#but something within me needed to get this out of my system

[minh907]

Lost Spirit.

Sung Jinwoo x Ghost Reader

« Chapter 7 ✭Chapter 8

__________________

"Where are we?"

"It doesn't look like a dungeon at all?"

"The Gate is gone!"

The Hunters looked around and couldn't help but panic. Jinwoo examined the area by squinting his eyes as he remained composed.

'I don't feel anything suspicious...'

Thanks to the system, at least in this situation, Jinwoo was able to maintain his usual concentration. The first thing he analyzed were the trees. The giant green pine tree, which didn't exist in Korea, was reaching up as if it wanted to touch the sky, covering the landscape. The treetops were covered with a thick layer of snow.

Jinwoo looked down and met the eyes of the A-rank Hunter. He was also wary and observing the surroundings.

'...'

'...'

The two exchanged glances until they turned their faces simultaneously. You stood next to Jinwoo while you automatically held onto his shirt and observed the surrounding area with anxiety.

Red Gate.

So by chance, everyone was pulled into a red gate, or rather, another world, from which there was no way to return without defeating the boss.

Even though you couldn't feel the temperature around you right now, you couldn't help but shiver. In your hazy memories, a part of you could still remember and sense the danger of this situation, that it was very possible that everyone would be stuck here for a long time, or worse, killed.

A frown crossed your face as you held Jinwoo's shirt with a firm grip. Jinwoo noticed your discomfort so he took your hand while sending a reassuring look through his eyes.With him here, everything would be fine.

This worked, you relaxed a little more. More than anyone, you knew and saw that Jinwoo's power was stronger than anyone else's, and he was becoming more and more powerful.

Oh, and why you are in a Red Gate?

We need to return to several days back.

_________________

"I would like to request a favor from you if it's acceptable."

Jinwoo nodded. "If it's within my ability!"

At the very least, Jinwoo would try to hear what it was. He didn't refuse right away. First, he didn't know what it was, and second, he felt that she was a very enthusiastic person.

The teacher quickly spoke as if she was afraid that Jinwoo would change his mind.

"A female student here has just gone through an awakening phase. And she's planning to drop out of school to become a hunter. She hasn't come to class for a while now..."

You frowned.

That was quite common. Some people, after awakening and receiving their abilities, quickly threw themselves into the Hunter profession. Even though they didn't know what the job required or what it would achieve, they were still proud that they had become different from ordinary people. Achieving the hunter title and easily making money had blinded many people.

"If this continues, the school has no choice but to take strong action. I don't want that to happen. Even if you’re a hunter, I think it's better to have a high school diploma, right?"

Jinwoo nodded in agreement. At the positive response, her face brightened a little. "Can you help me, try to convince her, at least get a diploma?"

_____

You and Jinwoo leave the teacher's office.

"What is everyone in the world thinking now? Dropping out of school to become a hunter? How reckless, how stupid."

You complained.

Jinwoo just chuckled lightly at your annoyed attitude. He calmly replied, "Everyone has their own reasons. Besides, Songyi is still very young, she doesn't know what she's facing."

You pouted. "There's no need to be so reckless! She was just awaken, her rank is low... And she hasn't even graduated from high school yet."

Your voice carried a hint of reproach, as if you were the one whose best friend suddenly dropped out of school. Jinwoo glanced at you, his deep eyes seemed to be pondering something.

The sound of your footsteps blended into the stream of students leaving school in front of the school gate. You unconsciously stepped closer to Jinwoo, snuggling up to him to avoid the sudden cold wind.

Jinwoo silently shielded you, not saying anything more.

The two of them arrived in front of Han Songyi's house, a troublesome girl that he had to convince.

'People like that will die first in the Dungeon...'

Jinwoo had experienced it himself, so he understood it very well. The thin line between life and death that an E-rank Hunter always encounters. If it weren't for his mother's terminal illness, he would never have set foot on this path. For an E-rank Hunter, the Dungeon was too dangerous. The situation would become irreversible if he delayed his action because she would definitely end up with regrets.

'That happens pretty often.'

Every day, dozens of Hunters in the world lost their lives. Jinwoo didn't care, nor did he have the right to care about their lives. Simply put, those were their decisions.

'However...'

This person was no stranger. If the teacher didn't give her name, even if she was Jinah's classmate, he would still refuse. But, she was someone Jinwoo had met before, there was no way they could have the same name.

"Uncle, why are you here?"

As expected, the girl recognized him.

A high school girl who wanted to become a Hunter. The only female member of the Yoo Jinho raid party. After all, his relationship with her had been established before the teacher proposed it.

'Han Songyi!'

Hearing the name spoken by the homeroom teacher, Jinwoo knew who it was without even looking at the file. The day she left school was the day he started raiding with Jinho. When he realized this, even though he knew it wasn't true, Jinwoo still thought it was partly his own fault. Because those were extremely unreasonable raids, it couldn't be used as a measure of a Hunter's income. In just one week, a high school hunter had earned 30 million, it was unimaginable.

'But one thing is certain.'

In the future, if he heard that the girl died in the Dungeon, it would prick his conscience. A thorn in his heart that could not be erased. That was why, today, Jinwoo decided to persuade Songyi, not to let things go any further.

Han Songyi stared at Jinwoo with wide eyes. She hesitated for a moment.

"So the Hunter that the teacher wanted to introduce to you is an uncle?"

You started laughing because Jinwoo appeared annoyed by the uncle title yet he managed to force a smile.

"I don't what the teacher told you and I won't return to school. I won't give up on being a Hunter!"

The girl firmly cut everything off before Jinwoo could say or do anything. When she was raiding, she was quite quiet, but when it came to the future, she was a decisive person. Kids these days really grow up fast.

'It's like some little girl living at home with me...'

He said calmly.

"I don't intend to make you give up being a Hunter either..."

Songyi reacted with stunned disbelief after hearing the news. "Really?"

"Jinwoo?" You were surprised, too.

He looked at you with a reassuring gaze. Jinwoo knew very well that telling a child not to do something was the best way to make them do it. From the beginning, he had no plans to persuade them with words. Reality was a thousand times better than talking.

"Then, why are you here?"

Jiwoo stepped forward. The little girl stepped back in surprise but still didn't flinch. Looking at Songyi, Jinwoo smiled. He didn't mean anything by it, but it was a rather 'sly' smile, with a hidden evil nature.

"I want to train you to be a top hunter!"

No need for any more convincing. The vision Jinwoo had drawn of the Baekho Guild's rookie training course made her unable to hold back any longer. She eagerly followed Jinwoo without any doubts.

_________________________

And that's why you all are here.

Han Songyi hurriedly approached and pulled your shirt.

"Excuse me, but something's wrong, right?"

Before you could reply, Jinwoo spoke. "We're in a Red Gate. That means until we're all dead, or the Dungeon explodes, no one will come to us."

Her eyes were filled with fear. The confident appearance before entering had completely disappeared. You looked at her, it was terrible that Songyi was caught in this, after all, she was only 16 years old. Suddenly, a sense of danger came over you, making your heart stop. Unconsciously, you quickly waved your hand in front of Songyi.

Her eyes widened.

Whoosh!

The arrow that was caught was still swaying in your hand. It seemed like it was still angry because it missed its target. It was right in the middle of Songyi's forehead. Then it crumbles to dust, your hands are completely fine.

"Ah... ah..."

As if she had just realized what had happened, Songyi's face turned pale. But she couldn't say anything. Screams came from the remaining Hunters.

"Kiyaaaaaah!"

"U-uwaak!"

Thud!

Blood leaked from the unfortunate Hunter's mouth. He fell to the ground with the arrow aimed straight at his forehead. The crimson blood spread evenly on the white snow. The remaining Hunters groaned in fear. Two arrows flew towards them at the same time. And like the other victim, they didn't see the arrow you caught.

Immediately, Jinwoo stood in front of you and Songyi.

Kim Chul pushed away a person who was approaching.

"You, you, you and you!"

Apart from the man just now, Kim Cheol pointed at a few more people, including you, Jinwoo and Songyi. Jinwoo's eyes twitched. He realized Kim Chul's intention. The muscular man pointed at five people. Five C-rank Hunters and below.

"Unfortunately, I can't take you guys with me. A day in here is only an hour outside. Worst case, it will take months until I take down the Boss. Babysitting does not suit my natural abilities."

Your expression showed disapproval while you crossed your arms in front of you. 'How arrogant. How presumptuous."

The hunters who were eliminated by Kim Chul tried to protest. But Kim Cheol's glance silenced them all. With false kindness, he continued.

"It's not too bad. You just have to survive until I take down the boss of this place."

The Hunters were looking at Kim Chul's team with pleading eyes, but in vain. All of them ignored them, except for one person.

"Excuse me!"

A female B-rank Hunter in Kim Chul's team raised her hand. When Kim Chul turned around, she gestured towards Jinwoo."Can I go to that team?"

"If you want!"

Without hesitation, she walked straight towards Jinwoo. Kim Chul was quite surprised by this situation. He looked towards the female Hunter and Jinwoo, but quickly snorted and said loudly. "Well, it seems like there's still a vacant position, I'll recruit another member..."

"I... it's me..."

The man who was pushed down earlier, he hurriedly ran over. It seemed like everything was already arranged. Jinwoo clicked his tongue.'This woman, she's strange...'

Jinwoo studied her face with a mixture of curiosity and caution. She quietly approached Jinwoo to speak directly in his ear so he could hear her words alone. Your discomfort grew as she approached Jinwoo because their proximity made you frown.

"Kim Chul, he didn't see the arrow coming!"

"So what?"

She smiled. "You're not an E-rank, right?"

________

Jinwoo's group moved towards the forest. As soon as he saw them disappear into the bushes, Kim Chul laughed loudly. It seemed like he had stopped laughing for now.

"Fools"

"Huh?"

"Look over there."

Kim waved his arm and pointed at the trees in the forest. It wasn't just a few trees. That direction was filled with scratches, made by giant beasts.

"Ice bears!"

Bears were especially dangerous among beasts! The scratches on the trees were how they marked their territory. The Hunters in Kim Chul's group clicked their tongues.

"I'd rather wait here."

"That E-rank guy will lead the group to their deaths."

"What the hell does an E-rank know?"

Kim Chol looked at the forest. "That's right. What the hell does an E-rank know..."

Wait. Suddenly, Kim's smile disappeared. 'There are two C-rank Hunters in that team, and even one B-rank Hunter.'

But why did he think Jinwoo was the captain? He still didn't understand why. 'Well, whatever.'

They'll die soon. Kim shifted his attention to his responsibilities while dismissing those weak individuals. Living requires hard work to discover survival methods because death comes easily. Kim Chul turned towards the road and spoke with authority.

"Let's go."

___________

Jinwoo was leading the way. You walked side by side with him, and Songyi was still holding onto your sleeve, wary. However, Park Hee-jin had already run up in front and blocked your path.

"Are you crazy?"

You crossed your arms, not hiding your annoyance. "Watch your words."

Park Hee-jin softened her tone after seeing your expression. "There is something important I must share with you." Hee-jin's fingers pointed at a nearby tree. "Do you see that?"

A large claw mark on the trunk. All the trees around them were severely damaged, to the point that it was hard to find an intact one

"That's how bears mark their territory! This entire forest is the Snow Bear's territory!"

In the animal world, a dog or a monkey is weaker than a tiger or a lion. The same is true for the magical beast world. A tiger or a lion is much harder to deal with than a dog or a monkey.

And what about bears? They are definitely strong, especially when they take the form of a white bear - one of the strongest carnivores. Now Jinwoo's group has set foot in the territory of those terrible beasts.

That's why Park Hee-jin is furious. "We have to go back now! Before the bears come!"

Jinwoo clicked his tongue. Hee-jin thought he would make one of three expressions: angry, surprised, or dumbfounded. But contrary to her expectations, he looked at her with pity. Park Hee-jin's face turned red with embarrassment.

"W-what?" She raised her voice again.

He sighed and opened his mouth. "It's hard to find an intact tree, which means there's more than just one or two ice bears, right?"

"Yes, so we have to go back soon..."

"That's why we moved into the forest."

Hee-jin looked at him with wide eyes.

'She still doesn't understand?' You pouted. Strange, why do you feel angry at this person?

"When we're in the forest, we only have to be wary of bears."

Hee-jin finally realized what Jinwoo wanted to say. If the forest was the territory of the snow bears, then there was nothing that threatened the bears. The system protected them from the appearance of more powerful beasts.

'I should have considered that earlier...'

Hee-jin felt ashamed about her loud outburst directed at Jinwoo. Her face was red all the way to her neck, and she didn't dare to look up.

You clicked your tongue, and Jinwoo looked over at you. He wondered why you were more upset than everyone else. Then he saw that everyone was shivering. Maybe it was because you were cold?

Sighing, Jinwoo called the store and searched through the list of available items. He picked out a thick down jacket and winter boots. He gently put the jacket on you, and making sure you were warm enough, he pulled you closer to him. You blushed.

And so as not to discriminate, he also gave the jackets to the others. Everyone's eyes widened in surprise.

"Space magic!!?" Hee-jin was surprised and raised her head.

Ignoring their expressions, Jinwoo said calmly. "Each of you choose one." The man reached for his coat while continuing his speech. A sudden force pulled at his hand.

Jinwoo rotated his head to spot Han Songyi. She tried to avoid his gaze and stammered, "Uncle, what are you?"

You stealthily removed her hand from Jinwoo's.

Jinwoo frowned. The stream of questions showed no sign of stopping which would give him a headache. "We need to reach an agreement."

Jinwoo said sternly. "I bring you here, so it's my responsibility to protect you. But..."

Jinwoo lowered his voice. "Don't ask me anything." Jinwoo looked up, looking at Hee-jin and the other hunters. "You too. Don't ask me anything, and don't ask for anything."

And he continued. "If you don't agree, just leave. I don't forbid it."

"What's about her?" A hunter pointed at you, who was still daydreaming about Jinwoo's gentle actions just now. Seeing yourself mentioned, you raised your head in question.

Jinwoo looked at you for a moment, then said. "This person is an exception, she's my partner. Of course, you don't have the right to ask her anything either. Otherwise, then leave the team yourself."

______

Screams echoed throughout the forest.

"Oh my god!"

"Ice bear!"

You froze, looking at the giant monster in horror - a white snow bear twice the size of a polar bear, its chest glowing with magical marks.

"Gwahhhh!!!"

The bear roared, the heavy sound making the air tremble. The Hunters were almost frozen in place, except for Jinwoo. Beside him, you unconsciously clung to his shirt tighter. Park Hee-jin ran up in panic.

"I'll attract it, everyone hurry-!"

Before she could do anything, she was pulled back decisively by Jinwoo. He said coldly. "These magical beasts, leave it to me."

You saw his eyes clearly, strangely calm, as if life and death were nothing. Not paying attention to the shouts of resistance behind him, Jinwoo walked straight in front of the ice bear. Jinwoo briefly turned his head towards you while you held your breath from fear before he tried to comfort you with eye signals. "Don't be afraid."

You pursed your lips, nodding slightly, though your heart was still churning with unease. The bear swung its huge claws like a white storm.

Woosh.

But Jinwoo disappeared from its reach in the blink of an eye.

Immediately after, BAM!

A decisive punch landed squarely on the ice bear's head, sending it crashing to the ground, blood staining the snow.

[Level up!]

The announcement rang out in Jinwoo's head, while you and the other Hunters could only stand there, speechless. Park Hee-jin stood frozen as she asked "You...what the hell are you?"

Jinwoo checked on you before he turned around to scratch his head in a lazy manner while saying "I told you. Don't ask anything. If you don't like it, go back."

But Park Hee-jin, after a moment of shock, immediately bowed her head deeply. "Please lead us! We will follow you!"

The other hunters also nodded vigorously.

You looked up, meeting Jinwoo's gaze, which, compared to when you were facing the monster, was much gentler. He gently lifted his hand, gently brushing the stray snowflakes that had just fallen into your hair. "Let's go."

His voice stayed steady but his eyes showed a soft warmth that existed only for you and could be felt only by you. Your belief in safety rested on staying near Jinwoo because his presence shielded you from both the frigid conditions and potential threats.

________________________

To be continue.

_________________________

Chapter 9 »

________________________

tag: @weaponxgames @sky2lar @snowy-violet @joannthebish @fackeraccount @tanspostsblog @perkypeony @ssolarsystm @winter-soldier-101 @soft-dots @snowlycanroc @sweetchimpeaches @daiyanomochi @sabrina-senpai

(let me know if I forget to tag anyone)

and special thanks to @delusionillusion3322 and @o-qi-shisme who have supported and motivated me a lot while making this serie.

Love you all! ❤

[hollowed-theory-hall]

hi! so i read your post on percy as the minister of magic and i definitely understand your point of view. i'm curious who you think would be a good minister of magic?

(Referring to this post about Percy as the minister)

The honest answer, I don't think any of them is an ideal minister. At least, not anyone I could think of. If you can take the Golden Trio and make them a minister together like some Roman Trimuvirate, we have something we could work with:

Like, Harry got the charisma, the fame, he draws attention and would be brilliant at telling people to shut the fuck up in the sassiest way possible. When tough things happen, and things get stressful, Harry keeps his calm and keep them moving forward. Plus, he has great instincts.

The thing is, Harry doesn't really care about the bigger system or politics at all. He'd find Wizengamot frustrating and dull, and wouldn't want anything to do with them unless he felt responsible to put in the effort (which he would if he were put in the position). But, like, it won't be something he wants to do. He doesn't have a passion for it.

Ron is more realistic and strategic and is best at looking at the wider situation and its consequences. He is also the most connected with the Wizarding World itself and the culture there. He is the trio's insider, who knows the culture like a native. He is more concerned with the system at large than Harry. He isn't a great liar, but he is strategic and can stay calm under pressure. And Ron post-war is more charismatic than we give him credit for, I think. (And he's the most hinged, emotionally balanced member of the trio, which is very important when dealing with other important people you want to cooperate with you). And, yes, he's lazy about school work, but when he needs to research something, all three of the Golden Trio sit their asses in the library and research when they need to. Hermione just enjoys it.

And Hermione is brilliant at research and bureaucracy. She can get things done, and Ron and Harry would mitigate her idealism. Hermione is very "my way or the highway" and can cause people who agree with her to not want her in charge. While something needs to be done regarding the house elves, her approach ends up offending the house elves she is trying to help instead of getting them to support her (which I think is possible with the right approach). What I'm saying is Hermione is not that subtle or that good of a liar and would struggle navigating the less obvious sides of politics, especially if she'd need to think fast. Hermione is good when she has time to plan, not so much when she is panicking and needs to think on her feet (that's when Harry's in his element).

But, basically, Hermione would get things done, Harry would lead people, and Ron would mitigate both of them, remind them of the reality they live in, and make the whole dynamic work. So, the golden trio together, as a unit, would be a pretty good option (from the ones we have).

Though, writing all the above made me think that Ron, as minister with Hermione helping him out with research and such, and Harry backing him, is slept on in this fandom. I think it could work. (Plus, he'd want it more than Harry would be happy without more attention)

I think Kingsley isn't a bad choice for a minister. I think he would do an alright job, all in all. He's realistic, cool under pressure, charismatic, and knows how to work within the limits of the ministry well. My only problem with him as minister would be that he'd stick pretty closely to the existing ministry's status quo. He does remove the dementors from Azkaban and probably improves the state of muggleborns, but, unfortunately, the wizarding world needs more than that. (Not to mention the anti-Slytherin sentiment that seems to be present in the epilogue spells another dark lord in the near future)

Amelia Bones would probably be pretty similar to Kingsley as a Minister of Magic, tbh. She'd just, realistic, cool under pressure, but probably not see the deeper problems in the very system she works in.

Couldn't really think of anyone else when writing this, but if you think I forgot someone obvious, tell me.

[talenlee]

M.O.S.H.A

In your world, how can magic go wrong?

Magic is really powerful. Worlds with magic tend to treat it as fundamental to how the world works, it tends to lead to big societal change, and it’s generally, something you put in a story because you give a crap about it. Unless you’re me. But the point of magic system is that they impose themselves on the world, and they change the world. Anything in the world, as you may notice, impacts the world and has by necessity, ways to fail.

Like, bricks are pretty well known and there are still ways that we have rules for handling them in the case of causing dangerous problems. What kinds of things in your universe keep magic from going wrong? And if they’re not there, can magic go wrong?

Noob Trap

In The Belgariad, middling fantasy author and serial child abuser David Eddings describes the idea of the Will and the Word, where a sorcerer can do anything, by shaping their ‘will’ (which is a wonderfully abstracted thing, impossible to meaningfully describe) and uttering a word to give that intention shape. A sorcerer can do anything they imagine in the dreadful world of The Belgariad but there’s one thing they can’t ever truly do: They can’t unmake anything. If they tell anything to un-be, the universe snaps back and they stop existing themselves.

Now, the idea of making something disappear versus turning something into air, that’s a distinction without much difference. The sorcerer who learns that trick suddenly learns that hey, they don’t have to worry about this one potential backfire, because it’s meaningless.

Basically, your magic system might only ever mess up in a way that kills new practitioners who don’t know what they’re doing, concentrating magical power in a larger body of the older folks who got lucky enough to have a mentor or not kill themselves trying anything weird.

Education is the Regulations

Many magic systems that rely on representing colleges or universities (like my own, in Cobrin’Seil) treat the process of learning magic as not being so much as about getting the first spell to work but to make sure the second or third spell don’t blow your hand off. In the context of magic of this type there’s a reference to the idea that there are predictable behaviours, and, as a system that people interact with through thought and intonation and maybe some speckles of fluid or dust, there’s a meaningful problem with attenuation. Basically, if your input is infinitely malleable, your output can be incredibly flexible and if some of your outputs can be, say, explosions then you’re going to be much more interested in making sure those inputs are within reasonable safety means.

This is similar to the ‘noob trap’ situation, but instead of ‘if you learn this one thing you can do dangerous stuff all you want,’ but instead ‘every successful stage of safety you learn opens up near forms of potentially dangerous stuff you can do.’ I particularly like this model (but I would, wouldn’t I), because of how it shows the value of education and infrastructural practice.

Which again: I would, wouldn’t I.

Privileged Administration

You could have magic’s backfires and misapplications being handled by a central authority. Throw magic around in a city and the authorities come along and beat the snot out of you. Of course, if you’re talking about having magic, you can probably use that to harm conventional authorities. In order to properly escalate and respond to magic, then, you need a magical enforcement methods.

This is what Baldur’s Gate 2 calls the ‘Cowled Wizards’ model and it works great if you want a large institutional powerbase your characters can struggle with and which will inevitably be corrupted and exploited by bad actors, as if all power systems of this like have some degree of inevitable corruptibility as they cede sense in the name of maintaining and prolonging their own power like the Catholic Church. Wait we got a bit Brothers Karamazov there. Point is, that this is just cops, but magic, and that works great for all the things you need cops to do, including killing people without any kind of cultural moral reprimand.

Magic Is Inherent and Too Specific

Sometimes a magic system is kept from failures by being isolated to individuals, expressed by the inherent talent for magic that is unlocked often by some kind of traumatising experience, and then after that point, people explore that power. This is a system that expresses magic as a sort of single, specific power tha an individual has and which they have to learn about on their own, or maybe through the benefit of learning a system of magic that other people have in common.

I don’t like this kind of system, because I don’t like when magic is a special gift bequeathed on a minority through accidents of birth. That tends to get you towards the eugenics of the X-Men (but y’know, the X-Men are at least in a universe with eugenics as an established idea where there are people who make meaningful arguments against such things). Inherent, inborn magic and special abilities can work great for controlling the way it changes the world, but it comes along with two questions:

What the fuck is happening

Why haven’t people dedicated their effort to explaining this most important thing in the world?

You see this kind of magic system a lot in some really hack stuff. The only example I can bring to mind that’s worth mentioning here is Twilight but know I also was thinking of some other stuff you might think about but I try not to mention on this blog. But let’s pretend I know enough about Brandon Sanderson to say, yeah, that happens in his work, sure.

Conclusion

One of my favourite things about magic systems is the ways they betray authors not thinking about them out of the immediate experience of the protagonists. I know this is a funny thing because I think I did it in one of my stories and I think in hindsight while I thought about the magic in that world quite a bit, I didn’t do a very good job or present something that was that interesting once you got past the idea that ‘crabs had magic, and humans didn’t.’

But if you’re talking about fantasy cities where people can buy magical scrolls or wands, if you’re talking about a place with magical colleges and magical songs, then you’re going to want to think about them a step further: what’s to stop massive damage to the world and the people using it?

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[skyrim-forever]

Since it's a travesty that no one asked the Ondolemar girl about him, this is your time to shine. Ondolemar for the ask game.

Go ham👊👊

Omg thank you so much!!! Somehow when looking at the other asks I did not see this one <3 YIPEEEEEEEEEEEE I GET TO TALK ABOUT THE LOSER

Why I like them: I'll try to keep this brief but the big one is that he is a very interesting minor character. He's in the Thalmor but he asks you for help, will stick his neck out for you in the Embassy, hit you with THE LINE. He's got just enough going on to make the headcanons go wild, peak blorbo material. Also I think Altmer men are so fine, the robes are sexy, we love a man in uniform <3 He's got a lot of themes I like exploring like religion, duty, etc.

Why I don’t: Fascism bad, but with fanfic I can drag him through the mud into unlearning that

Favorite episode (scene if movie): In my game when he stopped wearing boots and was dawgs out at the Embassy, so unprofessional :P

Favorite season/movie: When he's eating bread from 12am-6am :)

Favorite line: *vibrating at a frequency that could break glass* There are so few pleasures in life as fine as your company ;)

Favorite outfit: He would look good in anything, I like being able to play dress up with him post-Thalmor in the Theomar timeline. I like him best in blue <3

OTP: Theodora/Ondolemar aka Theomar of course <3

Brotp: Ondolemar/Morotar @theoneandonlysemla's Thalmor oc who is emotionally repressed, masculine, and definitely not trying to outrun gay thoughts :P They could play gay chicken and Morotar would run away :P

Head Canon: I have a billion but one of my favs is making him have father issues and exploring the issue of family legacy within 4E Altmer society. This is a big part of why he enlisted with the Dominion in my stories.

Unpopular opinion: I like Ondolemar so that's already a bit unpopular but an unpopular opinion I have that is Thalmor related is I don't want TES VI to heavily focus on another war with the Dominion. Mostly because the Skyrim Civil War is already something I didn't really enjoy so having another game with heavy war would be a bit of a waste to me. i know a lot of people want it so they can have revenge but there's so much else to explore in Tamriel.

A wish: He had another quest, just a lil something else <3 I don't need him to be marriagable in the current system because I don't want him to become bland, and it wouldn't really make sense unless he defects to marry a non-Altmer player. But like also you can kill the Emperor and nothing changes so...

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: I had a daydream that there was a Skyrim tv show and he was in it briefly and I hated it because it was live action and they just made the elves LOTR style. Do not want him to become Tolkien-ified Also don't give him hair, let him be bald and beautiful <3 So many other elves have beautiful hair, let him break beauty norms :P

5 words to best describe them: loser, sexy, bald, egotistical, handsome

My nickname for them: pookie, Thalmor Ken (to Theo's Imperial Barbie), Mr. Enemy of the State, Baldmer, lover boy war criminal, Theodora's husband, Some Guy™, Employee of the Month, Fixer-Upper

[huntrcssqueen]

It wasn't like eating in silence was awkward in any way, in fact it wasn't. Food seemed important to the both of them and really it was. He needed nutrients in his system so that he could go about having a good game or practice. Enough energy that he wouldn't be tired or just moving based off of adrenaline. ❝ That sounds perfect. I mean I'm all about a classic chocolate chip cookie. ❞ It was the type of cookie he was sure he could never grow tired of. Especially if they had that soft gooey center. She was right, they knew how this was going to end, how it was to start. They were to date for a couple of months, be so in love that he asks her to marry him and they throw a wedding within around a year span. After awhile they could get divorced and go their separate ways for their careers. Making him look like a better guy and giving her more fame and having people interested in hiring her. ❝ I like to think we are, I mean... I'm not counting the minutes for this to be over which is a good sign. ❞ He smiled as his eyes looked up at her. ❝ A bunch of pillows? Awe we talking like two or something like eight. ❞ He joked with a small laugh, he slept anywhere between one and two pillows. Hotels he usually slept with two because of how flat they were. ❝ I know, or at least I liked to think I knew so it's nice to hear. A joint account that we both pay into would be nice, makes it easy to put money into and spend on what we need to. ❞ One day she would make more money than him if she wasn't already. He was lucky to be making a mill and only hoped that it would go up from here with his career before he had to call it quits. Holding onto her hand when she took his, there was a real smile on his lips, one that made him actually feel happy looking at her. ❝ We can have two places, it would give me a place to sleep instead of a hotel when in New York at least. Besides... who's to say I might not move teams one day if they decided not to renew my contract or someone else wants to pay it off. ❞ There was a lot behind the scenes that could be done but he knew or at least thought that him and Leia could figure it out and actually be happy in a long relationship.

Ah, it seemed like they had another thing in common. Food was more important than talking. They ate quietly for a bit, enjoying the taste, but also each other's company. At least that was Leia's interpretation. "I'll learn a recipe for your favorite kind and practice until they're perfect, how does that sound?" She asked with a cheeky grin. She'd probably hate it at first but seeing Leo smile was reason enough to try. Maybe she could actually improve with a better taster than the boys in the hockey house. "I think it makes sense, I feel like we're pretty compatible already. Plus, we know how it's going to end so I don't feel nervous about being honest with my feelings, like I normally would. That's kind of nice." She agreed, happily in her own little bubble with him. At some point her water glass was topped up but she never noticed the waiter who did it, too interested in other things. "Good, because I can definitely be picky when it comes to sleeping. I don't like noise and it needs to be dark and I need a bunch of pillows." Would they even want to sleep in the same bed? Was she getting ahead of herself? "I'm not going to just take your money Leo! We need to look at everything together and figure something out. Maybe a joint account we both pay into. Or like, a shared credit card. But your money is your own, I'm not with you for that, real or pretend." At this she was a little more serious, but she needed him to understand. She wasn't a gold-digger and she already cared far too much for him to even think about behaving that way. Besides, if he dreams came to fruition, she'd be making a pretty penny herself. Her hand came back to gently take his, rubbing his thumb briefly. "A house in Ottawa sounds great. I've never been to Canada before. I've only traveled internationally a few times. We might still want a place down here in New York, perhaps an apartment if I book a Broadway show? Or to visit my family from? My mom would want to be involved in her grandkids' lives." That last part was slightly mumbled, her cheeks pink.

[tokkimins]

what a nice looking gentleman. I sure hope he doesn’t eat the souls of the damned.

[doctorweebmd]

ok my OTHER reflection:

on the one hand its really frustrating to see the posts about docs and healthcare in general on here be so narrow-minded. bad experiences with certain providers have lead to a huge spread of misinformation and mistrust with the whole system. which can and HAS lead to people avoiding 'evil' doctors for perfectly treatable illnesses and dying from them (the vaccine bullshit, anyone?)

but on the other hand. it is TERRIFYING how some of these docs practice medicine. at times i think 'are you just burned out and don't give a shit or are you straight up just stupid?' and i work in critical care. where quite literally every case is life or death. even in the academic sector where there is supposedly a standard of excellence, some doctors i would not let touch my loved ones with a ten foot pole.

and that sucks. i know this is the no nuance piss on the poor webbed site but 'the medical system and people that work for it are fallible and aspects of it are morally questionable at best/unethical at worst' AND 'the field of medicine exists to help people first and foremost and mistrusting/avoiding it can be detrimental in the long run' can and DO co-exist

[atopvisenyashill]

do love how this is an asoiaf blog but i did not put either show in my top 10 this is the world we live in

[narugen]

i can’t stop thinking abt mina and her lame ass boyfriend narumi it is SOOOO FUNNY TO ME. hilarious concept. i can’t stop laughing like its just so funny to me. god

[meganegatari]

is this vore? /hj. hi. im gonna squeet. and dunk my head into ice water digital footprint pls forgive me. may have wrote this with one hand IM JOKING. this is just somethin quick because i need to get it out of my system ok.

nsfw drabble—biting sev all over ♡ sub!sevika, edging, fingering (all s! receiving), idk what else girl i can't see straight cuz of her...

and there she lay before you, bare and twitching, in a state she's kept very well hidden from everyone—except you.

her lip tucked under her teeth, head thrown back and half-lidded, blown out eyes lazily following your movements; she was laying sprawled on the mattess. she had tried and failed to hold herself up, both arms trembling under her weight until they eventually gave out.

this was the result of you—oh, how evil you were—edging the poor woman for an eternity. in actuality, you had tortured her to such a point she didn't even have the energy to bark orders at you like she usually does.

all she could do, was whine. whines of your name, wordless huffs and quiet pleas were all she could sound out. and every so often she'd squirm under you and break eye contact when you did something so obscene, even she couldn't handle it.

you wore the most wicked of sneers on your face excitedly, using all your strength to push her thick muscular thighs outward, until you gazed upon a sight worth winning wars for.

the torture you faced her with had her pussy throbbing. no, that was an understatement. you could see every individual muscle controlling her shiny lips jump at the cool air, you could see the way her clit was nearly whispering for you to touch it, and not to mention the pooling of pearlescent slick dribbling out of her pulsating hole, making a literal puddle under her ass.

now this? this was a never going to get old. you'd plaster the image of her fucked-out self on every surface, take a polaroid and carry it around with you. you were salivating. drool was almost running down your chin at the sight.

but alas, your blissful trance was cut short, by none other than her gruff voice.

"hey. you gonna stare or am i gonna have to finish this myself?" her voice shook, then her eyes darkened and she spat, "you'd like watching that though, wouldn't you. fuckin'—holy-!!"

you didn't give her the time of day to listen to her bitching about, and you cut her off by lunging forward and sinking your teeth into the soft flesh of her right inner thigh.

her shocked intake of air quickly turned into a pornographic moan, her back arching, her breathing quickening, and her thighs fighting to close around your head.

you knew that was her weakness. your teeth in her skin? pff she was a goner. you used that to your advantage as much as you could, she deserved earth shattering orgasms just as much as the next gal.

her noises were bordering on a shriek as soon as you circled her hole with a digit, grinning into her skin at the way she was sucking you in, legitimately trapping your finger inside her.

you felt the flutters of an impending orgasm tickle your immobilized finger, and with great effort you removed your mouth from her thigh and pulled your finger out.

the look on her face when you did that felt sharper than if she had stabbed a spear right through your heart. when sevika gives one of her famed death glares, the word stops spinning. but you being you, it just spurs you on more.

before she can protest you migrate up and place gentle kisses on the side of her neck, right on her pulse point, as a soothing motion before you did what you really wanted.

you sank your teeth in her flesh as hard as your jaw allowed you to, the tangy taste of her blood invading your mouth.

simultaneously, you brought your hand back down to her neglected pussy, pushed your thumb up against her thumping clit, and slid your two middle digits inside her—within moments finding her spongy sweet spot.

the cries of pleasure were stuck in her throat, and you couldn't see from what you were doing, but you'd bet your entire life's savings that her eyes were rolled so far back in her skull only the whites would be visible.

your fingers were working hard, all in harmony to bring her to that peak she so craved, and luckily it hit her after no time at all.

her whole being tensed, a low groan reverberated through the room as one of her hands flew to grab a chunk of your hair, further pushing your body flush against hers. you didn't move your mouth, it was suctioned against her in such a way that was guaranteed to leave a nasty bruise on her skin the next day, but she loved it. you did as well.

you felt a gush of warm fluid on your palm, and chuckled into her skin while she shook all over, needy, animalistic noises being all she could produce.

you put in the work and made sure she was utterly spent, then lifted yourself off of her to enjoy the look on her face. she looked so at peace, so satisfied and ethereal, you adored her more than words could ever say.

and likewise, she did you. she cracked open one eye and smiled widely, opening her arms and beckoning for you to lay back on top of her in an embrace.

naturally, you did just that. eagerly burying your face in the crook of your neck, you kissed over the bite mark you left, ran your tongue over the indents in her skin and reveled in the little whimpers she made.

she always had more flesh you could lovingly bite, why stop at just one square inch?

sev taglist (not tagging everyone still cuz YALL SIGNED UP FOR TLOU AND IM A PEOPLE PLEASERRRR SORRY): @fizyypopp @luvssliyahh @wizard-pdf @dearangxl @melsmunch

[reiderwriter]

✍️ Dear Diary ✍️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge

Requested: Hi thereee! I was thinking about a request since I saw they’re open again… I was thinking maybe Con-non con breeding/cream pie?🤭 maybe somnophilia too. S get home en R is sleeping and he just take what he wants but it’s obviously something mutual.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI Dubcon/ CNC, somnophilia, breeding, pet play (kitten/owner), daddy kink, unprotected sex, almost one bed trope, oral (m recieving), Perv!Spencer, dom!Spencer, sub!Reader and just incredibly horny Reader and Spencer.

Summary: Spencer comes across your dream journal and finds out that you're not plagued with nightmares but with wet dreams. And they're all about him.

A/N: Thank you to @reidmotif, who basically told me the entire concept of this fic was forcing Spencer to read smut headcannons about himself and watching the reactions. I think this is the quickest I've ever written something from start to finish 💀

Masterlist || Bingo Board

Spencer didn't know what possessed him to read through your diary, but he couldn't stop when he started. At a single glance, he could tell it wasn't the book that he was looking for, the one you'd sent him to find in your bedroom, the one you'd recommended he read. 

That one was beside it on the side table, but there was something about the black moleskin, laid perfectly flat on the desk, that had his fingers itching as he moved it forward. 

You were otherwise occupied with setting out the plates of takeaway you'd ordered for the six people currently sat in your living room, so knowing his company wouldn't be missed for a few minutes, he sat himself down and began reading. 

Within ten pages, he completely regretted it. 

He'd sussed out by the title page that this wasn't just a normal journal but a dream journal. It was heavily recommended in a lot of the mandated therapy sessions you guys did. Hell, even Hotch had suggested it to him a few times, so he shouldn't be surprised you kept one. 

He was just surprised at the content of your dreams.

He knew his own were dark and painful, and he was curious, thinking that knowing your dreams could help him assist you better through whatever was plaguing you recently. 

In ten pages, he'd managed to suss out that it was him that was plaguing you. 

“May 8th - Woke up hot again. Dreamt of Spencer waking me up with his tongue. Need to get this out of my system.” 

“May 10th - On my back tied to the bed. Spencer again. I'm going to hell.” 

“May 22nd - Kitten ears. And Spencer's cum splashing on my face as a wake up call. I'm a freak!” 

Each entry was similar, and he read on page after page, until he felt his cock stiffening and he had to put the book down and remind himself that there was company just a few doors away. Company that included his friends and a woman who'd been dreaming of fucking him every night for… three months now. 

He took a deep breath. He took a lot of deep breaths, forcing himself to think of the most unappealing things ever as he calmed himself down. 

A voice down the hall called his name, and he dropped the journal like a scalding pot and picked up the other book, opening it to a random page and trying to look convincingly entranced. 

“Spencer, what-?” You asked, seeing him sat on your bed reading the book. He thanked the heavens that the book was a hardback and just big enough to hide the remaining stiffness in his pants while he tried to will it to deflate. 

“Oh, good book, right? I should've known you'd start reading it straight away. Just take it home, Spencer.”

“No, no, it's okay, I don't need-” 

“No, it's fine. You can give it back at the Stanford Review Psychology Seminar next weekend. We're rooming still, right?” 

He took in what felt like a gulp of air, forcing the oxygen down into his lungs as his tongue laid as useless in his mouth as his cock felt in his pants.

“Right.” He managed to get out as you told him to haul his ass back to the living area. 

He took up your journal again, though, and for the next few minutes, committed your diary to memory and left the room. 

“Spencer, come on, kid, what book is as interesting as Wrestlemania?” Morgan said, clapping him on the back as he ripped through a slice of pizza. 

One where the author said she'd woken up mid-orgasm just imagining he'd tied her down. And him specifically.

“Leave the kid alone, you know he's prone to his little fantasies,” Rossi chimed in as well, passing Spencer a beer quickly and cracking one open for himself.

Not the most prone person in the room to fantasies, of course, but possibly the second most prone. 

“Shut up and watch the game, you're making him squirm,” you said from your perch behind his seat on the couch, giving him a quick pat on the shoulders, your fingers lingering just too long. 

And with the word squirm went his whole concentration as he started imagining your small mews and purrs of pleasure, your sleepy face dazed as his fingers roughly curled into your cunt. You'd squirm for him, and you'd do a whole lot more than that. 

The rest of the night tortured him the same way, though thankfully he'd managed to find a pillow to cover up his small - though growing ever harder - issue. At last, he was the last one left in your apartment, the others letting themselves out after you'd crashed on your own sofa just inches from him. 

To be fair, they'd pulled off the herculean task of cleaning up after themselves without waking you, despite your notoriety for sleeping light. 

He'd waved off the others and said he'd get you back into bed, protests quickly falling on deaf ears. Yes, Morgan may have been the better choice to carry your dead-tired weight, but he was also five beers in and just as likely to slam you into the bed a la whatever wrestlers Spencer had been ignoring on the screen all night. 

He'd gotten himself mostly under control anyway, so he'd been able to rush them out of the door, drunk or senile, and managed to turn himself back to you. 

You were curled up in a little ball, like a cat who'd found the perfect cardboard box to sit in. You filled the space and looked comfortable, but he knew you'd be sore in the morning. Either that, or your words had driven him to the brink of insanity and he just wanted his hands on you for once.

He didn't bother trying to fully lift you, knowing you'd definitely freak out and wake up if he tried. 

Instead, he started talking to you in your sleep. 

“Y/N… let's go to bed,” he whispered, pulling your arms limply around his neck as he tugged you upwards with two hands firmly on your hips until you were standing. 

You let out a small whimper of protest, head falling forward to nuzzle into his chest as he started slowly walking you back to your bed. It was a technique he'd used on you more than once, getting you to comply when half asleep on multiple occasions to assist you when drunk or exhausted or both. 

With the revelations of your diary, he thought about talking you into even more in your sleepy state but resisted. 

“Spencer…” you mumbled, gripping him loosely and pressing kisses against his shirt and chest, lazily. 

He had to remind himself you were still asleep, even if you were moving and talking. Asleep, even if you had wanted him to wake you up with a cock in your cunt. Asleep, and not his girlfriend, or lover, or anything more than coworker, as his cock hardened and the backs of your knees finally hit the side of your bed. 

You half collapsed onto it, and we're half lowered gently by Spencer, though in all his uncoordination, he couldn't stop himself from falling directly on top of you. 

“Yes, Spencer…” you sighed, hands brushing up and down his chest above you as he froze solid. 

He was screwed. He'd read every word of that diary. He could imagine exactly what it was you were dreaming of at that moment, and he needed to extricate himself before he did something he'd hate himself for. 

His hand snaked up your waist, just brushing your nipple as he finally dropped it to the bed and pushed himself up. He couldn't touch you anymore without consequences, and while those consequences sounded truly…delightful, he resisted. 

Tucking you into bed, drowning out the sounds of your faint purrs and moans, he rubbed his cock through his pants to ease some of the ache. He denied himself more, grabbing your recommended book from the side table, leaving the infernal journal and closing the door on quite possibly one of the most arousing experiences of his life. 

He was screwed. 

A week passed and left him in his state of screwedness. You may have dreamed of him taking you like that, almost against your will, but he dreamed of you begging him to do so. 

He awoke stiff every day and refused to touch himself, to acknowledge the disgusting pleasure he was getting from his imagination. 

A week full of cold showers and blue balls, and what did it end with except being back in close quarters with your horny ass. 

Screwed supreme. 

You noticed he was acting off very quickly, and you'd commented on it the morning of conference day one, knocking him back slightly with each step towards him you took. 

“Spencer, are you sick?” You said, stepping closer, raising a hand as if to test his temperature. 

“No, no, I just... germaphobic, remember?" he smiled, gently brushing your hand away. He also took another step away from you to stop him from balling his hands into your sides and pushing you down to the floor to have his way with you. 

“That hasn't bothered you before. You literally said last week that we're in the same places so often that we've been exposed to the same bacteria and have likely formed an immuno-connection or whatever-”

“There's just-” he said, now taking another step further away from you, hands up in a surrendering pose to halt your approach. “A lot of people at this conference. It's making me a bit uncomfortable.” 

You seemed to understand that, backing off. And thankfully, just in time, because a second later and his hands would've been tangled in your hair, forcing you to your knees so he could show you just how compromised he could get you. 

You'd dreamt about something similar on March 25th. And April 3rd. 

It wasn't just his own lust for you fogging his mind - he'd dealt with that before, his hand a friendly nighttime companion - but compounded with your own, it was unbearable. 

He looked at you and all he saw was “March 2nd - Begged Spencer to cum inside me, and fill his little kitten as much as he could. Could I convince him to fo that for real?” 

For fucking real.

He felt infinitely more respect for your skills at your job now, knowing that he couldn't go a week without genuinely flinching away from your touch feeling this goddamn pent up, and you'd lasted three months and counting without so much as batting an eye. 

After wandering through the conference all day, listening to the keynote speakers and giving a speech of his own, he'd grown exhausted. He was tired of avoiding you, but it had to be done. The thing he feared the most was breaking and becoming one of the monsters he'd dedicated his life to catching. The thing he feared most was you. 

You'd hugged him when he completed his speech, lingering still after pulling away, so he was still aware of every inch and curve of you. 

“I'm so proud of you,” you said with a smile, straightening his tie. You wouldn't be proud of him if you knew what he wanted to do with that tie. He imagined, even in a crowd of people, pulling you back by your hair - March 31st - and gagging you with the scrap of material - April 17th.

After almost doing just that, he quickly excused himself, and 12 miscalls and 27 text messages later, you'd finally given him what he wanted - “I'm going to sleep now. We need to talk in the morning.” 

He finally crept back to the room you were sharing from a restaurant below. He'd thought about numbing his senses with alcohol but decided against it, not willing to take the risk that he'd numb his inhibitions at the same time. 

It wouldn't be the first time alcohol had made him get handsy with you, scowling as he remembered his hands trailing all over you during karaoke at the Delfino, his hands gripping tighter as the night stretched out longer. You'd both been trying to sing Billy Joel, and then he'd been trying to keep hold of you no matter how much you'd giggled and fidgeted. 

Looking back now, he was sure it was only the presence of every single one of your coworkers and half the FBI that stopped him from covering you in kisses, from pushing his hand up your shirt and playing with you. 

Alone in your hotel room, there was nowhere else. 

Sure enough, though, there was another bed, which he happily threw himself on when he entered, knowing he'd claimed the one closest to the door. 

He sat for a minute, then two, then three, and just knowing you were close had his brain begging to repeat everything it had learnt in your diary. 

“March 1st - I think I had a sex dream about Spencer. I think I really enjoyed it. I think I should avoid him today” 

“March 18th - Used my vibratory before bed and still woke up needy. What would Spencer's cock feel like buried inside of me?”

“April 14th - He took me over a desk in the bullpen while continuing his conversation with Hotch. I almost cried, waking up and finding out it wasn't real.” 

“June 4th - Spencer is coming over tonight, and I spent the whole day masturbating to memories of my own dreams about him…. I'm definitely going to hell.” 

It was as he repeated each of these entries in his head like a mantra that the bed shifted and he felt something next to him. 

Whatever bed he'd thrown himself into, you had decided to occupy as well. He felt your ass first, wiggling up against his crotch as you snuggled into whatever warmth he was offering beside you. 

The content sigh that left your lips was the final straw as Spencer's nerves frayed and his already throbbing cock begged for relief. 

His hands held your hips still as he unthinkingly began to rut into you, rubbing his cock against your ass in any way that would find release. 

He tried to stop himself, but you were mid-dream now, and you were making those noises again. 

Tiny little pants, mewls of pleasure, his name. Jesus Christ, his name. 

He pushed down his boxers as you threw your head back, landing at the crook of his neck, your breath fanning over his skin as you turned over. 

Instead of rutting against your ass, he could now hitch your legs across his thighs and at least get close enough to where he wanted to be, buried in your wet, aching pussy. 

He didn't let himself. Biting his lip, he moved his hands from your hips to his cock, and began a slow, painful attempt at jacking off. 

It should've been easy with you in front of him. He should've already exploded on his hand, especially after more than a week of nothing.

But you were in arms reach and it was as if his entire body was on strike until he sank into you. 

In the end, it was your movements that led him to crack, just like it had been your words in the first place that had moved him to such desperation. 

Shifting uncomfortably again in your sleep, you'd managed to push your leg over his lap and roll on top of him, all while unconscious. 

And then you started moving. Like really fucking moving, like dry humping. Spencer's brain disappeared as he tugged at your clothing to figure out how to remove as much as needed removing. 

Luckily, all he had to do was shift your panties to the side and make sure he didn't get tangled in the rest of your night dress, and, thoughtlessly, he was plunging into your depths. 

He thought it would be that first thrust that would wake him, and though he had his suspicions, he was right. You didn't move. If anything you were quieter now with his cock filling you than you had been dry humping it not a minute earlier. 

You were awake, he knew. You were awake, and you were pretending to sleep. His cock throbbed inside you at the thought and he knew he needed more. 

“March 19th, I dreamed that Spencer woke me up with some cream for his kitten. I called him Daddy. God, I wish it were real,” he whispered in your ear as you continued your facade, quoting your diary back at you as he flipped you over. 

He was gentle still, allowing you to maintain the illusion of sleep even as your heart beat out of your chest and a moan threatened to burst out of your mouth. 

Softly, his hips retreated from over yours, his thick cock withdrawing from your heat before slamming back in. 

“April 12th - Daddy let his good little kitten drink up her spilt milk from the floor. I licked his cum up with my tongue as he fucked me from behind. I'm perverse.” 

Your breathing was way harder to control now, as his hips swayed into yours repeatedly, his real cock stretching further than you'd ever imagined his dream one reaching. You'd never been a good visualiser. 

“Wake up, Y/N,” he said, kissing your neck and replacing his lips with a firm hand at your windpipe. 

“Wake up and talk to me. We're supposed to be talking about earlier, right? You're supposed to be mad at me, but instead, you're close to cumming on my big fat cock.”

You screwed your eyes up tighter as he lifted his head and let his tongue silence the first moan that you let.slip through. He'd won. 

His to guess clashed with yours as you tried to control his pace from under him, tugging your hips up, begging for more of his dick to enter you. 

Sure, you were awake, but to you, this was just another dream, and he wasn't going to let you escape him this time. 

“That's it, that's.my little girl, milk my cock,” he murmured, even as he grabbed your hips again and started setting the pace once again. It was his fingers stabbing into the gate of your hips and stomach that had you finally fully waking up and realizing that this was real, that Spencer had fucked you awake. 

“S-Spencer,” you moaned, chest jumping with each jack hammer, his head buried between them, picking and sucking like some ravenous beast devouring prey. 

“Daddy,” he corrected, sucking one nipple that had popped out of the top of your night dress into his mouth and biting down. 

You arched into the touch, and he didn't let you move away, hands instantly gripping you tighter as you squirmed and fought in his grip. He held tighter still as his dick entered you, again and again. 

Like you were falling asleep again, your brain cleared until there was only him, hic cock, his tongue on your chest, his hands on your ass keeping you in place.

“May 16th - Last night, Spencer was my owner, and he raped me in the middle of the night. He pushed his fat cock into me and I howled in pleasure, stating exactly where he put me until he released his load into me.”

The words were your own, but you couldn't feel any shame heading them, knowing the reenactment felt just as good as you'd hoped it would subconsciously. 

“Y/N, focus on me. Focus on milking my cock like s good little kitten, come on Y/N,” he said, thrusting into you with no qualms now. 

He'd given in, and he'd given in quickly, but if this was the reward, then he was never holding back again. 

“Spencer-” you shuddered out as your orgasm broke through you, his panting writhing form finally pushing you back down into the bed as he continued tutting into you until he, too, could no longer hold back. 

With a painful groan, he came and pulled out of you in an instant, letting his cum leak out of you as he watched. 

You barely had time to catch your breath before he pulled you up, tugging at your hair until you were both on your knees, then pushing you down until your face was level with his softening cock. 

“Clean up your spilt milk, kitten,” he panted, and you complied happily, licking up every drop that had splashed against his cock and stomach and thighs. 

His moans were musical, whimpers and pouts and sinful curses as he held up your hair and tried not to fuck your mouth, enjoying the sensations of your exploring g tongue too much for that. 

When he'd thought you'd done enough, he tugged you up again, wrapping his hands around your body firmly and pulling you in for one more kiss. 

“Next time,” he said, pulling away and panting to catch his breath. “Next time- you have- a dream- just- tell me.” 

You nodded and tried to chase his lips, but he pulled you back down to the bed before you made it  eliciting a small whimper of frustration. 

“You're sleeping in my bed,” he observed, stroking your head as he held you close. 

“You were avoiding me.” 

“I was avoiding you because I've been walking around with a boner for a week, and I didn't want to jump you in a conference room filled with 300 people.”

“You read my diary,” you said, pouting. 

“You let me read your diary. It was wide open on the desk, and you sent me into that room alone, knowing my eyes move quicker than my conscience does.” 

You hummed, smiling in reply but didn't answer the accusations. 

“I wonder what my wake up call in the morning will be like,” you smiled, shutting your eyes and letting yourself fall asleep, his chest pillowing your head and his arms closed tight around your waist. 

[pinkmirth]

thinking about s/o who likes to dress up their vampire bf (yes i'm talking about adrian) and they always make sure that he likes the outfit too. he's just so pretty i can't 🥺

𝜗𝜚 ࣪ ˖ 𓈒 “DOTE” FT. ADRIÁN ‘ALUCARD’ ȚEPEȘ! ⸻ ( 2k+ ) words of ⨾ fluff + suggestive/nsfw, alucard x fem!reader ( black-coded ), canon-divergent, set in the set in the 15th century (1400s), established relationship, lowercase intended, explicit language, minors shoo!

my love letter! ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ oh my goodness luna, i adore this!!! doting on adrian and clothing him sounds like a dream! it’s moving enough for me to want to put it into words . . . i ended up writing this out to be a teensy bit sentimental, if that’s okay! i feel like he’d be hesitant to receive affection but eventually ends up reveling in it because it’s just what he needed! adrian truly deserves some loveee, and i’m here to give it to him >.< please enjoy, and thank you so much for reading! ❤︎

there’s something you and your lover like to call the ‘ echoes, ’ simply put, for any noise that bounces off the walls resounds throughout the entire castle. it’s a reliable system, and adrian’s able to use it to call your attention from anywhere within it.

“darling,” there goes his soothingly silken voice, ringing out all the way from the east wing. at times, you’re amused at how it can reach you from this far. “would you come over and give this a look, please?”

at his plea, you’ll be there. so you settle down the leatherback-book you’d been reading, slinking the pad of your finger beneath a page to fold it by the crisp outer corner.

“coming!”

you’re sure he feels you nearing, courtesy of your shallow-heeled footsteps thudding upon the wine-red shag of his home’s romanian rugs. he acknowledges your presence by swinging open the door to the primary bedroom.

you didn’t think you’d have to tiptoe around mountain-sized heaps of clothing upon entering adrian’s chamber— his closet’s practically ravaged. although, living with a dhampir was never known to be an experience short of surprises.

in the midst of all the madness is where he stands, still adorned in his cream nightgown. he’s got a garment clutched in one hand and a pullover tunic in the other. the subtle veins running along his slender hands makes his grip look exasperated. alucard appears to be having one of those days— where nothing feels just right.

“what’s all this, dear? thought you’d have been dressed by now,” you call out, making your way around a stockpile of trousers to approach him. gently, your delicate hands come to settle upon the broad expanse of his clothed chest. just as he figured it would, your touch immediately soothes him.

the man sighs before he speaks. “i apologize,” adrian peers down at you from where he stands, dropping both items to rest his hands on either side of your hips, “i’ll make sure to clean up afterwards.”

“no worries,” you hum, offering him a warm, sweet smile. when he tends to grow reckless, you know what he needs most is a dash of affection. “you wanted me to take a look at something, yes?”

“i did,” he mumbles, sunny eyes flitting over to his plundered closet, “though now i’m seriously reconsidering every single piece that i own.”

you don’t make a point to say it, but you know it isn’t about the blouses or the pants or any of those things. it’s his mind that tends to run rampant on all that’s been and all he’s lost. at tines, it manifests into agitation, a period of overstimulation where one thing makes him shirk and another gets him withdrawn. despite it all, he’s consoled that you’re here to reel him back in and distract him from himself in that dreamy little way that you do.

“show me the one you were last contemplating on, adrian.” you do it with such ease, pulling him out of his own head and bringing him back into the moment. for a good second, he thinks of just how lucky one man could possibly be.

“go on,” you pat his chest, and his lips flit up into a subtle grin. now more content, adrian scours for it and eventually plucks it off an embroidered chair situated in the corner; only God knows how it got there.

pinched between his index and thumbs, alucard holds up the top, exaggerated sleeves and all, presenting it to you; a simple chestnut colored option that shares the same wood-like hue as the bedpost.

“my twelfth option of the day,” he snidely notes. his sarcasm pries giggle from you. “what do you think, love?”

“it’s quite pretty,” you tilt your head, inspecting the piece with sparkly, concentrated eyes. he admires the way a wispy strand of hair falls along to drape against your face. just precious, he believes.

“it’s a little puffy at the sleeves, though.”

“i knew it,” adrian attests, “this is too . . . flouncy.”

“oh, forget what i said! it’s the perfect amount of flouce.”

“no no, it’s far too much. it’s practically screaming at me.” to that, you chuckle a bit. he can be ever so keen to such minute details.

theatrically, adrian mounts the nearby bed and flops atop the tousled sheets, an exhale leaving the depths of his chest upon impact. “i suppose this is just an ‘only-underwear’ sort of day.” you nearly add that he might as well free himself as a whole and go naked, but the poor man would flush so badly that you choose to refrain.

“you know, adrian,” you scan over his collection, eyeing the finest of silks, puffed shirts and ruffles. his wardrobe practically looks fitting for that of wallachian royalty. “i could make it easy, choose an outfit for you.”

its sudden, how he sits upright and turns to you. his eyes blink just a bit wider, a little slower. alucard’s mouth strikingly quirks upwards in a way that makes you believe he hadn’t been comfortable with the idea— almost as though you’d been meaning to treat him like a child.

“you’d . . . dress me up?”

you retract in the slightest, “only if you’d like. it isn’t a must—”

“please,” he ultimately responds, tone soft and low, “by all means.” it had just been the thought of the sheer intimacy that dazed him. you selecting what would fit him best through your eyes, pulling himself free of his clothes, revealed unto you as you’re dolling him up . . . it all sounds so touching and right now, he wants nothing more.

he can feel palpable relief roll off of you in waves as you beam, “sounds perfect, then.” he calms himself and fixes his countenance, gracing you with a sincere smile. rosy pigment scatters itself upon his face. you catch onto that hopeful glimmer in his eye, one that shows he’s pleased though you can’t quite place it. he’s too softened to say that gratitude has overcome him.

your back is facing him as you rummage around and take your pick, “undress while i put something together, alright?”

“bold request,” adrian characteristically quips. you merely laugh, “you should be bare once i turn around, you hear?”

he hums in acknowledgment, although he opts for tidying up the room first. you can’t see him with your back turned, yet you know he made use of his vampirian speed to grab and fold all his clothes that’d been thrown-askew, including the night attire he’d already been wearing. it amazes you that it only took him a solid eight seconds to complete it all.

“i’m sure that’s convenient,” you muse, turning his way with your selections in hand. alucard’s bare now, adorned in nothing other than his undergarments. a plain and skimpy pair of beige-white breeches shouldn’t excite you so— but god, they hang so low on his hips it’s like they’re barely even there. and how could you possibly ignore the way the cloth clings to his thighs? his arms look strong and coiled like wire, and the chiseled lining of his lean torso is embellished by the fleshy-pink scar that runs past his abdomen all the way up the center of his firm chest.

adrian can only hold your gaze for so long before realizing that you’re drinking him in. consciously, he pivots his head the other way as though to escape it, allowing his lengthy hair to drape down and cover the flushing of his fair cheeks.

you inch up to him, setting the clothes on his bedside. you find his larger hand to interlace with your own, and he only grows redder. there’s an indescribable pride that comes with being capable of riling him up.

“oh, don’t tell me you’re shy,” your hum is sugary like marmalade, “i’ve seen you before . . . you’re beautiful.”

“oh my god,” he whispers, pressing a palm to his heated face. sometimes adrian finds you to be too sweet. he isn’t sure how you haven’t yet succeeded at killing him with all your flattery. he bashfully smiles, cheeks warm as you stand high on your toes to peck them. “you and that mouth of yours.”

“i’ll leave you alone before you overheat,” you tease, halting your affections to return to the task at hand. “you love to toy with me,” he breathes out, and your giggle confirms it. you then display your choices; fitted pants of black leather paired with a warm-tan blouse, one that brings out the shine of his sharp eyes and adds a flush of vitality to his fair skin. interestingly enough, it resembles the color of his golden hair. you’d gone with something similar to his typical style so that he’d feel comfortable wearing it; though you know he’s been rather picky today.

“is it okay?” the way you await his approval makes his heart throb right within his chest. if only you knew that you handpicking anything for him was enough to make him fall in absolute love with it. it had never really been the outfit— he’s sure he just needed you all along.

“more than okay.” he smiles up at you, lips soft and pale-pink. you wonder if you’d end up altering the mood if you leaned down to kiss him. “well chosen, dear.”

“i know just what you like, don’t i?” you sound quite delighted, and it warms him up inside. “but of course. it’s my closet, after all.” the both of you share a knowing laugh that makes you feel so wholesome, so bound. you’ll be sure to commit the feeling to memory.

he then rises to his feet, standing a solid foot above you as he works his way into the bottoms you chose. a pout overtakes you, pretty lips pursed as you whine, “i could’ve done that!”

“you’ll get to fix the blouse. sounds fair, yes?” adrian knows if you were to have worn his pants for him, the hard-on he’d sport would’ve been more than embarrassing. you’ve seen each other vulnerable a good amount of times, and made love even more than what could be counted, but during a moment like this would only sully the mood, he’s sure.

with a hum, you give in. “fine,” your fingers trace against the threading of his shirt, “sit back down for me. you’re too tall for me to dress you from here,” alucard’s always found the contrast in size between the both of you to be endearing, especially whenever you go on to mention it. you’re surprised he decides to choose obedience instead of poking fun. he takes his place upon the bed and makes room for you to settle atop his lap. it’s instinctive, how quickly his hands reach for your waist. he rubs them along the patterning of your corset.

“arms out,” you’re a little less content when his touch leaves you, though you adore how well he listens. you ease the top over his head, onto his arms and finally onto the rest of his frame, tucking away the mussed locks of wavy blonde hair that fall array.

“i’ll brush it out for you later, adri,” you murmur, smoothing down the frizz before bringing your hands to cradle his cheeks. his face looks simply ethereal this close; flawlessly structured, handsome yet elegant. once again, his hands find their rightful place upon your sides. you watch him melt in your very hold when you coo, “my pretty boy.”

he whimpers a lowly call of your name. “thank you . . for all of it.” you know these sort of pocketed moments mean so much to him. his gentle pitch wavers with the subtlest hint of desire; you’d know the sound of it anywhere. still soft-spoken, though the slightest bit deeper. raspier, even. he only reserves such a tone for you.

your response is hushed, just about breathless, “always, adrian.” the pair of you are so close that the straightened tip of his nose grazes against your own. when the tension grows too thick and you can no longer escape his lips reeling you in like magnets, you finally lean into him and let your mouths slot, warmth blooming between you. his lithe fingers roam and you suckle at his bottom lip, prying a soft groan out of him.

alucard kisses you with longing, the span of his fangs subtly clashing against the pearly white of your teeth as he works at prodding his tongue inside, nipping at your lips and tasting of you. he frees out soft, little ‘ i love you ’ amongst all the licking and sucking.

you both wind up toppling down onto the bed, with his back to the mattress and your squished breasts to his heart. making out with a man such as adrian always gets so heavy; you’re panting into each other's mouths, swallowing up the other one’s sounds, and you just can’t seem to help but slowly roll your hips into the stiffness of his crotch. a handful of minutes with him already has you entirely soiled.

“this is becoming something else,” alucard breaks away with a huff, fighting himself not to rip off the clothes you just adorned him in.

but fuck, you aren’t helping. “allow it, then . . .” is your solution, bringing the plush surface of your lips to suckle along his jaw, against the column of his throat, right down his neck . . . no point in refraining now. you eased him of his worries, and he only wants nothing more than to repay you.

“quite a shame, dear.” it truly is— especially considering that you put together such a stylish assortment for him. “now everything must be undone.”

© 𝒫𝐼𝑁𝐾ℳ𝐼𝑅𝑇𝐻! ⸻ all rights reserved! do not steal, plagiarize or repost any of my works. please and thank you! ❤︎

[keferon]

Chapter 3 of Blurr’s storyline in Mecha AU!

Previous chapter

“Speaking of Mechs.” continues Blurr, ”That thing's evacuation system sucks. What if you were stunned by the fall? What if something short-circuits and starts a fire???”

Swindle just clenches the glass in his hands. Feels the cold moisture of condensation dripping down onto his fingers.

“Then I'd burn.” he doesn't say

Under the cut⤵️

——————————————————

It's Swindle's birthday.

He thinks it is.

He's pretty sure.

Since he was taken into the program, it's always hard to tell. It's like time flows differently here. He had a calendar, but Brawl put it somewhere a while ago and then forgot where it was. And they're not allowed to have phones yet. Though Swindle assumes Onslaught managed to steal one from someone anyway.

Shit. Where's the calendar?

Swindle remembers the date, but can't remember the month.

There's a strange static tingling sensation in the back of his head. If he turns his head too fast, it'll grow into an unpleasant pricking pain.

The last time in the lab was disgusting.

He can't remember what month it is. He's not even sure why it bothers him so much. Not that birthdays mean anything within the walls of the program.

He stops in the middle of the living room and looks around with a meticulous eye. He's already checked the beds, desk, and nightstands...hah.

“Hey have any of you seen my calendar?”

Vortex, sitting on top of the bunk bed shakes the ash off his cigarette right down into Blast Off's lap.

“Nope.”

“TEX YOU'RE LITTERING ON MY BED.”

“I could have ..torn it up” offers Brawl from across the room.

Swindle turns on his heels and angrily rests his arms at his sides.

“You tore it?”

“I might have,” Brawl scratches the back of his head.

Swindle pinches the bridge of his nose

That's fine. Not that he cares that much. Not that any celebration at all would save the crappy day.

He has some new “experimental” medical procedure scheduled for later, which generally means suffering. Or if he's lucky, some critter will attack the city and instead of squirming on the slab, he'll have to go cuddle with huge nasty beasts. Which is slightly better than the actual procedures. He'd like that to happen. If only his head would also stop buzzing....

“Happy birthday to me” Swindle thinks, sticking his Mech hand under the plates of a particularly ugly monster and pulling something disgustingly oozing green blood out of there. He can see the faces of the random gawkers who didn't have time to evacuate. Ooh, some of them got that nasty stuff on their faces. Swindle has no time to feel sorry for them.

The monster did attack, but it's entirely possible that this monster ended the last meager supply of luck Swindle had. Because somewhere. Something. In his head begins to hurt again and the world in front of his eyes begins to slowly blur and..

ahh FUCK….

The monster grabs him knocks him to the ground and Swindle can literally feel in his bones that something's wrong, but the data from his Mech doesn't give him any useful information. Which isn't that uncommon. These things are glitchy as hell and aren't designed to recognize anything but the most basic popular malfunctions.

The word “error” shines mockingly in his face. Blurring in his eyes and reflecting in red on his uniform.

Error, error, what the hell is this error. He needs to know what's wrong so he doesn't accidentally kill himself, but all this bucket offers him is oops. You're in trouble teeheee~

He can hear the sound of Blast Off's giant cannon in the distance. And the loud rumble where Vortex and Onslaught are trying to get out of the ring of monsters.

His Mech is unresponsive. His damn machine refuses to move and Swindle isn't quite sure if it's the Mech that's the problem, because his head feels like a piece of raw rotten meat and maybe the error meant that what's broken is him.

The monster leans over him, trying to rip off whatever it can rip off and thank god this thing apparently isn't smart enough to realize that the Mech is controlled from the head because it's aiming straight for his chest.

He needs to get out. If he can't get this thing to move, he needs to get the fuck out of it before the alien gets him.

He manages to open the emergency hatch and quietly slip out and ohhhh the world is spinning, this is not bloody good.

He manages to take a few steps before a loud B A N G comes from somewhere above and IS THAT A TRAIN???? Who in their right mind would think of using a fucking train as a throwing weapon???? Is that Brawl? It's got to be Brawl. Oh, Swindle is so gonna kill him.

Because (sadly) in addition to the monster, the train and Swindle, there's also physics involved in this circus.

So while the monster is effectively brought to rest and knocked sideways with a hole in it’s head, the train stops its forward motion and starts its downward motion.

Right onto Swindle's head.

He just has time to think that dying from a train falling out of the sky is a pretty creative death. His legs are shaking, his head is buzzing and he only manages to take half a sluggish step in an attempt to avoid the inevitable when a loud “MOVE” comes to his ears and something yanks him to the side.

The tug sends fire down his spine and head. The ensuing landing reverberates with pain in his shoulder and sides. He barely has time to process the first two sensations until a moment later he hears a rumble so deafening that he thinks his eardrums are about to burst.

Swindle props himself up on his elbows and hisses in pain as the movement causes the back of his head to sting.

“Ah I'll fuckin' kill him...”

A voice comes above him

“Ouw dude. You okay?”

There's.. Some teenager hovering over him. And behind him is lying...the wrecked train...right where Swindle himself was standing a second ago.

The strange teen frowns worriedly and pulls Swindle upright and drags him somewhere else

“Come on, it's best not to be in the open during monster attacks”

“Ah” thinks Swindle ”right. Without Mech you're a pathetic tiny piece of chop begging to be stomped on by Brawl.”

He tries to focus on balance so he doesn't hang too much on this kid.

They find the nearest unlocked door, which turns out to be the entrance to an underground bar.

“So” says the stranger, letting go of Swindle and shaking the dust off his hair ” You're a pilot! That's so cool, but you're kinda small for a pilot.”

Swindle sighs sullenly.

“I'll let you have that one comment about my height because you helped me, but next time you're dead.”

“Helped? I saved your ass.”

“Helped a lot” says Swindle grudgingly. “Thanks.”

The teen laughs and climbs into the bar. It's a mess everywhere, people clearly evacuated in a hurry and threw everything in haste.

“What's your name? Oh, or, wait. Do you guys use code names? I've heard pilots call each other by call signs, but half the time those call signs sound so dumb, I don't see how they can respond to that.”

He waits for the kid to cut off his flow of words to take a breath. Man, what a chatty boy.

“You can call me Swindle.”

“Kay” the kid pulls out a couple glasses ”I'm Blurr. Would you like something Swindle? I don't mean to brag, but I'm pretty good at mixing cocktails.”

Swindle looks around the room suspiciously. The bar, even though it's underground, looks pretty good. Too good, in fact. The place is clearly not for the poor.

He walks over to the bar and climbs onto a bar stool. There's no one else in here but them, but the electricity is on so he doesn't doubt for a second that they're being filmed by a security camera right now. Maybe a few even.

Blurr throws him an expectant look.

Swindle pretends to go through his pockets. As if there could be money in them out of nowhere. Then he makes a comically confused face and spreads his hands.

“Oh, no, I think I left my millions at home. What's the cheapest thing you have?”

Blurr snorts.

“Ice is free.”

“I'll take the ice then” nods Swindle.

There is a loud rumbling sound above them. It must be Vortex having fun again bouncing on the aliens that have fallen to the ground, crushing their heads.

Swindle is just. He takes off his helmet, takes a glass of ice and presses it to his head enjoying the way the nasty buzzing recedes.

Blurr waits for the rumbling to recede before speaking again.

“But really. You're a pilot but...uh. Are you even old enough to drink?”

Swindle sends him his best grumpy look. It's not exactly a joke about his height, but it's damn close.

“Are you old enough to pour?”

“Sure,” says Blurr too fast for it to be true. If Swindle had to guess, he'd say the guy in front of him is no older than seventeen. The tattered jeans and the T-shirt with the F1 logo printed on it definitely don't help. And, hey, those headphones look very expensive. So do the sneakers. Kid's clearly from a wealthy family.

Blurr pulls out a bottle of syrup from somewhere and pours it straight into his mouth. Doesn't miss, which is amusing. Doesn't wince, which is frankly impressive. Swindle feels the unbearable sweetness just looking at him.

It suddenly hits him

“Hey, do you have a phone?”

“Sure,” Blurr pours himself more syrup. Swindle twitches.

“What's the day today?”

Blurr's mouth is full of an unimaginable amount of sugar, so he just pulls out his phone and turns its screen toward Swindle and oh...oh. He was wrong about the date. And the month, too. It's not his birthday. His birthday was a week ago...

Does that mean he must be nineteen now? Yeah, that makes him nineteen.

Blurr takes the phone back and slips it into his pocket.

“Your face looks funny.”

“I just realized it's my birthday today,” smiles Swindle.

“Oooooooohh~~~” rejoices Blurr ”Congratulations! It's kind of poetic that you almost died just today. Can you imagine how funny the numbers on your tombstone would have looked.”

Swindle chokes on air.

“That's certainly a very appropriate comment, thank you...”

“Sorry haha said without thinking.” Blurr reaches under the counter again and pulls out a bottle from there “Hey, they have more syrups!”

There's another loud rumble from upstairs.

Blurr presses his head into his shoulders and stares up at the ceiling as if hoping to see something through it.

Swindle puts his elbows and head on the tabletop

“Don't worry, it's just Brawl.”

Blurr doesn't take his eyes off the ceiling

“ You can tell that by the sound of falling concrete?”

Swindle lazily dangles his feet. The chair is high and even the toes of his shoes don't reach the floor.

“Brawl is the loudest. And the heaviest, too. He's always crashing into everything, throwing things and breaking things too. You can hear him a mile away.”

He pauses to listen

“And that kch-ooooooooomm is Blast Off's cannon. It's some super rare experimentally advanced one, so it sounds like something out of a space movie. He couldn't stop bragging about it for half a year when he got it.”

Blurr chuckles and leans his elbows on the counter, relaxing.

“ And this...uh...what's this?”

“That's Vortex, he's our local lunatic. Best not to listen too much to what he does, it's almost always disgusting in ways you would never even consider.”

Blurr makes a disgruntled face and is silent for a couple minutes.

“It's weird hearing you call them by their names. I mean, I kind of always knew Mechs were run by people but you guys are never seen, so most of the time it's just.. Huge robots and huge monsters. You know what I mean. I was actually surprised when I saw you get out of that Mech.”

Swindle just nods. Because, what else is there to add.

“Speaking of Mechs.” continues Blurr, ”That thing's evacuation system sucks. What if you were stunned by the fall? What if something short-circuits and starts a fire???”.

Swindle just clenches the glass in his hands. Feels the cold moisture of condensation dripping down onto his fingers

“Then I'd burn.” he doesn't say

Blurr doesn't seem to notice his glum mood

“Oh, hey. If it's no secret, why did you go into piloting in the first place?”

Because he had no choice? He can't answer that, that information isn't for civilians.

Because he didn't know what he was getting into until it was too late? That's not vague enough either.

Because he was up to his neck in debt and barely into college before a smiling man showed up on his doorstep and offered him good money if he agreed to a couple tests...?

“I had to do it for the people.” Swindle decides to repeat a line of propaganda.

“Ohhhh.... That's...a good reason. The monsters are disgusting, of course. But the reason is cool.”

Swindle just. Holds his glass of melting ice, listens to Blurr's mutterings, and enjoys the peace. This random teenager is not his superior or colleague and has nothing to do with the organization at all. Swindle doesn't have to remember to salute or follow orders or fear being reported to his superiors.

He can just. Be.

Just him and his free ice and his saved for free life.

That's. Sweet.

Blurr's drinking syrup again.

...and a little disgusting.

—————————-

Brawl jumps out of bed, hits his head on a shelf hanging on the wall and drops everything on it onto Blast Off's head

“Swindle!!!” yells Brawl.

“Why are these books sticky???” shrieks Blast Off.

“You don't wanna know~” giggles Vortex.

Swindle sighs.

“You're alive!!!” ignores Blast Off Brawl's complaints. And a second later runs up and pulls Swindle off the floor in a crushing bear hug.

Behind them, Blast Off, with his face wrinkled in disgust, gathers all the dropped books back onto the shelf.

Swindle wheezes pathetically and slaps Brawl's arm with his palm, either to reciprocate the gesture or to beg for mercy

“Br...khaaaaah...Brawl I can't breathh.”

“OH. I'm uh. Here. Wait.”

Brawl puts him back on the floor and runs back to the shelf.

Onslaught, who has peeked into the room, puts a hand on Swindle's shoulder

“You've been gone a long time. Boss said you tried to escape.”

His tone isn't judgmental. And not pressuring. Not even questioning, but Swindle knows Onslaught wants more information. Swindle clutches a piece of napkin with a phone number in his pocket and smiles weakly.

“I've found a...friend? I think?”

Onslaught nods. In a manner that only he knows how to do. Not giving an opinion, not encouraging or condemning. Just taking in the information. Swindle admires him for that.

Behind them, Brawl pulls some piece of paper out from under the books that have just been put away and drops them again

“FUCK!” yells Blast Off. Vortex just starts hooting like a hyena.

“Hey Swindle I found the calendar!” yells Brawl waving the paper.

Swindle frowns in surprise.

“It's a different calendar...”

“I found you a new one.” nods Brawl.

“...Why...is it...it's torn in half?”

“It had stupid flowers drawn on it, so I ripped them off. And I accidentally ripped off more than I needed.”

“Ah,” says Swindle, clutching the calendar, ”That's...Thanks. I forgive you for losing the previous one.”

Behind them, Blast Off is trying to strangle Vortex with a jacket.

------------

Blurr waves his arms happily like a hyperactive windmill.

“Swindle!!!”

Swindle smiles and adjusts his glasses

“Your party can be seen from across city.”

“I know~~” primps Blurr “Are you hungry? There was a snack table around here somewhere.”

“I didn't bring any money.” lies Swindle.

“Hey man, it's a party. Help yourself, it's free.”

“Оh.” Swindle's mood instantly brightens. “All right, then.”

“You look terrible” Blurr decides to share.

Swindle, busy shoveling food into his pockets, nods.

“I've had a rough week. Actually, it'd be cool if you didn't tell anyone you saw me here. I'm kind of not supposed to be here.”

He doesn't elaborate.

Blurr is a civilian. In his mind, a rough week is rude people or an exam or bad weather. Swindle's bad week is strap marks on his wrists and double vision. It's nausea from injections and sleepless nights because Vortex won't stop screaming in his sleep.

Blurr doesn't know that. With him, Swindle can pretend to be somewhat normal.

-----------

“Heeeeey“ says Blurr ‘I haven't seen you in a long time~"

“That” thinks Swindle ”is a pretty standard phrase for both of them.

Blurr looks older. Taller too. He was taller than Swindle before, but now that difference is starting to look almost comical. He's also flaunting a cast on his arm.

“Did you get hurt?”

“Didn't make a turn at training” waves Blurr off “It's no big deal. Wanna go find something to eat?”

Blurr is always trying to feed him, Swindle notices over time. Offers him drinks or snacks or whatever.

“ I like your uh..cap?”

“I got a promotion” Swindle smiles proudly “Me and the guys were made a special group...actually you're not allowed to know more than that, so you'll have to take my word for it when I say we are officially cool.”

He purposely adjusts his cap by the brim so Blurr can get a good look at it.

Blurr makes a delighted sound. Something between a “wow” and a giggle. He generally makes a lot of sounds all the time. Tapping his fingers on every hard surface, stomping in place like he's always late for something, laughing, whistling, clicking his tongue. A human orchestra.

__________

Onslaught sits down next to Swindle and clutches his hands in his lap in front of him. This makes the bed legs squeak pitifully. Onslaught has grown surprisingly large. He can almost rival Brawl in height already. Most people find that intimidating, but Swindle just thinks Onslaught is like a wall. A big, solid concrete wall that's so good to hide behind.

“Be careful with what you tell this guy.”

“Don't worry” says Swindle ”He's not the type of friend you tell secrets to. He's just a fun dude who's great to hang out with.”

Onslaught hums.

“And who feeds you for free.”

“If that's how you're trying to ask me to share, you're not doing a very good job.”

Vortex snaps his fingers as he walks past them

“Hey Swindler, the lab is closed for today. It's your day off.”

“Wha...”

Onslaught tilts his head.

“Vortex. What did you do?”

“I spat in their dna sample vault” proudly proclaims Vortex “and didn't tell them exactly where.”

-----———————-

Blurr frowns.

“Hey...are you okay?”

“No” thinks Swindle.

“My friend died” he says instead.

He's not okay. He feels like an animal caught in a beartrap, trying to chew off its own paw to get free.

Except the trap is closed around Swindle's head and it's not a body part he can afford to lose.

There's been a lot of talk. Even more rumors. Swindle listened but tried not to believe.

And then one of pilots, Shockwave… was taken to the lab and brought back a different damn man and it felt like Swindle had the rug pulled out from under his feet with hot coals underneath.

Because Swindle's boss, with his stupid, rehearsed smile, started writing reports about how “human personality flaws are something that can be fixed. That challenging behavior is something that can be repaired with tools.

Blurr freezes.

“Who?”

“Vortex.”

Because of course it's Vortex. Talented but difficult to handle. Powerful but uncontrollable.

They wanted a pilot who would be a beast on the battlefield and a loyal dog on base. And who else would be a more ideal test subject than him?

Vortex was being very rude that day, even by Vortex standards. Yelling and swearing and throwing things around. Kept saying that no shitty lab could make him “a fucking puppet.”

Scratching the stitches on his head until he started leaving a trail of blood behind him.

He went on a mission.

And never came back.

The reports said it was all the monsters' fault. That Vortex was unstable. That the accident had nothing to do with the new technology. But it was nevertheless suspended.

Swindle is both bitter and amused by this. Vortex would eat the same monsters for breakfast any other day. The bastard was unkillable.

“Oh my god” says Blurr “I'm so sorry to hear that.”

He says something else. Probably comforting. About how Vortex died protecting people, maybe. About Vortex being a hero.

“Vortex,” thinks Swindle, ”loved life. He loved adrenaline and danger and pain and thrill and fear, but he never wanted to die. They did something to him. Something that made him go over the edge.”

Vortex got his head in the trap and ripped it off to escape it.

Swindle knows him and the others are next. And knows that no one but themselves can help them.

---------------------------

Blast Off seems...very quiet. He could never stop complaining about Vortex before. Yelling about the garbage. Resenting the unmade bed and the cigarette ashes.

Vortex's bed remains unmade.

Blast Off regularly cleans everything up, but never wipes away the little circles of ash from the places where Vortex used to put out cigarettes on the furniture.

Onslaught puts his hand on Swindle's shoulder and squeezes. Not hard. Just enough for Swindle to register the gesture as important.

Standing nearby, Blast Off lights a cigarette and leans on Onslaught.

“Ons told me about your plan. I want to join in.”

“What kind of plan? Can I get involved?” inquires Brawl.

Onslaught sighs.

“Repeat after me - I don't know, they don't tell me anything.”

“I don't know, they don't tell me anything.”

“Good job” nods Onslaught “From now on, every time they ask you any - listen. Any! Question about us, you will answer them with this phrase.”

“Got it,” grins Brawl.

Swindle smiles.

“Gentlemen, it's time to violate all that is written, and rewrite all that is violated.”

__________________

Blurr lazily takes his eyes off the phone. He's wearing a racing suit and tons of hairspray. He's shiny and gleaming like a fine collectible figurine that should be on the shelf of an expensive exhibit. He's also bored.

“Sorry buddy, the interview is long over, if you have any questions you'll have to pay for the session.”

Swindle smiles.

“How about one tiny little question?”

Blurr makes funny big eyes.

“SWINDLE!!! I haven't seen you in a thousand years! You...oh I didn't recognize you haha sorry. Nice coat. You quit being a pilot?”

Swindle proudly adjusts his glasses. He's wearing a brand-new, ironed shirt that's exactly his size. Nice neat tie, expensive coat. Swindle isn't surprised Blurr didn't recognize him immediately. Sometimes he looks in the mirror and doesn't recognize himself. After all those years of wearing the pilot's uniform, he felt almost attached to it. And yet here he is.

“You could say I moved.” he winks snarkily, “Up. All the Mechs you see on the streets now are my Mechs~”

Blurr completely forgets about his phone.

“REALLY?? Oh man congrats to you!”

“Thanks” nods Swindle ”You want something to drink? I'm buying.”

———————-

Onslaught adjusts his tie. It's still, years later, a little strange to see him in a uniform instead of a pilot's suit.

“You do realize it's going to be hard to find a person like that, right? We need someone famous enough to be effective and dumb enough to want to save mankind instead of sunbathing on a yacht.”

Swindle adjusts his glasses and leans back in his chair.

Someone outgoing so they can quickly befriend all the right people. Handsome enough to have their face printed on a poster. Smart just enough not to say too much. And not associated with Mecha program so they can't be accused of trying to get promoted through their acquaintances.

Someone who already has everything but still willing to put themselves at risk for the cause.

“You know, I think I have a possible candidate.”

[kimkaelyn]

Ditto [s. todoroki]

𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒾𝒹𝒹𝓁𝑒, 𝐿𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒, 𝒟𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓃𝑜 𝓇𝒾𝒹𝒹𝓁𝑒, 𝒮𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓉, 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓉 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀, 𝑜𝒽 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓉 𝒹𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑜 — 𝒟𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑜, 𝒩𝑒𝓌𝒥𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓈

→ summary: when you transferred to U.A., you didn't anticipate slipping on a pair of chopsticks in the middle of the crowded cafeteria during your first week. however, what was more surprising was the unexpected fall for the boy who gracefully caught you.

→ pairing: shouto todoroki x fem!reader

→ genre: fluff, strangers to friends to lovers

→ word count: 13.1k

→ warnings & tags: sfw, female pronouns are used, usage of y/n l/n, Class 1-A are now third-year students aka 18+, swearing, the usual U.A. chaos, reader has a Quirk, misunderstandings, some training violence, minor injuries, mentions and discussions of insecurities, aizawa briefly belittles the reader as a form of motivation, beginnings of a panic attack but it's cut short, there is one instance of the reader appearing to be ‘flushed’ in regards to a fever, since this is my first bnha fic some characters might be ooc? | please kindly let me know if I missed any tags!

→ author's note: AHHHH HERE IT IS! I've been working on this for almost a year now and I am so excited to finally share it with all of you. Honestly, I didn't think I would ever finish this story, but I kept slowly chipping away at it thanks in part to the encouragement from @andypantsx3, @missrosegold, and @getstarried. Special thanks to @pikatsum for beta-reading this for me! Thank you girls. This is for you🫶🏻

The cafeteria at U.A. High School was a pretty chaotic environment, you quickly learned within your first week after transferring from another Hero Course in the countryside. There were multiple things that could and would happen after the famous students had gotten some much-needed nutrients in their systems.

It was only three days into the school year and nothing had happened just yet, but in the U.A. world, that something was overdue.

The first chaotic event of the year that everyone had been anxiously—or in some cases, excitingly—waiting for happened on Thursday.

The day started off average; you got to school with three minutes to spare, which was a new record, but you had forgotten your pencil pouch in your dorm room, so you had to borrow some pencils from a girl who sat in front of you; Mina Ashido.

“Thank you,” you whispered as you took the pastel pink utensil from her. There was even a cute little fluffy puffball at the end in exchange for an eraser. Good thing you had an eraser in your bag.

“No problem! I gotcha!” She physically lit up and gave you a bright smile before turning back to focus on the blackboard.

You somehow managed to get through your morning classes running on the four hours of sleep you got the night before. You were cutting it quite close to passing out at your desk during calculus class, but you were saved by the lunch bell.

As soon as you stepped foot into the hallway, you were wrapped up in the faint, delicious scent of your favorite food coming from the cafeteria. Your mouth instantly watered, and you made a mad dash for the source of the delicious scent.

“Hey!” a sharp voice made you freeze in your steps. You glanced over your shoulder to find Tenya Iida, Class 3-A’s representative, glaring at you. The light reflecting off his glasses made him appear more threatening than he really was, but regardless, you still found yourself shying away from his harsh glare and rapid-moving hands. As they passed by, some students gave you apologetic smiles while others were not shy about openly staring at the scene before them, wondering what you possibly could have done to induce the wrath of the student representative. “There is to be no running in the halls!” You cowered some more at his brisk and overly formal tone.

Geez, what a stuck-up, you thought to yourself.

“My apologies, Iida.” You respond with a bow. He accepted your apology with a curt nod before he continued on his way to the cafeteria.

You waited for him to pass before rising from your bow. “Wow, he makes it feel like I broke the law or something.” You mused aloud.

“Don’t take it personally,” a comforting voice said from behind you. You turned to find Momo Yaoyorozu, Ochako Uraraka, and Tsuyu Asui standing before you. Ochako gave you a slight wave in greeting. “Iida can be quite demanding,” Yaoyorozu reassured you.

“Thank you.”

Tsuyu regarded you with gentle onyx eyes. “It’s L/N, right?”

You smiled, happy that she remembered your name from roll call. “Y-yeah! I’m Y/N L/N.” You introduced yourself. “I, um, already know who you guys are.” You suddenly felt shy, and you bashfully rubbed the back of your neck out of nervous habit.

Before your transfer was finalized, you did extensive research into your future school’s history and future classmates. Thankfully—or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it—a lot of information is public knowledge; the various attacks on the school in the year leading up to and the conclusion of the War between the Paranormal Liberation Front and the Heroes, not to mention the various televised sports festivals, and the fact that the members of Class 1-A are practically household names even before their graduation.

The girls invited you to sit with them in the cafeteria. You had been keeping to yourself the first few days of school, choosing to observe from afar the already established social circles and friend groups. You had waited for an invitation to join one of said groups, and here was your opportunity.

The four of you made small talk as you made your way through the lunch line and to the table. Right away, Asui told you to call her by her given name. You told them about your life growing up in the countryside—with you and Uraraka bonding over your shared reason for becoming Pro Heroes—about the friends you had, embarrassingly funny stories from your junior high days, and eventually what led you to transfer to U.A.

“Well, this is the best Hero Course in the country!” you all laughed. “But to be frank, the only teacher at my old academy who could handle my Quirk retired, and none of the other academies within the prefecture had the resources to help me advance. Plus, my mentor is an U.A. alumnus, so naturally, the only other choice was U.A.”

Yaoyorozu hummed. “It is a shame about your mentor retiring, but that is what led you to transfer to U.A., and for that, I am grateful.” The class vice representative regarded you kindly. “I am a firm believer of things happening for a reason, and your transfer doesn’t change that.”

Uraraka nodded her agreement. “Momo’s right. U.A. is a place where anybody can make a difference, and I think you will find success here.”

You were rendered speechless. The tips of your ears turned red as your classmates regarded you with so much hope and sincerity in their eyes. “Uh . . . I,” you bashfully scratched the back of your head. Not knowing how to respond, you instead reached for the small bottle of milk on your lunch tray and brought it to your lips.

However, before you could take a sip, a BOOM erupted from the front of the cafeteria, accompanied by a gruff voice yelling, “Don’t walk in front of me, Icy-Hot!” You reflexively jolted at the loud noises and lost your grip on the glass, spilling the half-full bottle all over the front of your uniform.

“Shit,” you exclaimed as you instinctually rose from your seat, only to quickly sit down again when the liquid started to fall to the floor. The girls gasped and were quick to hand you all the napkins in the vicinity.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Asui asked as she watched you pat down your sodden skirt.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You waved off her concern as you continued to wipe away the remaining liquid. The napkins managed to soak up most of it, but your skirt was still damp. If you didn’t change skirts, you were going to smell of milk for the rest of the day, and you didn’t want to start off the school year with a reputation for smelling vile. “I’m going to go back to the dorm really quickly and change into a clean uniform. Please let Mr. Snipe know that I will be late for class.”

“Do you want us to accompany you?” Yaoyorozu asked. She began to rise from her seat, but you stopped her.

“No, no. I’m okay, really.” You gave her what you hoped to be a reassuring grin instead of a grimace. “Thank you for offering, Yaoyorozu, but I��ll be fine.” Before your classmates could respond, you stood from the table and made your way to the exit.

Great, this is just great, you thought as you walked, not really paying attention to where you were going. As soon as I make some friends, I make a fool of myself.

Unbeknownst to you, there was an obstacle in the aisle directly ahead. You were too distracted by your growing inner turmoil to notice the pair of metal chopsticks lying on the ground before you until your foot made contact and slipped out from under you.

It all happened so fast that you couldn’t even react.

Time froze as you became weightless, and you felt your body become briefly suspended in the air. Before you could react and rotate your body to prevent yourself from violently banging your head on the tiled floor, gravity took hold and yanked you back down toward the ground. You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to witness your classmates’ reactions to your misfortune.

Great, now I’m gonna embarrass myself in front of the entire school. Fuck you, chopsticks.

You prepared yourself for the pain of hitting the hard floor but were shocked when you were suddenly wrapped in a chilled warmth. You did slam into a hard surface, but this didn’t feel like the cold tile you expected.

“Are you all right?” a voice asked from above. You opened your eyes, only to find yourself captivated by a beautiful graphite and turquoise gaze. Your mouth opened to respond to the inquiry, but you couldn’t speak. This strange yet calming gaze hypnotized you, causing the rest of the world to fade into a buzzing silence. You watched as the perfect eyebrows of the owner of those magical eyes furrowed downward at your prolonged silence, the action momentarily drawing your attention.

With your attention span no longer zeroed in on the heterochromatic gaze, the world around you suddenly slammed back into your senses at full force. The volume of your fellow classmates’ conversations was deafening at first, but your ears grew accustomed once again to zone them out and focus on the person before you.

It took about thirty seconds for the entirety of your current predicament to register within your brain.

You were hanging about ten centimeters off the ground. The only thing keeping you upright and injury-free was Shouto Todoroki’s firm grip on your wrist.

“Um, hello?” the dual-haired teenager once again drew your attention to him. His grip slightly tightened before he tugged you up onto your feet.

“I think you broke her, Icy-Hot.” A rough voice drawled from your peripheral.

The intrusion of the other voice is what finally brought you out of your stunned silence. “No, I’m okay. Not broken.”

“Did you hit your head?” Todoroki inquired. He steadied you on your feet but didn’t release your wrist from his hold. Katsuki Bakugou was standing off to the side, trying to appear like he wasn’t involved with either one of you.

“I-I don’t think so.” As you reached down to brush yourself off, you caught a whiff of the unflattering scent of old milk emitting from your clothes. You held back your gag and turned to face Todoroki and Bakugou. “I’m sorry to rush, but I really do need to go.” You gave a quick bow. “Thank you for catching me, Todoroki. Bye!”

The two boys watched you sprint away like a bat out of hell. “T’fuck is her problem,” Bakugou muttered. “Fuckin’ extra makin’ me late for lunch.”

Todoroki didn’t respond to his classmate’s remarks. His lips pursed together as he watched you nearly run into a couple of first years before you disappeared around a corner, out of sight.

“Don’ even think ‘bout it, Icy-Hot.” Bakugou drawled from beside him. Todoroki cocked an eyebrow, the only sign of emotion on his otherwise indifferent expression. “Gettin’ involved with ‘hat extra will ruin your precious bloodline.”

You tried to forget about the cafeteria incident, but the embarrassing ordeal refused to secede from the forefront of your mind. As you lay in bed that night, your thoughts ran a hundred kilometers a minute, antagonizing and overanalyzing every second of what had happened.

As the night dragged on, your thoughts shifted from the overall event to one single individual: Shouto Todoroki. You knew who he was, of course. You didn’t grow up underneath a rock. Yet, you weren’t prepared for how much more handsome he was in person than on the news or in photos.

You overanalyzed everything he did in the brief two minutes you were blessed to be in his company, every word he said, and every brief flash of emotion that showed in his heterochromatic eyes. Todoroki had tried to approach you after training in Ground Beta once you had returned from the dorms, but you avoided him, not wanting to face him again so soon after the embarrassing first meeting.

By Sunday, you had begun to forget about your embarrassing cafeteria incident. Your newfound friends didn’t bring up the spilled milk, and thankfully, they didn’t see you slip on the chopsticks and fall into Shouto Todoroki’s muscular arms. You breathed a sigh of relief when you found out that last part. You didn’t want them to think you were a total klutz.

Todoroki may think otherwise.

As you were rounding the corner to walk back up the stairs to head back to your dorm room, Todoroki happened to be walking down. You both turned at the same time and walked straight into each other.

He wasn’t fazed by the sudden collision; however, you were taken completely off guard. No matter how strong you may be, suddenly walking into about a hundred kilos of pure muscle would make anyone stumble. While he remained steadily standing, you, on the other hand, fell back onto your ass.

It took about three seconds for the two of you to comprehend what the hell had just happened. You groaned out when pain flashed across your backside.

“My apologies, I did not see you.” Todoroki said as he offered you a hand. You begrudgingly accepted his assistance, face heating as your super handsome classmate helped you to your feet for the second time in a week.

“Thank you,” you bowed your head to him. You brushed away some dust from your sweatpants, finding yourself too shy to look back up.

You felt a firm, yet gentle hand land on your shoulder. You jerked your head upwards to meet Todoroki’s captivating gaze. “Are you injured?” His heterochromatic eyes searched you for any injury, and they glimmered with relief when he found none.

“No, I’m okay,” you reassured the male. “I may be a little bruised in the morning, but I will be fine.” Not to mention my bruised ego.

Todoroki hummed in acknowledgment, his hand still resting on your shoulder. His eyes were hyper-fixated on you, leaving you to feel bare under his intense gaze.

You shifted your weight back and forth as the silence between you dragged on for a couple more seconds. “Um, I—” You cleared your throat. “I should be on my way now. Got things to study, you know.” You told him with an awkward laugh.

You moved to step around him when it became obvious he wasn’t going to move. Your movements are what must have shaken him out of his stupor, with him bashfully stepping to the side to allow you access to the stairway.

“Right.” He said as you walked by. “Take care, Y/N.” You startled at his sudden usage of your given name, but nevertheless, you felt oddly relieved. You smiled shyly and bid him goodbye. Nothing else was said between the two of you, but you felt his eyes on you as you walked up the stairs.

I hope he likes cinnamon; you thought as you peered into the oven.

To be fair, you should have considered that before laboring for over two hours making kinako cinnamon cookies from scratch—which absolutely failed. Therefore, as a last resort, you were forced to run to the store and buy a box mix.

The he in question?

Shouto Todoroki.

It had been several days since your embarrassing first interaction with the dual-haired male and forty-five hours since your second, literal, run-in—not that you were keeping track, of course.

You wanted to do something nice for him as a way to apologize for your newfound clumsiness and thank him for his assistance in both instances. Your calligraphy skills were not . . . up to par, so to say, by any means, so a handmade thank-you card was off the table, and you highly doubt Todoroki was a flower guy. Not to mention his affluent background, so buying him a gift or offering to take him out to dinner was null—and way too straightforward for two people who were barely even acquaintances.

Therefore, you were left with only one option: homemade cookies.

Besides, all the old aunties back home always said the quickest way to win anyone over was through food.

“Ooooh, something smells amazing!” someone exclaimed from the stairway. Smiling slyly to yourself, you turned away from the oven to the new arrival.

You hadn’t interacted much with Rikido Sato save for the casual good morning greetings and thanking him for the delicious red velvet cupcake he baked for you as a welcoming gift to U.A.

“Thanks,” you said, grinning at the male.

The combined low mutterings of more approaching classmates brought your and Sato’s attention to the doorway where Mina Ashido, Eijirou Kirishima, Denki Kaminari, and Hanta Sero were entering the dorm.

“Woah something smells fantastic!” Kaminari said, gazing into the kitchen in hopes of spotting the source of the delicious scent.

“Yeah, it does!” Kirishima agreed.

“Oh my gosh, what is it?” Ashido asked as she walked over. Her eyes lit up when she spotted you. “L/N! Did you make something?”

“I did.” You confirmed with a slight nod. “I’m making kinako cinnamon cookies.”

“Oooooh, yummy!” the pinkette exclaimed as she bounced over to peer into the oven. Your other classmates quickly joined her, all of them staring into the soft, golden light of the oven with stars in their eyes.

“They look so good!” Kaminari was practically drooling at the tawny treats. At that moment, the timer went off with a soft ting! You politely shooed your classmates back as you pulled a hand towel over your hands.

“Step back, everyone,” you warned as you opened the oven door. “They’re going to be hot.” You carefully reached in and grabbed the cooking tray, cautiously sliding it off the rack and fully into your cloth-covered hands. Despite taking precautions, you hissed as the hot aluminum seeped through the towel and made contact with your flesh. As quickly as you could without dropping the pan of cookies, you turned and set it down on the kitchen island.

“These look delicious!”

“Woah, man, they look amazing!”

“I bet they taste as scrumptious as they lo—”

You zoned out the boys’ compliments as you moved to the sink and turned on the tap.

“L/N, are you okay?” Ashido asked as she followed you. Her question caught the other's attention, and they, too, turned to watch you quizzingly.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Your response ended with a wince as your skin made contact with the cool water.

“Here, let me see,” Ashido gestured to your hand. With your permission, she took your wrist with gentle fingers and held it up for you both to inspect. Your skin was reddened slightly, but it wasn’t anything serious. You let out a sigh of relief. “It’s not serious, thankfully, but we should still put some burn cream on it just in case,” Ashido advised as she turned off the tap.

You nodded your head again and followed the pink-haired girl as she went to retrieve the first-aid kit. Before you walked too far from the kitchen, you shouted over your shoulder to your classmates, “Please don’t eat the cookies, boys! They are still hot and are for someone special!”

There was a noticeable delay in response to your warning. After a pregnant pause, there was a muffled, “okamph!” in response. You were about to turn around and make sure that they weren’t eating your treats, but Ashido calling your name changed your plans.

“Let’s fix you up, yeah?” She said as you both entered the girls' bathroom. Ashido gestured for you to sit on the counter while she dug through the first-aid kit for burn cream.

“Thank you, Ashido,” you said a few moments later as she lightly applied the cream to the worst of the reddening. Your skin wasn’t blistering, which was a good sign, but it was beginning to ache.

“No problem,” she replied. She began to gently rub the cream into your skin, mindful of the sore spots. She beamed at you as she said, “And you can just call me Mina. We are friends!”

You smiled at her. “Okay, Mina.” The two of you were silent for a couple of minutes as Mina continued to dress your burns.

“So,” she started, breaking the silence. “Who did you make the cookies for?”

You sharply inhaled. “W-what? What do you mean?” You tried to play it off by playing dumb, but Mina gave you an are you kidding me look.

“Don’t play that game with me, girl.” She scolded you. “So, tell me, who is this ‘special someone’?”

You let out a heavy sigh, dropping your shoulders in defeat. “One of our classmates. . .” You trailed off, turning away from the pinkette, and absentmindedly twirling a strand of hair around your finger.

Mina’s eyes lit up and her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Oh my God, seriously?!?” She squealed. You turned to face her again. “Girl, you absolutely gotta tell me! Who is it?!” She went to grab ahold of your hands but stopped herself when she remembered your injury. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You said. “But, um, I—” You hesitated, searching for the right words, but you couldn’t find them. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.” You said, barely above a whisper, turning away from your classmate once more in embarrassment.

Mina leaned back, taken by surprise by your change of tone. She studied you for a few seconds, her expression falling when she saw the look on your face; the clenching of your jaw.

“It’s okay, girl,” she reassured you. She set the roll of bandages down on the counter as she finished wrapping your hand. “You don’t have to tell me who your crush is if you don’t want to.”

You whipped back around to face her, eyes wide. “C-crush?!” you stammered out. “W-what?! I don’t have a crush! I never said I did.” you explained.

“Yeah, sure,” Mina smirked at you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You wouldn’t of baked cookies for them if you didn’t like them.”

“Um, because I’m nice?” you asked with a lilt in your voice. Mina does have a point, though, you thought.

Mina laughed. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go with that.”

A couple of minutes later, you and the pinkette exited the bathroom, laughing over something Mina had said. Your hand had been expertly wrapped and treated with some burn cream. Your injury didn’t even hurt anymore, but you were still going to check in tomorrow with Recovery Girl as a precaution.

As you rounded the corner to go back into the kitchen, you stopped dead in your tracks as your eyes fell to the now-empty pan where twenty cookies sat not even ten minutes ago. Mina stopped next to you, and you could see her giving you a questionable look, but you didn’t—couldn’t—acknowledge her. You just stared blankly at the pan, trying to process what you were seeing.

What the hell? you thought.

“Ah, man,” a voice drawled out. You slowly turned towards the source; Denki Kaminari. He was lounging against the counter as he rubbed his stomach for emphasis. “Those cinnamon kinako cookies were delicious!” Your brain blanked out when you heard that, the organ pathetically trying to comprehend and respond to the current situation.

“You’re telling me!” Kirishima piped up from beside the blond. Sero and Sato voiced their agreement from where they were seated on the couches. “They really hit the spot after the day I had.” The redhead noticed you and Mina. “Hey, guys, welcome back!” he greeted with a wave, a broad smile overtaking his features. “How’s your hand?”

You did not formulate an answer right away, your brain still processing the crumbled remains of your cookies. Your delay didn’t go unnoticed by the others, but before they could question it, Mina came to your rescue.

“It’s okay! Y/N is alright, nothing major.” She informed them. Kirishima’s gaze left you to focus on the pinkette by your side, but Kaminari’s remained transfixed on your blank expression.

“Oh, well, that’s great to hear! I was worried—”

“But you should be ashamed!” Mina cut the redhead off, tone sharp as a blade. “All of you.”

“What—?”

“Mina, why—?”

Kirishima and Kaminari spoke at once, their voices clashing, but the pinkette interrupted them once more.

“Y/N didn’t make those cookies for you.” She said. “She made them for someone special, yet you guys ate them even after she told you not to.” She just about bit the last part out. The boys gaped at Mina, her scolding catching them by surprise.

“Is that true?” Sato asked, rising from the couch to approach you. Everyone fixated their attention on you, waiting for a response.

You hesitated at the sudden limelight, and also in shyness. When you originally set out to bake the kinako cookies for Todoroki, you didn’t expect them to 1.) burn your hand and 2.) for them to be eaten by others. Even though you were upset, you didn’t want the others to be ashamed or scolded. But they did eat them after I told them not to, you thought, pondering your next move.

After a few moments, you squared your shoulders and steadily said, “Yes. I . . . made them for somebody.” At your words, the room’s atmosphere soured. The boys’ shoulders slumped as they realized their mistake.

“Shoot, L/N, I’m sorry,” Kaminari said, stepping forward to gently grab your uninjured hand and bow.

“Yeah,” Kirishima added, scratching the back of his neck and looking away slightly. “That wasn’t really manly of us.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Sero intoned, looking sheepish.

Sato came to stand in front of you next to Kaminari, who still had a gentle hold of your hand. “I’ll be more than happy to remake the cookies for you.” He said. “If you want that, of course.”

You smiled, though it was closed-lipped. “Thank you, Sato, but not today.” He bowed his head.

Suddenly, the front doors slammed open, startling the six of you. You all watched, shell-shacked—you did, at least—as a fuming Bakugou stepped inside, loudly exclaiming, “I had ‘hat dumbass villain handled! Damn Sidekick extra jus’ had to step ‘n and—” He noticed your little group gaping at him. “The hell ‘re ya fools lookin’ at?” As the words left his mouth, the other two members of the infamous U.A. trio entered as well.

“Kacchan,” Izuku Midoriya said, trying to placate the explosive male. “He was just trying to . . .” The rest of his sentence fizzled into the background as the entirety of your attention span landed on Shouto Todoroki.

It had already been well-established that the youngest Todoroki son was even more handsome in person, but seeing him in his Hero costume did things to you. Your mouth almost dropped open to gawk at his god-like appearance, but you clenched your jaw tightly shut to avoid that catastrophe. Despite that, you were pretty positive your eyes were as wide as saucers, greedily taking every inch of him in as if it were the last time you would see him.

I should sue him for the cost of my medical bills when I develop heart palpitations, you thought.

“Shut the hell up, ya stupid nerd.” Bakugou snapped at a sputtering Midoriya, drawing your attention once more. You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

“Is he always this angry?” you asked under your breath; half-serious, half-rhetorical.

“Oh, yeah,” Mina confirmed, voice just as low.

Sero snickered from his post next to Sato. “You get used to it after a while,” he reassured you.

One of Kirishima’s blinding smiles makes its appearance once again. “Katsuki’s always been passionate about, well, everything.” He told you, not bothering to lower his voice. “It’s who he is. We love him regardless.”

Sato chimed in with, “Platonically.” The boys snickered and Mina rolled her eyes, yet there was a small smile playing on her lips.

“Even though his sour attitude can be harsh and lowkey over the top,” Kaminari began, eyes shining with mischief. “It sure makes him fun to mess with!” Your companions groaned in exasperation and started to voice their reservations.

“No, Denki. Leave him be—” Mina urged him.

“Awe, come on, man. Don’t—”

“Heyy~ Katsuki,” Kaminari crooned, rocking back on his heels as the pale blond’s attention zeroed in on him. Kirishima and Sato facepalmed. “Why have trouble catching a ‘dumbass villain’?” he teased. “Bad day? Your head not in the game?” The hair on your arms rose to attention as an electric charge swept the room, putting everyone on edge. Kaminari’s baiting also drew the attention of the explosive male’s companions. Your eyes briefly met captivating graphite and turquoise, eliciting a sharp gasp to leave your lungs.

“You’re gonna regret the day you were born, dumbass!” Bakugou bellowed, pointing an accusatory finger at the electric blond, snapping your attention from the hypnotizing gaze. You fully expected him to charge the male, already taking a cautionary step back, but instead of explosions ripping apart the building, Bakugou grunted and moved towards the showers.

Mina turned to the blond and shouted, “Now why did you do that, Denki? You know better than to rile Katsuki up like that!”

Kirishima dragged a large hand down his face before running it through his unruly red locks. “I’ll go check on him,” he announced before jogging after the sandy-blond. You were at a loss for words as you continued to watch your classmates scold a shit-grinning Kaminari, not even the tiniest bit remorseful for his teasing of Bakugou.

“Please don’t take Kacchan’s rashness to heart.” A new voice piped up. You turned to meet the electric green gaze of none other than Izuku Midoriya, the new generation’s proclaimed Symbol of Peace. “I’m s-sorry, I don’t think we have properly met. I’ve been in and out of campus lately—with missions and such.” He practically skipped over to stand in front of you. He smiled brightly as he gently took your hands in his large, calloused ones. “I’m Izuku Midoriya. I’m so happy you are here at U.A.!” he excitedly exclaimed, lightly squeezing your entwined hands. You couldn’t hide your wince and small gasp of pain as Midoriya unknowingly squeezed your burns. The green-haired male let go of your hands so fast as if he was the one burned instead of you, eyes growing wide. “Oh my gosh, are you okay?!” he asked, noticing the bandages wrapped tightly around your hand. Midoriya’s frenzy caught the other's attention, and all eyes were on you yet again.

The tips of your ears grew hot at the unwavering attention from the Heroes-in-training—especially from a certain icy-hot male who made your heart falter in its beating. “Y-yeah, I’m f-fine.” You stuttered as you met each of your classmate's gazes, trying to reassure them of your stability.

“What happened?” Todoroki inquired, eyes hawkishly zeroed in on your face.

“U-um, well . . .” you trailed off, words fading from your brain as you slightly cowered under his unwavering attention. “I—”

“She burned herself while baking kinako cookies,” Sero spoke for you, having caught onto your growing anxiousness. You didn’t miss Todoroki’s eyes narrowing at the black-haired male’s words. Sato and Kaminari made noises of agreement, the blond absentmindedly rubbing his stomach in content.

Midoriya’s eyes shined. “Really? You did?!” He looked behind you to the kitchen, eyes searching for the aforementioned treats. “Where are they?” he asked when he didn’t spot any, only a plate littered with crumbs. He turned his attention back to you. You opened your mouth to answer, but a wave of shame overcame you as your eyes once again met those of the one you had made the cookies for.

Mina noticed your hesitation, giving you a knowing look as she answered for you. “The three idiots to your left ate them all,” she said with a little bite to her words, glaring daggers at the culprits. “After they were specifically told not to.” She reaffirmed. The boys shuddered at the reminder of their disobedience. The pinkette turned her attention back to the green-haired and dual-haired males. “I patched her up, though. The burns are minor.”

Midoriya nodded his head in understanding. “You should still see Recovery Girl,” he instructed, unashamedly expressing his concern for someone he had just properly met. “At least let her take a look at it.”

“I’m going to stop by to see her in the morning,” you reassured him, words coming back now that your mind was a little clear. His shoulders slumped in relief.

“You should rest, Y/N.” Todoroki’s searing gaze trailed over your form, calculating eyes searching for any additional outward signs of injury or discomfort. “After suffering an injury, no matter how insignificant, rest is important.” He softly chided.

“R-right.” You stammered out, at a loss for how else to respond to your handsome classmate's concern other than compliance. A wave of exhaustion washed over you at that moment. Your feet stumbled as you became lightheaded for a split second. You noticed the dual-haired male take a step towards you, catching onto your sudden exhaustion, but you quickly rightened yourself. “Thank you, Todoroki.” You’re not exactly sure why you thanked him, or what for. His concern, perhaps? He subtly nodded as you turned from the small group, breathlessly mumbling some sort of farewell and something about retiring to your room for the rest of the day.

The others muttered their goodbyes as you made your way to the stairwell.

As you walked up the stairs, head hung low, your throat began to burn and your vision began to blur with tears. The first one fell when you reached your floor, quickly followed by a couple more. You wiped them away, sniffing, as you made your way to your door. You didn’t react to the sudden presence next to you and the weight draped around your shoulders.

Mina didn’t say anything, only traced comforting circles into your back as tears flowed freely down your cheeks.

The next day, you and your classmates were gathered outside Gym Gamma for an impromptu training session. You were surprised that Class 3-A still regularly trained together, but in your defense, that assumption came from someone who didn’t have many options when it came to sparing partners up until your transfer—a major shortcoming in retrospect.

“Today we are working on ‘last stand’ combat.” Mr. Aizawa drawled in his natural I Don’t Give A Fuck tone. “Close-quarter combat in which a violent assailant has obtained the upper hand and corners you in an attempt to defeat you.” He proceeded to explain the instructions of the training exercise and pair the students into groups of four who would take turns being the Heroes and the assailants.

“Midoriya will be with Jirou.” Mr. Aizawa intoned, briefly glancing at the two students to confirm they heard. “Todoroki will be with L/N.” Your muscles stiffened when you heard that. Your heart began to race as you watched the red-and-white-haired male make his way over to you.

“H-hi,” you greeted him, giving a soft smile.

“Hello,” he said, politely inclining his head. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Same here.” You said before facing forward once more as the first group began their round. You and Todoroki observed the match in silence, with you paying extra attention to your classmates’ movements and taking mental notes of how they incorporated their Quirks into hand-to-hand combat.

The sound of approaching footsteps drew your attention. Expecting the new additions to be Ochako and Asui, you turned to greet them with a warm smile but paused when instead of your friends, Midoriya and Kyoka Jirou were standing next to you, both with warm expressions on their faces.

“Hi!” Midoriya greeted with a wide smile and a small wave. “I’m excited for this training exercise! It’s going to be so cool to see everyone’s improvement with hand-to-hand combat over the break! And any new moves! Or Quirk Awakenings! Or—” You had a hard time keeping up with what he was saying as it turned into a stuttering rant as he went on about each individual’s Quirk.

The rumors were true regarding his ramblings, you mused to yourself, wondering how long he could go on for before a small hand on his shoulder made him take pause.

“Midoriya,” Jirou intoned. “Calm down.” His cheeks flushed a bright red. He began laughing nervously while absentmindedly rubbing the back of his neck.

“S-sorry,” he said, shyfully.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him. “I agree with your stance, though. Observing others' skills is an effective way to improve your own. Get an idea or two.” You turned your attention back to the ongoing training, taking mental notes of your classmates’ fighting stances and their defensive moves, trying to get a better understanding of the why behind them. You pulled a small item from your jacket pocket, absentmindedly rubbing it between your thumb and forefinger. The movement caught Midoriya’s attention.

“What is that?” he asked, green eyes alight with curiosity.

“What? This?” You held up your good luck charm; a small, pink parrot keychain from a popular cartoon series you had won years ago at one of your hometown’s summer festivals. It was lucky because at the moment, while little you were trying to win, your Quirk had manifested. “It’s my good luck charm,” you explained the pink parrot’s value to you.

“Oh, cool!” Midoriya exclaimed. “You know, I used to have a good luck charm—it was my super rare exclusive All Might trading card! First edition!” His eyes shined as he reminisced. “I would bring it with me everywhere! Even Kacchan—”

“Deku,” drawled a low voice from the other side of your gathered class. The temperature fell as Bakugou’s vermillion eyes narrowed onto Midoriya. “Don’t say another word.”

“He’s such a fanboy.” Jirou chuckled, fondness seeping into her voice. Midoriya smiled sheepishly, not bothering even to try to deny the label. You spent the time until your group’s turn getting to know the two, quickly finding out that you and Jirou share the same taste in music; vowing to swap playlists after class. You were so caught up in your conversation that you almost forgot about Todoroki's presence, if not for the awareness of a body next to you. His chilled warmth seeped into your muscles, causing you to relax one moment, and tense up another.

“Are you all right?” he softly inquired, spying your tensed posture.

“Yeah, I’m good.” You replied, softly smiling but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Just a lil’ nervous, is all.”

Todoroki frowned slightly, not understanding how you could be experiencing anxiousness. “Wh—?”

“Oh yeah!” Midoriya suddenly interjected. “This is going to be your first time demonstrating your Quirk, huh?” he asked you. “Or at least this is gonna be the first time I will see it. What is it again? Object—no—um, yeah, anyway I bet it is awesome!” His eyes still shined with his enthusiasm and curiosity. “Sometime you gotta let me ask you about it! I have so many! Does it work like Ochako’s Zero Gravity? Or Yaoyorozu’s Creation?”

You couldn’t help but give a small laugh at his eagerness. You had never met someone as enthusiastic about Quirks as Izuku Midoriya. It was kind of refreshing to interact with someone as passionate as he was.

“Kind of,” you began, silently pondering over what you know of the brunette’s Quirk and comparing it to your own. “Ochako and I have the same limitations when it comes to the weight of an object, but besides that, our Quirks are different.” Your Quirk was object manipulation; you could telepathically manipulate objects within a certain range. To you, your Quirk wasn’t all that—wasn’t anything unique by any means—but to others, you were seen as a powerful goddess. “To be honest, I’m lacking in hand-to-hand combat skills.” You sheepishly smiled.

“Really?” Midoriya asked, blinking in shock. “I thought your previous school would have prepared you for all types of situations.” Jirou nodded her agreement with the green-haired male. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Shouto continue to observe you with a calculating expression on his face.

“Unfortunately, no.” You shrugged. “Their curriculum was more focused on improving the individual’s Quirk than learning how to fight without it.”

“Oh, wow,” Jirou said. “That could put you at a great disadvantage down the line.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I know. That’s why—” You were cut off by Mr. Aizawa calling for your group to begin your training round. “Welp, this is it, I guess.” You chuckled nervously.

Midoriya gave you a reassuring smile. “You’ll do great!” he said, giving you a thumbs-up accompanied by a warm smile.

“Do your best,” Jirou added before moving towards the training pitch.

You started to follow, but a cool hand on your shoulder made you pause, shivering softly. You turned to find Todoroki giving you an expectant look. “You’ll do fine,” he said, confidently. He looked as if he put his entire faith in you. “I’ll be by your side the entire time.”

You felt a surge of confidence fill you at his words. You gave him a determined look. “Right,” you said. “We got this.”

You swear up and down his eyes twinkled when he looked at you, but it could have been a trick of the light. “You got this.” He replied, softly. The two of you walked into the pitch together, side by side.

The training went . . . not terrible, but it could have been better on your end.

Todoroki, Midoriya, and Jirou were amazing. Even without using their Quirks, they each were a force to be reckoned with. You were captivated by how swiftly they moved—as if they were ballerinas performing Danse des Petits Cygnes.

You weren’t on the same level as them and the rest of Class 3-A. You knew that, and you acknowledged it, but to see and be confronted by it so bluntly in person made you feel a whole other level of embarrassment and shame. You weren’t weak by any means, you could hold your own in a fight for some time, but not like your classmates could—and had.

Perhaps that is what separates you from your classmates. They have battle experience. Hell, they fought in a fucking war for crying out loud while you were on the other side of the country, guarding civilian shelters. You were fortunate not to see much bloodshed, but maybe that brought you to a disadvantage against these future Heroes surrounding you.

The horn had sounded as Jirou pinned you in the dirt for the sixth time, signaling the end of the round. You heard the sounds of Midoriya and Todoroki’s scuffling come to a halt from somewhere off to your left as Jirou lifted herself off of you. She offered you a hand as you began to rise from the ground. You accepted her extended hand with a grimace as the muscles in your back burned.

“Nice work.” Mr. Aizawa said as the four of you approached. “You performed adequately,” he addressed Jirou, Todoroki, and Midoriya. He turned to you. “You, not so much.”

You flinched as the words landed home. Damn, you thought, but he’s not wrong. You had naively allowed yourself to believe that Eraserhead wouldn’t call out your inferiority, at least in front of others. Then again, he was Eraserhead—infamous for his bluntness and apathy.

“Your skills are greatly lacking in hand-to-hand combat,” he continued. “I haven’t seen somebody so physically inadequate since your classmates were first years. Coming from another Hero Course, especially one with its reputation, it’s to be expected that you’re not up to par with your new classmates, but I didn’t think it would be this bad.” As he spoke, he never broke eye contact with you, scrutinizing you. Even with one eye, his unrelenting gaze made you feel as if he could see every minuscule detail about you. “Based on the performance I saw today, it was a mistake to put you in this class.”

You heard a gasp from one of your classmates; its owner unknown. You gulped down your shame and remained silent. You had a feeling Aizawa wasn’t finished with you.

“From here on out, I expect you to train harder and push yourself further than anyone else. Extra training, extra classes—anything that will make you catch up.” His eye narrowed. “If I do not see substantial improvement in one month, you will be expelled. No exceptions.”

Your eyes widened, but your shock did not stop you from replying. “Yes, sir.” You said, keeping your tone neutral as you mulled over his words. Although extreme, I understand the reason for Mr. Aizawa’s methods, you thought. He’s right though. I’m far from even scrapping the level these guys are on. I need to be more disciplined and work even harder if I want to stand on equal ground with my classmates. Resolve made, you promised, “I will go Plus Ultra!”

“Yaass, Y/N!” Mina cheered. “Woohoo!”

Aizawa didn’t say anything else to you, promptly dismissing the class. Midoriya praised your performance and commented on his wish to sit down and talk in-depth with you regarding your Quirk. You promptly accepted his request, telling him you would let him know when you were free. He smiled before walking off to join Iida and Ochako.

“If it means anything,” a voice suddenly intoned from behind you. You spun around, having not sensed the person's approach. You weren’t all that surprised to find Todoroki there, softly regarding you. “I think you did well.”

You scoffed but smiled softly. “Thank you, but you don’t have to patronize me. I have a lot of work to do if I want to catch up.”

“You will,” he declared, before quickly clarifying, “Catch up. Especially with my help.”

You furrowed your brows. “Excuse me?”

“Should I repeat myself?” he inquired, his heterochromatic eyes swimming in mirth. “I will assist you in your training and classes.”

You didn’t respond right away, regarding him with suspicion. You waited for him to name a condition for his help, but when he offered none, you relaxed. “Thank you, Todoroki.” You inclined your head. “I greatly appreciate it.”

“Shouto,” he corrected.

You blinked at him, taken aback. “What?”

“Shouto,” he reiterated. “You may call me Shouto. We are friends, are we not?”

You gaped at him for a moment, processing his words. “Ye-yeah!” you said a little too loudly. “We are friends, Shouto.”

The small smile that graced his lips lit up your entire world and caused your heart to speed up, pounding almost painfully against your ribcage. “Meet me here tomorrow after class.” He instructed.

“Tomorrow.” You repeated in confirmation.

His smile grew a little wider. “See you then, Y/N.” He said before turning on his heel and strolling away. You watched him go in a daze, in disbelief of what just occurred.

“Oooooooo, Y/N’s gotta date!”

You shrieked at the sudden voice and spun around for a second time to find Mina standing there, hunched over laughing at your reaction.

“Mina!” you shrieked, placing a hand over your heart. “You scared the shit outta me!”

She continued to laugh. “Sorry,” she said once her laughter died down. “You were so entranced with Todoroki that you didn’t even realize I was here!”

“Oh, yeah right.” You responded, playfully rolling your eyes. The two of you began to walk to the dorm. “I wasn’t entranced with him.”

The pinkette gave you a look of disbelief, an eyebrow raised. “Yeah, sure,” she retorted. “You can lie to yourself all you want, but you ain’t lying to me.”

You scoffed but didn’t attempt to refute her claims. You put your hands in your pockets and looked to the ground, lost in thought. Mina didn’t say anything else, allowing you both to walk in silence.

The next afternoon, you met Shouto at the training grounds outside Gym Gamma for your first tutored training session. He regarded you kindly as you slowly approached, suddenly feeling quite bashful.

“Thank you for offering to do this, Shouto.” You said when you arrived. “It really means a lot. I don’t know how I’m going to repay you.”

“There’s no need for repayment.” He softly responded. “I volunteered to assist you. Therefore, no repayment of any sort is necessary.”

“Are you sure?” you asked. “I don’t want to inconvenience you—”

His soft call of your name made your next words die in your throat. “I assure you, this is fine.” He said. “Your company and attention are substantial enough.” You felt your face warm at his admission. Shouto gestured towards the training pit. “Shall we begin?”

He started by teaching you some stretches that are supposed to help decrease sudden muscle spasms and strengthen them. Afterward, he had you show him the little knowledge you had of hand-to-hand combat to gain an idea of where you stand in regard to U.A. training. Once you had demonstrated the few kicks and different styles of punching you knew, you turned to judge Shouto’s impression.

Your breath caught at what you saw.

His handsome features remained stoically blank for the most part, but the pursing of his lips and slight furrowing of his brows spoke a different tale. He grumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like they didn’t prepare you at all, but you weren’t one hundred percent sure.

“Shouto?” you inquired, voice slightly uneven as your mouth formed the syllables of his name. “Is everything alright?”

His beautiful eyes snapped to yours, and once again you were frozen by the intensity with which he looked at you. His gaze was calculating, and you could just about see the cogs turning in his brain as he silently regarded you. A couple long moments later, his lips parted on an exhale and he finally addressed you.

“We have a lot of work to do.” He declared. “But we already knew that.” You slowly nodded your head, curious as to where he would be going with this conversation. “Thankfully, you’re not completely helpless,” he intoned dryly. “Even though you don’t have many skills regarding physical, non-Quirk combat, I have identified several places where we can start, correct, and then build on.”

You steadied yourself, resolve firmer than ever before. You declared, “I’m ready.”

Shouto gave a quick, but detailed, overview of his plans for your ‘training tutoring’, you referred to your sessions as. He was going to teach you everything he thought you should know—which was everything he knew—in order to successfully become a Hero people could rely on.

The two of you began by improving your physique. You joined him on his early morning run along with Midoriya and Bakugou, who welcomed you with contrasting fervor. When you met for your afternoon training, you would run five kilometers before learning various grades of combat moves, and then concluding your time together by sparring.

It was established early on that neither of you would use your Quirks during your tutoring as the two of you were well-adapted to your respective Quirks—and the strict rules regarding their usage.

For the next several weeks, you worked tirelessly on your training, and your dedication and hard work paid off. At your end-of-the-month assessment, Aizawa was pleased by your rapid and exceptional improvement and announced you could stay at U.A. He also informed you that it was never his intention to expel you in the first place, but nevertheless, he was impressed by your efforts.

You and Shouto continued to grow closer as time went by. You still had your training tutoring sessions in the afternoons, and you became a regular on his early morning runs. You even hung out outside of class and training; preparing pre-workout meals and drinks together, and various study sessions at all hours of the day and night. Once, you even packed him a small canister of his favorite brand of soba noodles for lunch one of the weekends he was interning at his father’s Agency. When he came back to the dorm after his shift, he made a beeline for you and promptly informed you that from then on out, you would be solely responsible for packing his lunches.

“Now why would I do that?” you implored. You crossed your arms, awaiting his response. “Are you gonna pay me?”

Shouto slowly blinked at you in the way a cat would. “Why would I compensate you for an action you chose to do?”

You had no retort for that.

As you spent more time together, you noticed some changes. Shouto would stare at you for seemingly no reason, and whenever you called him out on it, he feigned innocence. He also sought you out more often, insisting on walking to your next class or to and from the dorm by your side. He even began to occupy you on your shopping runs, dutifully holding your bags for you. And whenever you would thank or compliment him, his whole demeanor would light up as if Aphrodite herself had shown favor towards him.

You weren’t any better, though.

If Shouto would do so much as even blink in your general direction, your heart would soar and butterflies would take flight in your stomach. At first, you brushed it off as nerves for being the subject of the Shouto Todoroki’s attention, but you were in denial, not wanting to admit what was actually occurring. Looking back, you realized that deep down, you had known all along what was happening, but at the time, you weren’t ready to admit it—to yourself and him.

Regardless of your rebuttals and lack of admission, you were falling for your dual-haired classmate, hard and fast, and there wasn’t anything you could do about it.

3 months later . . .

“Y/N! It’s starting! You’re gonna miss it!” Ochako shouted from the couches, the other girls of Class 3-A surrounding her, all dressed in comfortable loungewear. It was the class's annual Girl’s Movie Night, which was held every couple of months. Tooru told you earlier that week that they would like to have it more often, like once a month, but given their hectic and ever-changing schedules, the girls had to settle for every few months. They took turns who got to pick out the movie. It was Mina’s turn this time. True to her nature, she selected an early 2000s chick flick set in the States.

“Hold on, wait for me!” you hollered back as you finished pouring the freshly popped popcorn into a large bowl, a few kernels spilling out as you whirled on your heels to sprint into the living area. You nearly tripped over Jirou’s legs as you practically threw yourself towards the last remaining free spot on the couch.

“Ah, sorry!” you exclaimed as you settled yourself into the cushions, checking over Jirou and your popcorn bowl. “Did I miss anything?”

“No, it’s just starting,” Momo said, taking a sip from her cup of tea as the opening credits began to roll.

“Ooh, this is one of my all-time favorite movies!” Mina squealed next to you. “Have you ever seen it before?” she asked.

You hummed, acknowledging her question. You thought hard, trying to recall if you’ve ever seen the characters on the screen before. “I’m not sure,” you said. “I don’t think so.”

The pinkette gasped aloud and theatrically placed a hand on her chest, sprawling backward. “Y/N! You wound me!”

Across the room, Tooru piped up from her spot next to Asui. “How could you not have?! It’s only one of the greatest movies ever made!”

“Oh, I’m not so sure about that,” Ochako interjected. “Gonna have to disagree.” You expected them to start arguing back and forth over what is truly the greatest movie ever made, like your friends back home would have done, but they don’t. Mina stuck her tongue out at Ochako before turning back to the movie.

You all watched the movie in relative silence, save for the light background noise of popcorn moving around in a bowl and slurping from a now-empty straw. It was nice, peaceful; a well-deserved and appreciated respite from the grinding hustle of being Pro-Heroes-in-training.

“Just confess already!” Jirou shouted at the screen as the main character allowed another opportunity for them to confess their feelings for their classmate slip through their fingers. “Gosh!” A corner of your mouth curled at her irritation. A few grumbles of agreement sounded from the others as the movie continued playing.

You had to stifle your laughter as the main characters continued to pine after one another, completely oblivious to the other’s growing feelings. I can’t believe there are actually people in the world who are like them, you silently mused. It’s so obvious they like each other. I can’t believe they don’t see it.

“Ugh, the anticipation and pining is killing me!” Tooru cried out, her slippers moving frantically in the air as she kicked her legs.

Asui raised a brow. “I thought you’ve seen this movie before?”

“Well, yeah, I have,” the invisible female said. “But the suspense still gets to me!”

“It is quite intense.” Ochako agreed. “I hope they confess soon. It hurts to see them think the other doesn’t return their feelings.”

“I don’t understand how they cannot.” You admitted, shrugging your shoulders. The girls turned to look at you as you continued, “I mean, they’re so obvious.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda annoying at this point,” Jirou mumbled.

Mina snickered. “Y/N, as if you’re one to talk.”

You gave her a questioning look, eyebrows furrowing. “What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, come on. You’re so obvious, too, with your crush—”

You cut her off, “I do not have a crush.”

“You have a crush?” Asui asked. You and Mina responded at the same time.

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, she does.”

“What is this about?” Momo inquired, reaching for the remote and pausing the movie.

“Nothi—” you began but was swiftly interrupted by the pinkette next to you.

“Y/N has a crush on Todoroki!”

The girls gasped and gapped at you, eyes wide.

“I do not!” You said, face burning as you tried to mitigate the situation. “We’re not like that!”

“Oh my.” You thought you heard Momo say under her breath, but you couldn’t really hear since Tooru started shrieking with glee.

“You guys would be the cutest couple!” she exclaimed, jumping up from her spot on the couch and racing over to pull you into a tight embrace.

“I mean, it does make sense given they spend so much time together.” Ochako mused, a finger on her chin as she considered the situation.

Asui jumped on the bandwagon with, “Oh they are definitely into each other.”

“One hundred percent,” Mina agreed.

“Girl, you gotta spill the tea!” Tooru exclaimed as she pulled away. “Tell us everything!” The others voiced their agreement.

“I do admit, I am curious as to how this relationship came to be,” Momo vocalized, setting her tea cup down onto its saucer. “That is if the two of you have gotten that far into your companionship.”

You blinked at the midnight-black-haired woman, shock clouding your brain for a moment as you processed her words. “Um, n-no. We aren’t in any type of r-romantic relationship.” You clarified, but immediately you could tell certain people thought your answer was complete horse poop. “We aren’t!”

“Regardless, you guys are pretty close,” Ochako interjected. “I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Jirou nodded in agreement. “And all the extra training you do together.”

“The early morning runs,” Asui added.

“Okay, okay,” you threw your hands up in a placating manner. “I understand what you guys are trying to get at, but you’re wrong.”

Mina came to stand beside you, giving you a knowing look. “Girl, Y/N,” she began. “You can try with all your might to deny it, but it’s obvious what is really going on between you and Shouto.” She placed a delicate hand on your shoulder. “And I know you know it, too.”

You stared at the pinkette, pondering her and the other’s words. You wanted to continue denying what they were saying, but you were getting tired of denying your feelings to yourself. You slumped your shoulders, the tension leaving your body as you resolved to come clean with the truth—to yourself and your friends, besides a certain dual-haired male. “Alright, fine.” You let out a heavy sigh, mentally preparing yourself for their reaction to your next statement. “I like him a little.” You confessed, looking at the floor, too afraid to meet any of their gazes.

The room was dead silent for two breaths before Mina erupted in choking laughter. “’A little’? Yeah RIGHT!” She laughed so hard that tears began to stream down her pink cheeks. After she managed to calm down a bit, she turned to face you fully, laying a hand on your knee. “Girl, you’re lying to yourself.” She told you, tone light yet serious. “We have all seen the way you look at Shouto—” the others nod in confirmation. “—and your eyes tell it all.”

You flinched as embarrassment flooded you. “Is it really that obvious?” you asked. You turned to the others to gauge their reactions. “Am I?” They all nodded.

“Definitely.”

“For sure.”

“We could see it from a mile away.”

You gasped. “Oh my,” you covered your face with your hands. “Do you think Shouto knows?”

“I doubt so,” Momo said. “Shouto is quite intelligent and a formidable force to be reckoned with, but as I’m sure you’re aware, his experience and understanding of social concepts and cues are fairly limited.”

“In other words,” Jirou interjected. “He’s none the wiser.”

You released a sigh of relief. At least he doesn’t think I’m a psycho stalker or something.

“Hey, give him some credit, guys,” Ochako remarked. “Todoroki’s more aware than he’s given credit for.”

“Moving on,” Mina said. “Have you thought about confessing your feelings to him?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, shamefully looking away. “No. . .”

“What?!”

“Really?!” Tooru shouted. “But he’s so hot!” The sleeves of her shirt crossed in front of her. “I would do anything to be his girlfriend.”

You laughed. “While you are correct about his handsomeness, I don’t even know where I would begin or how I would confess.”

“Your feelings are valid, Y/N,” Asui assured you. “Confessing one’s feelings for another is a life-changing occurrence.”

“You gotta do it before graduation in a couple months, though,” Ochako added. “If not, then you may never get another chance to do so.”

“Why do you say that?” you asked. “As Pros, wouldn’t we work together often? Why does it need to be before we graduate and turn Pro?”

“Possibly, but with our chosen line of work, there is always a possibility. . .” she trailed off with a grimace.

You understood immediately. “Oh.”

“Although rare in the line of duty, it does happen.” Momo said. “I wouldn’t worry about that though, but I agree with Ochako.”

“Plus,” Mina began, mischief glowing in her eyes. “If the two of you get together before you make your Pro Hero debut to the world, you wouldn’t have to worry about him falling in love with some random civilian he rescues on the street or another Pro.”

You nodded. “You have a point.”

“Either way, I think it will all work out in the end,” Ochako said, her cheeks widening with her smile. “I think perhaps Shouto returns your feelings, and just simply doesn’t know what to do about them or how to address them, therefore you should tell him.” The other girls voiced their agreement.

“Yeah, it doesn’t have to be some big romantic gesture or anything,” Jirou said.

“Just be honest with him, Y/N,” Asui said.

“Yeah, girl,” Mina added, giving you a warm smile when you met her gaze. “You got this. Besides, he can’t reject you. You’re too hot for that.”

You squared your shoulders as a burst of confidence filled you thanks to the encouragement you received from your friends. “Okay, I will!” you loudly announced. “I will confess my feelings to him!”

The others cheered as you all held up your lemon water in a faux toast. In your happiness, none of you noticed the shadows shift in the stairwell and the soft noise of retreating footsteps on the wood.

You were screwed.

“How am I gonna tell him!?” you mewled aloud a couple of days later in the cafeteria. You dramatically slumped your forehead on the tabletop, mentally kicking yourself for allowing the girls to convince you that confessing your crush would be an easy endeavor. You felt a reassuring pat on your shoulder. Groaning, you lifted your head from the table to shoot puppy eyes at Ochako. “Ochako, help me!” you cried. “How do I confess?”

The brunette gave you a sheepish smile. “I don’t know, Y/N.” She professed, her eyes apologetic. “Proclaiming one's love for another isn’t really my strong suit.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Asui mumbled under her breath before taking a sip of her drink, receiving a glare in response.

“Y/N, sweetie,” Mina cooed from your other side. “I think you’re overthinking it a little. It shouldn’t be but so hard. Just be honest with him!”

“But that is hard!” you said, waving your hands in the air. “I can’t just walk up to him and say, ‘hey, Shouto, I think you’re really hot and amazing. Wanna go out with me?’”

“Sure you can,” Momo intoned, trying to reassure you. “Maybe not in those exact words, but when the time comes, you will know what to say.”

“I hope so,” you sighed, slumping your shoulders. “I hope so.”

As time passed, you found that you did not, in fact, know what to say when the time came to confess your feelings to Shouto Todoroki. Whenever you were near him, you became tongue-tied and could barely speak without becoming a stuttering mess. During each interaction, Shouto would give you a long, confused look, his eyebrows drawn downwards as he watched you struggle for words. He wouldn’t comment on it, bless him, but he must’ve thought you to be a total weirdo.

Yet, he still accompanied you on the walk back to the dorm every day after classes ended, and he insisted on continuing your training sessions every weekend after he finished his shift at Endeavor’s Agency. The two of you grew closer, to your absolute delight, and yet you still hadn’t managed to work up the courage to confess your feelings to him.

Until one day . . .

You were sitting in homeroom during free period, chatting with Midoriya about the latest episode of the rebooted All Might: The Mightiest Man TV series.

“I’m telling you, Midoriya,” you said. “It doesn’t matter how much the animation and special effects have improved, the original will always be better than the reboot.” You crossed your arms and lounged back in your chair, waiting for the forest green-haired male to start sputtering his counterargument. “You can’t change my mind. I will die on this hill.”

“Are you seriously sayin—?”

A call of your name from a familiar tenor drew your attention. You turned towards the source to meet a pair of heterochromatic eyes. Shouto was making his way to your desk, coming to a stop right in front of you. You had to tilt your head back in order to maintain eye contact. After a moment, he turned his attention to Midoriya next to you. “Pardon me, Midoriya, but I need to speak to Y/N in private.”

You and Midoriya gaped at the dual-haired male for a good twenty seconds before you slowly rose from your seat. “O-okay.” You turned to face your green-haired companion. You hoped your eyes were conveying your inner panic as you said, “Midoriya, I’ll be back.”

All he could do was nod as he watched you follow behind Shouto, wondering why you looked so panicked to go with the male. Maybe you were constipated.

As Shouto led you toward the classroom door, Ochako and Mina shot you curious glances. When you met their gazes, they gave you a reassuring smile and a thumbs up, respectfully.

“Good luck, girl!” Mina whisper-shouted.

“You got this, Y/N,” Ochako said. You tried to match her comforting smile with your own, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

You followed behind the dual-haired male, silently wondering what was going on. Once you were outside the classroom, he led you down the hallway to a little corner nook bathed in the golden light of the afternoon.

“Shouto, is everything okay?” you asked, anxiously shifting from one foot to the other. “Is something wrong?” At your inquiry, he finally came to a stop in front of a set of windows and turned to face you.

“Yes, everything is fine.” He reassured you. “I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”

You blinked. “Okay,” you said. “Shoot.”

Shouto likewise paused at your usage of unfamiliar slang but didn’t comment on it. “Um,” he started, but drifted off, not finishing the thought. He opened his mouth only to shut it again after a moment or two without making a sound. You furrowed your brows as you continued to watch him struggle for words.

“Um, Sho?” you prodded. He didn’t respond, however, still thinking over his next words. Shouto never hesitates, you thought with a mixture of wonderment and anxiety. Is something bothering him? you thought with growing concern. You felt your heart come to a skittering stop as another horrifying conclusion came to mind; am I the problem?

“I overheard you and the other girls’ conversation on Movie Night,” he confessed at last, interrupting your spiraling train of thought. He bashfully looked away as if he was ashamed.

“Oh, okay?” you responded, absentmindedly going through the events of the night in question. Your heartbeat began to calm down to a normal rate. “What conversation?” You couldn’t think of anything in particular and were about to ask him to elaborate before the realization hit you like a freight train.

“I like him a little.”

“Okay, I will! I will confess my feelings to him!”

“Yeah, girl, you got this. Besides, he can’t reject you. You’re too hot for that.”

Oooohhhhh.

Fuck.

Maybe he didn’t hear that particular part of the conversation! You tried to reassure yourself as you waited for Shouto to answer your question. Your heart rate picked back up as panic began to settle in. We were there for several hours. There is so much he could’ve—

“You have an admiration going on.” You hate to admit you gawked at him for a couple of seconds before his formal wording translated into modern speech. You have a crush.

FUCK!

“Oh my God, I am so sorry!” you rushed out, trying to save face and whatever friendship you had with Shouto. You felt your cheeks burn. “Please, just forget you ever heard that!”

Shouto snapped his head to you as your words registered in his brain. “Why would I do that?” he asked after a moment. “We live in the same building with shared living space, barely anything is not overheard by another.”

Oh God, how much did he overhear?

“Besides,” he continued. “At our age, it is completely natural for one to harbor feelings for another.”

You blinked at him as his words registered, your cheeks now tingling due to the burn. Gosh, he sounds like a grandpa giving the birds and the bees talk.

“It—it’s j-just,” you stammered. “I-I-I—” You let out a harsh breath in frustration when your words continued to fail you. Shouto raised a brow before his eyes narrowed. Your heart sank when you saw that.

Oh great, he’s annoyed!

“Are you all right?” he asked before moving so he was right in front of you. You squeaked at the sudden warmth of his body heat as he placed a hand on your forehead. “Do you feel ill? You feel warm, and your face looks to be flushed with some perspiration gathering on your forehead.” His eyes frantically looked you up and down as he examined you for any further signs of sickness. “I should get you to Recovery Girl.”

“N-no!” you exclaimed when he went to sweep you off your feet. “Sh-Shouto, I—I’m fine, really. I’m n-not s-sick.”

“Oh?” Shouto blinked in confusion and, adorably, subtly tilted his head to the side. “Then why are you so febrile? And you are stuttering?”

“It’s not because I am sick. I’m just em-embarrassed.” You whispered the last part, and you couldn’t help but look away from Shouto in shame.

“Embarrassed? Why are you embarrassed, Y/N?” You shut your mouth, refusing to speak. Shouto sensed your hesitation. The light slowly left his heterochromatic eyes and he bashfully looked away from you. “Is . . . is it because you don’t want to be seen with me?” he asked. “For fear that your crush will see us together and not return your affection?”

You let out a gasp in surprise. “What? No!” You are quick to reassure him—your actual crush—of your intentions. “That’s not it at all!”

Shouto met your gaze again. His eyes lit up with what looked like . . . anticipation? Hope? You weren’t sure, but your heart began to race in trepidation. “Then what is it?”

“I like you,” you blurted out. You shut your eyes and covered your face with your hands, trying to hide from your drowning embarrassment. “Like, not even a little bit, but, like, really, really like you.” You whispered from behind your hands.

There was no immediate response from the dual-haired male. You didn’t dare to remove your hands from your face to check if he was still standing in front of you.

He probably didn’t hear me. You internally slapped yourself upside the head.

Before you could react, Shouto was carefully removing your hands from your face. His touch was gentle, like he was afraid you would crack and break under his fingertips. “Why are you hiding from me?” he whispered. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared wide-eyed at him.

“I—I.” Despite your efforts, words weren’t able to come out of your mouth.

“You should never feel like you need to hide,” he continued. He let out an airy tsk before he reached his hand up and gently tucked a piece of stray hair behind your ear. You felt your face heat up even more at the action. “Especially from me.”

What.

“W-what?” you voiced aloud. You blinked a couple times, trying to bring your brain back from the brink of short-circuiting.

Shouto chuckled lowly, moving impossibly closer into your space. “I think you need to get your hearing checked out, love.”

You blinked some more. “What?”

“Have I broken you?” he asked, the corner of his perfect lips turning up at the thought. “First you forget your words, and now you have lost your hearing. . .” he trailed off as he continued to stare intently into your eyes.

What is he playing at. . .? you wondered as you blankly stared at him.

The two of you stood there and took each other in for quite a while. In reality, it mustn’t have been for very long—at most a minute and a half—but to you, it felt like hours. You were so close you could see the light reflecting in his heterochromatic eyes and the small streaks of gray in the turquoise-colored one.

“I . . . like you, too,” Shouto suddenly confessed, violently snapping you out of the daze his proximity causes. “I have harbored feelings for you for some time now.”

WHAT!?

“You . . . do?” you asked, skeptical. You were hesitant to believe his words in fear that this whole thing was some sick prank. But—

No. Shouto isn’t that type of person, you thought. He barely understands humor as it is, so he must be telling the truth.

“I do,” he confirmed.

“Oh, um.” You fumbled again for words, embarrassment flooding your entire system once more. You licked your dry lips, missing the way Shouto’s eyes locked onto the movement. “Cool.”

Shouto blinked at you, one of his perfect eyebrows raising. “Cool?” he repeated with a sly smile overcoming his lips.

“Mhm.” You dumbly nodded. “Cool.” You paused before muttering a small, “Ditto.”

He chuckled again, subtly moving the tiniest bit closer to you. He was just about crowding you into the corner at this point. “Ditto, huh?” He mumbled under his breath with a widening smirk playing at his lips. “I think I have broken you, dear.”

You grinned. “Perhaps.” Shouto chuckled again before falling silent. The two of you stared at the other, lost in each other’s gazes.

“Can I kiss you?” He spoke on an exhale, his deep voice somehow even deeper. Before you could internally flip the fuck out and fully comprehend what was happening, you were already nodding. That was all the confirmation Shouto needed before he brought your lips in for a sensual kiss. Fireworks exploded behind your eyelids as you relaxed into him.

You smiled into the kiss. Thank you, chopsticks.

The next day, you and Shouto walked into the classroom holding hands. Everyone collectively stopped what they were doing to openly gape at the two of you as Shouto, always the gentleman, escorted you to your seat. The shocked silence lasted all but three seconds before Mina and Tooru let out ear-piercing shrieks and practically tackled you.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” Mina was shouting meanwhile Tooru was holding onto you so tight to the point that she was nearly crushing you into her invisible body.

“AHHHH, I knew this was gonna happen!” she exclaimed before somehow pulling you in closer.

“Can’t . . . breathe.” You wheezed out before your boyfriend pulled you away from the two fangirls and protectively held you to his chest.

“I would be grateful if you didn’t crush my girlfriend to death, Tooru.” He intoned in his naturally dry tenor. His statement only made them freak out even more.

“Ah! Look at the two love birds!” Ochako swooned.

“Fuckin’ disgustin’,” grumbled a deep voice from somewhere in the back of the room.

Before you could turn to shoot Bakugou a death glare, Shouto was already clapping back. “What, are you jealous, Bakugou?”

The desks which had surrounded the blond a moment prior were blown to shiverines.

“I’LL END YOU!”

Fin.

→ extras: snapshot 1, snapshot 2, fic tag

No plagiarizing, re-uploading, translating, or copying of any kind or on any platform of my writing or inserted into any type of AI generator. Do not recommend my work on TikTok. Do not repost on YouTube.

[smileysuh]

fresco

🌙 starring. Lee Donghyuck x afab!Reader 

🔮 preview. When you first met Hyuck in the elevator, you’d thought he was nothing more than some fuckboy line chef. But now, you see a deeper side of him. He’s thoughtful and caring, a little chaotic in the best way, but willing to calm down and match your pace. And to top it all off, he’s hot as fuck.

tw/cw. protected sex (for probably the first time ever), gentle/slow build-up sex, oral/pussy eating, slight praise, slight dirty talk, reader hasn’t been fucked in a while, low-key wholesome sex with a reformed fuckboy because you’re now cat co-parents, etc… I pet names: (hers) gorgeous.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 6.8k 

🍭 aus. Restaurant au, neighbors to lovers, accidental fur baby co-parents, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. Fresco, meaning a painting done rapidly in watercolor on wet plaster on a wall or ceiling, so that the colors penetrate the plaster and become fixed as it dries. - Alternative; Alfresco, meaning a meal eaten outside “in the fresh air” - fresco is Italian for “fresh,” and the culinary usage is relatively common in English. this fic is in conjunction with Real Talk and Comfort Cuisine.

Prologue:

You’re a little shocked to hear a knock at your door around one in the afternoon on a Tuesday. As something of a recluse professional artist, you don’t get many visitors. One look out the peephole reveals that your surprise guest is a neighbor, one Lee Donghyuck from two units down. 

“Hyuck?” you ask as you open the door. “Is something wrong?”

“I found a cat!” Hyuck whisper screams as he holds open his jacket, revealing a tiny, orange puffball, who immediately meows at you. “Can I come in?”

You’re so taken aback by this whole interaction that you don’t have it within you to argue, you simply step aside and let the frazzled line cook into your apartment.

“Okay, I don’t have much time,” Donghyuck explains. “My chef is going to kill me for taking the longest vape break ever-”

“Slow down,” you laugh.

“Look, I went for a vape break, I found this kitten by the dumpster, I jumped in my car and came here.”

“It’s a no-pet apartment building,” you point out. 

“Can you just take care of him for the day? While I figure this out?” Hyuck pleads. 

“Don’t you have other friends in the building?”

“No one who’s home all day like you are- come on, it’s a kitten, it needs someone around or it’s going to be screaming super loud and then the landlord will hear it and evict me-”

“What about a shelter?”

“I don’t have time to look up no-kill shelters, and besides, you know how the cat distribution system works!” 

“Fine,” you sigh, gazing at the purring ball of fur. “What time are you off work.”

“Around nine,” Hyuck responds, holding the kitten out for you. “You’re doing me a huge favor.”

“Just this once, while you figure the whole situation out.”

One: 

You’re doing your best to continue working, but the kitten has been a bit of a menace the entire day. You suppose this orange fur ball is a bit like Hyuck that way, not that you know your neighbor very well, but you have a sense for him. Hyuck has to be a little chaotic to turn up on your doorstep with a kitten he found by the dumpster, but the flip side of this whole thing is that Hyuck is showing a lot of tenderness to have cared about this cat at all.

You work as much as you can, but when the kitten starts crying, you decide to call it a day.

There’s a can of tuna in your pantry, the type that’s in water from when you were on a health kick a month ago, and you spoon it onto a little plate for the orange kitten.

He’s eager to eat it all up, making an obnoxious yet endearing gnawing sound as he decimates all the tuna.

When he’s finished, you lift the little cat up into your arms, taking him to your couch to rest while you put on a show.

The little trooper is exhausted, and a food coma comes quickly.

He lays on your lap, napping and purring and relaxing, and you can’t help but enjoy the little fur ball’s presence. He calms you, and before you even know it, it’s nine, and a knock at your door signals Hyuck’s return.

You lift up the orange kitten, carrying him to your door. Hyuck enters your apartment with a sigh.

“How was my child?” he asks, immediately reaching out to take the cat from your hands.

“He wasn’t too bad, I fed him a can of tuna. He’ll probably be good till the morning, but you’ve got to figure out what you’re doing with him.”

“Yeah, I’m still thinking about that,” Hyuck groans. “Thanks for the help today.”

“Don’t mention it, seriously.”

“I’ve gotta get home, I’m exhausted from work, and I’m guessing you’ve got things to do.”

You don’t have anything in particular on your schedule, but it’s not like you and Hyuck are very close, so you let him leave. It feels a little odd to look at your empty apartment once he’s gone- sure, you’d only had the kitten for nine or so hours, but… he’d livened up the space a little, in a way you can’t quite explain.

You go back to your couch, letting out a sigh as you turn your show back on.

Not fifteen minutes later there’s a knock at your door, and for the third time today, Lee Donghyuck enters your apartment.

“He wouldn’t stop crying for you!” Hyuck explains, handing the squirming kitten over to you. “Maybe he thinks you’re his mom now!”

“Hyuck,” you sigh. “You’ve got to sort this out.”

“I was thinking… can you… can you take him to the vet tomorrow?”

“The vet?”

“You know, make sure he’s not tagged or anything?”

“Make sure he’s not tagged?” you ask. “You’re hoping he’s a stray?” 

“If he’s a stray then I get to keep him,” Hyuck states. 

“Again, this is a no-pet building.”

“Everyone says that, but I know for a fact that Mrs. Sue on the fifth floor has some mega old and dying Persian, and I’m pretty sure the nonbinary couple next to me have some calico that’s missing a tail-”

“What?”

“It got out one day, I saw it scratching at their door. Have you really not seen any cats in the building?”

“I don’t go out much,” you admit.

“The point is, people have cats, they just hide them.”

You release a sigh. “I think there should be an emphasis on the word cats, not kittens, who are substantially louder and need more attention.”

“Well…” Hyuck gazes down at his feet. “You work from home.”

“So what, this is our cat now?” 

“It could be,” the line chef muses. “I mean, look at him, he’s obsessed with you!”

The orange kitten is purring like an engine in your arms, making softies against your chest, and you have to admit, it’s clear he’s taken with you, perhaps as taken as you are with him.

“Fine,” you relent. “I’ll take him to the vet tomorrow. We’ll see if he’s tagged, and we’ll work it out from there.”

“You’re literally a lifesaver.”

Two: 

The lunch rush is over, and Hyuck has time to think about you while he’s prepping for dinner. His coworker, Mark, is beside him, and Hyuck can feel his gaze.

“You good?” the tattooed softie of a chef asks.

Hyuck sighs. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

About you. How you’re the girl next door, the artist, the visionary, the lifesaver-

“I found a cat by the dumpster yesterday,” Hyuck admits.

“What?”

“My neighbor is taking care of it right now, and I guess we’ll find out if it’s chipped or not.”

“Isn’t your building like, a no-pets sort of thing?” Mark asks.

“That’s more a guideline than a rule,” Hyuck explains. “Besides, it’s a tiny cat that weighs two pounds, not some dog.”

Mark only shakes his head, continuing to cut carrots.

“I’m thinking I want to give the cat a name that’s related to food and art.”

“Why art?”

“Because my neighbor is an artist.” 

“That’s cool, have I heard of his work?”

“My neighbor is a she, Mark, god, you’re so sexist.” 

Mark stops what he’s doing, turning to face Donghyuck. “Now I get it. I bet you think she’s cute.”

“She’s super cute.”

Releasing a sigh, Mark rests his hands on the cutting board in front of him. “Names that are related to art and food. I guess you could do colors that are foods. Like, clementine or olive or something.”

“That feels too food driven, I want like, an artsy name.” 

“Let me think about it,” Mark sighs.

The two continue to work, and at the end of their shift, Mark pulls Hyuck to the side. “There’s only really one super artsy name I can think of, and it’s Fresco.”

Hyuck has no idea what Fresco means, but something about it speaks to him. Without a second thought, Hyuck blurts out, “It’s perfect!” and he promises himself to look it up before he drives home. 

Three: 

Hyuck is practically buzzing as he arrives at your apartment, but he forces himself to rein in the excitement. “How was the vet visit?” he asks.

“You got your wish, he wasn’t chipped. The vet guessed he’s a stray, born on the streets, that sort of thing,” you explain, cuddling the kitten close to your chest as you speak. “I figured you might not have time to grab provisions for him, so I got some cans of food, a litter box, some toys-”

“Really?!” Hyuck immediately reaches into his pants to pull out his wallet, removing some cash, which he thrusts out toward you. “Thank you so much for the help!”

With a shake of your head, you accept the money. “I don’t know if you’ve thought this whole thing through.”

“He’s our cat now, the distribution system is never wrong.”

You laugh, but the chuckle turns into a sigh. “Our cat, huh?” 

“I was thinking, if you don’t mind, he can stay with you during the days when I’m at work, then I’ll have him when I’m here, you know, like a child of divorce or something.”

The way you blink at him tells Hyuck you don’t find his words to be that amusing, but he can see you’re up for the task. It’s clear to him that you have fallen in love with the kitten, and Hyuck would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited about the prospect of a dual ownership- after all, it would mean the two of you would see each other more often. 

“I guess we can make this work, but if the building manager finds out, I’m blaming all of this on you,” you warn.

“I’ll take full responsibility.”

“So… I guess now you just have to name him.”

“I was thinking about that!” Hyuck blurts out, unable to hide his excitement anymore. “What about Fresco?”

“Fresco?”

“I came up with it myself,” Hyuck lies, wanting to impress you. “Fresco is an art term right? Something about painting plaster?”

“Rapidly and somewhat erratically, yes,” you laugh.

“And Alfresco is Italian for eating food outside, like, fresh air, or something,” Hyuck explains, doing his best to remember the brief research he’d done on the word before knocking on your door.

“So it’s an artsy food name,” you muse with a smile.

“An artsy food name,” Hyuck agrees.

“I kind of love it.”

Four: 

You suppose you should be used to Hyuck knocking on your door by now, but for some reason, it always comes as a surprise.

He steps into your apartment with a grin, holding Fresco in one hand, and a six-pack of beer in the other. “It’s my day off,” he announces. “Do you wanna hang out?”

You look him up and down, shaking your head and laughing. “I’m working.”

“Painting something?”

“I guess you can come see.”

“We won’t bother you too much, I promise,” Hyuck tells you as he follows you through your apartment to your little art office space. When his eyes land on your canvas, he lets out a whistle. “So you’re an artist artist?” 

“I get paid for it, so yes,” you giggle.

“You’ve got the whole setup,” Hyuck muses, immediately heading for the small couch in the corner. When he’d first dropped Fresco off, the kitten had fallen asleep on this couch, and it seems his owner is just as able to make any place into his own home.

Hyuck collapses onto the sofa, immediately cracking open a beer. “Can I watch you paint?”

You’re not one for having others watch you do your craft, but Hyuck - as it turns out - is extremely hard for you to say no to.

“Just don’t make any comments about what I could be doing better,” you warn him.

“I don’t know anything about art, so you don’t have to worry about that,” he assures you. 

“Some people don’t know anything and they still make comments,” you muse.

“Then they’re stupid.” Hyuck takes a swig of his beer, stroking Fresco as the kitten gets settled on his lap.

You pick up where you left off with the art piece, and Hyuck is quiet. He drinks his beer, pets Fresco, and scrolls on his phone, but after a while, your curiosity gets the better of you.

“Have you owned cats before?” you ask.

“Not really.”

“Well, you’re good with them. I never would have pictured you as a cat guy, it’s giving maternal.”

Hyuck lets out a laugh. “If you didn’t peg me as a cat guy, what did you peg me as?”

“Honestly? A fuckboy?”

“Everyone says that.” Hyuck shakes his head.

“So you’re saying it’s not true?” 

“I mean… maybe in the past, I’ve been a bit of a fuck boy. But, everyone around me is in these long-term relationships, and I guess these days I want commitment, even if that commitment is with a cat and not a girl.”

You consider his words, and as you do so, Fresco gets up. He approaches a few of your finished canvases, smelling them carefully. You and Hyuck both watch him as he begins to pur, clearly enjoying the colors.

“He likes your art,” Hyuck grins. 

“He has good taste.”

The two of you continue to chat while you work, and after a while, both Hyuck and Fresco pass out on the couch.

You note the way they’re bathed in the sun, and with a sigh, you put your current project to the side in favor of a blank canvas.

It’s rare to have a person, or an animal for that matter, sit still long enough for you to paint them, and something tells you both Fresco and Hyuck are tuckered out for the long haul. 

You enjoy painting them, taking in every detail, and the creativity comes as easy as ever with the two of them as your muse. 

Five: 

You and Hyuck have something of an understanding now. It’s been two weeks. Hyuck works, you take care of Fresco, and when he’s off, the line chef comes straight to your house to see your shared fur baby. 

The kitten has truly become your muse, and you’re enjoying the art of drawing this rambunctious cat.

It’s around nine o’clock, you’ve got a glass of wine, and you’re just putting the finishing touches on your recent Fresco piece, which is when Hyuck knocks at your door.

You’d unlocked your apartment an hour ago, and one call ‘Come in!’ has Hyuck entering. He lets out a whistle as he sees the canvas. “Holy shit, that’s good!”

“I know, right?” You can’t help the grin on your face. You’ve been testing out different methods, watercolors, acrylics, more abstracts- this one is more of a splatter piece, where you’d painted Fresco in funky colors, and then splattered it, you’d even dusted the canvas with glitter, spraying it with hairspray to get it to stick as an adhesive. 

“I feel like you’ve captured his chaotic essence,” Hyuck laughs.

“He’s not so chaotic right now,” you muse, looking at the kitten who’s tuckered out on the couch.

“Do you want me to take him home? Or… do you want to watch a movie or something?”

You look Hyuck up and down. “That sort of sounds like a date.”

“I mean… these past few weeks we’ve kind of been having little dates, right? I mean- I want to ask you on a real one, but we can’t leave Fresco alone…”

“No, dates here sound nice,” you nod. “I’ve got wine, if you go and wash up, grab some beer, it can be a date when you get back.” 

“Really?” His eyes practically bulge out of his head.

“Yeah, why not.”

“I’ll be right back,” Hyuck promises, nearly tripping over himself to run to the door.

He’s an odd one, but you kind of love it. 

Six: 

Hyuck’s not one for dates, but there’s something very comfortable about a stay-at-home sort of situation. The two of you are used to each other’s company, and the ease that Hyuck feels isn’t something he’s experienced with any other girl in a very long time.

In some ways, this reformed fuck boy is a touch obsessed with you.

Part of him wonders if it’s the joy of the chase- after all, he’s never interacted with a girl this long and not weasled his way into her pants. However, another part of Donghyuck knows his sexual attraction to you isn’t the main drive behind this connection.

There’s just something about you that he clicks with on a deep level.

He loves your whole art thing and he loves how kind and peaceful you are too.

“You know, you’re different from most of the girls I’ve gone out with,” Hyuck muses.

“Yeah, how so?”

“Well, usually I date within the industry, you know, servers, expo girls, that sort of thing. They’re all very… I don’t know, at work they’re extroverted. They always know what to say, but sometimes in the past, I’ve wondered if it’s all an act, and it’s made it hard for me to trust them, hard for me to see them as any more than flings.”

“That sounds like a you problem, Hyuck,” you giggle. “If you have trust issues, you have to own that, you can’t blame it on the women you’ve dated who didn’t contribute to the original wound that developed into a mistrust of girls.”

Hyuck sits with your words for a moment. 

“Also… I used to be a server, so are you saying you don’t trust me?”

His eyes snap toward you in shock. “Really?”

“Just for a bit,” you shrug. “You’d be surprised how many people take a stint at serving, especially when they’re going through uni.”

“I guess that’s where your charm comes from,” Hyuck says, swallowing thickly. “Bet you made big tips.”

You laugh, and the way your face lights up makes Hyuck’s chest feel tight.

The sound wakes up Fresco, who has been sleeping for most of your date. The kitten yawns obnoxiously, stretching out and making biscuits against your leg. 

“I’ve done alright for myself,” you muse, petting the kitten lovingly. “Which, speaking of, I think it’s about time to call it for the night. I’ve got to wake up early and finish a commission that I’ve been pushing off.”

“Right, yeah.” Hyuck shakes his head to snap himself out of the daze he’s in. “I’ll take Fresco and give you some room for your beauty sleep.”

He reaches for the kitten, who cuddles up against his chest, purring loudly as Hyuck makes his way to the door, where Hyuck stops. He turns to you, licking his lips.

“That was fun.”

“It’s usually fun with you,” you agree.

“Can I… do you mind, I mean-”

“You can kiss me, Hyuck,” you laugh, reading his mind and making him even more flustered- which is odd, because Hyuck never gets flustered. 

He swallows the lump in his throat, leaning forward. You close the distance, cupping his face so he can press his lips to yours.

Hyuck melts into the kiss, but he’s also aware of the kitten purring diligently between your chests. You’re both careful not to squish the small creature, and as much as Hyuck wants to kiss you stupid, he holds back. He gets the sense you’re also restricting yourself, and it’s all Hyuck can think about as he heads home.

He could taste the passion on you, and it’s a temptation unlike any other, a need left unsatiated due to circumstance.  

Seven: 

“You seem eager to get out of here,” Mark notes as Hyuck hurries with his closing duties. 

“Gotta get home to see my cat and my neighbor.”

“Your neighbor, you mean the cute girl next door who you somehow talked into taking care of the stray kitten you found.” 

Hyuck rolls his eyes. “It’s a dual partnership sort of thing, we both love Fresco.”

“Dual partnership,” Mark mutters. “Dude, are you like… dating this chick?”

Now Hyuck turns to look at Mark, and it takes him a second, but then he simply blurts it out, “You know what, yeah! I am dating this chick! We have a whole ass child together.”

“Your kitten is not a child,” Mark groans.

“He cock blocks like one.”

Mark immediately grimaces. “Jesus, I did not need to hear that.”  

Eight: 

It feels like now that you’ve kissed Hyuck, some invisible door has been opened in regard to your relationship. If he’d been tiptoeing around you before, now, he’s uninhibited. He shows up at your place with a bouquet of flowers, and without a second thought, you invite him into your apartment to watch a show while Fresco naps.

While this is only officially date number two, it feels like you’ve had a lot of dates- the two of you have been spending many evenings together when Hyuck picks up Fresco after work, it’s just now, these ‘hangouts’ have a more specific purpose or designation. 

You’re interested in Donghyuck, and your opinion of him has changed drastically in two weeks.

When you first met him in the elevator, you’d thought he was nothing more than some fuckboy line chef. But now, you see a deeper side of him.

He’s thoughtful and caring, a little chaotic in the best way, but willing to calm down and match your pace.

And to top it all off, he’s hot as fuck.

God, you pour so much of yourself into your art that you haven’t really left room for a relationship in a long time. There’s a convenience to Hyuck, given that he’s your neighbor, but this whole blossoming relationship isn’t just founded on proximity. 

The cornerstone of all of this is Fresco, if you’re being honest with yourself.

Fresco, the little cat that Hyuck brought into your life because he knew you would open your heart for it. He knew that together, the two of you would be able to take care of this sweet kitten and give him a good life. Existing as something like strangers, Hyuck had been able to see your caring soul, even if you’d been blinded to his kindred heart.

You’ve already ripped the bandaid off with a kiss, and when Hyuck notices you staring at his mouth, he shifts closer. 

“Hi,” he grins.

“Hi, yourself,” you giggle.

You watch him swallow a lump in his throat, his gaze flickering down to your lips and then up again. “I’m hoping that kiss wasn’t a one-time thing.”

“It wasn’t,” you assure him. “I’m just not used to dating, and making a move has never been my fortè.” 

“Then I can make all the moves,” Hyuck chuckles. “We can go as slow or as fast as you want.”

“I think you know what I want right now.”

Hyuck’s grin widens. “For a girl who doesn’t make moves, that was a pretty sexy move you just made.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Hyuck can only laugh as he leans forward, cupping your cheek and bringing his lips to your own.

You grab at his shoulders, trying to shift closer- but Fresco is asleep between the two of you, so there’s only so much room to move.

The kiss turns heated, with Hyuck’s tongue swiping your bottom lip, and you can’t help the moan that escapes you.

He feels so good, and the way his hand cups your cheek- there’s something dominant about it. Hyuck’s clearly confident, and from the way he kisses, he has every right to be.

You’re drunk from just a bit of kissing, and you can only imagine what full-on sex with this man would be like-

A loud meow makes you jump, and Hyuck lets go of you with a sigh. Both of you look down at Fresco, who’s now awake, and as rambunctious as ever as he begins to make softies on Hyuck’s thigh.

“Cock block,” Hyuck groans, but he begins to pet the small kitten all the same.

You laugh a little, releasing a sigh as you try to calm your racing heart. Maybe you’d needed an interruption because you were about ten seconds from ripping Hyuck’s clothes off, and maybe, just maybe, you should give things with him just a little more time.

You’re horny after a long period without a relationship, and you want to be sure Hyuck’s right for you before you jump into something with your neighbor, after all, not every romp with the boy next door ends happily, and you very much like this living tension free in this building. 

Nine: 

It’s been a week of making out and getting interrupted by Fresco.

Tonight, you’re in the little studio room. You’re on the couch sipping wine while Hyuck uses a feather-string toy to tire out the naughty kitten.

It’s been an hour of playing, and you’re shocked such a tiny animal has so much energy, but you can see it dwindling.

“Come on, Fresco, don’t you want a nap?” Hyuck groans, lying on the ground while he flicks the feathered toy here and there for the tiny kitten.

You can’t help but laugh at his antics. At this point, Hyuck looks more tired than Fresco does, but that’s what happens when he works a nine-hour shift. He’d told you when he arrived that the restaurant was busy today, something about a walk-in twenty top just as happy hour started, and the longest order of appetizers he’s ever seen. 

You’re thankful when Fresco finally yawns, and Hyuck practically jumps for joy, picking up his kitten and carrying him to the little bed you’d bought. Hyuck sets Fresco down on the green pillowy fabric, and the kitten immediately stretches, letting out a sigh.

You begin to pet Fresco as Hyuck lets out a sigh, collapsing on the couch and reaching for his beer.

“Who knew having a kitten would be like having a baby.”

“To be honest, babies might be easier,” you joke, making Hyuck laugh.

“Do you want kids?” he asks, shifting the tone rather suddenly.

“Uh… I don’t know, do you?”

Hyuck shrugs. “I guess it depends on the girl I end up with. I would be happy with kids, but I’d be just as happy with two cats and a dog, you know?”

“Two cats and a dog?” You cock a brow. “When did you come up with that specific of a dynamic?”

“Well, I figure, cats like company. Fresco would be easier to take care of if he had a playmate, you know? And I like dogs, but if we have more than one dog, then it might overpower Fresco and the other cat. So I feel like, Fresco, another cat, and maybe a cat-sized dog would be perfect.”

“I never pictured you as a small dog kind of guy.”

“Well, weiner dogs are cute as fuck, I don’t know what to tell you.”

You laugh as you imagine this perfect little life dynamic that Hyuck has clearly spent time thinking about.

“You’d have to find a different apartment to live in,” you muse.

“That’s doable,” Hyuck shrugs. “You’ve got this whole one-bedroom, den, and office space set up, but I’m in a bachelor suite right now. If you and I end up dating for a while, we’d have to find a bigger place.”

“You’ve been thinking a lot about the future, huh?” 

“I’m a father now,” Hyuck jokes, petting Fresco, “I need to be thinking ahead.”

You stare at this pretty man, this man who had walked into your life only a month ago like a sudden storm. You’d initially seen him as a type of chaos, but he’s calmed down considerably. He’s a reliable, nurturing person, and now, the type of man who thinks about the future instead of just taking things as they come.

You like that he has plans, plans that seem to include you. This isn’t just a short-term thing to him, and that knowledge has your throat feeling tight.

Looking down at Fresco, you realize he’s asleep. “Come on,” you whisper, “let's move to the kitchen.”

Hyuck doesn’t question you as you both stand, and you exit your small office studio area, carefully closing the door behind you.

In the kitchen, you set your wine glass down before turning to Hyuck.

“How long do you think Fresco will be sleeping for?” you ask.

Hyuck shrugs. “Could be an hour, could be ten minutes.”

You consider his words for a moment. “I get the feeling you can work with ten minutes.”

He stares at you blankly, and you see the second the lightbulb goes off in his brain. “I mean-” He clears his throat. “If you’re up for that, I could definitely- you know, I could take care of you in ten minutes-”

“Then let's not waste any more time,” you tell him, closing the distance to throw your arms around Hyuck’s shoulders. His lips press against yours immediately, his hands grabbing your hips to pull you incredibly close- this is the first time Fresco hasn’t been between the two of you, and it feels like heaven to have full-body contact like this. 

God, his tongue is perfect as it strokes against your own, his fingers digging into your hips when you release a moan from the sensation.

“Your bedroom,” Hyuck whispers gruffly, and you can tell it’s taking all his control to not throw you over your kitchen counter right now.

“Come on,” you tell him grabbing his hand and leading him to your room. For good measure, you close the door, hoping two sound barriers will allow Fresco to sleep through all of this- you’re not sure what you’d do if he began to cry while Hyuck was balls deep inside of you, and you don’t want to find out, not now.

Hyuck’s lips are on yours again almost immediately, and you grab the front of his shirt, pulling him with you as you back up toward your bed. Your calves touch the mattress and you lower yourself down, keeping your mouths connected as you do so.

“Take your shirt off,” you command next, a little shocked that you feel confident enough to tell Hyuck what to do in a situation like this.

“Whatever you say, gorgeous,” Hyuck laughs, breaking the kiss so he can tear his shirt off.

Then he’s on top of you, and your legs are wrapping around his hips, pulling him closer as your lips clash passionately. 

“Can I start undressing you?” he asks, mouth moving to your throat, where he licks at your skin and makes you gasp.

“Yeah, whatever you want,” you tell him, swallowing thickly and trying to center yourself.

His fingers find your shirt, and he slowly pulls it up. You help the process by lifting your arms, and the fabric is discarded. You’re in a cute lacey bra and silky shorts now, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been dressing extra cute this past week in the hopes that this would happen.

No, you’re fully prepared. You’d taken one of those horrific ‘full-body showers’ in the morning, and you’re thanking God that it wasn’t in vain.

“This is cute,” Hyuck tells you, mouth moving down to your chest as his hand cups your breast through the bra, squeezing gently.

“Thank you,” you gasp, loving the way it feels to be touched by him like this.

You’re a little surprised when his mouth moves down past your breasts to your abdomen, and he slinks down onto the floor as he begins to drag your shorts off.

It’s clear what his intention is, and it has your heart racing- you haven’t been eaten out in ages, and most men make the whole thing feel like a chore. Having Hyuck, who is clearly eager to get his mouth on your pussy without being told to… it’s super sexy, and you can feel yourself getting wet already. 

“Ten minutes, right?” he jokes, looking up at you as he hooks his fingers in your panties. “I think I can work with that.”

You can’t even find the words within yourself to respond as he strips you bare from the waist down. His hands grab your thighs and he begins kissing up your legs, looking up at you to be sure you’re okay with this.

You nod at him, swallowing thickly in preparation.

“So wet already,” Hyuck muses. “Guess you’ve been wanting this for a while too.”

“Uh huh.” God, you feel so dumb, but he just makes you crazy- he takes your words away, and as he takes his first lick of your pussy, all you know is pleasure.

Your head falls back as a groan escapes you, your body immediately relaxing as he starts to eat you out.

He’s slow with it, taking his time to explore you. You get the sense that he’s listening to your responses, gauging what feels best.

His lips suction around your clit and you whimper, threading your fingers through his hair.

Hyuck switches between licking and sucking, testing different pressures until he finds the right one, and then you’re gasping, eyes clenched shut as pleasure begins to build even faster in the pit of your stomach. 

“That feels so good,” you whimper, wanting to give him praise despite your current tongue-tied disposition. 

Hyuck groans against your core, and the sound has your legs shaking. Your grip tightens in his hair, and from the way he reacts, you can tell he kind of likes the pain.

Fuck, he’s so sexy- you’ve never been this turned on before, and it helps you get to the edge faster than you can even fathom.

“Shit, fuck, Hyuck-” you groan, eyes clenching shut again as your stomach muscles tense incredibly tight.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t pull away from your pussy for even a moment, but a new vigor erupts through him, and that’s all you need as confirmation that he wants you to cum.

A few more licks, a few more sucks, and a gasp escapes you, your muscles clenching right before the release that rockets through your entire body.

Your core is throbbing, pulsing with pleasure that overwhelms you in the best possible way.

Sounds of pleasure are escaping you with no regard to being too loud- your mind is blank except for the orgasm Hyuck has just provided, and he eats you out through the entire thing until your thighs are shaking and you can’t take it anymore.

He pulls away, and you can practically hear him licking his lips.

“I’ll grab a condom,” he tells you.

Although you’re on birth control to manage your period, this is a man you’ve never slept with before, a man who hasn’t discussed exclusivity, and more importantly, a man who’s admitted to being a fuckboy in the past.

You stay quiet as Hyuck pulls his wallet out of his pants, retrieving a condom. 

Then, Hyuck pushes the fabric of his jeans down, exposing himself fully to you.

You can’t help the way you begin to salivate.

His cock is thick, and it’s a decent length too. Your best friend has referred to this type of cock as ‘boyfriend dick’ before, meaning the type that’s big enough to satisfy, but not so big that it leaves you feeling wrecked.

You undo your bra, joining Hyuck in full nudity before you reposition on your bed, moving up so you can rest on the pillows.

He rolls the condom onto his cock, not whining one word of protest about wearing it- in fact, you hadn’t even asked him to, he’d just taken matters into his own hand to practice safe sex for your first time.

You kind of love this.

He’s definitely turned your opinion on him right around- this is not the man you thought he was, and the man he is… well, he’s so much better than you could have imagined. 

“Okay,” Hyuck whispers as he finishes with the condom, looking up at you. “You good for this?”

“Yes, please.” You open your arms for him, beckoning him onto the bed.

He joins you, and your legs wrap around his hips, your lips meeting his own.

He kisses you deeply, and you can taste yourself on his tongue, but it’s not unpleasant. He groans against your mouth and you thread your fingers through his hair tugging gently.

Hyuck is grinding down against your core, and it feels amazing to have slight stimulus on your clit after an orgasm, but your inner walls are screaming for attention, and soon, you’re reaching between your bodies to grab his cock. 

“Ten minutes, remember?” you laugh.

��Fuck, I got distracted.” He presses his forehead against yours, looking down at where you’re guiding his tip to your entrance. 

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “Just focus now, I got to cum, so I want you to cum too.”

Hyuck moans at your words, and you slip the tip of his cock inside of you, making you groan too.

He smashes his lips to yours again, kissing you eagerly as he sinks into your core. He goes slowly, allowing your body to adjust, and once he’s fully inside of you, he pauses so you can both moan from the sensation.

“You feel so good,” he tells you, his breath hot along your throat as he moves to press kisses there.

“You too,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “You can move.”

“Okay, gorgeous.” He swallows thickly. “I’ve got you.”

Then he begins to fuck you. As was his pace when he entered you, Hyuck is careful not to start at a hundred percent. He builds tempo comfortably, and your moaning urges him on until he’s fucking you so hard that the bed is shaking.

You grasp his shoulders roughly, whimpering as he kisses your throat, paying attention to your sweet spot. Each lick of your neck has your body tingling, your pussy getting wetter and wetter as he rails into you.

Your nipples feel incredibly sensitive too, pushed up against his chest. Each rock of his body is a sensation against all your most important erogenous zones, and it has you going crazy.

As it was with him eating you out, your mind is blank as Hyuck fucks you, and you kind of love it.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking perfect,” Hyuck groans.

He grabs your hand, lacing your fingers as he presses it to the bed as an anchor, and then his lips meet yours again.

It feels so intimate to be fucking like this, and it makes things even more pleasurable.

You can feel the pressure building in the pit of your stomach again, can feel your core beginning to tighten around him-

“Are you gonna cum again for me?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’m close,” you whimper.

“When you cum, I cum,” Hyuck tells you, pressing his lips to yours so you can’t disagree.

He fucks you even harder, and each drag of his hips has your clit being stimulated too, which is tightening the coil in your abdomen even more-

You begin to gasp against his lips, getting closer and closer until you explode for a second time, your pussy clamping down on Hyuck like a vice.

“Fuck!” He pulls away from your lips, moving to bury his face against your throat. You can tell your orgasm has triggered his own from the way he’s panting, his thrusts faltering ever so slightly- you’re pretty sure he’s doing his best to fuck you through your high, despite the fact that this might be overstimulating for him.

Maybe he likes a bit of overstimulation, as he likes the pain that comes from pulling on his hair. Regardless, he fucks you through it until you’re both gasping messes.

Then, as you lay there for a moment, you hear a meow.

You and Hyuck both break out into laughter, and you kiss his cheek. “You can go clean up in the bathroom, I’ll deal with Fresco.”

“Can I stay here tonight?” Hyuck asks. “You know, cuddle?”

“You and Fresco can both stay,” you assure him. 

“The first of many sleepovers,” Hyuck tells you, standing up with a groan. “I like you a lot.”

You can sense there’s a deeper emotion behind his words, but it’s still too early to be deep diving into any feelings more serious than ‘liking’ each other, so with a nod and smile, you agree. “I like you too.” 

And for now, that’s all you need to say.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! We love men and kittens!

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. You feel closer to this man than you’ve ever felt to anyone in your life, and warmth spreads from your chest at the notion of having a forever love like this.

cw/ tw.Unprotected sex, oral, blow job, hand job, pussy eating, sixty-nine, foreplay, grinding, nipple worship, overstimulation, Hyuck is a little on the rough side, multiple reader orgasms, size kink, fucking quietly/with a hand over your mouth, slight breath control/sensory deprivation, etc…  I petnames. (hers) gorgeous.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.3k I teaser wc. 130

🌙 starring. Donghyuck x afab!Reader

bonus

It’s been six months of hiding Fresco, and three near misses with your building manager, so when Hyuck shows you a pet-friendly apartment he’s found online, you jump at the chance to view it.

“This is so much bigger than your space,” Hyuck muses as you do the walk-through. “And look, this room has better light for your paintings!”

You can see him imagining himself here, and it warms your heart.

“Are you ready for this next step?” you ask, pulling Hyuck to the side to have a heart-to-heart.

“I’ve been ready to move in with you for months,” he tells you, hands falling onto your hips.

“This is a big change,” you remind him.

“But it’s good, for us, for Fresco- and the lease doesn’t say anything about the amount of animals either.”

☀️ to read the full fic AND 2.3k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

👹 or check out what else is on my patreon here

🔮if nothing strikes your fancy, check out my m.list

general taglist

@gotshinct - @subhyuck - @fraechan - @learnthisfeeling

@runahways - @d-abin - @milkteade - @woogyuhae 

@anothershorthuman - @nihxxy - @vantxx95 - @bangshii

@poutypoutybin - @notbeforelong - @creepybakeoven

@ninetechculture - @yungiland - @suhsfam - @binchangf

@meowniee - @learnthisfeeling - @gigilame - @cumtrov3rsy

@mocha000 - @darthlunaa​ - @just-here-to-read-01​ - @shiningnono

@lovelyhan - @grilledbananas - @sourkimchi

And thank you to those who interacted with the teaser :) 30

@ohmysion - @audreybub - @freesmbdy134 - @axo-l0tl

@leejenostan - @amazinggraxia - @pandabur666 - @lunacrtk

@imnotrosiee - @mingcouper - @tenjyucat - @phatjuicy420

@xjxnox - @fabletics-corp2012 - @tattedhyun - @kjwoozz

@bobathi - @theworld-accordingtocasey - @szakias - @sunflowerhc

[dreaisgrayte]

Half Blood | Muzan Kibutsuji x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, TW! YN does get assaulted, mentions of blood, drinking blood, gore, how many times do I mention claws? Oral fem!receiving, fingering, kissing, breeding kink, virgin sex, creampie, and overstimulation.

Word Count: 4.9k

a/n: guys this started off as a quick break from a Sanemi fic I'm working on (keep in mind I think short fics are no longer than 3k) and here I am... with a way longer fic than I intended and something I actually want to expand on in the future. It was a lot of fun to write this so I hope you enjoy it <3

“You,” His pink irises are illuminated by the moon high in the night sky. The blood within your body cools as you stare back at the man who stored your fate. His inky black hair flows down his shoulder in waves. A deep blue yukata loosely hung on his frame. “I’ve been watching you.” Muzan growls, edging ever closer to where you stood. His pointed canines glinted in the light, his nails sharp and ready to claw at your jugular. The demon king rolls his tongue along the tips of his teeth, studying you carefully. Was he deciding whether or not to feast upon your flesh?

He had never seen such a creature as yourself. Your skin was glowing, soft, and supple. The lavender color yukata covered most of your body, a delicate pattern of white flowers spanning the kosode fabric. Your obi was white with purple vines flowing around it. You wear simple white tabies paired with purple strapped zori. Elegance and grace radiated from you. He could smell the wisteria perfume in your hair. 

It was strange, you were a confrontation to the world he wanted to live in – yet something he could not tear his eyes away from. Here you were, standing in front of him without fear. He rather thought it would be better fun if you were afraid, he did so enjoy the chase. Though, there was – of course – a reason you relented in running away from him. Your eyes were stormy, eclipsed by thousands of emotions. That’s when a different smell, that had not yet hit him, tickled his nose. Blood, and not just any blood. You had the blood of a demon in you. Your stern, furrowed brows, with the revolting smell of wisteria burning his nose. You confused him. “What are you?” He purs out, not sure if what would come out of your mouth would be a lie or truth. He could always figure it out for himself one way or another. 

Your lip ticks, a show of annoyance you’d yet to master. The man in front of you knew, he could smell it, of that you were sure. Yet, he dared ask. What are you? You’d been told many times what you were. An abomination. A curse. A monster. “Are you not the demon king?” You spit back, growing angry. Would the other half of you reject your existence as well? You had hoped at least the demons would have the scarce bit of comradery running through their systems. Muzan’s brows lift, then knit together. Did he need to answer you? After all, he could easily swipe at your neck to kill you for being so insolent. The eager need to hear what you had to say captivated him though. 

When the man does not answer you tut, crossing your arms over your chest. “Here I thought the mighty demon king would be able to tell me apart from the rest.” You shake your head, laughing stiffly into the night. In a flash Muzan has you pinned to the trunk of a tree. Splinters etch toward your face from the very force of his hand. His muscular body cages you in and it takes you a moment to realize how your body aches to be near him. 

“I can smell you,” He mutters, squinting his beautiful eyes like he couldn’t quite distinguish what he was looking at. “You assault my senses, it’s driving me mad. There’s something different about you.” Muzan had first observed you walking in your village one evening, the way people sneered and cowered at your presence intrigued him. He found himself looking for you every night, wondering what your story was. These villagers were shunning you. He wished to know why such a pretty thing as yourself would be outcasted in her own village. “You smell like me, yet you are not. So I ask you again, what are you?” His voice is low, edging on the precipice of anger. 

You do not yield in holding his gaze. “I am you, yet I am not. Born of the sun and moon. A half-blood.” 20 years ago your mother found herself in the entertainment district, serving the pleasures of others. A man came to visit her on multiple occasions. Eventually, the two ran away together. Sharing in love and secrets. Your mother was a demon and your father a local carpenter. How you were able to be conceived was a mystery, even to them. They lived in peace, until one night. The villagers had finally seen through your father’s lies, storming their house. They slaughtered both of them and assuming you were a child taken captive, they whisked you away to a widowed mother. As you grew it was obvious where your origins lay, yet no one in the village dared to lay a hand on you. 

Muzan lets his gaze drop to where your heart pulsed, bouncing the skin of your jugular. “You are human and demon?” Something pulled tight in his chest. Could you walk in the sun? Did you regenerate? Were you the answer to his plight? “You are radiant.” He cannot stop the words from falling past his lips. Your eyes light up with recognition, acceptance, and for a moment your past falls away. He had the ever-growing urge to sweep you away. Your very existence was tantalizing to him in the least. He tilts his head, wrinkling his nose at the obscure way you smelt. 

Your eyes settle on the way he reacts to you, wondering if he’ll take you away someplace. Some place away from these villagers who had slaughtered your parents who just wanted to live in harmony. They did not deserve to die and you did not want to live one more second with their murderers. Muzan wanted to take you, but he couldn’t. Not yet. You were so fragile. If he were to touch you he would fear you would break on the spot. “Are you going to take me away from this place?” You whisper, hopeful tones floating to Muzan. He swallows something deep and thick. 

Muzan backs away from you, eyes tensing. “No.” He replies softly. He could not take you into his den, the other demons were too stupid to realize how precious you were. You would be dead within seconds. The line between your brows hardens again as his words hit you. 

“No? Why not? Am I not good enough for you?” Your voice is rising. You sound like a whining child who hasn’t gotten their way. Muzan winces at the obvious pain seeping into your voice. You were nothing like he’d ever seen before. Something beautiful, a miracle in his eyes. Therefore, he did not answer you. He simply faded back into the shadows. With his disappearance, your hopes and dreams faded as well.

—

The next time you see Muzan is two years later. His hair is shorter than you last saw it, the curls kissing the nape of his neck. This neat look couldn’t contain the loose curls that framed his face. A starched white collar shirt was tucked into an ornate waistcoat. He looked utterly different, yet he was your Muzan. He had the same eyes, the same far-off look, and on top of that, you could practically taste his scent. It was overwhelming, crushing even, but in a way, you enjoyed the rush. 

It was also a fact that you had escaped your village after one of the men tried to see how strong a half-blood was. He told you he was turned on by how revolting you were and he would take you as his wife in duty only. Until then you had never seriously thought about killing a human. The realization was both terrifying and freeing. So you fled to the entertainment district, living off of what you could at the Kyogoku House. There were so many smells here. Food, humans, sex, and demons. 

You worked under a beautiful oiran, and you could tell… she wasn’t human. Part of you wanted to become friends with her, but if she hadn’t reached out for the sake of commonality, you didn’t think there was a chance of any other relationship than servant. 

Muzan’s brows furrowed. He had come to visit Daki and yet your scent prosecuted his brain. Ever since he left you in the forest that day he had been thinking of a way to retrieve you. You were too precious to let out of his sight again. This time he would secure you. He could feel his blood boil at the thought of you living in the Ukiyo. Kyogoku House was well protected, but anywhere without him wasn’t safe for you. Were you being used by men far beneath you? Muzan had never felt such rage toward the thought of men touching a woman. He often indulged in watching, humans were ever so entertaining – but you weren’t human. You were one of his and he swallowed harshly at the fact that you weren’t only his. 

He brushes past some of the lower-ranking courtesans, his eye twitching at their giggles. You watch from afar, the familiarity of his back etching a cold ache into your heart. He would leave again, of that you were sure. You hug the fresh sheets to your chest, making your way to the linen closet down the hall. “Ah, YN, I’ve been looking for you.” The Okaasan Omitsu stands before you. She has a cunning sneer behind the kind smile she wears. 

You bow, storing the sheets away before turning your full attention to her. “Yes Okaasan?” You can smell the evil intent behind this woman, it makes your stomach sink. 

“You wouldn’t mind doing me a favor would you?” She uses the word favor like you’d have a choice. She is the Okaasan after all. It’s like she thinks you’re some stupid girl that will follow whatever she says. Using the word favor is a manipulation tactic and if you were a naive girl, you would be eating out of the palm of her hand. 

You tilt your head to the left, plastering a fake smile of your own onto your lips. You knew anything out of your mouth except ‘yes Okaasan’ would make things harder for yourself. So with all your better judgment pushed aside, you say exactly that. 

Her eyes gleam. “Thank you, my dear. If you will kindly follow me.” She walks back up the hall, toward one of the private Ozashiki rooms. You glance around, nerves settling into your bones. You couldn’t be headed into one of these rooms, you weren’t even a kamuro. You were just an older shinzō. 

She stops in front of the panel, a cruel smile lifting the corners of her mouth. No, please, not this. “You are very blessed my dear, one of our chūsan is interested in you.” She slides the door aside and sitting against a wall smoking a pipe is a middle-aged man. Cushions are scattered around the floor and a twisted smirk plays with his mouth when he sees you. Okaasan bows then slides the door shut behind you. 

The room was stifling, the smoke choking out any of the senses you had. It was dizzying. “Mmm, you’re a lot older than I thought.” The man sneers, setting his pipe down. The fog of opium seemingly wraps around your throat, making it hard to breathe. “But you’ll do.” He laughs, patting the cushion next to him. “Why don’t you come a little closer?” He offers. Your body tenses. You were in danger, of that you were sure. You were not willing to give your virginity up to such a man but if you denied him the right to your own body, there would be outrage. You swallow, tentatively kneeling on the cushion next to him. 

He leans over you, sniffing the area around your shoulder. You stiffen. “You smell so good, better than all those flora bitches.” He growls. “I like your natural…musk.” Oh Gods did this man – who probably has a wife and children – just compliment how you smell when you’ve been working all day? “What do you like about me?” What a loaded question. 

You smile, one that shuts your eyes – if he saw the look in your eyes he’d be sure to know you were lying when you said, “I appreciate your generosity.” You bow your head and the man laughs heartily. 

His tongue darts out to coat his lips. “I can be more generous if you’d like?” He moves himself closer to you. “I was blessed with wealth, good looks, and a tool to make women scream.” Please let the tool be an ice pick so you can lobotomize yourself. “Whad’ya say, darling?” He coos, going in for what appears to be a kiss even though you hadn’t been given the time to answer him. 

You grimace away from his advance, shoving at his chest. The eerie playful tone in the room suddenly seems to vacuum out. The fog is still thick from the burning opium, but you don’t miss the way the man before you lunges for you. He’s panting above you with a charming pointy sneer. “Ah ah ah, not so fast. You haven’t serviced me, whore.” He digs his nails into your shoulder, pinning you to the wooden floor. “Look at you, begging for my cock with your eyes, ooohh you want it that bad you slut?” He hisses, fumbling with the buckle of his Western-style pants. You squirm wildly under his grasp but it’s like he’s infused with superhuman strength. “I’m gonna fuck you and then, as your reward,” His face is next to yours now, eyes glowing an electric yellow, pupils in slits. “I’m going to kill you.” His hand is on your throat, crushing your windpipe. You choke on what little air you were able to breathe earlier. 

A demon, this man was a demon. One of your kind. No… he wasn’t. He was something else. He was driven by the carnal desire to fuck and kill. You were too weak to push him off, your internal forces constantly warring against each other. You had always presented as human, meek, malleable, and obedient. What you would give to have your demon side come forth, bite this fucker’s head off. You want to scream – but on account of his claws sinking into the back of your neck – if you even moved that would surely be the end of your life. 

He tears your yukata to shreds, ripping the soft skin of your stomach open as well. Your mouth opens the pressure of a scream pushing against his hand. Blood mixes with the tattered cloth, the cotton dying red.

Muzan pauses, Daki grumbling about some inferior human drama. His eyes search the room, this time Daki taking notice from her self-indulged rant. Where was that smell coming from? He stands, silencing Daki before she can start whining again. The potent smell of blood was swirling to the top floor, but not just…any blood. “YN,” He hisses, the annoyance, rage, and blood-boiling sensations he felt earlier returning tenfold. Why were you bleeding? This was fresh cut blood, not from the dues women endured every month. He needed to find you, or he feared the worst. “I need to go.” He barely says to the demon next to him. Her face morphs into one of anger, and before she can hurl anything at him, Muzan slips out of her room. Where were you? He follows the pungent scent, clambering down the stairs and rushing down the hall until he’s in front of a private room. He’s sweating, for once fear is humming in his ear. He shoves the door to the side, witnessing a demon hunched over your body. 

Your blood is pooling around you dying the wonderfully blue yukata you wore earlier a sickly brown color. The demon doesn’t have time to look up because Muzan is already crushing its head, slashing its throat to shreds of what it once was. 

The room is covered in blood but the demon is dead. Muzan slides to the floor, cradling you in his lap. “YN, no, no please don’t die.” You were his miracle. You were his hope. If anything could save his damned soul it would be you. His arms are trembling as your stomach bleeds out, the skin marred, and…God the smell of your blood was driving him mad. It was something he shouldn’t be thinking about as you bleed out under him. You needed to regenerate. He wasn’t sure if you could so maybe your demon just needed a little push?

With his free hand, Muzan tears the flesh from his arm, bringing it down to your mouth. His blood trickles onto your lips, sliding into your mouth. After a few silent beats, your eyes shoot open. Muzan has never felt such joy as this very moment. Your arms wrap around his, bringing it into your mouth. Muzan hisses at the way your tongue dances around his wound, lapping up the blood he shed for you. You’re panting, gasping for more. Your eyes glow as you drag your tongue up the muscle of his forearm. His blood flows through you like your own life force, strengthening your nerves, hardening your muscles. He has made you stronger. 

It sends a pinch of desire through Muzan. He hadn’t felt the heat of wanting to sink his cock into the warmth of a cunt in decades. You were mouthing at his arm, wounds healed on both ends, but now that you were moving the once whole yukata falls off your shoulders. Blood trails from your lips down your chest, between your breasts. Muzan was never one to fend off his desire to want. He took whatever he wanted, without a care. He wanted to take you without a care. Fuck you senseless into the floorboards, claw at you, feed on your blood while you fed on his. It was ecstasy just imagining driving his cock into your pretty tight pussy. 

“I should’ve never left you.” He whispers and it sends a rolling wave of want through you. You move to straddle his lap. 

“Then don’t leave me now.” You could both smell it, the heat and arousal in the air. “Take me, my Lord.” He smirks, holding onto your thighs. 

He hums, enjoying the way you’re bare in front of him. You were a sight to behold. “Mmm, such a smart girl.” A portal opens underneath him, the wooden floor sinking into an expanse of rooms, platforms, doors, lights, and endless corridors. The sheer speed whips your hair around your face until – it doesn’t. You’ve stopped in the middle of whatever this place was. “Welcome home,” Muzan’s pink eyes darken to a deep crimson as he sits up straighter, pressing himself into you. You moan in delight as his hands work their way up your hips, sitting you down on the stiff part of his lap. 

You tilt your head, peeking at him. “I’ve never liked pants,” you mumble, playing with the hem of his. He chuckles his smirk growing. 

“And why is that?” He inquires, moving his tongue to lick up the blood that has traveled toward your navel. You choke out a moan as he makes his way between your breasts. You can feel his teeth against your skin and it’s a wretched thought. “Aheh,” He swipes at the crest of your breast. 

“H-hard to get off.” Muzan hums against your skin in agreement, but he’s too preoccupied with the way you tremble with untapped pleasure. 

He wants to tear into your flesh, mark you as his, burn only his name onto your tongue. “Such an eager kitten,” He licks his lips, capturing the back of your neck in his hands. “You want me bare that badly?” All you can manage is a small nod as he gingerly moves you so that you’re laying down. Your hips are still lined up with his as he gazes at you. “I can promise you I have a similar urgency.” He grins, pulling the belt from his breeches with a smooth movement. He tosses it to the side, but doesn’t make any more movements to pull his pants down. Muzan notices your heated gaze pointed toward his hardened groin. 

Did you know nothing about the workings between a man and woman? His eyes trail down your body, stopping at the apex of your thighs. He wraps his arms around the bend of your knee, smirking when your eyes widen in surprise. He tugs you upwards, to where your legs are over his shoulders. Being this close to your glistening pink cunt made his groin stiffen even more, if that was possible. The smell of you was intoxicating. He couldn’t help himself. “What a fucking view.” He growls. 

Muzan buries his head between your thighs, latching his mouth onto your swelling clit. You gasp in pleasure, breaths turning into ragged moans as he plunges his tongue deeper into you. “O-oh my God, f’ck, ngh.” With the way his tongue his twisting and sucking inside of you, breathing seemed impossible. His claws dig into your outer thigh, scratching red trails to your knees. He devours every bit of you he can reach, crazed by the tangy sweetness of your arousal. Your walls were squeezing around his tongue, heat running through your body. 

Your own hands find your stiff nipples, rolling them around in your fingers. You couldn’t get enough, it was the same feeling you received from drinking his blood. Heat rolling around in your veins as his eyes take in your puffy cunt and how your eyes roll to the back of your head. He maneuvers one hand from under your knee to the one place that was being ignored on you – your entrance. It was like the gate to a shrine and he wanted to worship there for eternity. “Look at how fucking wet your cunt is.” His pointed nails shape into shorter rounder ones, he dare not damage this holy place. Then, without warning, he presses two fingers into you. A yelp echoes across the void of the infinity castle. “Ahhh, shit,” You huff, tensing from the sensation of your pussy being stretched. 

Muzan knew you were a virgin, he would be lying if the fact didn’t make him grow more feral to have you sit on his cock and take his seed deep within you. He wanted you. He wanted you. He wanted you. That was all he could think about while lapping up your wetness. 

The slick from your cunt was sucking his fingers in, a growl rumbling around your clit. This makes you scream out as a shockwave shoots through you. Your thighs are shaking and every once and a while – as Muzan still selfishly fingers you through your climax, sucking on your clit – your body will twitch. Heavy and heady moans fall from your lips, breaking into whines as you come down from your high. 

“You did such a good job my sweet,” Muzan lowers you gently back to the floor. Your neck is sore from being at an awkward angle for so long, but you would give anything to see the disheveled man before you with your arousal still on his lips. “That’s it. Prefect. You’re so perfect.” He mutters, licking his lips and watching you still play with your nipples. 

Though you feel like you’ve just ascended, you crave more. You want Muzan to breed you like his own personal slut. “M-more,” You gasp. “I feel so empty my Lord.” You huff, the edges of your voice bleeding to a whine. Muzan’s eyes widen. He hadn’t intended to fuck you just yet. Give you some time to grow accustomed to sexual things so it wasn’t rushed, but your eyes are pleading him to continue. He’s… nervous, which isn’t like the demon king. He’s so eager to please you. Make sure you’re comfortable. He wants to give you hell, heaven, and the earth. 

“You’re practically begging me.” He chuckles, unsure if you really knew what you were asking. There was no way that once Muzan slid into your heady cunt that he would not ravish you. There was no way to tell time in the infinity castle, so there was no way for him to know when to stop until he was satisfied. You squirm to get closer to him, spreading your legs wide for him. His gaze drops from yours to your center, whatever shred of humanity that was left in him suddenly flying away. “Such a filthy slut. You’re already hungry for more? You want me to fill you up? Then beg for it.” His eyes narrow into slits, the magma growing in his belly. 

Your body cools with a shiver of excitement, as you reach down in between your thighs. You purse your lips and then spread your labia apart. The cool air tickles the sticky wetness but you can tell it’s doing something for him. “Please, my King, I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t think. I want you to take my virgin pussy and make it yours.” 

The corner of his mouth ticks up in a smirk. “As you wish my Queen.” He frees his cock and you have to take a moment to gulp at the sheer size of it. The head is leaking precum and bruised a red color from the lack of release. The shaft is a pale pink, a thick vein running down the underside. The muscles of his hips also catch your attention. They were unlike the drawings some of the courtesans had shown you. His were muscular, ready to thrust into you for hours. 

Muzan lines himself up at your entrance, this time with the head of his cock. The idea was thrilling, finally pushing into your pussy and breaking the barrier of your womanhood. He hisses as your slick coats him, making it easy enough to start entering you. Your face contorts with a mixture of pain and pleasure. “Shhh, you can take it.” You want to wiggle away from him, the pain of his member stretching you out is enough to break you. “Ah ah ah, you’re not going anywhere pretty girl. Remember you asked for this.” Muzan leans over you seizing your mouth with his own. You share a leisurely kiss as he swallows your moans. 

He feels the head of his cock hit your hymen and with a wince he thrusts past it. He can feel the rush of silky blood around his cock, but he tries his best to divert your attention with heated kisses. You break free, a long drawn out moan gasping out of you. “Ahhh, oh my, hngh nngh yes!” 

Muzan nuzzles into your neck, the feeling of your walls clenching around him driving him practically insane. “Yeah? Tell me how good I am. Tell me how good I am at fucking you.” He hisses out, desperate for your compliments and approval. 

“Nnnggh, s’good, f’ckin’ me s’good.” You slur, drunk on how he guided a new path into you. You pant and writhe under him, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Not yet my love, I want you to watch.” He starts to move his hips and you wince in burning pleasure. “That’s it. You’re doing so good.” He grunts, snapping his hips back into you. The wet slap of skin hitting skin sends shivers down your back. 

You’re straining against the build up in your stomach, a pit of coils wanting to spring forth. “Mmm, harder.” You huff, reach out to grab the back of his neck. He shakes his head, a playful smirk on his swollen lips. 

“Use your manners.” He teases, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Please fuck me harder.” You mewl just as he starts to thrust into you with a quickened rhythm. Your breath is sucked away by the pure bliss aching from the friction. 

Muzan bites down on his lip, brushing a few curls that had come free from behind his ear. “You like it when I do that?” He quizzes, fucking you harder. You can only manage a nod.

Your voice has grown hoarse from moans breaking into screams and whines. You buck your hips along with his as you arch your back, tumbling over your peak. “F’ck, haa haa hnngh,” You squeeze his cock and release his neck, breathless from your second orgasm. 

“Cum all over my cock, fuck,” Muzan growls, the feeling of your slick cum coating his length. He was gliding into you with such ease. He would apologize to you later for this. He pounds into your sensitive cunt, overstimulating you as you cry out. He rams himself into you and stays deep within your pussy. Panting heavily Muzan finally crashes over his own wave of pleasure. Splurting his cum around the walls of your pussy. He doesn’t want to pull out – for one fact he wanted all of his cum to stay within you – and for another fact, you were all the salvation he needed. He could find redemption with you. He rolls you both onto your side, hiking your leg over his hip to make sure he can stay inside of you. 

This was it, you had driven him to the edge and he would make sure to never let anything else touch you. As he gazes upon your soft features drifting off to a satisfied slumber he feels what once was his heart ache. “We should get married.” He blurts out.