#but I have things to say about this scene... I feel like this is the first genuine conversation they had in all the episodes so far | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

poisonf0rest · 1 day ago

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Overc*mming Writer's Block 3

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐕

♱⋅── zayne x reader

♱⋅── about: Between being in the midst of your medical residency and being an up-and-coming author, it’s safe to say your personal life has been placed on stand-still. That is, until your editor decided that your next novel needed explicit smut scenes. That is, until your mentor and boss ends up striking a deal for you to help with “inspiration” for said novel. That is, until you fuck Zayne four times and your life changes forever. Partially inspired by manga of the same name by Nae Awaji

♱⋅── word count: 10.8k holy

♱⋅── warnings: mdni, smut, bondage, oral, pussydrunk zayne, PRAISE kink, breeding kink, actual sex this time, no more blue balling, nightly rendezvous card

art credit to @/chimmyming on X

“So, you and Dr. Zayne?”

You damn near choke on your salad. Coughing, you place your fork down before turning to glare at Anvi. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She smiles, as if that was confirmation enough. “I’ve heard a thing or two from hospital gossips—“

“Vi, you are the hospital gossip.”

“—that the cold, yet steaming hot doctor was finally seen accepting the company of someone else. Not to mention at the gala last weekend he was by your side all night long. Or so I was told.”

Anvi leans in, smiling wide enough to burst her pretty face as you scowl down at your lunch, unable to meet her eyes. Fighting to keep your voice even, you nudge her off, stabbing a carrot. “You’re ridiculous. I’m not involved with Dr. Zayne, he’s too—“ Attentive? Intelligent? God don’t think of him eating you out right now. “He’s not my type.”

You feel your ears burn, but by the grace of some god Anvi doesn’t seem to notice. Pouting she sighs and sinks back into the cafeteria booth. “Aww man, I was really rooting for you, too.”

“Rooting for a nonexistent relationship?”

Anvi’s about to say something, big doe eyes almost frantically darting between yours before she huffs and shakes her head, something akin to pity tightening her smile.

You raise a brow but she only shrugs, going back to picking at her lunch. “Just as well, a relationship between a resident and her boss would be quite the juicy scandal. Something straight out of a romcom, no?”

Laughter rips from your chest, the sheer irony of both her words and your reality too much to bear. Anvi’s windshield wiper giggles join your own, and soon the two of you are wheezing under your breath as you get side-eyed by the other surgeons trying to enjoy their lunch.

Really, whoever your author was had a fucked up sense of humor.

But the moment is ruined by the buzz of your pager, and you barely say bye to Anvi before you’re rushed to the operating bay.

As of today, you have two days to finish your manuscript.

Today's shift was exhausting, but you’ve learned early into your career that writing is a discipline, and as fickle of a muse as inspiration is, a writer cannot simply wait for her to grace you with her presence. Whether you feel like it or not, this book has to get done.

Besides, what better mindset was there to churn out unhinged shenanigans than when you’re delirious and half-asleep, tucked away in the on-call room?

Okay, so perhaps not the best place to be, but logically if your shift finished only minutes ago and you had to page in at five AM yet again, you’re better off just staying here rather than driving back to your apartment and all the way back to the hospital again.

Opening your personal laptop, you tab onto your novel's draft, the flashing cursor taunting you as your editor’s comments blur into an overwhelming mess of red. While you’ve worked your way through just about half of her six-thousand comments, that still leaves far too many, especially on your novel’s villain slash love interest as the trope always goes.

You’re halfway through cutting cringey dialogue on a specific scene, but your thoughts keep drifting. Your conversation with Anvi keeps playing in your mind— romcom, dating, scandal, boss. You suppress the heat rising in your chest, trying to ignore the reality you really don't want to face.

Zayne is… too much. Too intelligent, too caring, too perfect at catching you off guard.

Shaking your head, you try re-focusing, but between sleep deprivation and the realization that you haven’t actually done anything physical with Zayne for nearly a week, you get far too distracted.

It’s not that you haven’t seen him since the gala. Far from it, really. Nearly every night if your shifts happen to end around the same time, he offers to drive you home. And when your shifts don’t align, you always make the effort to cook something together, breakfast or dinner, at ungodly hours of the morning or evening. And if neither of those happened, you would watch a movie, at least for a few minutes till one or both of you fell asleep on your ratty couch.

God, you’re a fool. You can’t help but want him by your side even now, loving the way he reacts to your inappropriate comments, loving the way he scoffs at your jokes, loving the way he notices even the most minute things about you. And yet there’s a distance you can’t explain, a growing space you’re both too afraid to fill.

You close your laptop with a soft sigh, rubbing your eyes as you lay back on the small cot, trying to block out the nagging ache in your chest.

Your phone buzzes from under the cot, and you glance at it absently. You nearly jump at Zayne’s icon flashing on your screen.

grumpy snowman: Under recent developments I’d like to inform you of two things. One, you are banned from the hospital all of tomorrow under strict orders by me. Two, I currently have Mr. Whiskers held hostage, and should you fail to return home by 02:59 I will be forced to perform pulmonary bypass puncture and stop his heart.

Dumbfounded, you stare at Zayne’s text, blinking in confusion. Did your sleep deprivation just hallucinate a text? Violently shaking your head, you look back at your phone with slightly spinning vision just to confirm that no, this was very much real and Zayne has very much lost it.

ms. author: Is this a threat?

Another text follows immediately after.

grumpy snowman: Consider it your last chance. Come back and save him, or else... this may as well be his final night.

An image sends then, your favorite calico cat plushy all tied up with what appears to be Zayne’s tie, dangling the poor thing as though being held hostage. Your gaze lingers for longer than it should on how Zayne’s hands look in the dim lighting of the photo, so busy trailing up the veins on his lithe fingers that you nearly miss his next text.

grumpy snowman: I’ve already called an Uber. It’s waiting outside.

You snort into the empty room, rolling to sit up straight.He’s the last person you’d expect to pull this sort of thing. It’s nothing short of ridiculous, but truly you don’t know the last time you’ve smiled this wide, and it’s precisely the distraction you need right now, especially if he’s already gone through the trouble of organizing it all himself. But like you’d go down without a fight.

ms. author: You’re being ridiculous, you’d never hurt Mr. Whiskers you devil. You don’t have the guts.

His reply is swift, almost immediate.

grumpy snowman: Do I now? Care to test that theory?

You can practically hear the smugness in his text, the playful challenge laced with a quiet but unmistakable sincerity. Your heart gives an unexpected flutter, the weight in your chest easing, if only slightly. Quite a villain, indeed.

You know what Zayne’s doing. He’s not just playing around; he’s pulling you out of your head, out of the self-imposed spiral you’ve yet again been retreating into. You’ve spent the better half of the week in it.

You bite your lip, considering your options. On one hand, you could brush him off—continue working, ignore the text, but something inside of you craves this attention. Craves his uncharacteristic ridiculousness. Craves the break from your mind that he’s offering.

ms. author: If you harm a single fur on my son’s head I’ll put an end to your tyranny myself.

Zayne doesn’t waste a second, sending only a single warning: Hurry.

You stand, grabbing your jacket and keys, and only then do you second guess this. The easy, safe choice would be to stay buried in your work, it would be to politely decline and place must-needed distance and formality back.

But for the first time in a while there’s something you want more than work, and as you slip out of the on-call room, the image of Mr. Whiskers hanging helplessly from Zayne’s tie is enough to pull you out of the hospital.

You push your front door open, the silence of your apartment making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The lights are off— odd, considering you could have sworn you left a lamp on. You always do, a force of habit since you live in a slightly less safe area of Linkon. Oh, the things you do for cheaper rent.

Pausing, your eyes scan the deceptively empty hallway and kitchen. Everything feels still, almost eerie, and your pulse quickens as you take your shoes off, right beside Zayne’s much larger dress shoes, to venture further into your apartment.

The faintest creak of floorboards makes you freeze. Your heart stutters slightly, the scare making you grip your chest as you whirl around, cursing out your cowardice. You’ve seen worse things wheeled into the ER. Please, get a grip.

You shake off the nerves just as your phone buzzes in your pocket, breaking the silence once more.

grumpy snowman: You’re cutting it close. Five minutes before Mr. Whiskers meets an untimely demise.

You can't help the amused snort that escapes you, the tension in your body breaking.

ms. author: You really went this far? What now, villain?

The response is almost immediate.

grumpy snowman: It’s a matter of life or death. I hope you're prepared.

Another photo attachment follows—your favorite Christmas blanket thrown over the couch cushions in disarray, the faintest corner of Mr. Whiskers peeking out beneath it. The living room. You shake your head, muttering under your breath about the audacity of smug geniuses with far too much time on their hands.

You make your way to the living room in the dark, you flick on a lamp as you approach the couch. Lifting the blanket to find… nothing but a sticky note.

It reads, in painfully pretty cursive: Nice try, but you’ll have to be quicker.

Another buzz.

grumpy snowman: You fell for that as well? I expected better. Already 02:56, time’s running out.

You scoff, unable to stop yourself from laughing despite the absurdity.

ms. author: Do you even have anything better to do?

grumpy snowman: Not lately. Someone’s been too busy to properly entertain me.

You read it once, twice, and still something in your chest squeezes painfully at that.

Folding up the note, you stare at the text a moment longer before you hear the echoing click of a door. It’s coming from upstairs.

Another buzz.

grumpy snowman: While you’re lost in thought again, care to explain why you’ve been running yourself into the ground?

You pause, stalling as you make your way to your stairs.

ms. author: I am writing.

grumpy snowman: Poorly, if you’re overworking. Can’t imagine the tension’s working out if it’s still stuck in your head.

ms. author: Gasp. Excuse you—

Another buzz interrupts, just as you make it to your bedroom door, old wood announcing your arrival with a groan. The culprit has to be just behind it.

grumpy snowman: 3 minutes remaining. Mr. Whiskers won’t be around much longer.

You can practically feel Zayne’s grin through the phone, and for a brief moment, you’re glad he’s here, even if it’s all in jest. He’s right although you might never admit it; this whole absurd situation—your plushie, the stupid texts, the teasing—has done what no amount of coffee or sleepless daydreaming could.

ms. author: If you harm a single fur on my son’s head, I swear I’ll come for you.

Your hand latches onto your bedroom handle, biting your lip as you pause to type one last jab.

ms. author: I don’t know why I’m indulging you.

grumpy snowman: Because you love it when I win.

A laugh bursts from your lips before you can stop it. Shaking your head, you push the door open.

Your bedroom is dim, the curtains drawn, but moonlight spills through the dusky purple veils, illuminating the bed.

Perched atop lies Mr. Whiskers, your darling calico plushie sitting in the center, fully unharmed even though his crystalline eyes speak of unimaginable horrors at the hands of his captor.

Before you can grab him, movement from the corner of the room nearly startles you into jumping halfway across the room. Zayne, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watches you with a slight upturned grin that makes your stomach twist.

“You’re a horrible villain.” You huff, all but lunging on your bed to hug Mr. Whiskers to your chest like a shield.

His lips twitch into a smile, the bastard, and you can't help but notice how handsome he looks with his hair a little mussed and his glasses slipping down his nose. He doesn’t have his coat or suit jacket on, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, a sight you haven’t grown tired of.

God, you really have a thing for forearms. Or maybe it’s just a thing for Zayne.

“Since we’re critiquing each other, you’re not much of a hero. Hiding behind a plushie doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.”

“Confidence isn’t my priority right now.” You clutch Mr. Whiskers tighter, narrowing your eyes. He’s not here to talk about morals and heroism, though. “I’ve been fine. Nothing more than proofreading left… that and a few problem-children scenes.”

“Then consider this me fulfilling my half of the contract,” Zayne says, effortlessly seeing past your usual bullshit. “For someone who claims they’re adequately inspired, you’ve been more distant than usual.”

“I don’t need a lecture.”

“No lecture.” He steps closer, “I just missed you.”

Again, Zayne's words catch you off guard, so blunt they make your chest ache. No empty flattery, no pretty words, simply stated as though they were facts.

He takes another step forward, and you have to lean back on your elbows— nearly lying back on the bed— to maintain eye contact as he looms above you.

And then, Zayne drops to his knees before you.

It’s a far more graceful movement than it has any right to be, all six foot something of him kneeling against the foot of your bed as you instinctively make room for him there. Slowly, his hands come up to your thighs, the two of you slotting together with ease.

“Admit it,” Zayne whispers, the sweet, minty heat of his breath caressing your lips as you shiver, leaning closer despite yourself. “This helped.” A wry smile, “and that I make a convincing villain.”

“What’s this, is the doctor Zayne fishing for compliments?”

“I don’t need compliments. I just want you to stop pretending in front of me– no more performances.”

Heat rises to your face, and your stomach twists. He's too close, he's always too close, but god, why has this domesticity become so natural around him?

Despite yourself, you look down at his hands again, taking in how easily his scarred palms cup your thighs, the pale contrast of his skin against yours. Lithe, long fingers, and the memory of how well they’ve treated you. You swear he must feel your heart pound where his thumbs brush circles against your inner thighs, your body nothing but responsive for him.

But if he does, he spares you the embarrassment. Zayne only continues to look up into your face, and just as you begin thinking of equally inappropriate jokes or fun facts to break the silence, Zayne moves closer, his knee pressing between your thighs as the mattress dips to accommodate his weight.

“Perhaps there is a performance you could help me with, since you’re clearly the expert here.”

You blink, one step behind Zayne’s master plan yet again. “What- help you?”

“Yes. See, I’ve been thinking about my next move as a villain, and…” Before you can even follow Zayne’s words, Mr. Whiskers is yanked from your grasp once more. One hand raises him into the air and the other lunges for your outstretched arms, pinning them to the bed as it creaks and groans under the sudden assault. “I think I’ll take Mr. Whiskers as my captive once again.”

A soft gasp leaves your lips as Zayne shifts above you, his knee grinding up just enough to have you aching between your legs. Everything spins, torn between the desire to rescue Mr. Whiskers and the overwhelming urge to give in, to pull Zayne closer, to finally, finally fuck him yourself.

But before you can decide, the hand pinning your wrists tightens, his thumb rubbing circles as he effortlessly restrains you.

“You’re ridiculous,” you curse, though the tremor in your voice betrays your excitement.

“Ridiculous?” Zayne repeats, arching a brow. “Perhaps you should start taking this seriously, my dear protagonist.” He drops his voice into something rich, dark, and deliciously villainous. The hand that pins you down holds firm, the other dangles your plushie overhead with mocking menace.

You scoff, though it comes out shakier than intended. “I could write circles around your attempts at being evil.”

“Could you?” Unbuttoning his shirt, Zayne gets only halfway before abandoning it entirely, letting the buttons skew across his chest. He watches with a growing smile as your eyes flutter downward against your better judgment. “Then why don’t you show me.”

Zayne nods to your phone, eyes narrowed from behind his glasses. “Open the doc, show me the scene. Any attempts to rescue the captive will be met with appropriate punishment.”

The way Zayne looks down at you, waiting—daring— to see if you would make him stop, sends a sinful flutter through your core, ricocheting up your spine. No longer trusting your voice, you nod and feel the pressure loosen ever so slightly on your wrists.

You only have time to pull your phone out from your scrub’s back pocket before Zayne captures your wrists again, the tie once used on Mr. Whiskers now knotted efficiently right above your wrists. It should be frightening, how easy it is for him to manhandle you, but you feel nothing but painful arousal at that fact.

You’re still growling out faux protests when Zayne plucks the phone from your hands, his knee keeping your hips firmly pinned against the mattress.

“Ah,” Zayne murmurs, scrolling casually through your doc. “A scene involving betrayal, a chase, and…” He raises a brow. “Passionate accusations of treachery.”

You thrash beneath him, trying to buck off his weight as your face burns in embarrassment. “Enough! You’re supposed to help, not—”

“Not what?” He glances at you briefly, lips pursed in a halfhearted attempt to mask his amusement. “Not put your villain to the test? I’ll admit I might have ulterior motives, but you’ll have to try harder than that.”

Zayne then waves the plushie just out of reach before dangling him on the windowsill for dramatic emphasis.

“I swear to god, if you harm Mr. Whiskers!”

He cuts you off with a chuckle. “Hush. You’ll want to hear this.”

Zayne clears his throat, the smirk on his lips unmistakable as he picks up where you left off in editing your manuscript. His voice drops into a faux-sinister drawl as he begins to narrate. “‘You can hate me all you want,’ the villain growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. ‘But that fire in your eyes only makes me want to break you more.’”

It's horrible, the way he reads the words, the tone and cadence he gives the prose, and worst of all, the way his unblinking gaze remains completely, utterly, fixed on you as he speaks.

“Zayne, please, don’t- this is embarrassing,” you beg to appeal to reason, still writhing against his tie, when you realize his grip against your hips has loosened.

Zayne’s attention is momentarily diverted as he scrolls through the doc, looking for another section to read, and you kick your knee up with a shout, jabbing it into his side as the two of you tumble across the bed.

Lunging, you manage to grab Mr. Whiskers for all of two seconds before Zayne hauls you up by your bound wrists, forcing you arms above your head as you are pulled back against him. He’s rough, forcing your spine to arch against his chest as you hiss on impact, head thrown back against Zayne’s shoulder. “Ah-ah. What did I say about attempts to rescue the captive?”

His tone is all mockery, grip iron against your waist even though you can tell he’s still holding himself back. Feeling each hot, ragged breath against the back of your neck, the smell of ambroxan and sandalwood surrounding you. You breathe in deeper, shaking despite yourself.

“Let go of me!”

‘’Close. I believe the actual line was ‘unhand me.’”

Zayne hauls you further up the mattress, hooking your bound wrists onto the post of your bedframe as this new position forces you to face the wall, all while his free hand adjusts his glasses, scanning the next few lines. “‘I’d rather die than let you win!’ she spat, her chest heaving with defiance—” He glances at you with deadpan incredulity. “Why is everyone always heaving in these scenes? Do they all have asthma?”

“You’re the worst,” you hiss, breathless from the struggle. See? Heaving, no asthma involved, just foreplay.

“And yet…” Zayne’s voice comes closer, and you feel his bare chest once again at your back, “you’re the one who wrote it. I’m simply giving you an immersive experience.”

“Can’t be fully immersive if I have yet to believe you, villain.” Scoffing, you turn around, craning your neck just to glare him in the eyes. “You don’t have what it takes.”

Zayne chuckles, then silence. Forcing your head towards the wall again, you feel him lean down, still out of sight despite the heat radiating off his body, his nose brushing down your bare throat as he spits out the next line.

“Brat.”

You hate how immediately your body responds to that. How you shiver and lean back despite the restraints, how a part of you wants to fight, to keep the act going, because god, the idea of letting Zayne do anything he wants to you is enough to make your head spin.

Zayne’s teeth press against your neck, just below your ear, and you whine, the sound so small and deprived that you instantly bite your tongue and curse yourself for reacting like this.

So then he does it again.

A pitched gasp.

A broken moan.

Each noise he elicits from you is another cruel victory, and when you grind your ass back against Zayne’s increasingly obvious erection, he all but tears your scrubs down your thighs, the cotton of your panties not standing a chance against his desperation.

In truth, Zayne had never been harder in his life. Did he intentionally pick the most on-the-nose dialogue just to watch you squirm? Perhaps. But he’d be lying if he said seeing you battle against primal desire beneath him, feeling your half-hearted attempts to fight him, accidentally grinding your ass against him with every squirm didn’t make him want to push you even further.

Every breath came out heavy, chest heaving as he continued his performative reading, large palms alternating between slapping and gently squeezing your ass.

“You’re greedy,” a kiss against your shoulder, shucking your scrubs down your knees. “Impatient,” another kiss, this time down your spine, throwing your pants across the bedroom. “And utterly disobedient.”

You’re already stripped bare from the chest down.

He can't deny the sight of you in such a compromising position is a sight to behold, and the urge to keep reading just to see how far he can push you is intoxicating. Panting, he pauses only to readjust his glasses, foggy and slipping down his nose.

You, however, are too impatient.

"Zayne, please, you got your point across. You win. Just— ah, just fuck me already."

It's the first time in nearly a week that Zayne gets to hear you ask for him, beg for him, and it's all the reminder he needs for his body to fail him, shuttering against you with a moan of his own. How did he survive so long without this? Without you?

Your voice rings against his skull, and it’s all he ever wants to hear. Moan his name, beg for him, scream it, call it out, anything. He needs you, irreversibly.

And not just for this.

So instead, Zayne looks back at your doc one last time, reading, “To think this is the city’s great hero. How I’ll enjoy breaking you.”

With a click, your phone turns off, tossed carelessly to the floor with a heavy thud that would have sent you into a panic had Zayne not chosen that exact moment to bite into the soft flesh behind your neck, thumb instantly finding your clit.

The sensation alone is enough to make you cry, arching further up against the bindings. His hand snakes back around your hip, grounding, just barely brushing against the heat of your cunt, and the way he breathes out a low, half-delirious chuckle at the sound of you panting his name has your core fluttering for more.

"Please, Zayne, please," you whine, and the second the pleas leave your mouth, his thumb presses delicious circles into your neglected bundle of nerves. You whine, loud and needy, the second his fingers sink inside, held up only by Zayne’s arm wrapped around your waist and the tie pinning you against the bed frame.

“Already begging? I wonder how much more obedient you’ll be after I fuck it all out of you.” And god, Zayne wanted to mock such an obscenely written line just to watch you blush all over, because what sort of villain would actually say such a thing?

But when he sees you whimper at his words, when you arch so willingly into his punishment, when he feels your heartbeat quicken under his fingertips, he suddenly can’t say he faults any of these romance writers, for he now knows he’d do far worse than any of their cardboard villains.

Zayne doesn’t even need to read the next line in the doc to know exactly what he’d do next.

All but falling to the mattress, Zayne pulls your hips up, up until you’re atop his face, sinking his tongue between your folds before dragging all the way up to your clit, sucking with enough tension to make you scream.

Your hands burn from where they chafe and fight against the tie, bucking violently against Zayne’s face, the cold kiss of his glasses frames making you jolt as he pulls your hips toward him like it’s the last thing keeping him sane.

“No,” Zayne groans between breaths, unable to part with you as he messily kisses your inner thigh before coaxing two fingers inside you with a thrust. “Don’t run. Do not run from me.”

Every scissor of his fingers forces obscene sounds from your cunt, silenced only by Zayne’s mouth and his own muffled praises. Granted, it didn’t matter how loud he was being, not with all of your delirious moans, completely unsuppressed as Zayne’s calculated ministrations took you apart thrust by thrust.

At least you can remember being thankful that your apartment walls were sound-proofed. Breath ragged, mind spinning, only mindlessly fighting back as you babble, “Wait, you’re so- ah- fuck. Zayne!”

Quite canonically to your villain, Zayne’s hips buck into empty air in time to every thrust of his fingers, imagining it was his cock fucking deep into you instead. It’s a line he’s fantasized about crossing time and time again.

But that’s where it stops. Fantasy. Because just the thought of it has Zayne groaning into your cunt, the taste and feel of you alone driving him insane, a point of obsession where he cannot allow himself to go any further. He can’t. He can’t, he really shouldn’t.

He’d never recover, he’d never stop wanting— needing you. He’s addicted enough as is.

Zayne’s shirt had almost fully unbuttoned but his trousers remained, bulging as his cock wept from its prison against his thigh, fabric dark and painfully restraining. The mere friction was too little and overstimulating all at once. Even so, he can’t help but chase the phantom feeling, grinding against nothing as you fall apart above him.

When your shaking thighs finally begin to lock around his jaw, he welcomes the cage, burrowing his face deeper as the strong arch of his nose presses against your throbbing clit. Zayne’s slick fingers are delegated to merely keeping your hips still, his tongue fucking you through your orgasm as his hips follow your same rhythm.

One touch, one touch is all he needs to cum with you, but Zayne refuses to do anything but work you through your high. He swallows the taste of you, open-mouthed and needy, a moan rumbling deep in his chest as you feel it hum through you.

Gasping, you look down, and immediately you feel your core flutter— the sight enough to have you wishing he was back in between your thighs already.

Zayne’s entire body shakes beneath you, dark hair mused and hands digging into your hips in ways you know will leave half-moon marks. But what has you trembling is the sight of his hazel eyes eclipsed to near black, completely blown out and teary as they try and fail to focus on anything other than your pussy still fluttering above him. Something you can barely see at all, not with the amount of cum that squirted across his glasses, foggy and skewed across his nose as it too glistens with your release.

It’s an obscene picture you only get for a moment before Zayne chucks his glasses off just to place a closer, deeper set of kisses on your cunt. Practically chasing every buck of your hips, he happily lets you ride his face until your room begins to blur yet again, weightless and utterly fucked.

You’re panting, vision still coming back in waves as you register Zayne untying your hands, all the while kissing the light bruises that remain.

And yet you can hardly think of anything other than the fact that he still hasn’t properly fucked you.

“Zayne,” you call, and god, something in your chest squeezes at just how fast he whips his head around, already ducking to meet your eyes as he scans down your face. There’s worry etched into his features, his eyes scanning yours like he’s already bracing for whatever you’ll say next.

“I’m sorry, I knew I should have taken better precautions. If your hands hurt I can get a salve from—”

“Fuck me.”

Silence.

Zayne blinks, his mouth parting and eyes squinting as though he misheard– or somehow misread– you.

“What?” he manages, his voice barely above a whisper.

You sit up on your knees, pulling off your shirt one swift movement so you’re completely naked, then lean forward until your noses nearly touch, his eyes dropping to your breasts. The boldness only shakes him further. “I’m sorry, I can’t let you run away this time. I want—” Reaching your hand out, your fingers trail down Zayne’s bare chest, hardly even pushing for him to fall backward. And for you to follow on top. “I want to do this for you. I want you.”

Zayne’s breath is deceptively steady, and if you couldn't feel the ragged rhythm of his chest, rising and falling as it burns against your palm, you wouldn’t have believed he was affected at all.

“You don’t-wait- have to—” he starts, but his voice breaks when your fingers trace the curve of his ribs, lips following suit as you place gentle kisses down his sternum, his slender abs, dangerously close to the v-line dipping into his pants that you can’t help but lick, smiling in delight as his words finally fail him.

“Neither did you. You’re rather stubborn, doctor,” you insist, soft but unwavering. Resting your head against his thigh, you coax his jaw down to look at you, the palm still resting against his chest finding the erratic thrum of his heartbeat beneath your touch. “Let me take care of you for once. Don’t you know good patients listen?”

Zayne huffs a quiet laugh, the sound strained as he looks down at you, right side of his lips curving into a faint smirk despite the way his body seems to ignite at your touch. “Bringing in our professional titles seems a little underhanded, don’t you think?”

“Ah, but it got your attention, didn’t it?” You don’t let him stall anyone— already he’s managed to keep this from you for weeks, really it’s a shame you haven’t stripped him earlier— letting your tongue trace the dip of his hip once more, humming as his muscles tense under the sudden attention.

Greedy, your lips continue to worship every sharp edge and curve of Zayne’s abdomen, hands busy with his buckle until you manage to find a particularly sensitive spot just above his right hip bone.

All his composure, all his calculated confidence, you want to break it apart until there’s nothing left but Zayne. Just Zayne.

Zayne inhales sharply, eyes screwing shut as his mouth falls open in a picture of perfect debauchery you want etched into your mind forever. One hand fists into the sheets beside him, the other flying to your hair as your kisses turn to a dizzying mix of licks and nips. Hard enough to mark, you bite into skin, tongue flicking between your teeth, echoing across the room alongside the wet sounds of your mouth at work.

“Ah, fuck.”

Cursing already? Perhaps this would be easier than you thought, but where’s the fun in that?

You pull back, watching Zayne blink in confusion as his hips twitch up toward your mouth, and you have to force back a laugh as he stares, bewildered, like he can hardly believe the sight in front of him.

His voice comes out huskier than before, low and coated with desire. "Why did you stop?"

You pull back just enough to look up at him, cheek resting on his thigh as you play with his zipper, never looking away from Zayne’s eyes even as they flutter closed in frustration, desperate for more. Tension practically radiates off of him, but you only smile, taking your time as you trail your fingers away from his zipper and bulge, teasing the sensitive edges of his hip and the skin peaking just over the edge of his trousers.

“Don’t worry, doctor,” you murmur, your voice low and teasing. “I’ll be sure to complete your procedure just as thoroughly as you did on me.”

Oh, and Zayne must realize how utterly fucked he is, for you won’t be letting him go not until you’ve adequately paid him back for all the times he’s deliberately edged you to the point of tears, all the times he’s reprimanded your attitude, all the sweet punishments you’ve ensured that you’re going to give back to him tenfold.

But before he can try and sweet-talk his way into mercy, your teeth catch on his zipper, dragging it down as your free hand unlaces his belt, tossing it across the room by the time his bulge presses out from between the metal teeth all on its own.

Achingly hard already, and you haven't even begun.

The fact that you know he’s this hard just from eating you out certainly doesn’t help.

His boxers are soaking, the obvious bulge only emphasized by the way the damp cotton seems to stick to him, and god does the size of him make your core flutter.

Maybe next time you’ll get him to come just by eating you out.

Next time, though.

Without warning, your fingers wrap around his cock, freeing it from the confines of his boxers. A hiss grits out through Zayne’s teeth as his jaw clicks and a vein thrums against his neck from the pressure.

You're so used to having Zayne above you, between your legs, teasing you senseless as his fingers or tongue bring you to the edge over and over again. And now, here he is. Spread out, and all yours to ravage.

The realization alone has you throbbing, prior orgasm all but forgotten as you feel the want burn between your thighs again.

If only he could see how wet you were already.

How could he not, with the way your hips were rocking against his still-clothed thigh, searching for the friction he wouldn’t give?

And yet, despite your impatience, your eyes never leave Zayne, watching the way his muscles flex as he resists the urge to move, ever obedient for you.

"Good boy," you purr, meaning only to tease him further, but instead of the faux glare or inscrutable comment you were expecting, Zayne tenses beneath you, his cock jumping against your palm. Your eyebrows raise, a breathless giggle betraying your intentions as you lean in closer.

"Oh? Do you like that, baby? Being told just how perfect you are for me?”

You're not sure what's more arousing, the fact that Zayne is practically coming undone at your words, or the fact that he hasn't denied a thing.

God, his body feels hot. The mere praise has a dusky blush racing down his gorgeously sculpted chest all the way to the tips of his ears, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he looks down between the two of you, to where you’re still teasing the weeping slit of his dick. He moans before he could even stop himself. Fuck.

Shivering, Zayne reaches out to grasp your wrist, and for a moment you think he's going to put a stop to your little power trip. But his hand only comes up to guide yours, urging you to pump his cock a bit faster, stopping to put more pressure against the base, and you can't help but smirk knowing he must be truly desperate if he's already rushing you to jerk him off properly.

"My, my, doctor. I suppose I’m not the only one who’s been holding back.” You click your tongue, a teasing edge to your voice. "Were you really so desperate to feel me around your cock, hmm?"

Hazel eyes narrow at the pure filth behind your words, but you see the furrow between his brows, the way Zayne’s throat bobs as he throws his head back with a choked groan. If he looks so damn pretty now, you wonder what kind of faces he’ll make when he cums.

“You truly are horrible,” He groans, hesitating, hands clenching into the sheets before they fly up to your waist, gently bucking his hips into your awaiting palm. “Mhm- please.”

You hum, lazily sinking to your stomach so your bare chest presses against his still-clothed thighs. With each stroke you can feel his muscles twitch beneath you, see the way his jaw clenches and unclenches, the way his hand guides yours, tightening and loosening, urging you to go faster, harder.

Your mouth waters, and the urge to taste him is far too tempting to resist.

Plus, you’ve had enough with denying yourself, and more than enough of Zayne denying himself as well.

So right as Zayne’s head rolls back against the pillows you rock forward, licking a slow stripe up his dick, up between the gap of your fingers where they grip his base.

Zayne chokes on his breath, hand immediately tangling in your hair, rough enough that it has you wrenched away with a breathless whine. He groans, words shaking out in breathless huffs, “You, hah- this isn’t, fuck—”

"Ah, ah, pretty boy, let me take care of you, yeah?" You fight to come back to him, smiling as Zayne’s grip immediately loosened, and you kiss his tip in thanks.

Rubbing teasing circles into his thighs, your thumbs then move up, tracing his v-line, addicted to the way his muscles tense under your nails and to the red lines that follow. It makes you want to mark him up more. So you do, with your nails again, then with your teeth and tongue.

“Look at how- shit- how excited you are for me. So pretty.” You lean forward, pressing wet, messy kisses just below his navel and all around his already sticky thighs, heady and coated in pre-cum.

Another bite, and you squeeze his balls with just enough pressure as you watch his eyes roll back in time. "I'm going to make this so, so good for you, baby.”

Zayne all but sobs at that.

Every carefully restrained thought breaks completely at the praise, a raspy moan grinding through his teeth before his jaw falls open with every ragged huff of breath.

“Mhm that’s it, you’re doing so well,” you say, smiling at the way his cock twitches, violently leaking, pre-cum pooling into your palm and dripping down your wrist. “So pretty, so perfect just for me.”

With one last kiss on Zayne’s tip, your hands steadies itself against his abdomen before you kitten-lick around the tip of his cock, and then greedily shove as much of his throbbing erection as you can down your throat.

Zayne tenses, gasping, and the sound sends a thrill down your spine. You press further, tongue flattening along the underside of his shaft, and fuck he’s so thick you nearly choke, forgetting to breathe in through your nose as the lack of oxygen gets to you embarrassingly fast.

If only you had some more time to properly adjust, you'd force him to the hilt without a doubt. But patience has never been your virtue.

You’re already edging yourself with every slow grind of your clit against Zayne’s thigh, and you can feel his desperation in every throb along the underside of his cock in your mouth, letting his tip hit the back of your throat, breaching as deep as you could allow.

Zayne begins to buck forward only to freeze halfway, a low hiss leaving him as his hand twitches against the sheets, knuckles turning white as he fights his own self-restraint as you urge him deeper into your hot mouth. Trying to pull you off him, Zayne’s hand laces through your hair as a warning, large enough to cup the back of your neck entirely, but the action only lets you take him further.

Then he makes the fatal mistake of looking down at you, locking eyes with your teary gaze as you maintain eye contact before licking up his length, and then swallowing him back down, crying as mascara and drool runs down your chin. His hips stutter upwards, and then he catches the shallow bulge now pressing against the base of your throat. Up and down and back again.

The sight breaks him.

He throws his head back with a whine, and fuck, his sounds thrums against your skull, reverberating through your very being as he snaps, hips bucking wildly into your mouth, his powerful thighs trembling around your head. You’re being used as nothing more than a fucktoy now, hands scrambling for purchase against his abdomen for a semblance of control as you take it.

Fuck, maybe it’s the praise, because you make Zayne want to be greedy with the way you were gagging and choking around him.

The mere feeling of you drooling around his length, the way your moans come out muffled and wet with drool and his slick, like a messy kiss to his cock, has his hips stuttering deeper, arching up into your body until Zayne can practically feel the spark of his orgasm behind his eyes.

But no, that won't do.

After all, you won’t be satisfied until he’s finally fucking himself inside you tonight. He can’t cum anywhere else. You won’t let him.

And right when you feel his cock go rigid, you tighten your hand around the base, and pull off.

Heaving, you shakily prop yourself back onto your elbows, Zayne's length glistening with saliva between your bodies, twitching violently and leaking all across his abdomen and your chest from its angry red tip.

“S’pretty, Zayne.”

Zayne moans, hips chasing after the heat of your mouth, hissing when all he feels is the cold air. He wants to protest, wants to ask for more, but you shush him with a kiss.

Your tongue laps across his skin, tracing the ridges of his abs, lapping the pre-cum and sweat that gathers there. You lick a trail, following the sharp cut of his hips.

"What, is that all you can take?" you ask, a teasing smirk on your face.

Zayne curses, a frown tugging at the corner of his lips. “Depends.” His voice is fucked rough, raw, and you never want him to stop talking. ”Was that the full treatment?”

You hum, biting the inside of his thigh. He gasps, and it turns into a deep groan when you press an open-mouthed kiss over the forming mark.

“No,” you admit, “You’re not escaping until I get to watch you come undone.”

You smile at the shudder both your words and actions draw, the way his fingers tighten in your hair. “Ah, but not here. In me. I want you to fill me up, baby, make a mess of me. I can take it, I promise. And when you're done, I'm going to ride you until you come again. Sound good, my pretty boy?"

Zayne throws his head back with a moan, eyes squeezed painfully shut as though he can’t decide if this really is real or if a succubus was haunting his dreams to every sinful memory he has of you.

Zayne leans into your touch, following your palm as he nuzzles into you with a huff of hot breath. A little like a kitten in a man's body— a sexy body no doubt— but you wonder, not for the first time, if the reason he always holds back is simply because he was afraid. As you were. Until Zayne came to you, until he showed you what pleasure felt like.

So you take his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you, and then kiss him.

He lunges up to meet you halfway, licking into your mouth, fisting into your hair, breathing in every moan and whimper of his name as he hums it right back. Needy, so damn needy for it.

You smile through the kiss, grinding up and down his muscular thigh alongside the desperate smashing of mouths. Tongue-heavy, teeth scraping, sucking at the corner of your lips. So fucking hungry for you that he’s practically lifting you right off the mattress with just one arm.

His mouth distractedly chases down your throat leaving opened-mouth kisses before slotting back against your lips, hot and demanding and urgent.

“Zayne, ah—” you’re cut off with another kiss, “Mhm, please, need you,” another, Zayne looping two arms around your thighs, hiking your knees up to his shoulders, the stretch burning. “Need you in me, now.”

He moans into your open mouth at those words, eager enough that he chases you up, nearly pinning you beneath him until you break the kiss with a gasp, shoving him back down. Zayne whines at the break of your lips, brows furrowed as his back hits the mattress, trapped under you once again, panting.

"Need you, pretty boy." You whisper against his lips, and it sounds just like a promise. "Please, let me take care of you.”

Zayne takes a shaky breath, nodding, drunk on the praise and readjusts himself against the pillows. He watches, eyes half-lidded, as you straddle his waist. Rough hands find your hips and hold them steady as you settle climbing atop him, the head of his cock rubbing between the folds of your soaked cunt.

It isn’t lost on you how Zayne can barely stop staring at the slick that trails down your thighs, all of it coating his shaft in slick as your pussy hovers over him, connecting the two of you in wet, sticky strands.

"Like what you see, doctor?"

You lick down the milky column of his neck and Zayne groans, leaning back to grant you access. "You and your smart-ass mouth."

“You love it.”

Ya, he does. He could probably cum just from watching you like this.

Leaning forward, you line his cock up with your entrance, smirking at the way his eyes narrow, heart racing beneath your palms as you balance yourself on his pecks, shamelessly groping them.

"Do you have any idea how many times I've thought about this? How many times I've imagined riding your cock, hearing the sweet noises you make as I make a mess of you?"

Zayne opens his mouth, as if to say something, but whatever it is doesn't matter, not as you guide the swollen red tip of his cock through your folds, thick tip pushing and sliding past your entrance, unable to fit even with your combined slick. Teasing, swollen pussy lips drooling right down onto his leaky head when just a simple nudge of Zayne’s squirming hips would end this torment and have you fucked flush against him— raw.

"Please," he groans, his voice raspy and hoarse, eyes fluttering closed, glassy with lust, "I can't- I can't take this. Please,” a low moan of your name has you delirious, and god, you’d give him anything he’d ask for. “I admit it, I need you. So please.”

Were you more than happy to oblige.

Lifting yourself all the way up on your knees, you steadily apply more pressure to your entrance, working yourself further and further until you could feel your slick drip down your thighs and his cock, each movement now accompanied by an unholy squelch. You slide his cock over your cunt—back, then forward—stimulating your clit with the head each time he fucks it through your folds, desperate as your movements become rougher and more forced.

Zayne’s cock catches against your entrance once again, and a low, breathy moan escapes his lips. He could feel your cunt finally yield to the pressure of his large, overbearing cock, could feel the way your legs trembled, threatening to give way, and he can't help but wonder if this is how you would look, how you would sound and feel, when he fucked you.

As soon as he feels the flutter of your core against his tip, he knows he’s lost, the head of Zayne’s cock sliding into you with a lewd pop as you both moan.

"Mhm, yes," you moan, voice a high-pitched keen. "Just- ah, like that."

Zayne bites his lip, fingers digging into your hips, and fuck, after being edged not once but twice today he already feels deliciously overstimulated and close, too close.

So it certainly doesn't help when you rock yourself up onto your knees, then drop yourself all the way back down his shaft, taking him all the way in until his balls slap against your ass.

You even don't wait for either of you to adjust before doing it again, and the velvety hot squeeze of your cunt has Zayne seeing stars.

“Ah, f-fuck, oh, shit. S’good Zayne,“ you coo, "Feels so good, fuck."

You’re dripping down your thighs, gushing around him like a vice as he watches his cock disappear into your cunt with a creamy white ring already at his base.

It’s all turning Zayne delirious with the way you continue to feed him compliment after compliment. It’s all so much, too much, and a low moan is forced out of Zayne’s chest as he begins rocking his hips up to meet yours, hardly even letting you pull out before bullying his way back into you.

Fuck, you can feel him everywhere, his cock hitting your cervix, your walls stretched tight around him, a mixture of his and your slick pooling onto his abdomen as you chase your way up and down his length.

But god, what you feel is nothing compared to how absolutely wrecked Zayne looks.

His eyes are screwed shut, chest rising and falling rapidly, the flush from his ears having spread to his gorgeously marked-up chest, his neck, the angry red tip of his cock. His brows are drawn together, jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck and shoulders strained as he holds himself back, every part of him curling up to meet yours and press you down, closer.

But then he turns away, eyes screwed shut as you feel his tip jerk against your cervix once more.

No. No, no, no that won’t do.

Zayne has watched you come undone countless times. He’s been a worshiper and witness to pleasures you didn’t think you could feel, and this time, you want him to be the subject of all your adoration. To finally give him back all the love he’s taught you to feel and more.

So you lean down, cupping Zayne’s cheek with one hand as you continue to ride him. “Look at me, baby. Y-you're so, fuck, so big, Zayne, fuck—” You gasp a sharp breath as he twitches violently inside you at the praise, slurring your words. “Mhm, love your cock so much."

But you doubted he could hear you— fuck, you wouldn’t even be able to tell if Zayne was breathing at this point if it wasn’t for the throbbing of his cock against your walls in time to his erratic heartbeat— because his eyes rolled back into his skull, jaw slack as a silent moan rips from his chest, shuddering down his spine right before his hips snap up into yours, throwing you off balance, pinpointing your g-spot with cruel accuracy as you scream.

Your sounds and babble of praises have him dizzy, eyes half-lidded and hazy as he struggles to focus on your face. It almost looks like he’s about to cry, dark lashes wet with unshed tears. You’d tease him for it, had you the capacity to think at all. But no, each thrust continues to bully into that sweet, spongy spot inside you as you moan, and Zayne’s mouth falls open with a cry of his own.

You chase into it with a kiss, clashing your teeth as you feel his tongue lap against yours, sucking hard. You feel the wrecked, blissed-out smile on your face, breaking away from him just long enough for Zayne to see how ruined and turned on he’s making you.

"Y-you're close, aren't you, my sweet boy?" You ask, the words coming out strained as Zayne fucks up into you. Pumping upwards, it’s like he wasn’t even trying every time his weeping head rams your sensitive spots. Just stuffing you full of his cock he denied you for so long, furious enough to mold you to his very shape. "C'mon, cum for me, Zayne. In me, please–ah."

You pull away even as his lips chase yours, arching your back so that your full weight grinds back on his hips. Zayne all but whimpers at the change in angle, his hands gripping the bed sheets as he tries not to starve off his orgasm.

"Please, please," he groans, his jaw clenching.

"Look at me, Zayne."

He does, and his pupils are so blown, his eyes nearly black.

"Cum for me, baby," you beg again, grinding down against him as his hand comes up to grope your chest the same moment your palm leaves to cup his balls, and that's all it takes.

Zayne comes, a cry ripped from his throat, his cock throbbing inside of you. You can feel the sheer warmth filling you, his seed spilling out and leaking onto the sheets, and god, there’s so much of it that cum squirts out from between the two of you, splattering up his abs and your thighs.

He’s trembling, head falling back as his hips jolt and stutter, still fucking up into you as though it can’t bear to part. You’re probably not helping with the way you still rocking on his length, your cunt milking his orgasm, and he can't take it, it's too much, too fucking good, he can't stop, never wants to.

But, fuck, one look at his face, and you already want him to cum again.

Zayne looks like sin, sweat slicking his hair to his forehead, his body writhing and straining as he gasps for breath, his skin shining in the afterglow of his release. The muscles of his neck are taut, veins pulsing and straining, his lips bitten red. He is fucking gorgeous, and the thought that he has done this for you, to you, has another wave of arousal shooting up your spine.

“You…” Zayne’s brows pinch together, but his voice is low, dangerous. Unyielding. “You didn’t cum.”

“I already did, besides I-I ah, Zayne—!”

You’re cut off by your own pussy, lewd squelching accompanying every brutal thrust Zayne overstimulates the both of you with, bullying his own cum out of you with each rhythmless thrust back in. He plants his feet into the mattress, thrusting his hips up as you claw at his shoulders, chest, the slap of skin on skin ringing in your ears.

“No, that isn’t-” Zayne’s words slur, feverish and mindless as his gaze zero’s in to where the two of you meet, the sound of every wet, messy thrust and the slight bulge he now sees in time to his thrusts. “Not enough. With me. Please, hah, cum with me, love.”

Transfixed, one hand drifts to the bulge at your navel, and before he can stop himself, he grinds the heel of his palm against it. Immediately, overbearing pressure shoots up your spine, a broken scream leaving you as you tremble above him, arching violently forward.

You try and speak, protests leaving as nothing more than garbled whimpers as you claw at Zayne’s wrist, trying and failing to pry his punishing grip off you.

He doesn’t relent.

How could he, when you’ve finally given him yourself? When this was everything he’s denied himself and more?

Fuck control, fuck discipline, fuck holding himself back. Zayne wants you.

Vision blurry, drool dribbling down the corner of your mouth, your combined cum gushes out of your overfilled pussy and spreads in a lewd little pool beneath you. It’s all you can do to take it, Zayne overstimulating the both of you to insanity, but his hips keep the same punishing rhythm. Two slow, deep thrusts before something snaps and he hammers into you twice. Thrice. Then begins all over.

It’s effortless, the way he bounces your body up and down with one hand, the other remaining pressed against your abdomen, massaging the outline of his dick showing through with every grind forward, rolling your clit between his forefinger and thumb.

Large hands splay your thighs wider, closer, impossibly stretching you out until all you can feel is Zayne, Zayne, Zayne. You don’t realize you’re chanting his name out loud too. And you never felt more gloriously out of control than when he abruptly jerks his thigh upwards– driving you right along with it– hitting your cervix all at once.

There’s no rhythm. Not anymore. You’re hardly lucid, dropping your full weight down just to meet Zayne’s cock as he pulls you down prone atop of him to catch your mouth in an open kiss as he hits your g-spot again. And again. And again and again and—

“Love,” he all but moans it into your lips, low and broken and oh so addicting. “My love, please.” God, he’s still so painfully hard but the feeling of you fluttering around him, getting tighter each time he calls you love, must be a sort of heaven. “Please– hah, fuck– cum. Cum all over my cock.”

You whine, surging forward to kiss him again, and he feels it, couldn’t do or think of anything but it as you cum around his cock for the first time.

Zayne’s eyes open even as you continue to suck and lick into his mouth, brows furrowed and vision blurring, lost in every hot pulse of your walls as they coaxed him further and further in, your release squirting against him as you struggle to drag your hips off him again, pussy sucking his cock in deeper, unwilling to let him go.

Shaking, his hands find their way back to your hips, settling over the light bruises as he guides you up and down again, startling you as you moan into his lips.

“Zayne,” you whine his name between kisses, strings of spit snapping between you, Zayne chasing hazily after your mouth before you cup his face in your hands.

God, the sound of his name on your lips is enough to have him keening, pressing his forehead to yours as his entire body trembles.

You’re coming again before you even realize it, vision spinning in and out as Zayne continues to fuck you through it. Zayne makes a noise, something between a moan and a whimper, his hips slowing despite himself.

You're gorgeous, the sight of you atop him, still slurring out compliments, and it's too much, fuck, too fucking much, too fucking perfect, his perfect woman.

With a final snap of his hips, Zayne comes alongside you.

His orgasm has him gasping and his entire body bows forward, arms wrapping around your middle as he buries his face in your shoulder, kissing into the tender flesh as he just keeps cumming.

He can't find the need to hold back this time. Not when the pleasure is so intense that his vision is turning white, not when your cunt is hot and pulsing and clenching around him, not when the praise and encouragement keep pouring out of your lips, whispering into the crook of his neck, "good job, Zayne, such a good boy for me, you did so well, my sweet boy, my love, hah, I love you."

When you finally come down from your high your body is sore and aching, the feeling of his hot cum deep inside making you whine, the sensation so much better than his fingers or toys, so much more warm and full.

Zayne’s arms are wrapped protectively across you, hugging you down atop of him even as his cock remains motionless within you, not an inch of skin untouched as his hands rub careful circles down your spine and thighs.

You nuzzle closer, whispering more nonsensical praises into Zayne’s hair, raising a shaking arm to comb through it as he still keeps his face tucks into your shoulder, hidden and shaking softly still.

A shift, and you feel his hot breath on your neck, a sudden drop of wetness against your skin, and you realize with a start that Zayne is crying.

He’s crying. Soft, unrestrained sobs muffle into your shoulder as he tucks you close, burrowing his face into the crook of your neck between breaths. You let him. You curl up as close as you can get onto his lap and then closer still, one hand raking through his hair in gentle reverence as you let him cry.

It is silent, save for the sound of his sobs and his labored breaths.

"I love you, Zayne," you say, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. "You really are perfect, thank you, thank you."

You kiss his forehead, then down his cheek and jaw until he finally relaxes under you. Tracing lazy patterns up and down his chest, you coax him down until he finally raises his eyes to meet yours with a flutter of tear-stained kisses to your palm.

The first thing you notice is the way his cheeks are flushed, his eyes wavering and hazy. The second is the way his lips are swollen, the marks on his neck and chest blooming darker with each passing minute. The third is how the sweat on his skin is beginning to dry, making his hair stick up in all sorts of directions.

The fourth is the look on his face.

The look on his face is soft, tender, and unsure. Nothing like the infallible surgeon the whole city reveres, or the smart-mouthed mentor you’ve grown to admire and respect. Just Zayne.

You brush the damp locks away from his eyes, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead, the tip of his nose, and finally his lips, and he melts, his body falling forward onto you as he curls you into his side, tucking you down onto the bed alongside him.

“Stay with me?” He asks, his voice low, as though afraid to ask. Afraid to know.

Always.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

#lnd zayne #lads zayne #zayne x you #zayne x reader #zayne love and deepspace #lnds smut #l&ds smut #love and deepspace smut #lads x reader #love and deepspace zayne #poisonwrites #zayne smut #lnds zayne #l&ds zayne #zayne lads #love and deepspace

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snoopyracing · 2 days ago

Text

grapes and good fortune // ln4

pairing: lando norris X reader

word count: 4.7k

warnings: cursing and alcohol use

includes: friends to lovers, mutual pining, and fluff

summary: when your plan to find love on new year's eve doesn't work a certain someone may just fix those plans.

a/n: surprise! here's a cute little lando nye fic for you! it was so fun to write and i hope you all enjoy :)

masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It’s not the end of the world to be single. You’ve gone your whole life technically being single– each guy you’ve had a thing with never resulted in a full fledged relationship. It never really seemed to bother you that much, you’d learned to be more independent and learned that your time is in fact more valuable than men think. Though, as the years passed and your friends started to get into serious relationships you couldn’t help but feel a little left behind.

You knew everyone’s time would come and seriously you were in your early to mid twenties – you still had a whole lifetime ahead of you. But the third wheeling you seemed to be a professional at by now was starting to get embarrassing. Also, holidays just really seemed to suck while being single. You knew there was more to life than being in a relationship, but god dammit you’re a human. You crave love and affection and no matter how independent you are– you still want to love and be loved.

Your friend group had unsuccessfully tried setting you up with more guys than you could count. Each one you really did try and give a chance, but there was nothing there. You didn’t think you had high standards by any means, but if you didn’t feel anything with these guys then why waste your time?

“You went on how many dates this month and none of them piqued your interest?” Your friend grills you as the two of you are sitting on the balcony of your apartment. You’d come back from another unsuccessful date and decided to drown your sorrows with a bottle of wine and a yapping session.

“Genuinely think there might be something wrong with me at this point.” You complain as you sip the sweet wine in your glass.

“There isn’t anything wrong with you.” The two dates a week for the past month say different, but you weren’t going to actually disclose that number to her. “Maybe your heart has already laid claim to someone else?”

“I think I would know if I was in love with someone.” She doesn’t say anything, but the way she inconspicuously sips her wine is telling you what she’s wanting to say. “Not this again.”

She puts her hands up in defense all while having a shit eating grin on her face. “I didn’t even say anything, but you immediately assuming that’s who I’m talking about says it all.”

“I’m not in love with Lando.”

Yes you were.

“I mean he’s one of my closest friends and it would just make things weird. He also for sure does not look at me in any way other than platonic. He’s got models flocking to him and literally thousands of other girls– I couldn’t compete.” Your friend remains silent once again as she sips her wine and watches the scene in front of her unfold. “Ok– just because I drunkenly admitted last year that I might possibly have a little tiny miniscule amount of feelings towards him does not mean I’m in love with him.”

“Yes it does.” Your friend replies without missing a beat.

“No it doesn’t” You say with a huff.

“Y/N, babe. You don’t see what everyone else sees and maybe your brain is trying to protect itself from the small chance of destruction, but you two are so in love it’s actually ridiculous.”

“I don’t think he’s looking for a relationship right now. If this season so far is any indication of what next season is gonna be like, do you really think he’ll want a serious relationship to juggle too?” You’d chugged the last bit of wine in your glass and immediately filled it back up.

A loud scoff comes from your friend. “With some girl he just met? No. You are a whole different story though. You two have history and are quite literally each other’s person. Two peas in a pod. Match made in heaven.”

You didn’t understand why your friend was so adamant about Lando and you getting together. What if it ended in flames and your friend group is stuck having to play children of divorce? You don’t want that.

“Do you hear yourself right now? I think you’ve had too much wine because that’s not true.”

She sits up on the edge of the wicker couch with an annoyed expression painted across her face “Do you hear yourself? I’ve never seen someone deny themselves happiness like you.”

“I don’t think I have actual feelings for Lando though. I really think it’s just because we are the only two single people in our friend group and it’s like I feel obligated to somehow have feelings for him. I just need to find the right person and whatever I may be feeling about Lando will go away.”

If someone could professionally roll their eyes your friend would be a pro. “You’ve already found the right person though!”

Before you can argue back for the hundredth time tonight the familiar tune of an incoming facetime call fills the air. Your phone that’s sitting on the glass coffee table lights up and Lando’s face fills the screen. You glance over at your friend who’s got a smirk on her face that could rival the Cheshire Cat.

“Speak of the devil.” She laughs.

You let it ring, fully knowing that if you answer it your friend will be insufferable the whole time you’re talking to him. You do send him a quick text to make sure everything's alright and of course he immediately responds with-

everything's all right.. just missed you is all.

Which has you locking your phone and stuffing it in the pocket of your hoodie. When you reach for your glass and realize it’s empty again you decide to just grab the bottle and drink straight from it.

“Drinking from the bottle because you’ve come to terms with how dumb you’ve been?” Your friend teases.

“Nope. It’s from having to deal with you all evening.”

Alright so maybe you did have actual feelings for Lando, but you were never going to fully admit that to your friend or anyone else for that matter. You didn’t want to risk ruining what you two already had, which was an amazing friendship. So for the following months you continue to go on an endless amount of dates and with each one that fails your friend's voice rings in your mind.

Maybe you wouldn’t be able to find someone else if you subconsciously compared every guy to Lando. They were never funny enough or charming enough or took themselves too seriously. In the end it was simply the fact that they weren’t Lando. So maybe your heart had already dug its claws into Lando, but you weren’t going to give up without one last battle.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

New Year's Eve. The final night of the year and the one party of the year that celebrates ends and beginnings. You’d hoped that with the plan you had for tonight that your streak of horrible dates would end and the next one would be the one. The trend of eating twelve grapes under a table at midnight on New Year’s Eve had been all over your social media. According to the internet if you were to do this you’d find love or your soulmate the following year– which was something you were so desperate for. So, your said plan was to bring some grapes with you and find a table to sit under.

As you were taking one last final look in the mirror a familiar British accent echoed through your apartment. “Are you almost ready?”

You quickly slipped on your heels and grabbed your bag off the dresser, but by the time you turned around there stood Lando, leaning against your doorframe with a slight smirk on his face. “Been waiting forever. It’s gonna be next year by the time we get out of here.”

His teasing, which usually always got a reaction out of you, was ignored. The sight of him had you frozen in your tracks for a moment. He had on a white button up, which he always looked good in, but it was the couple of undone buttons at the top and the necklace you got him for his birthday last year around his neck that got your attention. There was always something about seeing Lando in things you got him that made that funny feeling bloom in your stomach. Perhaps it was the fact that everytime he chose to wear them you knew he was thinking about you and that when he was away a part of you was always with him.

“Quit staring.”

You're knocked out of your trance and the blush that creeps onto your cheeks from getting caught is almost as embarrassing as being caught. “I wasn’t staring. I was admiring my good taste. Should have gotten one myself.” You try to play it off and push your way past him with what little amount of confidence you have at the moment.

“I’ll get it for you, then we can be matching.” Lando says as he follows behind you.

“I can buy it myself.”

“Yeah, but I’m still gonna get it for you anyways.”

You stop in the kitchen and grab the little bag of grapes out of the fridge. “I don’t need you to get it for me Lan.” You’re too preoccupied with figuring out how to fit everything into your small purse to see the utterly confused look on Lando’s face.

“Ok forget about the necklace. Why the hell are you bringing grapes with you?”

“Incase I get hungry.” You reply without missing a beat.

“There will literally be food at the party. I even made sure Max got those little cocktail sausages you like.”

And there he goes again, making those feelings you’ve tried and are still presently trying to push down come to the surface all because of some damn cocktail sausages. “I appreciate that Lan, but I’ve been on a grape kick lately. Just can’t seem to get enough of them.”

With your purse finally closed with the grapes securely inside, you head towards the door, more than ready to get to the party.

“I’ll text Max and tell him to get some grapes delivered.” Lando mumbles as he closes the door behind him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You’d never considered yourself much of a party girl, but there must have been something in the air tonight because you were living it up. From the dancing to the drinking and then to top it off somehow in the middle of everything you showed off your DJing skills with Lando.

Somehow you’d managed to unglue yourself from Lando for a moment and ended up in the kitchen among the various kinds of alcohol. You’re pouring the last bit of coke into your coke and malibu when Max comes up beside you.

“I see you finally escaped from Lando for a moment.”

An airy laugh emits from you. “Yeah, he’s been a little clingy tonight.” You state as you turn and lean back against the counter, facing the large crowd of people.

Max copies your actions, but not before grabbing a beer. “What are you talking about tonight? When he’s back home it’s like you two are conjoined at the hip.” Which was true, but you didn’t get to see Lando as much as you’d like, so you make the most of what you can. “Oh forgot to tell you, your grapes are in the fridge.” He motions towards the stainless steel appliance with his beer bottle. “Lando better pay me back. Do you know how much I paid to get that damn bag delivered? Absolutely insane.”

Your mouth forms an ‘O’ shape at Max’s words. “I heard him mention something about asking you to get some when we were leaving. I thought he was just joking.”

Max scoffs. “There is no such thing as Lando joking when it comes to you. Think he’d chop off his own arm to make sure you were happy. Hell if you needed an organ he’d be the first one in line to give you one.”

This time it’s your turn to scoff. “No he wouldn’t.”

“Why do you do that?” Max groans.

You narrow your eyes at him, confused as to what he was referring to. “Do what?”

“Act like he doesn’t think the world of you.”

Your mouth opens to reply, but no words come out. Instead you bring your cup to your lips and fill the void with your drink. What Max had said was true, but you couldn’t help it. You figured if you forced yourself to think that Lando didn’t care that deeply about you, then those feelings that you harbor for him wouldn’t rise to the surface. It didn’t help that his behavior recently had you thinking that perhaps he felt the same about you and when you have your mutual friends in your ear implying that to be true it just makes things that much harder for you.

“You probably haven’t even noticed that he’s been practically watching us talk this whole time have you?”

You can feel your heart rate start to speed up just at the thought of it. As your eyes scan the room they finally land on the Brit standing in the corner with some other people, but he’s not actually engaging in the conversation, he’s too busy staring back at you. Somehow from across the room you can still see those pretty mixture of blue and green eyes of his sparkle and when he realizes you're finally looking back at him a shy smile spreads across his face before he’s quickly looking away.

“Wish you two would stop dancing around each other and just admit what we all already know.” Max mumbles before taking a swig of his beer.

Maybe it’s the mixture of alcohol and the fact that you’ve once again got someone in your ear about Lando and you, but you can sense those feelings starting to claw their way back up and you aren’t sure if you can push them back down tonight.

“Ten minutes until midnight!” The DJ’s voice travels through the apartment and you’re sure Max will be getting some kind of fee taped to his door in the morning.

Max says something about talking to you later before exiting the kitchen and you realize with ten minutes till midnight that you’ve got to get your grapes and find a table to fit under. For the moment you push Lando to the back of your mind and focus on your very important task at hand.

Luckily for you Max had a decently sized dining table in his apartment so with your grapes in hand you crawled under the table, which thankfully was shielded by a tablecloth, and settled in for your feast.

Lando on the other hand had been searching for you everywhere since the ten minute announcement. He’d literally just seen you in the kitchen with Max and then when he looked back again you were both gone. He’d gone in the bathrooms, the bedrooms, the closets, every single place he could think you would be and it’s like you had vanished. Max had a large apartment, especially to be living in London, but it wasn’t that big to allow for you to not be found. His texts to you had gone unanswered and he began to think maybe you had left, but he knew you would have told him if you were leaving, so that theory went out the window.

When the five minute announcement hit his ears he began asking people if they had seen you and with each no or i think she was in the kitchen a while ago he received his hopes of finding you before midnight started to diminish.

He’d finally worked up the courage to tell you how he’d felt tonight. After years of holding himself back and not wanting to ruin what you two already had, he’d decided that life was too short and that he would come to regret not allowing himself to truly love you like he should. He knew you were the one and there wasn’t a bone in his body that didn’t think you didn’t feel the same. So, he was finally going to bite the bullet tonight and he wanted you to be the person he was kissing as the clock struck twelve. But if he couldn’t find you, then how in the world was he supposed to do that?

Lando was honestly starting to get worried over not being able to find you, screw the whole love confession at this point. What if something had happened to you? He’d been all over Max’s place countless times and he still couldn’t find you. With the official countdown echoing through the apartment he decided to just say fuck it and head to your place and see if you had gone home.

As he was heading to get his coat a familiar sparkly heel sticking out from under the dining table caught his attention. It was the same type of heels he’d seen you put on earlier and he did somewhat of a double take. He wondered if it was the couple drinks he’d had messing with him because why would you be sitting under Max’s dining table?

He crouches down and slowly lifts the table cloth up, unsure of what he’s going to find underneath it. Everyone is only getting louder and with five seconds until midnight what he finds staring back at him under the table is not at all how he expected his night to end up. There you are with your now empty bag of grapes on the floor and your cheeks stuffed full of said grapes. You resemble something of a chipmunk and Lando can’t help but laugh at you.

“What the hell are you doing down here?”

The excessively loud shouting of happy new year from everyone while noise makers and confetti fill the air distract both Lando and you for a moment. He didn’t think this is the position he’d be in right now, he figured he’d be in that crowd with his lips on yours like so many others right now. While you on the other hand didn’t think you’d be caught in such an embarrassing situation, not to mention you hadn’t even gotten all your grapes down, so this stupid thing was probably all for nothing.

His attention is back on you in no time and he really wants to know what you were doing. Were you that addicted to grapes that you had to hide under the table while you got your fix? If so, he may need to have a talk with you.

“Seriously, why are you hiding under the table stuffing grapes into your mouth?” He prods again.

Your mouth is still so full of the grapes that you can’t really talk and all you can manage to get out is leave while simultaneously trying to jab his leg with your heel. You were embarrassed and at this point scared you might choke on the grapes, and you’d rather go out in peace then have Lando cause a scene because you were choking.

“Ouch!” Lando yelps as your heel finally makes contact with him. You know he’s being dramatic because you barely even kicked him, but you would try anything for him to drop that table cloth and let you be. “Come on, come out from under there.” Lando grabs your arm and practically forces you to come out from under the table.

Luckily, everyone else was too preoccupied with still ringing in the New Year to see you crawl out and as you dust yourself off you're still chomping on the last couple grapes left. The party only seems to be getting crazier and you don’t really feel like staying here until the party inevitably ends at an ungodly hour in the morning, especially now that your plan for love has undoubtedly failed.

You finally swallow the last couple grapes and take a deep breath, the fear of choking and embarrassment now behind you. “Do you care if I leave? Not really feeling the party that much anymore.”

Lando doesn’t even question your request. “I’ll walk you home, let me grab our coats and tell Max we are leaving.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The cold England air hits you as you exit Max’s apartment building and you’re thankful that your place isn’t very far from his. It’s silent between Lando and you for some time, the sound of your heels on the pavement, fireworks in the distance, and other people celebrating are the only things you two hear.

“Can I ask you something?” Lando finally breaks the silence.

“Shoot.”

He takes a deep breath fully knowing once he opens this locked away side of him that there’s no going back. “Have you ever thought about us?”

You feel your heart skip a beat at his question, yet you try to remain cool and collected. “What do you mean?”

He stops in his tracks causing you to mimic his actions. “Like,” he motions between the two of you, “us.”

There’s not a doubt in your mind about what he’s referring to and yes you do think about the two of you. Yet your brain feels scrambled once you're actually confronted with the possibility of Lando feeling the same as you. You’d tried so hard to ignore the feelings, hell you’d tried something you saw on the internet to hopefully bring a different man into your life to finally squash those feelings. You’d just never thought you’d be in this position though and it’s throwing you into a whirlwind.

Lando isn’t sure what your silence means and he figures he’s already started, he might as well just fully admit it at this point.

“Fuck it. I told myself I was going to do this tonight and I’m not gonna chicken out again.” His cheeks are rosy from the cold and you can tell by the way his pretty eyes dart all around your face that he’s trying to figure out how to say what he wants to say. “I’ve got feelings for you.” He finally blurts out.

“No scratch that I’m in love with you Y/N. Think I have been for some time now. I’ve tried telling you how I felt for what seems like ages, but I’ve always been too scared to. I’ve been afraid that you wouldn’t feel the same and to me I’d rather bottle up my feelings and keep you in my life then tell you how I feel and lose you. But clearly I’ve grown tired of that and realized that the reward would be higher than the risk. You’re my person Y/N. I couldn’t imagine life without you and to have you be mine would make life that much better. So here I am baring my heart to you on some street in London on New Year’s Eve. I actually had a whole plan on how I was-”

His rambling while you loved most of the time was cut off by your desire to shut him up with your lips on his and you did just that. You grabbed him by his coat and pulled him into you, your lips crashing together. It takes him a moment to realize what's happening, but when his brain finally starts to work and he kisses you back it’s everything you could have imagined and more.

Kissing Lando is like heaven on Earth and the way his soft lips feel against yours has you wishing you would have just stopped being so stubborn and listened to your friends ages ago. His large warm hands come out of his pockets and he cups your face as he deepens the kiss, which has you feeling lightheaded and warm all over.

There’s fireworks being let off not too far away that light up the sky above you, but you’re too engrossed in each other to pay them much mind. It’s truly like a scene straight out of a movie and you know you’ll remember this moment forever.

You two finally pull away to breathe and it’s like you can see the world in a whole new way. The depressing grey landscape of London in the winter time suddenly looks like it was painted in technicolor and neither of you can wipe the cheek hurting grin off your faces. “So I guess you feel the same?” He asks.

“Yes Lando Norris, I’m in love with you too. Have been for a while and like you I didn’t want to ruin what we already have. To me there was no possible way that you felt the same and I hate rejection and the idea of losing you. So, I went on a million dates trying to find someone that would replace how I felt about you, but I guess you can’t replace someone who your heart has already laid claim to.”

You feel Lando intertwine your fingers with his and it’s like everything just feels right in the world.

“I’m glad we stopped being so stubborn and that I don’t have to see you out with all those random guys anymore.”

“Believe me, none of them even came close to comparing to you. It was like going on a date with a sack of potatoes most of the time.”

His infectious laugh fills your ears and you feel your heart swell. You can’t believe this was what you were depriving yourself of for so long.

The rest of the walk back to your apartment is spent walking hand in hand. All while little giggles escape each of you ever so often and Lando occasionally kisses you on the head or lifts your intertwined hands up to plant a kiss there.

“I have to ask again. It’s really been bugging me. What were you doing under that table?” Lando asks as you near your apartment building. A loud groan emits from you and there isn’t anything less that you would want to talk about than that. “Come on, just tell me!”

“Fine! I saw this thing on the internet that if you eat twelve green grapes under a table at midnight that it’s supposed to bring you luck in the love department in the New Year. Like you’d find your soulmate or something. I was so desperate to try and get over these feelings I have for you so what we had wouldn’t be ruined that I was willing to try anything.”

He’s silent for a moment and then he looks at you with the biggest smile on his face. “Well I’d say it worked didn’t it? You’ve found love and not to be overzealous, but I’d say your soulmate too.”

You’re stunned for a moment when you realize that yes, the grapes did work, just not in the way you planned. The universe had put Lando in your life years ago and for some weird reason had you wait this long to finally truly be in one another's lives, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Hell, you’d eat a whole package of grapes if that meant Lando and you got to be together in every lifetime.

“They did, didn't they? I guess almost choking to death was worth it in the end.”

“I mean I know I’m every woman’s dream, but you didn’t almost have to kill yourself to get my attention baby.”

You playfully slap his arm as he laughs at you. That big head of his was sometimes fully ego and you realized you were going to have to put up with it all the time now. “Oh shut up.”

“Yeah, but you love me.” He states before pressing a kiss to your lips, which has your mind feeling like TV static once again.

When you pull away and look him in the eyes there’s nothing but pure love staring back at you and you know that this is who is meant to be in your life, till the end. “More than you’ll ever know.”

The next morning you receive a group text from Max with Lando and you in it.

max: why have i found an empty bag with what looks to be a grape stem in it under my dining table??? i fully know it was one of you.

you: i don’t know what you're talking about.

lando: me either. no grapes were consumed by us last night. must have been someone else.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fic #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #mine #writing

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corvus-corvus · 18 hours ago

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I like comparing my answers year to year, so here’s my 2024 fanfiction-writing thoughts! If you’re curious, here’s 2023’s answers, 2022’s answers, 2021’s answers, 2020’s answers, and 2019’s answers.

1. favorite fic you wrote this year Favorite fic of the year is tied between still and salting the wound. I tried to choose. I really did.

2. least favorite fic you wrote this year For least favorite fic of the year I have to choose show me now (what harvest brings), apologies to the LaviYuu fans (me). It’s hard for me not to look at this work extra critically since it is inspired by another fic that’s lived in my heart for so many years. I also feel uncertain about my characterization.

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year

From salting the wound:

“I could never replace you,” Lea continues. The whistle begins to wail haltingly. “I just didn’t know where you went. I didn’t know what I had to do to follow you. I did everything you asked.” The kettle screams. Lea’s voice goes raw. “Everything. I killed for you. And you still—”

Gives me chills every time. Still, I’m happy to say there was some competition this year and that choosing a favorite line wasn’t instant.

4. total number of words you wrote this year 31,479 published words in 2024. As always, new unpublished words in a year are harder for me to track. I’m going to estimate somewhere around 17,630 words. Which is much less than it felt like. I wrote this answer then I found a draft with another new 26,270 unpublished words. Laugh at my failing memory. That changes the unpublished words in 2024 total to 43,900. That sounds much more correct.

9. longest wip of the year The longest ongoing work in progress is still over 17,000 words long. It’s the same one mentioned in other years. Shame me as you will.

10. shortest wip of the year 98 words of a new concept is my shortest draft from 2024.

13. favorite writing song/artist/album of this year Quiet. By nature itself.

14. a fic you didn’t expect to write she left me roses by the stairs was perhaps the fic I expected to write the least since I had to give a cuckolding prompt some real thought on what group of characters would fit that kink. Go, D.Gray-Man, go!

18. current number of wips I have 18 unfinished drafts at this moment. I am considering consigning 3 of them to the unpublished-but-I’m-giving-up archives. That’s still more than my usual this time of year. I suspect it’s because I got more works completed for events/prompts than just for the works’ sake (the kind that languish with no deadline); 5 out of 7 of my published works this year were for my Kinky Bingo card.

20. number of comments you haven’t read 0 comments go unread. Thank you for taking the time to read things I write and comment on them. It means more than you can know.

23. fics you wanted to write but didn’t This question is harder for me to answer than it usually is. I think I would just like to get more of my drafts completed and published. Three works-in-progress in particular that have an extra emotional attachment to I did not get to substantially add to in this year. We’ll count them. They are all for Kingdom Hearts.

25. a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read I read almost no fanfiction this year. What I did read was keeping up to date with friends’ writing and rereading fics I kept around for emotional support. In that spirit, I want to give a shout out to A Mirror, Darkly by @mirrormystic for influencing my life for several years now. I finally got that cork board, my friend who has no idea I exist. Only took me, what, five years? Thank you for writing this. Thank you for publishing it. It has been an anchor to me.

Final Notes I am trying to take the wins where I can get them. No, I did not publish many works I feel positively about, but I did publish a lot more than I had thought I could handle in 2024. I also kept up my more frequent writing habit even if it slowed from 2023; this alone is worth celebrating because just plain writing more has always been hard for me to budget the time for. Because it has impacted me so greatly, I want to note for my future self just how hard it has become to read my own writing this year. This made it extra difficult to continue drafts and to edit. Which sucked. I haven’t figured out what the issue is yet. Some suspects include redacted life issues, boredom/disinterest with some element(s) of my writing, active dislike with some element(s) of my writing, distance from fandoms, or not writing the things I’m interested in. I’ll go into the new year keeping an eye on these to see if I can tease out the source. And, finally, I give three cheers for almost three Kinky Bingos complete! The fifth entry of the 2024 batch is on its way, though it will not be published until 2025. I’m proud I’ve been able to add fourteen new sexy stories on the Internet! Let’s keep it up! (And send me an ask if you’d like to join me!)

50 Questions for Fic Readers

What fandom(s) do you read?

If you could request more of a certain type of fic, which would it be?

What is your favorite all-time fic?

Do you ever re-read fics? How about triple-read?

Do you prefer angst or fluff?

Do you prefer long fics or short fics?

Name some incomplete fics that you wish were completed.

Talk about the ships that you read.

Do you read smut?

What’s the most hard-core smut or kinky fic you’ve ever read (be honest)!

Do you read AUs?

List a few of your favorite AUs.

What type of AUs are your favorites? Give a general description.

What makes you give up on reading a fic?

What makes you pick up a fic, what makes it sound interesting?

Name a fic that made you cry (or that made you come close).

Name a fic that made you laugh a lot.

Do you have a fic recommendation page or master list?

How many fics do you think you’ve read before?

What’s the weirdest fic you’ve ever read? Describe it.

Do you read crack!fic?

Name a few of your favorite crack!fics.

Has fluff ever made you cry? What about angst?

What’s the longest fic you’ve ever read?

What’s your opinion on reading dubious consent or no consent?

Name a type of fic you’ll never ever read.

Name a type of fic that you wish there was more of.

Who are your favorite fanfiction author(s)?

When you find an author you like, do you follow them?

How often do you read fanfiction?

Do people know that you read fanfiction?

Do you leave reviews after reading fics? If so, what do they sound like?

When you read a good fic, do you go to the author’s page?

Name a common type of fic that you cannot stand.

Name all the Work in Progress fics that you are currently reading.

Has a fic ever left you unable to fall asleep or think about anything else?

Are you good about keeping up when reading Work in Progresses?

Name some of your favorite fic recommendations pages.

Name a fanfiction author that you’re scared to talk to because they’re so amazing.

Have you ever written fanfiction or considered it?

Name a fic that has a perfect ending.

Name a fic that you wish was longer.

Do you read OT3 fics commonly? Have you ever?

Do you mainly read TV shows, movies, or books?

Do you read fanfiction about Anime?

If you could imagine the perfect fic, what would it be like?

If you had to introduce someone to fanfiction with a few fics, which would you suggest?

Have you ever read a fic containing character death?

Do you have an AO3/Fanfiction.net/LiveJournal page? Link it.

What sites do you typically use to read on?

#end of year asks #fanfiction #check in #wip #2024 #writing

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antimony-medusa · 3 days ago

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But what do you MEAN this fic where blorbo gets mind controlled might be kinky?

So I am kind of famous for saying that this fandom has a lot of untagged kinks and I get people in my notes pretty regularly going YES I"M BEGGING YOU TAG IT or YOU"RE DERANGED THIS IS PLATONIC, etc. Lots of strong emotions. But I also get people who are going uh, I knew something was going on, but I couldn't really identify it— what do you mean exactly? What kinks are you seeing?

So, this post is breaking down things I've seen and how in some cases, they start to cross the line into kink territory. These are all things that were being done platonically— no dicks were out, everybody's clothes were on (in most cases, not always with the dehumanization tropes)— but the focus of the narrative started to place special weight on specific features, experiences, or concepts— there were extended paragraphs that served no narrative purpose except to dwell on something— in a way that I started to go "the point of this fic is the squiggly feeling the author or reader gets on reading about this specific setup— this is getting kinky". And that is fine, I am not placing any moral weight on engaging in kinks— people just get wired sometimes to really like the concept of bondage— but a) sometimes it would be nice to get a heads up as a reader, b) if you like these things— there are tags out there that are FULL of this concept, you might like to do it or search it out on purpose.

So I asked some friends what things have they found in platonic fics that they went "ah. yeah. something is happening here", and this post is the result. A lot of these things don't exist in the real world or people don't necessarily want them to happen in the real world/to them, so it's understandable that a person can miss how they'd started to morph and become something new. But when we talk about kink in fiction we're often talking about things that either can't or we don't want to happen in real life, it's just that reading about them/writing them scratches our brain.

And also, to be clear, in no way do I mean that if you've written these concepts then you definitely have been writing kink. There are vanilla ways to do all of these concepts, and sometimes the idea of dehumanization is interesting to you from a narrative standpoint, for example. You can also engage with them in a non-sexual way— many ace people are very kinky— so I'm not saying that you've secretly been writing porn OR writing something you have a real desire to happen to you. Just to make that clear. However, if you keep coming back to a specific setup for writing or reading, it might be worth investigating if certain things scratch your brain in a specific way.

So.

Blorbo gets mind controlled and there's a detailed breakdown of their descent into this altered state and then they're just so biddable and out of it and vulnerable and the narrative places weight either on someone taking advantage of them in this state, taking care of them, or their own subjective experience having lost control: this is hypnokink. Hypnokink or mind control— lots of ways to do it, but there is a thriving hypnosis or hypnokink scene that you might want to look into. Sometimes this is played for horror, but even the horror stuff can be kinky if played in a certain way. This falls under a larger umbrella of "altered states" that is very popular.

Blorbo gets drugged/intoxicated, often against their will, and heavy narrative weight is placed on their experience while drunk/drugged and unable to control themselves or conceptualize what is happening: this is intox kink. Another altered state— and again this is sometimes used for horror, but even the horror can give you the special tinglies if the dread is mixed with something.

Blorbo is turned into a vampire or taken by a vampire, gets drunk from or drinks blood, and there's specific narrative focus on how good the blood tastes, blood from a wound trickling down over someone's body and maybe being licked up, a hunger being sated— so vampires are a longstanding trope that can be done in a strictly horror way, but a LOT of vampire tropes are deeply kinky along the ideas of possession, loss of bodily autonomy, fear/desire, and consumption. This, for example, I have definitely read dipping into bloodplay or consumption kink. Sometimes blood drinking scenes are directly metaphorical for sex, including narrative tension building to a release where someone feels so good, but also there are other elements, such as a focus on blood that gets kinky.

Blorbo has wings that get preened, and it feels so good they can't hold back instinctive movements and sounds (maybe bird sounds) and they're so grateful and bond so much with the person doing it with them— This is wing kink. This is actually the first trope in this fandom that I identified that some things were happening with, because I was reading these fics that had been recommended to me as family fluff going— am I crazy or is something else happening here? Wingfic has been broadly used as a platonic/familial trope in this fandom, however, the structure of the scenes in which it is written about sometimes has heavy crossover with wingfic in other fandoms, where they are using it as a smut trope— the fic just didn't have anyone literally orgasm at the end. But if there's involuntary sounds or movement from the person with the wings, a focus on how pleasurable it feels, a feeling of release or rightness that someone gives the person with wings, and then they cuddle afterwards— yeah.

Blorbo is terrified and chased by a monster of some kind, with a heavy focus on how frightened they are, how inexorable the monster is, and something bad going to happen, and/or the monster chasing them enjoying their terror— this can just be horror. OR it can be fear play or predator/prey. Sometimes it's both.

Blorbo is confronted by monsters (perhaps giants or aliens) who are much bigger than them and the threat of being eaten by them is narratively focused on, either bitten or swallowed whole. Sometimes in the narrative the eating happens, either safely or to their death— this is vore. Being eaten alive is also a horror trope so it isn't always vore, but it is sometimes most certainly vore.

Aliens or monsters/hybrids much bigger than blorbo have them as family/friends/romantic partners/captives: this is giant/tiny. Sometimes just a science fiction au but if there's a lot of weight being placed on how big they are and how small blorbo is, this could be g/t. Borrower aus can frequently start to fall into this category. If they're not THAT big but there's focus on things like "oh they can span my waist with one hand", this can be size kink, instead. (Note that to my knowledge the platonic version is giant/tiny and sexual is micro/macro— there's a thriving platonic scene I sometimes see when I'm cruising tags, so if you like this you might want to check that out.)

Blorbo is non-consensually touched, cuddled, or modified, and narrative focus is placed on this as a violation/outrage/loss of bodily autonomy: again, this is something that can just be a horror trope, but there is often a larger or smaller strain of consent issues in it. If blorbo doesn't want it at first but eventually feels at home in the nest and feels good, that's dubcon (dubious consent), and if they are fighting it and raging against it and will never be part of your family, that starts to overlap with noncon (non-consent). Blorbo's bodily autonomy is being non-consentually violated, which would put it under the consent issues umbrella. I think many people writing these tropes are simply focusing on captivity and bad things happening to blorbo— when one is a prisoner they automatically lose bodily autonomy, and I don't think that every fic set in a dungeon requires a consent issues tag— and additionally many people are writing from family settings that include bodily autonomy being violated (being forced to hug your aunt you don't want to hug, for example, is an example that many of us have experienced). Not every example of non-consensual touching is always consent issues. However, when the narrative focus is on the outrage and betrayal of it all, the loss of control, and/or the helplessness, this can start to serve a different narrative function in a story than simply illustrating that a family is touchy. I have read scenes that structurally function as a thinly-veiled metaphor for sexual assault, including things like blorbo being held down while they fight against what is being done to their body. Some of these could have used additional tagging. Note: because this is such a hot button topic I should mention that if you like writing or reading this I do not think that means you are a fan of violence happening in the real world— a) reading a bad thing happening on the page makes it containable and controllable in a way that the real world does not, people also like to read about murder and dismemberment— b) simply the presence of a happy ending tag on a fic contextualizes that the bad thing is something to be passed through in a way that again, the real world does not offer. This is a similar thing to torture, suicide, or slavery, where sometimes you want to see blorbo have a bad fictional time specifically in things that would be terrible in real life, and in your real life you do not condone police brutality or want these things to happen. Again, sometimes people like to read about people being eaten alive, and it does not mean they condone wolves on the streets.

Blorbo is captured by alien/fae and kept as a pet, sometimes kept in a cage or collared, unable to communicate with the people holding them: this is often tagged as dehumanization and it is that, but it also starts to contain elements of pet play. If there is an emphasis on having to eat pet food, be "trained" by their owner, leashing/collaring/crating— this may be pet play.

Adult or near-adult blorbo is adopted and take care of by a new dad who knows everything to keep them safe and loves them and can take care of them and they can just let go and be their new sonboy because Dad's got them: Right. So this is sometimes just someone writing a "wouldn't it be nice to be taken care of" fantasy. Sometimes this is Daddy kink. This is almost never tagged and in some cases that I have read it certainly deserves an additional tag. An adult Daddy or Mommy figure taking care of their adult Little who can just be taken care of and not worry is a d/s trope. In some cases, where you have an established adult with a job who gets taken by magical means who then finds their true home as a powerful being's new child where they don't have to worry about their former life and they mentally find comfort in their new role as sonboy, this may also be Caregiver/Little. Direct age regression (often written by people who experience it) is usually tagged appropriately, but narrative elements that nod to that while not actually being age regression, such as an adult being now treated as a child and the narrative presenting that as good, are remarkably common and often entirely untagged in certain tags/circles. If someone could look at your fic and expect adult peers and then this happens, you should consider tagging or phrasing your summary differently.

Blorbo has hybrid instincts that overcome their cognitive functioning and make them revert to an instinctive form such that they can only be calmed/soothed by another hybrid of a different type: now this at this point is basically its own trope and I am fascinated to see if this trope expands out of MCYT as people move to new fandoms. However, it shares a startling amount of overlap with omegaverse. One of the primary draws of omegaverse for many people is the biologically determined altered states and the fated-mates aspect, and hybrids reverting to instincts and needing particular care from a perfect family is often beat for beat things I've read in omegaverse, just platonic. When you have a biologically determined "protector" figure and a biologically determined "runt" whose job is to be taken care of and to submit to the protector, and this is required to calm the protector, it also has strong overlap with BDSM aus.

Blorbo is captured or contained and tied up, and narrative emphasis is placed on their experience of being bound and struggling against restraints or just how impossible to escape from the restraints are: this is bondage. I have had friends who are into this mention that they used to tie up their barbies as children, so again, as with all of these, this can be perfectly platonic— but something about that concept just seems particularly satisfying to the writer, perhaps it is more than just set dressing.

Blorbo is captured and there is strong emphasis on them being hurt or the waves of pain rolling over them as they are tortured: this is just an honourable whump trope, but a lot of whump tropes if handled in a specific way have strong crossover with BDSM. Lack of ability to move or restriction of senses, loss of control— or, as with this, an emphasis on pain or inflicting pain, which can cover sadism or masochism depending on our POV.

Blorbo is overwhelmed and only finds comfort in submitting to the authority of someone who they completely trust, whether because of past trauma or because of hybrid instincts: this is d/s, or domination/submission. If there's specific emphasis on allowing someone to take control finally makes blorbo's head go quiet, that's subspace.

Blorbo is marked or indicated as belonging to someone, either through something like an earring or a brand/tattoo or a magical mark, so that anyone who looks at them will know that they belong to someone: again, this can just be horror, but especially if it's framed as a good/satisfying thing, it also can contain strong crossover with BDSM, especially master/slave elements.

Blorbo is transformed and corrupted, often being bodily changed into a new form by aliens or fae or mobs: this is obviously body horror, but this can also be transformation kink. This is a narrative trope in SF and horror so someone can approach this completely innocently, but when handled in less of a horror way, it can take on other undertones. If there is a strong emphasis on the innocence and unprepared nature of blorbo before being changed into what someone wants them to be, this can be corruption kink as well.

Blorbo dresses up for a fancy event and there's emphasis on how specifically they look, or maybe blorbo is looking at someone else and thinking about how THEY look in their formalwear: sometimes this is just description and/or the author likes textiles. I have also read things where I think the author would get a lot of joy out of pursuing the formalwear kink tag.

Blorbo finally gets told that they did a good job and everyone is complimentary or a specific trusted figure is complimentary, they're appreciated and loved and good: sometimes this is just someone writing a fantasy of blorbo being appreciated. Sometimes this is praise kink. If blorbo is being held by their parent or mentor or trusted elder sibling who is telling them that they're good, everyone is wrong about them, they know that they're good, this could be praise kink.

Touch-starved blorbo finally is given good touch and they are overwhelmed and don't know how to handle it and it feels so good: I did even know this was a thing until I asked for examples, but a friend let me know that this falls under the "touch sensitive" or "sensation play" umbrella. If you have spent time in a touch-starved tag, you have almost definitely seen this.

Blorbo is overwhelmed and bursts into tears and either cries a lot or heavy narrative weight is placed on them crying at important moments when it all becomes too much: this is not always, but can certainly be, dacryphilia.

Blorbo fucks up and is made fun of by all their peers, placed on centre stage and just mercilessly mocked: sometimes you are just whumping the character, and sometimes this can be humiliation kink.

Blorbo is tickled. That's the whole scene/fic. Okay so you actually may know this if you cruise character tags, but tickling is a kink and there are several blogs devoted to it on this website. If the whole point of this scene is the tickling, the character losing control and being overwhelmed, the person doing it to them having them at their control— this may be the kink.

Blorbo just keeps sneezing at inopportune times, they keep losing control and can't keep themselves from being overwhelmed by this: this can be sneeze kink.

Blorbo has finally made it to safety, maybe after a time of privation and starvation, and then there's whole scenes with an emphasis on how much they eat, how full and round they're getting, maybe them eating to the point of getting sick, maybe burping, maybe them having difficulty moving because of how much they've eaten. Food as part of recovery or safety can just be a healing trope, and food as a metaphor for love and community is a favoured tag of many of us in the fandom, but if the emphasis is especially on the eating and the getting full, how full the person feels, how much they can eat— this could be feederism.

Blorbo is injured or killed and there's a huge emphasis on the wounds, dismemberment, focus on gore and how bad it is and how much they're coming to pieces: this can be guro. If the person dies at the end of it and there's emphasis on that, this can also be snuff. Or maybe it's just gore/MCD, but some fics and some scenes dwell on it in such a way that you start to ask if this is intended to be horror or if something else is happening.

Blorbo is dressed up beautifully and looks so good in their new outfit, maybe to the point that the person who dressed them doesn't want them to move, just sit and be admired: this can be dollification, or kinking specifically on being dressed.

Blorbo is going through a medical examination and specific focus is placed on the impersonal aspect, being manhandled or examined by tools or gloved hands, they are the somewhat-dehumanized medical subject of professionals: this is sometimes horror or dehumanization, but it can also be medical kink.

So. As you can see. There are a lot of possible kinks that can be handled in a platonic way, but this doesn't mean they aren't kinky. This isn't even everything possible, this is just what came up when I asked the group chat what they personally have seen where they feel that a platonic fic could have used additional tagging.

I am not saying that any of this is wrong to be interested in these kinks, either. People get wired a lot of different ways and sometimes you just feel a certain way about formalwear. Or bondage. Or vore. Or tickling. My point is just that if any of this resonates with you, you might want to consider adding extra tags to your work (you don't even have to tag "humiliation kink," "humiliation" works just fine), and you also might want to consider checking out some tags, because there is probably a vibrant community of people who also like that and who would both love your work and would love to share their work with you.

That's it. Go with god. Now if people are going to be in my notes going HOW CAN SOMETHING PLATONIC BE KINKY I have something to link them.

#discourse #fandom meta #platonic kink

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starcrescentisz · 1 day ago

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── BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND.

໒꒰ྀི ^ ⸝⸝ ^ ꒱ྀིა박성훈 x fem! reader content established relationship non-idol au older brother's best friend trope reader is jay's younger sister ᥫ᭡ warning explicit sexual content unprotected sex (stay safe!) petnames used kissing pussy eating fingering begging squirting overstimulation sunghoon being a tease and wear glasses (important trust) jay cockblocking (not sorry). . .!? 1111— mlist.

note. i'm gonna make every sunghoon post with him wearing glasses. no one and nothing will stop me!!! also i've made a taglist, feel free to send an ask if you wish to be tagged in my future posts :) taglist. @tfwbluu

You have met your older brother’s friends a couple of times, having known them since you were young. They were a loud and chaotic group, if one were to ask for your opinion on them. But among them, there was someone who piqued your interest. Sunghoon isn't as talkative as the others. He mostly keeps to himself but you have seen him cracking jokes or making fun of your brother; Jay, resulting in the two bickering back and forth. It’s a common sight to hear them argue about the smallest things, much to everyone’s amusement.

You knew it was wrong to have feelings for your brother’s friend but you couldn’t help it. Not when Sunghoon was nothing but kind and caring towards you. His features were simply another plus point and everything about him simply makes you swoon. You had to walk around your brother, hiding your relationship with Sunghoon from him. You know how overprotective Jay can be when it comes to you. The last thing you want is to end Sunghoon and Jay’s friendship. You knew how the two are practically glued to the hips, always coming as a pair.

“Ngh, Hoonie, fuck, hah, m-more,” you whined, your back arching off the bed.

Your legs were slung over your boyfriend’s broad shoulders. Your left hand was covering your mouth; a feeble attempt of muffling your moans while the other gripped onto his abyssal-like hair. You couldn’t help but bucked your hips forward, craving more. It was a miracle you had survived this long before meeting Sunghoon and you came to learn that he was amazing with his mouth and fingers.

Your boyfriend hums, moving his long, thick fingers in a scissor-like movement, opening and preparing you for what’s to come. Your eyes rolled up at a harsh suck of your clit, his tongue delving deeper. In the span of what felt like years when it was actually an hour, he had managed to make you cum a total of two times. The first was done by his fingers while the second was done by his tongue. Currently, he was pushing you over your comfort zone, hoping you could cum a third time.

As they always say, third times the charm, right?

You squirmed about on the drenched sheets, gripping onto the pillow for dear life. Breathy moans flowed from your lips, like water falling from a water tap.

“Fuck!”

You gasped, thighs buckling as Sunghoon swirls the overly stimulated bud with his tongue. You felt it, the fire in your abdomen and how heat was spreading under your skin. Throwing all caution out of the window with the only thing in your mind was chasing your impending climax, you frantically jerked your hips forward. Your boyfriend got the hint, allowing you to fuck his tongue and it didn’t took you long to reach your climax.

As compared to the orgasms you had before, this was more powerful and it took a deep toll on your body. You weren’t sure what happened as you laid on the bed, loosening your grip on Sunghoon’s hair, eyes closing to take a much-needed breather.

“Woah, that was hot. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

You opened your eyes, only to pause at the lewd scene before you. The frames of his glasses were coated in a thin layer of your juices. Some were dripping as it trailed down the frames, landing on the sheets. Your breath caught in your throat as Sunghoon licked his lips, his chin was glistening underneath the ceiling light. You wanted to apologize but he waved you off, knowing what you wanted to say.

“You don’t have to apologize, princess,” he grins, moving closer until your noses graze against one another. “But I believe I should get a reward for making you squirt for the first time, right?”

You light-heartedly rolled your eyes, choosing not to reply and kissed him instead. Sunghoon grinned into the kiss, parting your lips with his tongue, allowing you to taste yourself. He positioned himself in between your legs, one hand trailing down to fondle with your hardened peaks. You moaned into his mouth, the sound doing wonders to his body and mind. Wanting to hear more, Sunghoon broke the kiss. He aligned his cock to your needy, neglected and sensitive dripping entrance.

“Look at you, I didn’t even have to use lube,” he breathed out, unable to tear his eyes away from the erotic sight of watching his cock disappearing inch by inch, getting swallowed by your greedy clit.

“Oh god.. Hoonie,” you whined, throwing your head back, your gummy and velvety walls sucking him in, making him groan at the feeling.

By the time he was buried deep in you, you felt like you were floating on a cloud. Sunghoon started thrusting, hips snapping against yours as he massaged your inner thighs—wanting you to relax and enjoy yourself. The bed moved along with your movements, the bedframe hitting the wall at equal intervals. At this rate, you’ve long forgotten that your brother had arrived home after a hectic day of back-to-back classes. Which was why none of you were prepared for the unexpected moment of Jay opening the door without knocking.

“Hey sis, could you—Wait, what the fuck!?” He asks, raising his head from his phone, only for him to shriek at the top of his lungs.

Both of you whirled your heads to his direction and your reactions were immediate. Sunghoon scrambled to move away from you while you pulled the sheets up, covering your body from your brother’s poor eyes. Jay had shielded his eyes with one hand, back facing the both of you.

“Uh, it’s not what it looks like,” your boyfriend chirps in and you mentally face-palmed.

“Not what it looks like? Pray tell me, then what does it look like because I can’t believe I saw my best friend fucking my sister. Oh my God, please God, help me,” Jay exclaimed.

The two of you shared a look and you shrugged your shoulders, having gotten used to your brother’s dramatic antics.

“Come down to the living room and we’re going to talk about this. And you better not be fucking or I will kill you with my bare hands, is that understood?” Jay directed the threat to his best friend, who nervously gulped.

“Yes, sir.”

When Jay left after closing the door along with him muttering about how he needs to bleach his eyes, you ran a hand through your hair. “Well, I guess we’re going to die under the hands of my brother.”

“...Please don’t say that. I’m actually scared of my life now.”

#── writings.#enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enha hard hours #enha hard thoughts #enha smut #sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen smut #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon x you #sunghoon x y/n #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon x you #park sunghoon x y/n

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writer-freak · 1 day ago

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New year | Twst x reader

Characters: Leona, Rook, Vil, Idia, Lilia and Malleus

Warnings: Gn reader, fluff, english isn't my first language, written quickly

A/n: Another small thing before the new year that I have written pretty quickly. Just some first thoughts that came to my head about them. Also I'm thinking about opening requests next year, but we will see if that works out

Leona Kingscholar

Leona is not really a fan of the loud noises or the effort it takes to set up fireworks. If you want to see them, he’ll suggest watching from a distance, maybe from a rooftop or through a window.

He’s more interested in spending New Year’s Eve relaxing with you. He might claim to "accidentally" fall asleep, but when the clock strikes midnight, he’ll lazily pull you close and mutter a soft, “Happy New Year, herbivore.”

He’s likely to enjoy stargazing more than fireworks, using it as an excuse to be outside in the cool night air with you.

If you do manage to coax him outside to watch the fireworks, he’ll bring a cozy blanket and claim it’s “for you,” but you end up sharing it anyway.

Leona loves the quietness after the fireworks are over, just enjoying your company in peaceful silence as you settle down to sleep.

Rook Hunt

Rook absolutely adores the whole spectacle of fireworks! He’ll insist on finding the perfect spot to watch them, probably somewhere high up with a great panoramic view.

He might even prepare a poetic monologue about the beauty of the fireworks and how they remind him of you.

He’s full of energy and excitement, making sure that the night feels magical. If the fireworks aren’t enough, he might bring along sparklers or even suggest setting off a small display of his own.

Along with sparklers, he might bring a camera or a sketchbook to immortalize the beauty of the moment, with you being his main muse.

As the fireworks burst in the sky, he’ll take your hand and kiss it, proclaiming how this year will be one filled with endless romance.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil appreciates fireworks for their aesthetics but prefers to enjoy them from a more stylish setting, think a private balcony or an elegant private rooftop.

He’s the type to dress both of you up for the occasion. Doing skincare together before he does your makeup and hair. And finally you would put on your slightly matching clothes.

As the clock strikes midnight, Vil will look at you with an affectionate smile, saying something sweet about how he’s grateful to have you by his side for another year.

Vil might coordinate the timing so that you’re both in the perfect spot for a breathtaking photo with the fireworks in the background, making it look like a glamorous movie scene.

At midnight, he may lean in and press a lingering kiss to your forehead, whispering about how much brighter his life has become with you in it.

Idia Shroud

Idia’s not a fan of the loud cheers and crowds associated with fireworks. He’s more likely to watch them through a livestream from the comfort of his room. He might grumble about the noise outside but secretly enjoy the colors lighting up the night.

His idea of a perfect New Year’s Eve involves gaming with you. If you end up gaming together, he might try to pick a co-op game that has a winter theme or even a story with a fireworks scene. It's subtle, but he’s trying to make it special.

At midnight, he might get flustered but muster up the courage to thank you for being the highlight of his year, all while trying to hide his red cheeks behind his hair.

Ortho might pop in, surprising you two with glowing lights or little holographic displays to celebrate the new year, much to Idia’s embarrassment but your delight.

After midnight, Idia might awkwardly hand you a small, thoughtful gift he’s been holding onto for the occasion, mumbling that it’s “no big deal.”

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia loves fireworks! He’s the type to suggest setting off your own or finding a lively festival or crowd where you can celebrate with others.

He’s really playful and mischievous throughout the day, teasing and challenging you to try strange 'New Year’s snacks' he prepared (which may or may not be entirely edible).

When the clock strikes midnight, he’ll scoop you into a spin, laughing joyously as he wishes you a happy new year.

He might pull you into impromptu dances under the starlight, spinning you around as he hums an old melody from his youth.

As the trickster he is, Lilia can’t resist surprising you with a sudden New Year’s kiss just as the clock strikes midnight.

He pulls back with a cheeky grin, claiming it "didn't count" because you didn’t reciprocate properly. With a teasing glint in his eyes, he declares that you’ll need to initiate the next one for it to be a proper New Year’s kiss.

Of course, every time you lean in to fulfill his request, he finds something “wrong” with it, too quick, not dramatic enough, or lacking “passion.” It’s an obvious ploy to steal as many kisses as he can, his laughter ringing in the air as he continues teasing you

Despite his antics, there’s a softness in his eyes that betrays just how much he cherishes the moment with you.

As the night comes to an end, he’ll suggest sitting down next to the fireplace, just cuddling and chatting about the year before them.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus has mixed feelings about fireworks. He’s fascinated by their fleeting beauty but he’d much rather light a single sparkler and hold it with you than deal with an overwhelming display.

He prefers a more quiet celebration, perhaps a walk under moonlight with you through a snow-covered garden. The calmness of the moment is what matters most to him.

Malleus might surprise you with a delicate charm or trinket imbued with his magic, a symbol of his wish to keep you safe and close to his heart throughout the year.

He’d present it shyly, almost uncertain, before explaining its meaning, hoping that you would also wish to stay next to him.

At midnight, he’ll look deeply into your eyes, quietly vowing to protect you and cherish the time you have together in the coming year.

He might create a private fireworks display just for the two of you using magic, ensuring it’s quiet and perfectly tailored to your taste.

After midnight, he’ll offer you his coat or cape to ward off the cold, taking your hand as he whispers a promise to make the coming year as beautiful as this one.

Divider by: @cafekitsune

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pidgeon-brained · 2 days ago

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See and I've read some on this. What's happening is that they're teaching kids to use pattern recognition instead of learning individual letters. Kids are expected to memorize words and then based on that word, sort of guess what word is going to come next? They aren't taught phonetics, or how letters sound. They aren't taught to sound out words. They're just meant to guess.

They use a method called "three-cueing" where kids are meant to draw meaning and conclusions from words & pictures. They aren't taught sentence structure, they aren't taught to sound words out or to figure out what they mean outside of context. This leads to the appearance of a higher rate of learning disability. Kids that fall behind tend to get left behind, due to (especially) the underfunding of special education programs in America.

Additionally, we are seeing a decline in state and worldwide learning standards. A 5th grade textbook TODAY would be a 3rd grade textbook in 2000. That's TWO grade levels. A 5th grader (12ish) and a 3rd grader (9-10ish) have significant cognitive differences. Honestly there's a significant decline in the state of our public schools that is likely the largest culprit in this matter.

We also have to look at the way that Covid-19 impacted the change in our schooling system, especially that of online learning. Kids now have programs that will read to them. And I'm not saying that's a bad thing, in fact a lot of people rely on those programs, but it does add to the lack of literacy. (Primarily because we are a document-dependent society, which is a whole other thing I could write about).

A lot of people may yell about screen time and "iPad kids" but the thing about that is that like. It's THEIR PARENT'S fault that their addicted to screens. The shortening of attention span starts incredibly young with shows like Cocomelon, which include such quick moving scenes and flashing lights that they train a child's brain to draw dopamine from quick moving media. Children are hooked on things that are low effort high reward. Books are not that. The reading epidemic is a cause of parental navigation away from attention and screenless time.

This turned out a little longer than I intended but I feel like it's important for people to have some knowledge on it. We don't want to dunk on the younger generations for things their not taught, but we also can't sweep it under the rug as a conspiracy because it doesn't help them.

Yeah I’m having trouble buying into this narrative that Todays Youth have a unique problem with reading literature or writing essays considering that it fits more into a reoccurring pattern of “people getting older start regurgitating cliches about lazy stupid youth” which historically speaking is more of a thing than “all of a sudden a whole generation became very stupid and refused to engage in intellectual activities” which is not so much a thing that actually happens

#Pidgeon rambles #education #gen alpha #reading epidemic

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sarangcoups · 2 days ago

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the most beautiful man in the world | hong jisoo

𖧧 summary. in which you consistently have your ugliest foot forward next to your heartbreakingly handsome neighbour. 𖧧 genre/tags. humour, fluff, reader is a disaster (only in front of joshua), second-hand embarrassment, apartment/condo shenanigans, 3+1 format (ish), unreliable narrator, cliffhanger, gn!reader but mentions of wearing makeup 𖧧 warnings. none 𖧧 wc. 1.3k 𖧧 note. scheduled this for midnight in korea! happy birthday to this lovely man! as a more angst/feels writer, doing a humor piece felt a little clunky, but it’s such a silly post, and i could not resist. come say hi if you're so inclined (I'm new to the svt x reader scene)! reblogs are always appreciated 🫶🏼

The most beautiful man in the world has moved in three units down the hall, and so far, he’s only seen you in various states of disarray.

First, you had been on your way back from a long shift at work. Sweat soaked through the armpits of your top. The fabric, which was crisp this morning, now looked like you had worn it without bothering to iron any wrinkles out. No trace of makeup remained on your face, only a vaguely oily sheen that you were itching to wash off.

As though things couldn’t get worse, the most beautiful man in the world stepped into the same elevator. He smiled brilliantly, as though you didn’t look like a flaming mess. You tried to return it, but something about your face seemed to set him off, as he quickly looks away. Burning in shame, you stewed in silence, wondering if it would have been less or more awkward if the building installed music in their elevators. The moment the doors opened, you ducked out, feigning a hurry while mourning the kdrama-style meet-cute that was not to be.

Only after a few hours of replaying the entire encounter in your head did you realize that he never pressed any button, which meant you were both staying on the same floor. Oh, hell.

Second, was when you locked yourself out of the unit. The building did not have an in-house locksmith, so you had to hunt through Facebook and message the least-shady page you could find within a reasonable radius. While waiting, you were staying with a friend a few floors down, having ordered boba. You had a massive stain down your white t-shirt, from choking on your drink while laughing too hard.

Your friend offered to wash it quickly in the sink, but you weren’t too concerned, as the locksmith promised to be by quickly enough that you could soak your shirt once your unit was open again without it being a problem. Instead, you let it dry, and asked to borrow a sweater of theirs once you both met up with the locksmith instead.

When the locksmith texted to say he arrived, you both picked him up and entered the elevator again, this time to go to your floor. Of course, the most beautiful man in the world had to be by again, looking unfairly attractive as he always was, while you felt like the butt of the universe’s sick, sick joke.

“Oh, hi again!” the most beautiful man in the world said, because aside from a heart-stopping smile, the universe had also given him a pretty voice to add to your misery.

“Hi,” you said back, again with a smile that feels too awkward on your face. The rest of the elevator ride was spent in painful silence.

At this point, the universe decided to be kinder, because his unit was apparently the opposite way from where you turn. It was not kind enough, though, as he was near enough to see the locksmith kneel in front of your door, rummage in his tool belt, and insert all manners of things into your doorknob. Your friend, to whom you had just been ranting about the most beautiful man in the world to a few minutes earlier, did not stop nudging you and making suggestive faces.

The moment you truly knew the world was not on your side, however, was when you took off your friend’s jacket to return it to them before they left, only for the most beautiful man in the world to exit his unit, evidently to take out his trash, only to be greeted with an unobstructed view of the massive stain on your t-shirt.

Once again, you contemplate the feasibility of spontaneous combustion.

Third, you were picking up the bills from your inbox, wincing every time the gigantic zit on your right cheek pulsed angrily. Upon waking up to the unhappy surprise, you were at least thankful that you had some spot treatment left to dab over it later tonight. Unfortunately, the most beautiful man in the world also chose this time to sift through his mail, his slot some ways to your right. This also meant that no amount of inconspicuous head-turning on your part could spare him from a front-row seat to your shame.

You quickly gathered up all the bills in your mailbox and locked it shut, hurrying away with what you hoped was a brisk, but congenial smile in his general direction. Today, it seems, the universe had some mercy, as you are able to get on an elevator (and off!) without running into the most beautiful man in the world again.

It all comes to a head today. You’re in the shower, when suddenly, the most massive, ear-splitting wail rips through the air. Slipping on the wet tile, you shriek, first in surprise, then in pain. Water hits you straight in the face; sputtering, you screw your eyes shut at the sting of the shampoo while fumbling blindly for the shower knob.

While indeed the building management announced that an earthquake drill would be taking place this week, it was your dumb luck that you were nude and bathing when the siren blared. Thankfully, there was enough time between now and the evacuation signal to dry yourself off, throw on the underwear you had precariously let rest on the bathroom countertop, and find a larger towel to wrap around yourself, before you had to do your own version of a walk of shame along the hallway.

On the way to the emergency staircase, the most beautiful man in the world comes into view. He does a double take at your appearance, and you grimace at the likelihood of suds still visible in your hair. But because the most beautiful man in the world is also apparently the kindest, he doesn’t comment, instead unzipping his jacket and throwing it around your shoulders with a concerned frown.

“Are you okay?”

His cologne is delicious; you nod, a little dazed. “Yes, you’re fine—I mean, I’m fine.” His lips quirk up, damn him, he knows. Your mortification settles somewhere between your throat and your stomach.

The rest of the drill passes in a blur; you remember nothing except for the warmth of his jacket around your shoulders, and the way your heart jumps at the casual way he steps behind you, blocking you from accidentally flashing your bare upper thighs to the world.

By the end of it, everyone was allowed to use the elevators going up to their units. You ride with the most beautiful man in the world, whose ears are adorably red when the crowd pushes you together. He gently guides you off onto your floor with a hand against the small of your back.

The most beautiful man in the world introduces himself as Joshua Hong, who walks you to your door (he did not turn in his usual route to his own unit). His hand snakes from behind you to loosely grasp your wrist, and your skin burns from the contact.

Joshua Hong, for some gods-be-damned reason, gives you the shyest, sweetest smile you’ve ever seen. He’s close enough for you to see the faint outline of his chest under his t-shirt. If you thought his cologne was overwhelming, this was enough to warrant a heart failure. “You know, I thought you hated me.”

“What?”

He nods, still earnest, words coming faster as he clocks your bewilderment. “I mean, you were always running away when we were in the same elevator, you always avoid looking at me, and that time while getting our mail together…”

You shake your head rapidly. “No! I thought you were disgusted by me!”

“What?” Now he’s confused.

“You always see me when I’m not presentable! It’s always when I have sweat-stains, or boba stains, or a massive pimple, or this!” You gesture wildly at yourself, miserable. “I swear I can be pretty when I try.”

Joshua Hong tilts his head, even more baffled. “But you’re the most beautiful person in the world?”

note. unreliable narrator tag cos i am fully of the belief that joshua was trying to make a move this whole time (and also was trying not to stare at you all pretty in his jacket w hardly anything else on)

#joshua hong x reader #hong jisoo x reader #joshua x reader #joshua imagines #joshua fluff #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfiction #svt fanfic #svt imagines #viv's scribbles

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red-riot-unbreakable-heart · 3 days ago

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

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

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Shoto Todoroki x Fem Reader! 💋

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come on, Y/N!”

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

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

Shit.

-----------

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh!” Toru says softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know! I was there!” You laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s not.

Nope - it’s Honenuki.

Honenuki: Hey.

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

You type.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A tiny lion emoji accompanies the text.

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

Honenuki: By the way

Y/N: ??

Honenuki: You look really cute tonight

Oh.

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

After a moment’s pause, you start typing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, it is.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Disappointed?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything.” He squeezes your hand back lightly.

“How did you feel kissing Fujita?”

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

“Is that the name of the girl from General Studies? Shinsou’s old classmate?”

“Yes. She’s very nice – I got to hang out with her before the party. Apparently she’s friendly with Mina.” You say, trying to speak kindly of a girl who very well could be your romantic rival in the quest for Shoto Todoroki’s dick.

“Oh. I didn’t even think to ask her name.” Shoto says in surprise. “That’s rude of me, isn’t it?”

“It all happened so quickly, I’m sure she wasn’t insulted by you forgetting to ask her name.” You try to sound casual, but you’re bouncing a bit on your feet. You’re nervous about what he might say about the kiss.

“Were you jealous, Y/N? The way you were jealous when you thought I was seeing Momo in a romantic context?” There’s a teasing smile pulling at the edge of his lips, but he has the decency to bite it back.

“Um, well, of course I was jealous when you kissed someone else! But I also know that it was just a game, and so I didn’t let it bother me so deeply.” You think back to the gentle way he had kissed the young woman’s cheek. “I was most envious of the fact that you were able to kiss her out in the open, in front of all our friends. Nothing was hidden. She was allowed to gush about it with the other girls, and it wasn’t a big secret. I wish…” You trail off, flapping your free arm in exasperation.

“Y/N. That kiss meant nothing to me.” The sentence tumbles from his lips before he can even think. He squeezes your hand harder this time and holds your gaze. “I was embarrassed that I was put on the spot like that. Everything happened so fast and I didn’t feel like I could say no. I wish I could have said no.”

“Oh.” You say, a sinking feeling in your chest. “Shoto, you should absolutely not have felt forced to participate. It was meant to be a fun game to bring everyone together and to be silly. I’m so, so sorry you essentially felt forced into it.”

“It felt like my brain wasn’t working quickly enough. Mina was just talking so fast, and everyone was looking at me. I was trying to keep a cool head but I was overwhelmed by all the eyes staring at me.”

You are going to need to have a talk with Mina about this, you have a feeling not everyone else was thrilled and comfortable with their role in the game. Shoto was likely not the only one feeling so distraught right now.

Shoto’s eyes roam the wall above your head as he thinks out loud. “How am I going to be a hero if I can’t make quick decisions under pressure?”

“Oh my goodness, Shoto! You can’t think like that!” You’re a little startled at how rattled he seems to be about this whole thing.

“Sometimes I don’t understand things as quickly as everyone else. I feel like I’m always a little behind socially.” He admits, eyes still dodging your own. “And at this point, I’m not sure if I’ll ever catch up. My Dad always says so, at least.”

“Shoto.” You reach out and grab his hand in an attempt to ground him. He’s clearly in an anxiety spiral downwards. “Shoto listen to me – everyone learns and grows at their own pace. Like I said earlier…we’re teenagers and we’re just figuring things out! It’s alright if you don’t understand every social situation right away. Being a hero is about having your heart in the right place and having quick reaction time in battle. You have both of those things in spades. As for the social awareness – well as a hero you’ll have a PR rep who can take care of all that. And as a hero-in-training, you have me.” You smile up at him. “You can always ask me for my perspective on a situation. And I can try to step in next time something gets too overwhelming – I can be your social buffer!”

His stormy expression seems to soften a bit and he finally meets your gaze. “You’d do that?”

“Of course!” You say resolutely. “And like I said – a hero is defined by their true heart and their willingness to jump into action to help people in trouble. Your heroism isn’t measured by your inability to resist peer pressure in high school.”

“Well when you say it like that…” Shoto shrugs, clearly feeling a little silly for his intense reaction to the spin the bottle debacle. “Maybe I’m overthinking this. I have a lot to process about tonight.”

“Yeah. Agreed.” You say, relieved that the two of you are figuring it out. But still…you need to be absolutely certain that you’re on the same page about everything.

“So you’re saying you didn’t have any feelings while kissing Fujita?” You ask slowly, trying not to seem too upset by the whole thing. After all, Shoto had admitted to feeling overwhelmed and not wanting to participate in the crazy game the first place.

“Oh. Well…she was kind of cute, I guess. But I didn’t really feel anything when I kissed her face.” He thinks for a moment. “It wasn’t like when we kissed for the first time. The first time our lips met, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Like I needed more of you as quickly as possible or I would explode.” You feel your cheeks heat up a bit at these words.

He continues, “That’s really my only baseline for this sort of thing. So similar to you and Honenuki – it was a pleasant experience, but it didn’t really “do” it for me.” He smiles as he meets your eyes. He squeezes your hand yet again, a secret language you’re creating together. He’s trying to convey that he feels comfortable physically this way only with you.

“So it seems that we both feel similarly about the whole experience.” You say, giving his hand a squeeze back.

“That does appear to be the case.” Shoto agrees. “And it seems like we are both very attracted to each other.” He steps closer to you, getting into your personal space.

“Mmhmm.” You say distantly, looking up into his sparkling mismatched eyes as he leans down to capture your lips with his own. A spark ignites in your chest as your mouths connect and it feels so goddamn right. You drop Shoto’s hand so that you can wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer. You need him so badly you wish you could pull him into you somehow, for your bodies to meld and become one being.

Voices down the hall cause you to jump apart. You stare at each other with wide eyes – this is bad. If anyone sees the two of you together, your cover will be absolutely blown. It’s one thing to be seen kissing during Spin the Bottle, it’s another thing to get caught canoodling together in secret. Mr. Aizawa’s whole “no relationships” policy reverberates in your head. If someone were to see you and Shoto and start a rumor about the two of you being together…well, it was only a matter of time before your teacher catches wind of it and puts a swift end to your sexual exploration of Shoto Todoroki.

“Quick. Hide.” Shoto hisses under his breath, as the voices grow nearer. You look at him blankly, a proverbial deer in the headlights. There’s nowhere to hide – you’re in a damn hallway!

Shoto rapidly looks left and then right, searching for a way out. The hall is much too long and neither of you lives on this floor – by the time you manage to get to the end of the hall to the staircase, you would already be caught together. Despite this, Shoto grabs your hand and pulls you down the hall in the direction of the stairs. He stops in front of a door and wrenches it open, roughly pushing you inside. You yelp in surprise as you trip over something and almost fall to the ground. Shoto scoops you up in his strong hero arms and closes the door behind you both with a soft thud.

You try to take in your surroundings, but the room is dim and crowded with shadowy objects. It takes you a moment to piece together where you are.

“Oh my God – this is the janitorial closet. I didn’t even think to hide here.” You breathe out, realizing that you had just tripped over a mop. Shoto nods and presses against you in the small space, his tense body imploring you to keep quiet.

The voices get louder, and you realize that its Kirishima and Mina discussing something heatedly.

“I can’t believe you did that!” Eijiro says roughly. “In front of everyone. Mina, that was really shitty of you.”

“Well excuse me – weren’t you saying just last week that you wanted to kiss me? You wrote me that little note and everything. ‘Oh Mina, I think about your lips every day.’ Or some poetic shit like that. I didn’t think you’d have a problem with it.” Your pink friend shoots back defensively, her tone scalding hot.

“Mina…Mina I’ve been wanting to kiss you so damn badly. But not like that. Not in front of all our friends and classmates.” Eijiro says in a deflated sort of tone, the fight seeping out of him. “That wasn’t how I pictured our first kiss going.”

“Oh, so you’re embarrassed by me? Well you can fuck all the way off then.” Mina says almost shrilly, completely missing the point Kirishima is trying to make.

“Really, Mina? You really mean that? You’re acting like you don’t know me at all.” Eijiro sounds heartbroken, yet angry. “Fine. Enjoy the rest of the lame party – I’m going to bed.”

“Eijiro – wait.” Mina says, her tone panicky. She clearly wasn’t expecting things to go this way.

“No. I need some time alone.” He says soundly, adding: “I need you to respect my personal space for once.” His tone is cold as ice. He stomps off down the hall to return to his room, clearly finished with the conversation. You can just picture Mina looking after him, crestfallen.

You hear let out a loud Mina groan of frustration. She lands a hard kick on the janitor closet door and you nearly jump out of your skin at the unexpected bang! After a moment, you hear her footsteps headed back down the hall and towards the party.

Your heart sinks a bit. Mina has been mooning over Kirishima for a while now, and you know that this confrontation is likely to crush her boisterous spirit. However, you think that if Kirishima was uncomfortable with the kiss, he has the right to air his grievances. After all, hadn’t the teachers been trying to teach you all about the importance of consent in relationships? You chew on your lip, not sure how to feel about the situation. Mina had certainly pushed things a bit too far for certain classmates with her exuberant approach to Spin the Bottle. She is definitely going to need to learn to have a bit more empathy and situational awareness when it comes to handling crowds as a Pro Hero – not everyone appreciates being told what to do.

“I should go after her.” You whisper to Shoto, who’s still holding you securely to his chest.

“This seems like a private matter between Kirishima and Aishido. She sounds angry and may want to be left alone. Plus…how would you explain how you overheard them arguing?” He has a good point there – you’re not sure how you would explain to your friend that you were ease dropping on her from inside of the janitor’s closet. “I think you need to give her a couple of minutes to sit with this.”

“And when did you become so great at reading social interactions?” You say, half teasingly. “Weren’t you just telling me you weren’t great at things like this?”

You can picture Shoto’s bright smile in the dark. “I just know that if I were in either of their shoes, I would need some time alone to process my thoughts and feelings. And I’m fairly unhappy on Kirishima’s behalf. It seems like everyone could use some time to cool off.”

“Ugh…you’re right, Shoto. I know you’re right.” You try to put yourself in Mina’s shoes as well. You bet she’s feeling pretty embarrassed right now and likely needs a hot minute.

“I think maybe I need to get better at sorting through my feelings.” Shoto says thoughtfully. “I appreciate the way you are able to guide me through processing how I feel, but I would like to get to a point where I can do that on my own. The better I become at managing my emotions and feelings, the less likely I’ll be to lash out at people the way my father does.”

In response, you reach up and caress his soft face. Now that you’re alone, he easily leans into the touch in a way that’s heartbreakingly sweet. He lets you run your hand through his bangs and into his hair, touching him so gently that he lets out a soft sigh of contentment at the contact. You almost forgot what a sucker he is for a light touch.

“You, Shoto Todoroki, are a good person.” You say as you continue to comb your fingers through his soft hair. “You are not your father. You are soft and sweet and strong.” He closes his eyes, focusing on your voice and your gentle touch in the dark. “You are good.”

His eyes flutter closed and he leans into your touch. He breathes slowly and deeply, you can tell he’s savoring this time with you. You try to commit this moment to memory – the smooth curve of his cheek, the steady beat of his breathing, the way his long lashes flutter as he opens his mismatched eyes to look at you.

“Thank you.” He breathes, turning his head so he can plant a soft kiss on the palm of your hand. “Thank you.” He says again more quietly, bringing his hand up to cover your own as he presses his lips to the pulse point of your wrist.

You stand like that for a bit, breathing together in the thick darkness of the janitor closet. With a thrill, you realize how trope-y it is to be alone with a hot guy in a closet during a big illegal party. You feel like you’re in a high school romcom or something. Based on what he says next, Shoto seems to be having the same train of thought.

“I like it when you remind me that I’m a good person, and that I’ll be a good hero. Your confidence – it gives me so much strength.” Shoto pauses and interlaces his hand with your own, bringing your waffling hands down to rest at your hip.

“You know…” Shoto says slyly, eyes wide and endless as he throws you a hot gaze. “I like being good. But being locked in this closet with you, while all of our friends are just a few feet away…well, I’d kind of like to be a little bad for a moment.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“What do you mean?” You ask, surprised at the sudden shift in his tone.

“Let me show you.” He says, his voice dropping lower as he drops your hand and moves to reposition you both.

He easily spins you around so that your back is now against his chest. He places his hands on your hips – and it’s not the gentle way Honenuki had held your hips earlier. No, Shoto is being rough on purpose. This is a side you’ve never seen of him before. And goddamn you love it. Your pussy comes to life at the motion. You make a mental note to invest in more panties – Shoto is really giving your underwear drawer a run for its money today.

Todoroki’s fingers hold you in a grip that’s almost bruising as he presses against you. He slowly kisses a trail up the back of your neck before sliding his hands up over your top. He reaches your breasts and begins to knead them lightly over the fabric of your shirt and bra. You groan at the unexpected sensual contact, feeling a spark flare in between your legs in response to Shoto’s touches.

“I’m still feeling a little jealous of the way Honenuki was able to kiss you in front of everyone. Would it be alright if I…explored those feelings?” Shoto finds your nipple through your bra and gives it a pert squeeze.

“W-what do you mean?” You practically purr out as he returns his lips to the curve of your neck.

“Let me show you how jealous you made me.” He whispers wetly into your ear, tracing soft circles around your clothed breasts with his fingertips. You feel yourself start to get wet from the simple motion.

“Dude we shouldn’t – there’s no lock on this door.” You try to resist temptation as he continues to plant kisses on your exposed skin. Maybe if you’re stealthy the two of you can sneak up the stairs and into one of your dorm rooms? You’ll need to be careful, though; especially with both Classes A and B all buzzed and hanging out in the dorm building.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ve got it covered.” Shoto says, and you can hear a smile in his voice. He releases a hand from one of your boobs and reaches out to grasp the door handle. In the low light coming in under the doorjamb, you watch as he freezes the doorknob shut, a sheet of ice running across the knob and part of the door. “No one can get in now. No accidental interruptions.”

Okay, you were totally not expecting that.

“Honenuki made you this jealous?” You ask as he wipes a few ice crystals onto his pant leg.

“Yeah. I’m feeling kind of…aggressive? Possessive?” Shoto tries to name the emotions pumping through his veins like fire. “I want to show you that I can give you things that Honenuki can’t.”

“I thought I already made it pretty clear that I like you more than Honenuki, Todoroki.” You tease; he puts his hands on your hips again and pulls you back into him. You can feel him starting to become hard against the smooth curve of your ass. He grinds into you slowly and you gasp at the contact.

“I know, and I’m grateful you’re reminding me. But I still feel an overwhelming need to show you – physically.” He draws you into his arms, his head dropping onto your shoulder. “Would you be up for something new?”

You don’t even need to think. “Yes.” You feel something electric and hot zipping through your veins – what could Shoto possibly have in mind? Despite his claimed feelings of “aggression,” he’s still being so sweet and gentle with his words. You muse that even though Shoto has a flame burning brightly inside of him, this Todoroki is nothing like his father.

“Would you be okay with me…using my teeth a bit? I’d really like to leave a hickey on your skin.” He nuzzles your neck with his nose, causing goose bumps to break out across your body at the touch.

“Y-yeah.” You stutter out, absolute putty in his hands. “Just nothing too big. Make sure it can be easily hidden under my clothing. You know Mr. Aizawa’s rules about hooking up.”

“Now why,” Shoto plants a kiss on your neck. “Would you” another kiss “mention Mr. Aizawa at a time like this?” He’s teasing. Had someone asked you a month ago if Shoto Todoroki was capable of teasing, you would have said absolutely not. But now this beautiful boy is kissing your neck and roasting the hell out of you. Jeez.

“Alright. I’m going to go very slowly, and I’ll do it on your shoulder just to be sure it doesn’t show.” He continues to kiss down your neck and towards your collarbone.

He brings his hand up to your collar so he can move the fabric of your top aside to expose more skin. “Can I take off your shirt? It might make things easier.” He gets back to kissing as he awaits your confirmation.

“Please!” Is all you manage to choke out as you feel his tongue run across your clavicle. He drops his hands down to the hem of your shirt and slowly pulls it upwards, the soft fabric flowing against your sensitive skin like a river. You raise your arms up above your head and he guides the top up and over your head, your hair becoming staticky as he goes.

“Much better.” He breathes as he carefully places the shirt on a nearby shelf of cleaning supplies.

You stand there in your bra and shiver as the cool air hits the bare skin of your stomach. “Oh no, you’re cold.” Shoto brings his hot hand down to rest on your belly and modulates his temperature with his quirk, slowly warming you up. Satisfied with your body temperature, he resumes kissing across your shoulder. He uses the colder of his hands to lightly pull your bra strap down your shoulder so he has better access to your smooth skin.

“Alright, you ready?” He asks calmly, tracing over your collarbone with his cold finger. You shiver, this time with anticipation.

“Yes.”

“Good.” Shoto ghosts the edge of his teeth across the length of your shoulder before choosing a spot close to your neck.

“Holy Fuck, Shoto.” You hiss out and you can feel him smile against your shoulder as he sinks his teeth lightly into your delicate skin and sucks, leaving a tiny mark. He kisses the area repeatedly before sucking on the skin more roughly, ensuring that a small bruise will form. After a few moments more, he runs his tongue soothingly along the hickey. At this point you’re dripping wet with both of your hands holding on to Shoto’s hot arm for dear life.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He says, almost smug as he traces an icy finger across his handy work. “What would you like me to do next?”

“Touch me, please.” You whine out, almost desperately. Shoto obliges, bringing both his hands back to your breasts to play with your nipples over your bra.

“Like this?” He asks softly, continuing to kiss and suck along your shoulder.

“I need more!” You throw your head back into his chest, and he runs the palm of his cold hand down your toned stomach. He pauses his hand just above the waistband of your skirt.

“You know…” Shoto breathes thickly as he continues to feel your tummy under his fingertips. “I’ve always been attracted to how muscular you are.” This takes you by surprise.

“Really?” You manage to whisper out, you try to ignore the way that your cunt is throbbing with need between your legs. “Sometimes I convince myself that you’d go for someone more petite and feminine.”

Shoto pauses, drumming his fingers thoughtfully against the smooth expanse of your waist. With each movement of his fingers, you can practically imagine how it would feel to have him repeat the rhythm on your clit.

“Hm. No.” He seems to be deep in thought. “I’m attracted to the way you take care of yourself and train to be a good hero. Sometimes…” He pauses and licks his lips, sounding a bit embarrassed as he says this next part. “Sometimes I get turned on when I see you lifting in the gym. Or when I see you throw one of our classmates across the mat during sparring practice. Your strength is just so…sexy.” He says the last word low with want before he presses a hot kiss to your neck.

“Oh!” You know he’s not intentionally talking dirty to you - but the way he’s praising you and divulging his secret horniness for your strength is so damn hot. You can’t believe you ever wondered if he’d go for a more petite girl like Fujita. The way he’s praising your physique and workout routine is too genuine, too adoring. Too horny.

“You like watching me bench press?” You say cheekily, recalling a moment a few months ago when you had made awkward eye contact with Shoto at the gym. At the time, you’d thought it was just a coincidence – your eyes had accidentally met while you were completing some reps on the bench and he was doing pull ups nearby. But now that he had divulged his attraction to your lifting…

“Yes.” He buries his face in your neck, radiating heat. “The look in your eyes when you bench. Fuck.”

“How hard are you right now, Shoto?” You groan, rolling your ass against him. He makes a noise in the back of his throat in answer to your question. “Yeah that’s what I thought. Unzip your pants – I want to give you a handy.” You start to pull away from him so you can turn around, but he holds you fast in his arms.

“No.” He says soundly, surprising you. You’re certain that most men aren’t quick to turn down a hand job. “I appreciate the offer, but there’s something else I want to do right now. If you’re up for it.”

“Oh yeah?” This whole situation is unexpected – hooking up in a closet during a secret party? Yeah, definitely not on your UA bucket list. You tilt your head so you can look at him more clearly. His eyes are stormy, his hair mussed up just so. He looks so devastatingly hot and needy, you practically cum on the spot.

“I’ve been wondering…” He says quietly, running a finger back and forth on your lower stomach, causing your pussy to quiver in your panties. “What would it feel like to touch you…more intimately?”

“More intimately?” You squeak, and you feel his fingers slide under the elastic waistband of your skirt, tracing gently across the delicate skin of your waist. You feel your pulse quicken as you realize what he’s getting at. He kisses up your neck and you feel his breath in your ear – hot and wet. He traces his fingers across the waistband of your panties now, moving his fingertips in a slow, circular motion. You’re so wet you can barely stand it. It’s not a stretch for your brain and body to imagine how that motion would feel on your bare pussy.

“Ever since you gave me a hand job for the first time…well, I’ve been wanting to return the favor.” Shoto says softly, and your brain feels like its full of static. Is he saying what you think he’s saying? He wants to finger you and get you off?!

Of course, you’ve thought about this scenario before. You’ve gotten off to it about a dozen times – picturing the way that Shoto’s fingers would feel curled up inside of you and pulsing against your most intimate spot. But you’ve never been touched before like that, and to be perfectly honest you weren’t sure how to ask Shoto if he’d be up for it. In your mind, a dick is so much more straightforward. Just jerk at it and eventually you’re likely to get it right, right? Would it take Shoto a while to figure out the complexities of female anatomy? What if he thinks it’s gross how wet you get, or how gooey you feel inside?

You blush at the thought, but your body is so needy for him that you shove all of your insecurities away and lean more into his touch. Clearly he’s wanted to do this for some time. And everyone needs to start somewhere before mastery, so he might as well do it for the first time with you, right?

His fingers flutter just above the hem of your skort, uncertain. You shimmy your hips lightly, encouraging him to go further. He sucks in a breath and moves his fingertips smoothly under your waistband, feeling the gentle pull of the elastic. His movements are confident and precise – you wonder if his actions are partially fueled by his raucous jealousy of Honenuki, because after a moment of playing with your skort’s waistband, he slides his fingers beneath the thin fabric of your panties to explore your pussy.

You groan at the sudden contact – his strong fingers fan gently across your vulva, taking in the feel of it. Experimentally, he traces a single finger between your lips and dips it towards your core.

“You’re so…wet.” He barely breathes out into your ear as he swipes his finger around the lips of your pussy, feeling your slick spread across his fingers. He unintentionally hits your clit and you moan at how good his calloused finger feels against you. He mimics the motion, eliciting another sweet sigh from your lips.

“Oh…does that feel good?” He whispers as he rubs a slow circle around the spot, testing the waters. You nod breathlessly as you enjoy the way he’s playing with you. He caresses you like that for a big, letting you really get a feel for his fingers. You groan when he draws his hand away, wanting him to continue on.

He lifts his hand to his mouth and starts sucking on his pointer and index fingers.

“Shoto, what are you - ?” But you shut up as he slips the hand back beneath your skort, his saliva covered finger doing wet loop-di-loops around your clit in a way that makes you see stars. “Jesus – fuck! Shoto! Sho…” You start mumbling nonsense as he pleasures you, drawing a finger down to poke at your entrance.

“Can I…can I go inside?” Shoto whispers thickly, asking for your consent.

“Yes. Yeah. Please.” You’re practically begging. He wastes no time and slowly slips inside you. You’re so wet and turned on that you take his finger into you easily. As he softly pushes a finger into your needy cunt, you can’t help but moan at the light stretch. You’ve never felt so full before. Your pussy clenches around his finger and he gasps at the slight constriction. He starts to slowly thrust his finger in and out of your pussy, letting you enjoy the feel of the smooth penetration.

“I’d like to see Honenuki do this.” He whispers as he finger fucks you softly. You whimper in reply.

“I have something to admit.” You gasp out as he continues to finger you, slowly slipping his pointer finger in and out of your slick entrance and gauging your reaction.

“What?” He says absentmindedly, completely focused on the way your gummy walls squeeze his finger with each light thrust. You wonder if he’s imagining how his cock would feel pushing into your tight heat.

“You know how we used Mineta as a distraction to get Mr. Vlad King away from the party?” You say breathlessly.

“Yeah.” He kisses the side of your neck, wet and open-mouthed.

“Well I promised that in exchange for his help…I’d kiss him.”

Shoto pauses his movements, causing you to moan at the loss of friction. He then shifts his position, leaning so that his back is against the door. He places his free hand on your stomach, his other hand still between your legs. He pushes you forward so you’re almost bent double. He slides his fingers around your swollen clit before slipping back inside your entrance. He adds a second finger, stretching you our and pushing into your core insistently. He starts to thrust his fingers inside you at an almost brutal pace that causes the air to leave your lungs. Your ass bounces relentlessly against his clothed cock as he works at you.

“I’m going to need you to stop.” Thrust. “Kissing.” Thrust. “Other.” Thrust. “People.”

The authority seeping into his voice, paired with his two skillful fingers pushing inside you are too much to bear. If it weren’t for Shoto’s strong hand holding your stomach and anchoring you, your shaking legs would be giving out right now. Your pussy flexes and flutters around his hungry fingers, pushing you over the edge.

“S-Shoto. Shoto! I’m gonna…I’m gonna…”

“Please, Y/N.” Shoto groans from somewhere near your shoulder, sounding desperate. “I want to feel you finish around my fingers.”

And that’s literally all it takes.

His needy words bring you to the brink and you try to stifle a moan of satisfaction as you cum on Shoto’s capable fingertips. It’s so delicious and oh so terribly dirty. Your legs continue to shake and your head falls back against Shoto’s steady body as you absolutely lose yourself to your pleasure. You don’t give a fuck if anyone hears you, you’re too far gone as you cry out “Shoto!” over and over, relishing the way his name sounds on your lips. It’s like an oath, a prayer as you ride out your orgasm in this tiny supply closet. You almost forget that mere feet away, the biggest party the UA dorms have ever seen is continuing to rage. You vaguely wonder what your classmates would think if they knew how slutty you are, drunk on the feel of Shoto’s hand in your panties.

Shoto gets a feel for your orgasm and tries to match the pace of your frantic hips – he’s a gentleman, after all. He wants to help you ride it out as long as possible. He lets out a moan of pleasure as you thrust and grind back into him with abandon. The swell of your ass bouncing back against his cock is too much, and you hear Shoto curse under his breath.

When you finally stop thrusting back into his fingers, he takes the hint and slowly slides his hand out from your pants. His fingers are absolutely soaked.

You watch in awe as he brings his hand to his lips without hesitation, sucking for a moment on fingers covered in your slick. “Wow.” She says quietly. “You taste…really good.”

“Jesus Christ Shoto.” You say, shaky legs nearly buckling under the weight of his hotness. He wraps his hand around your waist, holding you steady. He ghosts a kiss across the nape of your neck, your shoulder, wherever he can reach at this odd angle. You stand there in silence until your breathing slows – your back against his chest.

He smells amazing, intoxicating. You don’t think he’s wearing cologne – but he’s covered in this indescribably clean, expensive scent. Your cloudy brain guesses that it’s some kind of fancy shampoo that only old money has access to. You want to bathe in the scent, marinate in it. You try to commit it to your memory.

Shoto’s chest rises and falls in time with your own breathing. It’s gentle and it anchors you to the moment. It makes you long for bed – if only it was the end of the night already. If you could sink to the ground, you could probably fall asleep on the closet’s carpet. You want to tuck yourself into his soft sweater, surrounded by that delicious expensive shampoo scent. He holds you to him, giving no sign that he wants to let go.

When your soul finally finds its way back into your body, you shake your head to clear it a bit.

“Shoto…” You whisper, voice thick and sleepy. “Shoto, can I get you off now baby?”

Shoto smooths his hands over your hips appreciatively. “That’s alright…I, um. I’m fine.”

You blink awake, brain rapidly putting the pieces together. You think back to the way you were insistently rocking your ass against him, the way he had cursed under his breath earlier as he worked you up to your orgasm.

“Holy shit. Shoto did you just…? Oh my god. You came in your pants didn’t you?” You step forward and away from him, and his hands release you easily. You turn to look him up and down, eyes wide.

Shoto meets your eyes, cheeks red with shame. His pants are absolutely ruined – you can see the damp spot where his dick is pressed up against the fabric.

“Touching you like that…it was too much. And the way you were grinding on me. I couldn’t…” You can tell he’s ashamed from the way his voice wavers and dips. He doesn’t even attempt to cover himself, he just lets his arms hang at his sides uselessly.

“Shoto – no. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about!” You quickly try to reassure him. His eyes are bright with humiliation as he looks down at himself. “You just need to throw those pants into the wash and everything will be good as new.”

Shoto actually chuckles at this, the mood in the tiny closet shifting and instantly becoming lighter.

“Y/N…you’re just so sweet. I can’t even begin to explain to you the things you do to me.” He reaches out and drags you back into his arms. “I’ve never been so attracted to someone in my life.” He squeezes his arms lightly around you, holding you to him. Your hair is soft against his cheek as he snakes up hand to hold the nape of your neck. No one’s ever held you like this, so tenderly.

He exhales softly, his breath warm as it lightly tussles your hair. “We should get back to the party, shouldn’t we?”

“Can we just go clean up and go to bed?” You say, your voice drawling lazily. “We can sneak up to my room and snuggle up with my plushies. We can sleep in tomorrow.”

“That’s tempting.” Shoto presses a kiss to your temple. “But I think that the party crew is going to miss their leader. And I think that Mina could use a friend.”

He’s right. You know he’s right.

“Yeah.” You take a deep breath in. “And Hatsume can’t hold off Mr. King forever. I should check in with her.”

“That crazy support course girl is involved in this?” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“That genius crazy support course girl is involved in this.” You amend, laughing quietly. “Let’s get out of here, Shoto.”

He nods and scoots away from you so he can place his hot hand on the frozen doorknob. Steam fills the room as he melts down the ice around the door and you marvel at how much control he has over his quirk.

He cracks open the door to the hall and you both blink uncomfortably in the light that shines into the closet with a brightness that’s almost violent. Shoto pops his head into the hall and quickly comes back inside to huddle up next to you.

“It’s all clear, Y/N. I’m going to head up to my room and change. See you back at the party?”

You nod, suddenly all business. “See you back at the party, Shoto.”

You both dart out into the long empty hall, going your separate ways. You skitter up to your room to change your panties and tame your hair. Shoto veers off towards his dorm to change out of his own pants.

Neither of you notices the pair of sunglasses that lies abandoned on the closet floor.

End of Chapter 8

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Author's Notes:

Okay hey fam!

How we doin'!? I hope it was worth the wait for Chapter 8!

I'm dying to know how you all felt about these latest Spin the Bottle developments 👀 Quite a few of you predicted that The Reader would end up "kissing" Honenuki and I love that! Honestly I think that Juzo Honenuki would be SUPER hot in bed 🤷‍♀️ He's so sweet and tender and idk the skeleton face is cool AF. Honestly happy to be back in the "smut zone" with this chapter - I hope you enjoyed the spicy scene towards the end.

Not gonna lie, this chapter has been the hardest for me to write so far! There are a lot of emotions that are getting processed here - The Reader is trying to learn from her mistakes and give Shoto the benefit of the doubt after she assumed that Shoto and Momo were hooking up. But she's jealous that Shoto kissed someone else and she wants to talk about it! Shoto is processing the fact that he didn't want to participate in the game in the first place! It brings out a lot of his insecurities! PLUS he is jealous AF when he sees Honenuki smooch our dear Reader! On top of that...literally everyone is horny in this chapter. Writing the dialogue for the post-kiss discussion between Shoto and the Reader this was TOUGH!

Also I'm getting way too precious with this story and trying to make it something that satisfies everyone/avoids plot holes. I think I will need to be a little less strict with myself about the plot here to keep things fun and keep updates going regularly. This story is pushing me a lot as a writer and I'm excited about that! But TBH I'm also just here to have some smutty literary fun. This is my first long form fic so I'm gonna try to give myself some more grace as I write.

Anyway...that's all for now folks! I hope you have a lovely New Year! I can't wait to see all the good things that 2025 has in store for all of us! <3

XOXO,

Red Riot Unbreakable Heart ❤️

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❄️🔥THE ICYTHOTS🔥❄️

Want to join or be removed from the tag list - let me know! Once again, this is an ADULT ONLY blog. The IcyThot club is exclusively dedicated to the Shoto's First Kiss series and will only include A18+. Do not request to be added unless you are over 18. If your blog is ageless/your age isn't listed in the bio you cannot be an IcyThot member! I'm also adding the "sexual content" label/tags.

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