throat that he sings into your neck, fucking his load into you. 

it’s messy, the way cum spills out of you and coats his cock—but it’s perfect and feels so, so right. you can’t help but think how perfectly satoru fits against you as his body slumps on top of yours, panting and spent as he cages you in his arms.

your hand doesn’t leave his hair—now that you know how it feels, you don’t think you can stop threading your fingers through it, ever. 

“wow, toothless,” he chuckles after a bit, “you’re seriously obsessed with me, huh? i mean, how long have you been nursing this crush on me, hmm? thinking about your brother’s best friend, you naughty little thing—”

“satoru, would you shut that mouth for once,” you hiss, rolling your eyes—still, there’s an affectionate grin on your lips this time as he chuckles into your skin. 

“oh baby, i’m afraid this mouth never shuts, so you should get used—”

suddenly, you both freeze as you hear suguru’s voice through the door. “you two better not be fucking doing what i think you’re doing,” he seethes, making your jaw drop and satoru’s eyes widen.

fuck—that was never supposed to happen. suguru was never supposed to hear, let alone know.

“hey,” satoru starts, “if suguru kicks me out of our place, i can come be your new permanent housemate, right?”

do not comment about a part 2

but yeah he can come live with me any time and as long as he pays by sucking my tiddies i shall provide all food and utilities and everything

[solrabi]

The one where Toji gets a buzz cut.

Masterlist

-•-

You dropped the grocery bags on the ground when you were greeted by your boyfriend.

But not out of excitement or happiness.

“No! Your glorious hair!” You dramatically walked to him so you could take a closer look at the damage. Toji, being the evil man he was, laughed at your response. “What d’ya think? I hated my hair covering my eyes while I was on missions so I tried something new.”

“Something new? You look like a felon!” You groaned as your hands roamed around his scalp, hoping for a miracle that would grow his hair back.

“Alright, that’s too far. I thought chicks dug this look.”

“Not on you! Maybe some weirdo that doesn’t look like an assassin for hire.”

“But I am one.”

“That’s besides the point, Toji. You’ve hurt me. By cutting off your hair you’ve also cut off any ties you had with me.” You sulk.

Toji was starting to feel self conscious even when he knew the adjustment phase would go away. “Do I really look that bad, doll?”

“No, but-“

“There’s a but? Okay, that’s it, I’m not touching you from now on. Since I look so bad, you can come to me when you find me attractive.” Okay this was turned into a real argument and you started to get agitated too.

“Fine! Let’s see who’ll last longer.”

Toji simply scoffed and walked back into his man cave.

Who knows how long you guys were planning to do this for?

-•-

A long time. You both can go without touching each other for a long time. It had been a week and a half without any physical intimacy but the relationship was normal, you both spoke about anything and everything. Neither of you were showing signs of caving in (or were just that good at hiding it).

It was a quiet afternoon. Toji was out buying some last minute ingredients for dinner and you were starting to miss him. And as much you hated to admit, the buzz cut was growing on you. Just the other day you had to fan yourself when you saw Toji doing pushups where he looked like an underground fighter prepping for his next match.

To distract yourself you decided to spend your time calling your friend instead. You put her on speaker while you organized your closet.

“Girl, what do you mean it’s ugly? It’s all the rage right now.”

“I know. I hated it when he first got it and now all I can think about is pouncing on him. Ugh, I hate myself.”

“You live together. Just go touch him, you fool.”

“No, I’ll lose and I can’t lose to him. He’s always winning bets between the two of us.”

The conversation went on for a few more minutes until your friend had some urgent business to attend to.

You turned around to grab the rest of clothes and shrieked when you saw a tall figure standing in the door way.

It was Toji. “Did you hear everything?”

“I’ve been here since you admitted that my haircut was hot. Do what you will with that info.”

You sighed as you sat down on the bed. “I guess that means you win.” He could tell you were pouting even when you were turned away from him. He smiled at your childishness and gathered you in his arms and made you lay on top of him as he laid down on the bed. “There, you won.”

“No, it doesn’t work like that. I admitted that I wanted you first so you’re still the winner.”

“Then you’ll be happy to know I’ve been thinking about pouncing on you since the day I got my haircut. I wanted to do it out of spite cause I knew you’d cave in but then we made that stupid bet.”

“Ugh, I’m so stupid. You do not look bad at all, Toji. In fact, you look like a hot felon. The type of felon that has a girlfriend who visits him.” You mumbled as you played with the collar of his t-shirt.

“Uhuh, and does she do overnight visits?” He then started attacking your face with kisses as you start giggling.

It was you and your hot felon against the world.

[lilacgaby]

‧₊˚ what are we?

...nothing. right?.₊˚⊹

convienence. a means to end. that's all this was for both of you right? when katsuki is fed up with the crazed fangirls who just won't leave him alone, he works out a deal with you. it was just coincidence he had a huge crush on you.

☆pair. 2ndyear!katsuki x reader. tags. fake dating!trope, fluff, reader is academically flopping for a bit, pet names, cursing, fighting (verbal), happy ending wc. 6k

ღnote. sorry that this took so long lol! i wrote this in chapter form if you'd like to read it here, but this one shot is the same thing.

post-war brought troubles for a lot of the students in class 1-A. especially bakugo katsuki.

he had to completely relearn how to write with his other hand, had to learn how to fight without injury to it.

and he had to learn to deal with his crazy amount of fangirls.

his fight had been broadcasted, the manner in which he pushed himself to the very brink broadcasted to the world. his victory brought spoils, though not in a way he expected.

he didn't expect to be chased down the hallways every morning, to have a line of girls wanting his autograph as he ate. he didn't expect to be gifted things, things they just assumed he liked, but couldn't be farther from the truth.

luckily, you seemed to like chocolate. he found refuge these days sitting on the roof floor of U-A next to you during lunch, passing you the chocolate gifts he'd been given.

he hated chocolate. but to be honest, he loved seeing you smile.

"thanks 'suki." you said for the nth time, picking the best chocolates out of the box and leaving the gross ones alone.

"yeah." he sighed, glancing at you occasionally as he moved to support the weight of his head with his hands. he found himself speechless around you often. words failing as he leant into the comfort of your presence.

you were about to say something, he thinks. your mouth was open though the blaring of the bell cut you off. "oh, let's go 'suki." you said, holding your hand out to him.

he took it, letting you pull him up and holding onto your hand for just a second too long. you dumped the rest of the chocolates in a trash can and made your collective way down to 1-A. you laughed at how he seemed to try and hide behind you, eyes darting around for the general course girls who seemed to have nothing better to do than follow him around.

they didn't come though. he saw a group of them but when they saw your proximity to him..

they left him alone.

a lightbulb went off in his head, he mentally kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner. as he sat in class, eyeing your seat between momo and jirou, he thought about how he'd ask you.

test papers were being passed out, graded ones. "yo man," kirishima started, looking over his paper, "what'd you get?"

katsuki scoffed. "what do you think? another 100, easy as shit."

kaminari groaned beside him, "you're cheating or something! i got an 80."

"that's high for someone like you!"

"hey!"

"aw man, i got a 70. you're so manly bakubro!"

"yeah, guess i am."

katsuki tried to resist the turning of his head, he really did. but he wanted to know what score you got, if you did well. though from the expression on your face and the way momo patted you on the back,

not to mention the red ink used all over your paper. he knew you didn't.

"man this totally sucks!" you exclaimed, your hands clutching the paper of your test. "i studied and everything, i don't even need math, im a hero for crying out loud!"

jirou's teases and momo's comforts faded into the background as he only focused on you, and the nagging feeling for him to help you.

with another ring of the bell and a sigh from mr. aizawa, katsuki left early to try and beat the crowd of girls who seemed to pounce on him.

he didn't though, he found himself at the entrance at U-A, almost to freedom when the crowd pointed at him, "that's him! i can't believe it!"

"dynamite, an autograph please?"

"hey- don't be so casual. it's lord explosion--"

"who cares? i want a photo!"

at that, they chased him. all his progress down the stairs and through the halls was gone as he was led right back down to class 1-A. he stupidly lead himself right back into a corner.

his head darted around, until he noticed a tuft of familiar hair in the classroom. you hadn't left? oh well, he needed your help and quick.

you were sobbing internally, looking over your horrific test score with a sad expression. a 70? you might as well just drop out now.

as the hours of studying you'd done for waste passed over in your mind, a noise caught you off guard.

he had burst in, making your deflated form jump off the desk. "katsuki, don't scare me like that!"

he rushed over to your side, grabbing your hand off where it was hanging limply on the desk. "be my girlfriend for a second."

the words barely even processed in your brain before you were being manhandled off the desk, your mind rushed to catch up. "wait-- wha-"

before you knew it you were led towards the door of obsessed fan girls. his hand was intertwined tightly with yours, a slight flush on his face.

"listen up." he started, making his fans shush eachother. "my girlfriend hasn't been appreciating all your bullshit. and neither have i, so for the love of god stop it already."

he pulled you alongside him, "move." a path opened for the two of you, letting you two through. he walked you to the entrance, no words spoken between the two of you until you stopped infront of the lockers where you'd keep your shoes.

"[name]-- uh." he took a breath, his heart sped up rapidly around you. it sped up at the simple tilt of your head.

"so. if you help me with this shit, i'll tutor you.

or whatever."

a hand was behind his head, his averted eyes now focusing on you as he awaited your answer with baited breath.

you had an expression of thoughtfulness on your face. your finger on your chin as you looked up to the ceiling to think.

'have everyone think youre dating a cute boy and get a tutor?'

the pinkie of your hand shot out, a closed eye smile on your face. "i'm in!"

a soft smile graced his lips, his pinkie intertwining with yours and sealing his fate in more ways than one.

because you really did have him wrapped around your finger. literally and figuratively.

"let's go to my room so we can talk over it!"

you really were going to be the death of him.

it's not like he'd never been to your room, just not in a situation like this.

not when he'd declared himself your boyfriend an hour earlier, not when his hands were sweaty with his nervousness, and not when you'd agreed so hastily to be his.

he wondered if you'd accept if anyone else asked you. if izuku or todoroki had been facing this situation instead of him.

"'suki?" you patted the side of your bed next to you, "sit with me."

he sighed, the thoughts disappearing from his mind at your words. he really was whipped for you.

"yeah, yeah. i'm goin'" he sat beside you, oddly stiffer than normal. he held his own hands as he waited for you to say something.

"okay, so, we should have like-- a plan or something right?"

"a plan? what the fuck for?"

"like so we don't get caught faking this or whatever. if they find out your fans will just come back running, no?"

he shuddered at the thought. "yeah, don't wanna deal with that shit."

"right? so the first part of our plan, is that everyone has to think we're dating. cool?"

katsuki's mind was racing. cool? more like the best thing that would happen to him. he felt as if everyone knew of his crush on you.. except for you.

being to say he was all yours and that you were all his, even if it was a lie..

"yeah, it's cool."

"great, that's really the only thing we had to establish. we hang out a lot anyways so, we'll just have to be affectionate or something to seal the deal."

his heart jumped at the idea of hugging you, wrapping an arm around you, holding hands with you in public. the ghost of a smile came over him.

"right."

"cool. so nothing else matter--"

"we're starting your studying shit tomorrow. the next test is next week, so we don't have time to play around [name]."

"ughh. i wish you forgot about that." your head fell into your hands. "i hate math, what do i even need it for?"

"advanced math, nothing really. but estimates are important in hero work. estimating time, the abilities of your body, the amount of civilians, all that stuff."

"you're such a nerd."

"hah?"

he continued explaining the importance of math to you despite your grievances. his finger was pointed in the air, you swore you could see the need emoji popping over his face.

your eyes closed, the weight of the day, your grade, and the thought of studying alongside a nerd like katsuki tiring you to no avail. you yawned, laying your head on his shoulder.

you could hear the thumping of his heart, the racing of his blood in his veins. it rocked you to sleep, "wake me up later, m' a take a nap." you mumbled against his shoulder, before falling asleep.

his mouth shut, eyes peeled on your body that now clung to his side. his face grew hot, when did it get so hot in your damn room?

he tried his best to stay awake, to let you nap and wake you up in the morning. but as the clock hit eight o clock, the time he was supposed to head back to his dorm.. he found himself stuck in place.

not by an invisible force, not by some obligation. it was only the thought of wanting to be with you, next to you. wanting to let the comfort of your weight next to him drive himself to sleep.

so he did. he fell asleep, letting his head lay on top of yours, holding your body closer to his. shutting his eyes.

the light of the sun woke him up first, you didn't close your blinds yesterday, and the sun shined brightly,

directly into his face. he groaned, his voice deep from sleep as he peeled himself off of you. he was confused from fatigue, wondering why he was still in your room.

he felt an arm around his waist, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes to see it was you who was holding him close. he thinks you were using him in place of your huge teddy bear, the one laid neatly in the corner of your bed.

his heart rate quickened once again, wanting to go back to his room, but fighting the urge to stay looking at you.

an absentminded hand moved a couple strands of your hair out your face, pinching your cheek when he got bold.

you don't wake up, he sighed a breath of relief. 'til he felt your body start to stir, you pushed your head more into his chest, your eyes finally starting to open slightly.

"oh? g'morning kat'." you were sleepy, your words slightly slurred and muffled from how you were pressed against him.

"you slept here?" you asked, pulling away from him as you moved to stretch your upper body.

"uh-- yeah." he was once again lost for words at the sight of you, your shirt slightly pulled up from how you'd slept, your hair messy from the lack of a protective style before sleep.

"sorry for waking you up then, 'suki."

"no, i was already up. i just didn't wanna wake you."

"well, you failed." you joked. "anyways, you should get out of here soon, if iida sees you he'll probably flip out and tell mr. aizawa."

"right."

"let's walk to class together!" you clasped his hands in yours. "okay?"

you were going to be the death of him once again. "okay."

you let go and he got up, ruffling his hair slightly and looking back at you who sent him a small smirk and wave. before slowly walking out your door. he did his best to keep his movements quiet and minimal.

he was at the elevator, before uraraka walked out. shit. "bakugo? what are you doing here?"

"uh.. got lost."

her face scrunched in confusion, a knowing smile on her face after a second. "right.. tell [name] good morning for me."

".. tell her yourself." he got into the elevator, already seeing the grin in uraraka's face as he went up a floor to his room.

the same grin everyone greeted him with as he went to sit next to you in the common room, having made you some breakfast. he and you were all ready, you had refreshed your hair from when he was playing with it, simple makeup and your uniform ironed. he admired you while he ate his meal.

"ah, thanks 'suki."

"mhm."

you moved to whisper in his ear, "why's everyone looking at us?"

"fuck if i know."

"so you two lovebirds aren't gonna say anything?" denki said, putting his hands on his hips as he looked you two over.

"'bout what?"

"that you two are totally dating!" mina exclaimed, pointing at you. "and you didn't say anything? wow [name], i thought.. we were closer than that." she mock fully cried.

katsuki was about to say something, you cut him off though. "i thought everyone knew?" with a tilt of your head, a question mark almost visible from the blank expression you wore.

the class only sighed, kirishima shrugged his shoulders. "yeah, we should've guessed. i mean bakugo had a obvious crush on you for the longest."

"yeah, good looks man." sero gave him a thumbs up.

"tch. let's go [name]." he sat up, placing his and your finished dishes in the sink before you followed behind him.

"right! bye guys!"

you grabbed his hand as you walked out the door. nobody was around, there was no need to keep up appearances now.

but that didn't stop him from holding your hand tighter.

and that didn't stop you from clinging even more to his side.

it seemed you two were now together all the time. a clingy couple is what you seemed like to your friends, and more importantly his fans.

at lunch he could now be in the cafeteria again, you were stuck his side as you ate, an arm around you as you shared his food, insisting his cooking was better than the U-A food.

you were caged in by his body, you really did just look like a sappy couple to everyone.

during class, he was caught glancing at you. a lot. he'd roll his eyes and pretend nothing even happened, but everyone knew he was far gone.

during training, as you sparred you noticed he was going harder on you than before. some would think that because you were his crush he wouldn't get so aggressive,

too bad katsuki only wanted to push you harder, get you to show the strength he saw you unleash on those villains in the war. he wanted you to be stronger beside him, if he was number one, he'd want you to be ranked closely to him, because he knew you were strong enough.

that didn't mean it wasn't any more hard to fight him, the man was a maniac.

"you can chill out you know!"

"what? can't take it?!"

"no, slow your fucking roll!" you barely dodged his other attack, just barely moving out the way as he threw an explosion in your direction.

you now had met the conditions to use your quirk, comeback. by generating a max of 8 orbs, they'd absorb energy that you could use back for your offense. the only downside?

melee attacks couldn't be absorbed at all.

a kick to your legs sent you to the ground, you dispersed one of your orbs with the explosion stored inside of it.

"be nice and let me win!!"

"no."

he dodged your attack and pinned you to the ground. he won.

"you're so mean 'suki." you shoved him off you, making him grunt. "a good boyfriend would've let me win!"

a nagging voice in the back of his head was telling him he wasn't yours, you weren't his, and that he was only doing this for his convinience.

"well, i guess i'll be a better one next time."

even that voice couldn't deny that the way he cared for you wasn't anything less than real. that even if this relationship was fake, that he was undoubtedly yours. that the way he held his hand out to you, lifting you as gently as he could fathom.

"wanna go again?" he asked, a boyish smirk on his face.

"you know it!"

your plan of tiring katsuki out with exercise didn't work, so you found yourself in his room at his desk. showered and wiping the dew off your neck with a towel, you sat in front of him with a book splayed open.

he was hammering topic after topic into you.. statistics or something? you weren't really paying attention, you were more interested in the bulge of his muscles out of his tank top.

his words were a blur when you suddenly found yourself reaching a hand out to feel his muscle,

your hand squeezing it.

'firm. hm.' you thought, until he pulled you away, an incredulous look on his face. "this is why your class ranking keeps falling [name]. focus!"

"how can i focus with you in front of me? it's like dancing a donut in front of a cop!" you whined, face planted onto his desk.

"you're.. insane."

"you love me though, don't you?" the words slipped out of your lips without a second thought, your face flushing slightly. "oops, sorry! almost forgot you arent my like-- real boyfriend!"

he swore he heard a bit of disappointment in your voice, felt a bit of reluctance in your movements as you pulled away at him, saw a bit of longing in your eyes.

"uh.. yeah. 's fine. let's just.. take a break." he said, motioning over to lay on his bed and do nothing for a little while.

if you would've told him a couple months ago that he'd be sat, face to face, body next to body, hands awkwardly close to each other as you remained in silence. you'd had a movie on in the background, something stupid he thought. not like he payed attention to it at all.

it was comfortable, being around you. he'd be a liar if he said that he didn't like the fact that everyone now thought you were his and vice versa. not just his fans, not just yours, but your mutual friends. family.

"do you wanna try again?" he asked after a while, voice soft and his hand moving to rub his eyes. it was his bedtime, eight o clock sharp, but he'd break it for you.

"hm? to be honest no." you moved to face him. "you look tired anyways 'suki, you should sleep."

he grumbled, his eyes closing slightly as he slowly swatted your hand away from his face, his grip lingering on your wrist.

"right." he yawned. he didn't know if it was the sleep or impulse, maybe a mixture of both. but he pulled you closer to him. making you crash against his chest with his head in the nook of your neck.

"stay." he uttered, his breath flush against your neck making the hairs stand up.

"katsuki?" you thought you were dreaming. you'd move to pinch yourself if you weren't being pinned down by him.

"please?"

"..okay." your words barely matched your actions. you cuddled more into him, pulling him impossibly closer as you melted into eachother.

a blanket was thrown over the two of you. you fell asleep in his arms, the beating of his heart matching yours as you breathed a sigh of realization.

you were horribly in love with katsuki bakugo. and he was with you.

your 'fake' activities as a couple were coming along a little bit too easily to the two of you.

feeding him a snack in his room as a joke, him finding out he kind of liked being babied, him blackmailing you so you shut up.

all couple things. normal couple activity.

you didn't even have to continue those things behind closed doors, but it just came so naturally. it seemed wrong not to do it.

it seemed wrong for him not to sling a hand over you, not to hold your hand when it was so close to him, not to move the stray strands of hair and tuck it behind your ear.

it seemed wrong for him not to save a spot for you at lunch, not to wake up a bit earlier and slip out of your sleepy grasp to prepare you a meal alongside his.

not to make some breakfast for you, light or heavy, depending on what he'd learned you preferred.

not to walk with you to class, even walking with you to go see your general studies friend in the morning, leaning against the doorway with a smile on his face as he watched you rave on about a show you'd watched recently.

why wouldn't he do it if he could? why shouldn't he watch your favorite shows just to have things to talk to you about?

he found himself fighting to stay focused during your study sessions now too. he found himself noticing things about you, the smaller things.

how you'd flip your hello kitty pencil around while you were speaking. how you'd bite your lips in concentration, your expressions of disbelief when you actually started getting things correct.

he'd have to cover his hand with his face. you were just too cute.

sometimes he'd even get distracted mid sentence. he was explaining simple things over again, just to make sure you knew what it meant.

but it was hard even keeping eye contact with you.

"so, in this problem x would be.. uh.." he went silent, his mouth open but no words escaping.

"x would be what? 7?" you showed your page of work to him, with a nervous smile. "if it's not right tell me already! i know im kinda dumb, it won't hurt my feelings too bad i swear!"

he looked down back at his page. mentally slamming his head onto the table, before recovering. "yeah, no you're right. you got it."

you slammed the work onto his desk, "finally! then we can break now right?"

"yeah, 'guess so."

"let's do something fun. take a walk, my legs hurt from sitting." you pulled him up by his hand, dragging him to his door. "hurry up!"

he couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped him, you really reminded him of just how young you two were. how he was just a high schooler with a huge crush, how--

"why are you looking at me like that? are you sick?" you placed a hand on his forehead, making him promptly rip it off. a scowl quickly replaced the smile that been on his face moments prior. "no i'm not. let's go."

you walked hand in hand, the sunset the background for your 'date'.

the last few days, he'd been nervous to bring up what was happening between you. he was nervous to ruin the odd relationship you two had, he didn't want to lose you. he thought the things you two had been doing crossed the line between friendship and lovers.

you didn't have to do any of this. though he was sure you knew that already.

"math exam's tomorrow."

"don't remind me! you totally ruined the moment you know."

"you'll pass. i mean, i was your tutor after all. if you fail with me as a teacher? you are a lost cause."

"that's not nice to say." you ripped his hand away from yours, crossing your arms on your chest. "thats really messed up 'suki."

he leant down to face you, the sun goldening you two in its wake as he grew a cocky smirk on his lips. "oh really?"

"yes really."

"n' what're you gonna do about it?" his face was barely an inch away from yours. with a glance to his lips, he moved closer.

he barely pecked you, before he heard a loud, obnoxious idiot speak from behind him.

"[name] and bakugo are totally making out over here!"

denki and kirishima were looking at the two of you, a glare crossed over katsuki's face as he basically dragged you with him back into his dorm. he was about to leave you at your dorm, the hallway empty since curfew was around the corner.

he held your hands in his, running his thumb over the knuckle of yours. he intertwined your fingers, only letting go after a while.

he tilted your head upwards with his two fingers, wordlessly asking for permission. moonlight now struck you two as he moved in.

uninterruptedly, he kissed you. deepening it with a pull of the hand, holding you against him.

he let go after a while, his internal clock signaling it was almost time for curfew.

before he left, he whispered to you. "i don't.. really care what we're labeled. and if this shit is real or not.

i just want to be close to you."

he turned, walking to the elevator. leaving your breathless, with your heart in your throat.

no more words were spoken between you two, not as you screamed into your pillow, and not as he stared up into the ceiling of his room.

you passed that math test. and each assignment that went with it.

the end of the year was now coming quickly, of the school year that is. you and katsuki still kept up your 'act', the activities now stretching to dates after school mixed in with your study sessions.

one's that'd leave the touch of katsuki on you more than the touch of knowledge. but it was working nonetheless.

it was all good between you two, an eternal honeymoon it seemed. after all, by now it had been at least seven months since this began. your class ranking was higher, he no longer had to worry about strolling through the halls, it seemed nothing could get in your way.

well, besides two things.

one: the fact that you two were scared to label in between yourselves yet, too bashful to call him your boyfriend and you his girlfriend in private, yet proud fully admitting it to others.

two, the girl currently straddling him with no regard to you whatsoever. your entire cafeteria table was staring at her, looking at what katsuki would do to move her off.

but when he didn't immediately, didn't immediately curse the girl out and push her off him? you did the job for him.

you yanked the girl by her hair, sending her to the floor with a tray of food falling onto her body. all attention was on you as you stared at katsuki, your mouth agape in anger.

"what the fuck bakugo?" you ignored her, even stepping on her leg slightly as your hands were agitated, your whole body was. you didn't even know why you were jealous. this wasn't real, it never was, he was just playing his role too well.

you should've known katsuki would go too far. he always did.

"babe-- it's not what you think-"

"then what was i looking at? and don't call me that. don't- don't fucking call me anything. we're over."

you knew to him that probably meant something different. you acclaimed the despair in his eyes to the loss of protection, to the loss of ease as he walked in the halls and the lack of paparazzi that'd ask him questions on his love life.

but to him it was so much more.

it was those things, yes. but it was more so the thought of losing you. the thought of the affection over the months being nothing but a memory and not his future. the thought of not having you close to him.

the thoughts of becoming nothing to you, less than a friend.

he didn't know why he didn't move, it was like he physically couldn't. the look in the girl's eyes, the grip she had on him, the weird smile. he recognized her as one of the girls who usually would be in the crowd following him around.

"you don't mean that." his voice sounded more desperate than it had in the whole time he'd met you, more longing slipping through than he intentioned.

but the sun's casting light had moved away from you, casting you in a shadow. "i do mean it. fuck you."

he was going to run after you, to chase you as you slammed your lunch tray into the trash. heading up to the rooftop to he alone.

but a hand, mina's, pulled him back. "i think.. you did enough bakugo."

she went after you instead, promising to bakugo she'd check on you.

fangirls were one thing? but a messy public breakup where you were never really something in the first place? surprisingly worse.

he'd been more snappy lately, his aura making the girls around him keep their distance.

he'd become quieter, closed off. you didn't come to eat lunch with him anymore, obviously. and he didn't go up to the rooftop to join you.

he didn't know how to speak to you, how to explain what happened, how to say that he was sorry.

he ran the scenario in his head a million times, thinking over the girl's quirk that had forced him into place. but it sounded so convenient, like he was lying.

but since your entire relationship was based off of one, he didn't know how to approach the topic in the first place.

a week. a week passed before he could muster up the words to speak to you.

a week of being ignored in the hallways, side glances and being walked off on. a week of not having you by his side, not having you to talk to, to study with,

to kiss.

you were alone on the rooftop, eating silently as you felt a presence behind you. you saw his hair in the shadow and sighed, placing your plate onto the floor next to you. "what?"

"let me talk."

"...fine."

he breathed a sigh, hands balling as he forced the words out. "i know what you saw. and i know it was bad, but listen. that.. girl. she had some quirk on me or something."

he paused, seeing as your movement shifted. he took the fact that you didn't leave as a sign to continue.

"i couldn't move, i would've. you know that. but, it was right for you to be fucking pissed. i'd be too.

and i know, this is my fault in a way. i've been.. a fuckin' loser about this." his hand went up to support his head, his eyes averting from where he felt yours eyeing him.

"i needed to ask you out, officially i mean, a long time ago. it was wrong of me to use you-"

"it wasn't like that and you know it." you moved now to face him, you taking his hands in yours once more.

"what are we? to you i mean."

"right now..

we're nothing, right?"

your eyes widened, his eyes came back to look at yours.

"what?"

the words settled between you, it sent a cold shiver down your spine at the implication.

"wait-- fuck i'm messing this shit up. i mean, we're, not anything right now. we weren't anything."

your heart sank, eyes falling to the floor though your hand still held by him. your bleeding heart was in his grasp too, it was apparent.

"but,

i'd like to be? if you'd have me."

he squeezed your hand tightly. "i, i think i did this all out of order. but, would you go out with me?"

you let out an anxious laugh mixed with emotion. relief? despair? you honestly didn't know. tears burned the corners of your eyes.

"you're-- you're real weird, you know that?"

"is that a no."

"no, it's a yes. i think."

"ya think?"

"you don't get to question me!"

"yeah, whatever." you shared a laugh of relief together. he held you, moving away to bring something out of his pocket.

a small bento box for you.

you gasped at the sight of it, it was so cute. "thank god! i hate this school shit." you sat down, patting the side beside you, prompting him to sit down.

"wow, a heart? don't tell me you like me or something katsuki."

instead of deflecting, of telling you to buzz off, of shoving you lightly, a small smile came over his lips once again. after a beat, he laughed boyishly.

"you caught me."

...

he patted your back as you choked on the heart shaped seaweed.

your first date was cute, a small picnic with the country of musatafu as your backdrop. it was weird, this scene had played out between you two various times. in his room, in public, in private, to everyone else you two had just recovered from a messy breakup. and yet,

your stomachs were filled with butterflies at the affection between you two.

your rank was high, the dates were endless between the two of you now. study dates, just going to cafes, mundane things became more when you were by each others side.

years passed, and your poor dorm was going mostly unused. you'd sleep in his bed most of the time, actually- you'd spent most of your time in his room. he even cleared out a section for you in his closet despite the fact that yours was perfectly fine.

graduation came along, your careers came rushing at the two of you.

you were the top rated woman hero, and he was number one. just like he dreamt, just like he imagined the future would be for the two of you all those years ago.

you were picking out some drinks from the vending machine, a pocky hanging out your mouth as you decided between two flavors.

you finally chose, having two drinks in your hand for you and katsuki when he suddenly dragged you into an alleyway, grunting when he pushed you against the wall.

deja vu? maybe, you felt like you lived through this before, the same mindless stampede of girls rushing past.

"i told you to clip down your hair."

"shut up. don't they even care that we're married now? why do they fucking bother?." he sighed, annoyed as he lightly grabbed the can out your hand, his frustration not matching his actions.

"well, maybe we need something that'd make it even more official." a lightbulb went over the both of your heads. you faced each other, a streetlight letting you see the slight pink tint of his cheeks.

"a ca-"

"a baby."

you laughed, keeling over at the sight of his face that grew impossibly red.

you went home, hand in hand, the photos of the two of you together making rounds in the media again.

but as you laid with his head laid on your lap, your head rested comfortably against the furniture you'd chosen for your home?

you couldn't help but feel like everything worked out perfectly.

and with the new addition of your family laid sleeping on top of katsuki's chest.

tags (can't tag orange :c): @k0z3me @darhinadadragon @maddietries @amayaaaxx @i-the-fluffo @irenne-stans @hisonlyobsession @dead-fish-soup @pretty-sparkle-bomb @matchat3a @yura-4life @djlance-rock @zuzukusna @hiimsaraandyou @uy242c

[ms-spkhd]

It's not like there's anything inherently wrong with Steve. Just...weird. Odd. A wealth of other various synonyms to describe his decidedly bizarre behavior.

Well, Bizarre's a strong word.

But Eddie's point still stands! Steve's a little to the left and it makes Eddie feel endlessly awkward for noticing. The fact that he's uncomfortable about it compounds his unease over it.

"Wanna talk about it, then?" Jeff asks, riffling idly through the record crate. Of course, the one day off they spend window-shopping in Indianapolis results in Eddie getting the fucking 'let's discuss our feelings about things' talk from Jeff. He wonders how the man isn't green with sickness from therapizing all the goddamn time.

Eddie rolls his eyes. "I'd look like an idiot."

"Would the idiot keep running or confront his problems head-on?"

"This feels like a trap."

"Oh yeah," Jeff says simply.

"Like the ones with the cardboard box and the stick."

"Pre-cisely."

Eddie's shoulders slump in defeat. Better the idiot who speaks, he supposes. "He's very smiley about me being gay."

"Smiley."

"Smiley. As in he's acting like I vomit flowers and shit rainbows." Eddie shakes his head in frustration. "I'm not opposed to the support and everything...it's just that. He's like an octave higher than usual about it."

Jeff purses his lips in thought. "Like, his voice?"

"No--like...like, he's very enthusiastic about my sexuality."

Eddie leans back against the shelf behind him. Steve's a nice guy, really, but the way he goes about his support of Eddie feels like he's trying to compensate for something. A lack of empathy when he was younger, perhaps.

"He always asks if I have a boyfriend, or if I've been hooking up with any guys lately--which, hello, does he not know that queer metalhead nerd isn't a very hot item here?"

Jeff pulls a face but nods in understanding.

"And when I tell him obviously no, he says he can hook me up with his, what? Fucking father's brother's cousin's former roommate? It's like he's begging for a double date with him and his new squeeze, it's goddamn ridiculous." "New squeeze?"

"I'm hyperbolizing." Eddie blows a raspberry and shrugs. "He says it's sad that I don't have someone for how good-looking I am. You're making the face again."'

Jeff snaps out of whatever trance he's in, his drawn eyebrows shooting up to his hairline in surprise. After his gawking mouth clacks shut, he cautiously gestures at Eddie to continue.

"It's stupid," Eddie concedes, "but I really don't understand what changed, y'know? He used to be this cool, confident guy with a dorky side, but now he's just so...I don't know."

Jeff smiles lightly and knocks Eddie's shoulder with his. "I have a theory."

"Go on."

"I think Steve isn't being supportive."

"Uh-huh."

"Far from it, actually."

"Yeah. Whatever you say, chief."

"He isn't smothering you," Jeff points out. "He wants to fuck you."

Eddie blinks. Takes a moment to access and really take in what Jeff just said. "What?"

"Or at least, he wants you in an entirely non-friendly and possibly even carnal way."

"Excuse me?"

"Biblically."

"Dude," Eddie insists. "What. The. Fuck."

Jeff raises his hands placatingly. "Steve clearly likes you. A lot. He probably sees you being gay as an in for him."

"Okay, well, I don't understand. He tries to set me up with randos he knows all the time."

"He called you good-looking."

"While he was trying to set me up with said rando!"

"Guys like him have a really backward way of doing things." Eddie crosses his arms sternly. "Or he's straight," he says.

"Again," Jeff asserts. "Good. Looking. Dude, he's fucking obsessed with you! You said he's an octave higher around you now, right?"

"Because he's a well-meaning friend?"

"Eddie, remember when he crashed band practice last week?"

Oh yeah, Eddie remembers that. The man of the hour randomly parked in Gareth's driveway, leaned against his Beemer with his arms crossed, and watched Eddie play like he fucking hung the moon. Afterward, he'd sung his praises for the band and gave Eddie a yellow guitar pick attached to a sparkling silver chain. "Found the pick a couple of towns south with Robin the other day. Reminded me of you," he said softly. "Since you lost your last one."

It went unspoken where Eddie lost 'the last one'.

Eddie remembers smiling back at Steve with the force of a thousand supernovas, and thinking later in the night that it felt like a scene from a romance movie. Steve's favorite color is yellow, isn't it? It was like he wanted a piece of himself with Eddie at all times, right next to his heart.

Eddie didn't want to give himself that stupid hope. That Steve Harrington wanted in on his heart.

It doesn't feel so stupid anymore.

He looks back at Jeff and says, "Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

Part two

[tqlepatia]

─ SEVIKA × PREGNANT ! READER

- ❝ since i literally killed y'all on that, here an ask of sorry :3 ❞

She hates when someone tries to touch your belly.

Sevika barely tolerates strangers on a good day, but now? The first time someone reaches out without asking, you get very uncomfortable, and your wife notices that, of course she does. They nearly get their wrist broken. "You think just ‘cause she’s pregnant, you get to touch her? Fuck off." From then on, she keeps a protective arm around you and in your belly in public, making it very clear that no one is getting too close.

You both name the baby "Isha."

In one of those rare moments, Sevika doesn’t put up a fight over your suggestion. She gazes at you for a brief moment, her eyes welling up, before she nods and manages a soft, understanding smile. "Yeah… that fits." Later on, you notice her quietly crying when she thinks you’re already asleep, and your heart aches for her.

She becomes your personal bodyguard.

Sevika has always been protective, especially now, No one dares to even look at you the wrong way. Whether you’re walking through Zaun or just sitting in a bar, she makes it very clear that you’re under her protection. If anyone so much as bumps into you, they get the death glare and if they don’t back off fast enough, they might end up with bruises. (or dead if she is in a bad mood)

Talks to the baby when you're asleep.

She won’t admit it, but she’s already completely in love with Isha before she’s even born. Late at night, when she thinks you’re sleeping, she rests her hand on your belly and murmurs to her. "You're gonna have the toughest mom, y'know? …Both of ‘em." If you tease her about it, she grumbles and denies it, saying that the "hormones" its messing with your head, but you’ve heard her.

She panics the first time you get morning sickness.

Sevika is used to handling injuries, but seeing you sick? That’s something else entirely. She stands there looking furious and helpless, hands clenched into fists. "What the fuck am I supposed to do? Kill the sickness?" Eventually, she figures out ways to help, holding your hair back, rubbing your back, bringing you water - but she still curses under her breath every time. (and maybe you even see her shaking a little while she helps you)

Refuses to let you lift a thing.

Doesn’t matter if it’s something as small as a book, she’s already taking it from you. "Sit down. I got it." If you try to argue, she just raises an eyebrow and waits for you to give up. At this point, she carries everything, from your groceries to your shoes if you so much as look tired.

She loves you, not your moods swings

When they started, she was starting to think that she was going crazy! The last drop to her was when you insisted that she make a dessert that took almost half of her day, and when it was ready, you weren't hungry anymore, she snapped at you! "FUCKING WOMAN." then, the hormones hit you again, making you cry and she instantly comforts you saying like a broken vinyl sorry, over and over

She insists on making the baby’s room perfect.

You catch her late at night, smoothing a hand over the blankets, adjusting a tiny stuffed toy, the same one she used to love when she was a little kid, making sure everything is just right. she wants this space to be perfect because this is where her kid is going to sleep, safe and sound.

Loses her mind when you go into labor.

She tries to stay calm, really, she does. But the second she hears you groan in pain, cursing even the air, all that composure is gone. She’s barking orders at everyone, pacing, and looking ready to fight time itself if it means getting you through it faster. "What do you mean it takes hours?! The kid’s gotta be ready by now!"

The moment she holds Isha for the first time, she’s done for.

Very Big, calloused hands cradle a tiny, fragile body, and for the first time, Sevika looks completely, utterly undone. She stares down at her daughter like she’s just seen the entire world change. When Isha grabs her finger with the tiniest hand, Sevika actually chokes up, but if you mention it later, she’ll deny it to her grave.

You wake up one night and see her asleep with Isha on her chest.

One of her large hands gently cradles Isha’s back, a tender gesture that radiates warmth and protection. You find yourself captivated by the scene, savoring the beauty of the moment, as it’s one of the most touching things you’ve ever witnessed in your life.

She struggles with feeling worthy.

Some nights, when she thinks you’re asleep, she sits on the edge of the bed and stares at Isha in her crib. The weight of her past lingers in her eyes—like she’s wondering if she deserves this happiness. But then you reach for her, comforting her, kissing her neck while whispering sweet words in her ears, she exhales, letting herself believe (for a few hours) that maybe she does.

Isha’s first word is "fuck."

You wish you could say you were surprised, but with Sevika as a mother, it was only a matter of time. It happens so casually, she drops something, mutters “Fuck,” and Isha, sitting in her little chair, immediately parrots it back in a tiny, triumphant voice.

Sevika freezes. You stare at her. She stares back at you. Then, after a long pause, she sighs and rubs a hand over her face. “Honey, it isn't my fault, okay? She's the one who... repeat it-”

[yukioos]

hello! So far you have made really good post, and it made me think, what if you made one about bakugou x y/n, they JUST started making out and started this thing where after class and even the cafeteria hours they would go to the roof top and make out, and then come back to class and act like nothing ever happened. Also somtimes he would throw a paper and secretly desk her under the desk where they would meet up. 😍

when katsuki wants to make out during class

something soft hit your back, causing some giggles to be heard from around you. you raised your eyebrow, and when mister aizawa faced the chalkboard, you turned around to see nothing. a hand waved in front of your face, kaminari’s hand, to be exact, and his finger then pointed at the ground.

a crumpled-up ball of paper lay on the ground, so you bent over to grab it, opening the paper under your desk. maybe it had something in it. on on page, nothing was there, so you turned it to see the words ‘ask to fill up your water bottle’ with a little explosion drawing at the end, which is how you figured out it was katsuki who wrote the note.

you grinned and raised your hand, throwing the paper into your backpack.

mister aizawa finally turned back to you and asked, “yes?”

“can i please fill up my water bottle?” you held it up and shook it, and when no sloshing around was heard, he nodded.

you picked it up and walked outside the classroom, katsuki soon followed behind after he asked to go to the bathroom. he stomped after you, placing your water bottle next to the fountain before giving you a sly smile and gripping your hip. he shoved his lips onto yours and softly groaned, kissing you repeatedly, strings of saliva still connecting your lips after parting for a short period.

he lifted up your thigh, pressing it against his hip as he continued to kiss you. words haven’t even been spoken yet, but it was clear what the two of you needed.

even after that, he continued to ask you to leave during class or lunch to spend time with you. he didn’t just love you for your body, he didn’t just want pleasure, he wanted you as a person. katsuki knew he wasn’t good at expressing his emotions or love for people in a healthy way, but this was the only way he felt he could do it. it would always leave the two of you breathless, red, and even more in love.

to him, this was one of the most intimate acts someone could do, and he loved you with his whole soul. he never regretted skipping class to make out with you, besides when you heard a loud yell and chuckle from someone across the hall.

an annoyingly familiar voice rang in your ears, “hey, class 1-a! did you know two of your students, bakugo and l/n skip class just to make out in the halls?” monoma loudly chuckled, “class 1-b would never—“

he would always be smacked in the head by kendo, who would apologize and ‘leave the two of you be.’

that was one of the only times katsuki had felt embarrassed after making out with you.

hope you enjoyed this! i’m so happy you love my writing, your compliments mean the world to me. also, i gained around seven asks in one night so im trying to catch up, i apologize that i am not posting as often

[mahowaga]

the nurse doesn't even get a full sentence out before you hear it—the loud, unmistakable, drawn out moan from behind the curtain.

"uuuuuuughghhghhhhhh."

you blink.

"that yours?" she asks, arching an eyebrow, holding back a smile.

you sigh. "unfortunately, yes."

she laughs softly and pulls the curtain back.

and there he is.

gojo satoru, the strongest sorcerer alive, your very dramatic boyfriend, currently conked out in the reclining recovery chair like a ragdoll someone left in the sun for too long. his blindfold is gone (carefully folded on the side table, somehow), his mouth is half open, one of his arms is hanging off the chair like he's mid-shakespearean death scene and one leg is swinging mindlessly like he's in the middle of an interpretive dance.

"ughhhhhhhhhh," he groans again, eyes fluttering, unfocused. "where am i. is this the void? the infinite void? am i in the purgatory between dimensions?"

"you had a wisdom tooth removed," you say, walking up to him with your arms crossed.

satoru's head rolls toward the sound of your voice. it takes him a solid five seconds to gain his bearings and settle his gaze on you.

and then—his whole body jerks.

"oh my god," he gasps, pointing a floppy, trembling finger at you. "you're the taco bell goddess."

you blink again, taken aback. the anesthesia is really doing a number on him. it's entertaining. "i'm sorry, what now?"

"i knew you were real," he whispers reverently, nodding to himself. "you came to me in a dream once. you had like, this glowing chalupa aura and you whispered 'live mas' into my soul."

you stare. "what—what the hell are you talking about?"

"don't play coy, my divine temptress of the drive-thru," he says, hand clutching his chest like he's about to write an epic soliloquy in your name. "you bring hot sauce and justice to this cruel, flavorless world."

"okay," you say slowly, looking around for the nurse, "how much anesthesia did they give you?"

"enough to see the truth," he says dramatically.

you laugh so hard you have to grab the side of his chair for support.

satoru squints at you. "wait—wait, no. are you—are you even the taco bell goddess? or are you some kind of fraud, preying on innocent taco followers?"

"i'm your girlfriend," you reply, still wheezing. "you live with me."

his sky blue eyes go comically wide. "you mean i bagged the taco bell goddess and i live with her?"

you pinch the bridge of your nose to calm yourself. "you need water and maybe an exorcism."

he doesn't hear you. of course he doesn't. he's busy throwing up both hands like he's just won an oscar.

"somebody better put me in a commercial," he says proudly. "'cause i'm livin' mas, baby."

you're practically crying with laughter now, and you don't seem to be stopping soon.

"you're a disaster," you choke out.

he grabs your hand and holds it reverently. "disaster, or super cool legend?"

you lean in and kiss his forehead, lips twitching. "definitely a disaster."

satoru beams. "you kissed me! i'm telling everyone. you kissed me first. that's legally binding."

"we've been dating for two years."

"two years?!" his jaw drops. "that's like—" he counts on his fingers "—more than ten kisses!"

you have to bite your lip before you start cracking up again. then, his eyes impossibly wide, he pats around on his lap like he's looking for something. "where's my phone. i gotta tweet this."

"you're not tweeting while high."

"but the world needs to know i'm in love with a celestial being."

"absolutely not."

"okay, but hear me out," he says, slumping deeper into the chair with a dopey grin. "what if we got married. right now. here. in the dentist's office. we've got witnesses. we've got—" he frowns at the table next to him "—fluoride."

you're really trying your best to not lose it. "you want to get married surrounded by cotton swabs and expired magazines?"

he reaches for your face with both hands like he's about to cradle something precious. except one hand flops uselessly against your cheek.

"you're all i need," he slurs.

you smile, warmth creeping up your neck. "oh my god."

"wait, wait. do i have a ring?" he pats his pockets in slow motion. "we can use a paperclip. i'll macgyver it."

"i'm confiscating your paperclips."

he groans. "you never let me have any fun."

you take his hand, kiss the knuckles. "oh, toru. you're a full-time menace, so i have to be the responsible one."

his eyes flutter, a soft, sleepy smile on his lips now. "but you love me."

you sigh, brushing his hair back gently. "i do. against my better judgement."

he grins. "ha. got 'em."

you let your forehead rest against his.

the strongest sorcerer alive. in love. loopy. wearing a bib that says 'tooth be told' with a cartoon molar giving a thumbs-up.

and somehow, impossibly, still the love of your life.

you whisper, "when you're coherent again, i'm going to tell you everything you said. never letting you live this down."

his eyes crack open. "noooo."

"yes."

"i'll sue."

"i dare you."

and he giggles. giggles. like a chaotic little gremlin in your arms.

you hold him close, his fingers twined in yours, as the strongest sorcerer in the world melts into a puddle of affectionate nonsense on anesthetic. and you think, grinning—

god, i love this ridiculous man.