#fuck off you fucking inconsiderate asshole

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[kurooh]

❆ BABY, IT’S COLD OUTSIDE !

KINKMAS 2024 — holiday hatefucking + sukuna ryōmen

❆ desc. a record breaking blizzard blasts through your city, causing thousands of power outages & frozen pipes. what’re you & your sworn enemy of a roommate to do when it seems to last all night?

❆ warnings. 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, hatefucking, some degradation, pussy slaps, orgasm control, arguing, resolving misunderstandings, facesitting, one bed trope. | 6.0k words

“just like everything else, this is all your fault!”

“really, princess? last i checked, i can’t control fucking climate change.”

sukuna’s always been testing your patience, pushing you closer and closer to the edge with daily arguments and snarky comments. you let out a peeved sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose in exasperation. “of course you’d refer to weather as climate change. if i were you, i’d at least mask my stupidity better.”

“tch,” he manages, wordlessly rolling his eyes as he lamely tries to think of a comeback. anger boils in his stomach and burns through his veins, hot as magma. “you’re calling me stupid when you’re the one who fell into the toilet a few days ago, at three in the morning.”

“yes, and that happened because my inconsiderate asshole of a roommate didn’t put the lid down!”

“you deserved it,” sukuna scoffs, dismissing you with a wave of his hand as he turns on his heel. “go take your toilet ass to bed. g’night.”

you’re fuming with anger, but there’s no point in saying anything now that he’s walking away with no intention to listen to you. sukuna’s footsteps disappear into the darkness of his room, and he slams the door behind him.

how insufferable.

living with sukuna ryōmen meant you could never catch a break. between his occasional apartment-trashing parties and stormy demeanor, there was zero chance to turn things around. the feuds had started not long after you first met, and surprisingly, the two of you had actually hit it off pretty well.

your first meeting took place on a street corner downtown, right in the middle of the college district. after a horrible date, you had found yourself waiting on the corner for your delayed uber when sukuna pulled up on his motorcycle, extending his hand. at the time, you didn’t question his kindness, wrapping your arms around him and talking his ear off about being a student. he dropped you off at your apartment and offered to help you sign a new lease, after you had confessed how hard it was living in a dorm with so many fees.

initially, living with sukuna went well. the sexual tension was at an all-time high, but the two of you were always too busy (or afraid?) to make a move on it, so you remained friends. it was when his friends came over for a party during an important study night for you that things changed for the worse. they had been lounging on the couch, drunk and talking way too loudly about you.

remembering the things they said about you still makes you grind your teeth as you stomp down the hallway, pausing at the darkened screen of the thermostat.

“sukuna!” you yell, reading the numbers. “the temperature’s dropping further!”

“. . it’s a power outage,” he calls back after a moment, his voice muffled by the door. “what do you expect?”

it’s pointless but it makes you feel better, so you raise your middle finger to his door before walking off to your room. your door swings open, and you slide off your slippers, preparing to get into bed and wait it out, but you’re met with the not so soft material of the bare mattress.

oh, that’s right.

not long ago, the tv had been glowing with endless reports of the incoming blizzard. it was supposed to hit the city full force in a few hours. expecting a power outage, you’d thrown all of your sheets and blankets into the wash so you’d sleep well during the night in a warm, clean bed. it was as if the blizzard had a personal score to settle—it barreled through the city and prepared to stay, leaving hundreds of people without power or functioning pipes due to the freeze.

now that your apartment has no electricity at all, your sheets and blankets are left soaking in the washing machine downstairs. instead of breaking down and screaming out of frustration, you manage to pull it together with a few deep breaths before marching over to sukuna’s room. it’s entirely sickening that you even have to ask him for something like this, but you put the thought out of your mind and raise your closed fist to the door.

sukuna’s ears twitch when he hears the thumping at his door, and he gets out of his bed to go investigate. he rubs the tiredness away from his eyes and opens the door to see you standing in front of him.

“what now? did you come to tell me it’s snowing outside?”

“no, i didn’t,” you grit out, wringing your hands together, “remember i put my all my bedding in to be washed?”

“remember when i told you not to?”

“yes, thank you!” you reply brightly, “they’re currently soaking in the washing machine and i have nowhere to sleep without getting a bad case of hypothermia.”

“hm. you could always try the couch and some paper towels from the kitchen,” he suggests dryly, pulling the door shut. stubbornly, you push your foot in the way to stop him. “woman,” he clicks his tongue disapprovingly, “if you think i won’t slam this door on your foot, you are sorely mistaken.”

it’s a risk you’ll have to take; you don’t budge an inch, looking up at him furiously. “just for tonight, i’m asking you to let me sleep in your bed.”

“i thought you hated me,” he hisses, “i could feel your little middle finger through the door.”

“i do, but if you had this problem, i’d actually help you, because i’m a good person!”

“keep telling yourself that,” sukuna rolls his eyes dramatically, letting his jaw go slack to mock your stupidity, “i would never have this kind of problem, because i’m not as dumb as you are.”

the wooden edge of the door starts to press into your slipper and a rush of panic strikes you square in the chest. your jaw tightens as hesitate, frustrated with the idea you have to convince him with. finally, your lips part, and the words tumble out sloppily, piling up into a debt you’ll be obligated to pay. “fine, fine . . . sometime i can make it up to you. i’ll even clean up the apartment after a party without any lip.”

sukuna crosses his arms, and the veins ripple beneath the skin with the movement. “oh, i hadn’t thought of that. i would love to see you clean the place without complaining as you usually do. although . . you did say anything.”

“yes, that’s right.”

where is he going with this?

his crimson eyes gleam with some kind of wolfish delight as he mulls over everything he could possibly impose on you. “perhaps i’ll save it and torment you while i think of something.”

“so, can i share the bed?” you urge, slipper tapping on the carpet impatiently.

sukuna offers a hand, and you can feel his black nails dig into your skin when you accept it. he moves out of the doorway at last, sticking out his foot and successfully making you stumble. you nearly faceplant into the carpet but manage to save yourself, biting your tongue even though all you want to do is shout at him.

sukuna simply gets into bed and tugs the blankets over his body, but he looks over at you in confusion when he notices you stacking a wall of pillows between your bodies.

“god, i am not that vile. i showered earlier and i washed my sheets yesterday,” he grouses, eyebrows pulling downwards in annoyance.

“i’m sure you did,” you assuage him dismissively, “i just wanna make sure we don’t touch once in the time that we sleep in this bed.”

sukuna fiddles with his silver lip piercings, tongue prodding into the backings impatiently while his fingers twist at the small spikes. “damn. are you done yet? goodnight.”

“goodnight.” you mutter, dropping down hard against the bed with your back facing his.

sukuna is what every daredevil wishes they could be. he is unique, with different piercings and dark, sharply lined tattoos that compliment his features naturally. all of his piercings had been acquired from bets or dares—he’d gotten his eyebrow done after his brother yuji beat him in a fight (he let him win because he wanted the piercing), his snake bites because he’d been dared (he did it himself with a hot needle and bent paperclips to keep the holes open since it was 1 am and all the jewelry stores were closed), and his ears when he won an eating contest (it was on yuji’s dime, so he got the most expensive jewelry too).

as you drift off, feeling warmer beneath all the blankets, you feel the tension leaving your body. for tonight, you’ll let go of your anger towards him and enjoy the pleasant moment and his rare generosity.

your eyes blearily open to the soft rays of morning sunlight shining through the gaps between the curtains, illuminating the dust in their thin columns over the bed. you let out a yawn, snuggling further into the soft pillows you’d set up the night before—but then your heart jumps into your throat and heat sears its away across your face when you register the warm body nestled against yours.

the position is so natural that it’s as if you slept like this for hours; it’s abhorrent, seeing sukuna sleeping like a baby, his breaths nothing more than quiet huffs into your neck. as the vestiges of sleep start to fade away, you’re all too aware of the sculpted muscle pressing firmly against your body. at some point, sukuna decided to take off his shirt, as evidenced by his bare chest against you.

outside, the sky looks to be a little cloudy, and the branches of bare trees are weighed down with layers of snow. looks like the blizzard came to a stop sometime in the middle of the night.

sukuna’s hand squeezes your side lightly, and he lets out a soft groan, tugging you closer. “ew, what the hell!?” you jerk back immediately, heart pounding wildly in your chest like a caged bird. an uncomfortable heat settles over you as the reality of the situation fully sinks in. he’s still asleep, fumbling around to grip onto you. your breath catches in your throat with each of his confused movements, and the warmth of his strong body leaves you dazed for a moment before you consider how wrong this feels. he firmly grabs ahold of your ass to pull you in, and you gasp, slapping his arm as hard as you can.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

he grunts out a curse, letting go of you and blinking awake slowly. his once relaxed face quickly shifts into one of annoyance, and he fixes you with a displeased glare.

“what’s your problem now, woman?”

“you were cuddling me, man.”

sukuna rolls his eyes so hard you wonder if they’ll ever return to their original place.

“to wake me up over something that trivial is ridiculous. it was a cold night and likely happened by accident.”

“no, sukuna!” you protest, hips swiveling as you push yourself into a sitting position. he hisses, jaw clenching firmly; the words die in your throat when you realize the problem—rather, his problem.

“wipe that fucking look off your face,” he snaps automatically. “ever heard of morning wood?”

“excuse me? you were all over—”

immediately, sukuna claps a hand over your mouth, his palm feeling hot against the lower half of your face. your words are muffled, but he knows you’re swearing and protesting at him—the way your eyebrows angrily move tells him enough.

eventually, you go still, opting to lick his skin. he recoils in disgust, wiping his sticky palm on your shirt to get it off. “you’re nasty, woman.”

“that’s not what you were thinking when you were wrapped around me like a koala five minutes ago.”

he doesn’t even know what to say. anger and something more bubbles up fast, scorching through his body before it finally exits through his mouth. “shut the fuck up. you started it last night, pulling me in and shit.”

“me?” you burst out incredulously, eyebrows furrowing as you lean forward, your stare burning holes the size of bullets into his face. “you’re the one who’s embarrassed for having enjoyed it, if your face is any indicator. you know how much i hate you, i’d never—”

you’re too close. beneath the blankets and sheets, your lower body thrashes while you speak, hips knocking into his a few times. each touch has his cock growing harder, throbbing painfully beneath his boxers and pajama pants.

“god, if you’d just stop touching me!” he barks, cheeks ultra hot now. sukuna’s lips pull into a scowl and he glares at you, annoyed with your sudden cluelessness.

“what is your problem now?!”

“it’s you,” he shouts, throwing off the blanket and startling you. “it’s always been you. since we moved in, since the blizzard, since i even agreed to sharing a bed with you! you’re always—” sukuna’s voice splinters and he swallows, pushing forward, leaving mere inches between your faces. “fuck. you’re always driving me insane.”

“back off,” you hiss, voice trembling. a crackling tension hangs in the air between you, heavy with unspoken words and growing anticipation.

“make me.”

“you’re really asking for it, aren’t you, sukuna?”

his lips curl into a wolfish smile and his eyes gleam with a similar intensity, anger blending with something more carnal. “maybe you can show me how much you love to hate me, princess.”

the demeaning nickname falls from his lips easily, as it always does, and you’re determined to make him choke on it.

“don’t you ever shut up?” your nose crinkles at the puffs of breath that brush over your lips. one of sukuna’s eyebrows quirks upward challengingly—your voice no longer has the bite it usually does.

“i only would if you let me use my mouth another way.”

your heart hammers in your chest, and anger still rushes through every inch of your body, but it’s much hotter now, leaving your skin sweltering beneath your clothes. giving in to sukuna ryōmen is a mistake—he’s your insufferable roommate who regularly makes your fists clench with anger, but he’s also the object of your deepest desires.

you’re too far in to back away now.

“go ahead,” you pause to let out a breath. “right now, i’m all yours.”

when you finally lean in to close the distance, your lips collide in a kiss that’s equal parts animosity and desire. it isn’t gentle, and it isn’t soft—it’s raw and furious, so overwhelming he loses himself and pulls you in, black nails digging crescents into your skin. in a manner that’s just as forceful, your hand finds its way to the nape of his neck and yanks him in, causing your teeth to click together sharply. the hungry kiss deepens, and his tongue slips into your mouth, stroking against your own. the deep-seated anger and tension that had been piling on top of each other is finally dissolving into something far worse—something so intoxicating you begin to wonder how you were living without it.

sukuna pulls back breathlessly, unable to look anywhere but your face. a small, glossy string of saliva connects your lips together, a sign of an encouragement to test the waters and continue. surely a heated makeout session would lead you to a crossroads, where you’d be left wondering how much further this could go, with only each other to figure it out.

sukuna coughs out a rueful laugh. “it’s funny, isn’t it?"

“what is it?” you demand, lips tingly from the kiss.

“i find it amusing this took so long to happen. of course, it was bound to eventually.”

“well, it’s only because you can’t keep it in your pants, sukuna.”

“and you can’t keep yours on,” he retorts, hooking his fingers into the flimsy waistband of your pajama pants before sliding them off your legs. now, only a thin layer of fabric hides the place he wants to see most. effectively silenced and now matching his black underwear, you take him in, eyes sweeping over his features. beneath his black tattoos, his skin flushes red, all the way up to the tips of his ears; his mouth is slick and shiny with a mixture of your spit and his own, and the silver spikes beneath his lip gleam temptingly.

“what’s wrong?” he questions expectantly, fingers curling around your chin with surprising force and tugging you forward. “cat got your tongue?”

“maybe i’m just waiting for the right moment to pounce,” you push forward stubbornly, forcing him onto his back so you can straddle him. you silence anything he would’ve said with another kiss, and sukuna’s hands travel from your hips to your ass. he gifts it with a squeeze and a pleasured groan slips out against your lips before he slides his fingers into your underwear.

the rough pads of his fingertips stroke over the skin of your ass while you suck on his tongue impatiently, hips occasionally rolling against his own. to add to each movement of your hips, you tease him a little more, using your teeth to lightly tug at the jewelry of his lip piercings. each moment of friction is something between solace and torture for his cock—it’s adequate, but it’s not enough and he’s dying for more.

you smile against his lips, sneaking a hand between your bodies to play with his cock. it’s an experimental gesture to test the waters, see how he reacts; the moment your fingers come into contact with his thick bulge, he groans, leaning up. one squeeze has him rushing to sit up so quickly his forehead knocks into yours. ordinarily, sukuna would’ve made a scathing comment, but he doesn’t have much to say when he grabs ahold of your wrist and pushes it into his boxers.

it’s a decision that further stokes the long burning fire that’s been ablaze beneath all the arguments and unbearable conversations; it’s something that has it roaring into an all consuming inferno.

“fuck,” sukuna chokes out, nipples hard against your loose shirt while he rests his hands on your ass. “you’re making me fucking crazy.”

you ignore him, rolling your eyes dismissively at his heavy panting and clenching abs. instead, you focus on lavishing his neck with attention in the form of wet kisses along the skin. he shudders a little as your tongue darts out to wet his skin before he eventually decides he’s had enough and cages you in his arms. you’re startled when you’re caught in something akin to an alligator death roll, opening your eyes to see that you’re pinned down beneath him.

“then do something about it,” you suggest, legs spreading without him having to ask.

sukuna groans deeply, his head spinning at the sight of you being this vulnerable in front of him. “take off that shirt now.”

the demand strikes you hard, his voice reverberating to your core. while you busy yourself with doing as he asked, sukuna kicks the pillows and blankets off the bed before positioning himself on his stomach. now, he’s eye level with your thinly covered pussy. he hasn’t seen it yet, but it’s sure to be everything he’s dreamed of. saliva pools on his tongue while impatience propels him forward, and he skates his fingers along your thighs, taking in the softness of your skin.

it’s not enough to simply touch you.

no, sukuna needs to smell you, taste you, feel you, devour you.

he intends to do so.

“what’re you—?” your voice trembles as you look downwards, nipples hardening at the sensual sight. sukuna’s nose is pressed to your thigh, and he’s breathing in with every inch upwards. you had expected something faster, more filthy, but sukuna’s behaving like he’s absolutely been dying for this.

the dull spikes of his lip piercings press into your plush skin and over a small area of your panties when he finally makes it to your hip. wordlessly, he slips his hands under your ass and raises you up while he takes a bit of your panties between his teeth. slowly, they slide down your legs.

a sweltering heat surges up your neck and to your face while another pools in your tummy like magma beneath a volcano. you writhe on the bed eagerly, too excited to have your panties finally out of the way. those fervent crimson eyes stare at your pussy and watch it flutter around nothing before flickering up to yours.

“don’t blame me if you can’t walk later.”

your face drops in annoyance. “why do you always have to ruin good moments?”

“a warning is hardly enough to ruin this.”

“but—”

a harsh, smarting slap to your pussy has you cutting yourself off with a pitched cry of delight that bounces off the walls and into sukuna’s long term memory. he raises an eyebrow, watching you closely as your legs settle and you return to your spread position.

“you liked it, didn’t you?”

“liked? it hurt.”

“i wouldn’t put it past you,” he says, eyeing your dripping, clenching cunt. “i’ll just do it again.”

you roll your eyes, bucking toward him impatiently. you want him inside you, and he’s hung up on moving slow to torture you.

“whatever. just fuck me alr—”

“ah ah,” he admonishes you with a slap that’s much rougher and directed to your clit. against the mattress, his cock swells with arousal. “i intend to fuck you my way. if you have a problem with that, i’d love to see you fight to be on top.”

tears gather in your eyes, threatening to spill over and cascade down your cheeks. desperation and unbridled need easily shifts to frustration and anger that has you spitting, “i hate you.”

“don’t be like that. you’re soaking wet,” he points out with a self assured smirk. sukuna spreads your thighs impossibly wider and leans in, letting the tip of his nose graze your clit. the featherlight touch makes your skin prickle all over.

to be honest, you didn’t expect the events of last night to lead you here in the morning. in fact, you assumed you’d wake up on your respective sides of the bed and argue a little about snoring before departing. since most of your interactions usually go that route, this entire situation is shocking—but a small part of you is extremely thankful it’s finally happening.

there had been days so tense you’d considered sex as a solution, but never brought it up.

“s-sukuna!” you moan helplessly, grabbing at the sheets and twisting them beneath your fingers. with his teeth, he playfully nibbles at your folds, savoring the sudden catch of breath in your throat and whimpery cries. your quivering legs settle over his shoulders, and he appreciates the change, utilizing the new angle to pull you closer.

that sharp tongue of his can certainly do more than hurl creative insults all day long—it’s killer, and entirely hypnotic as he sloppily mouths at your cunt. wet slurps and lewd smacks of his lips have you shuddering, eyes rolling back into your skull.

“‘kuna,” you whine, long and drawn out, “don’t stop, d-don’t fuckin’ stop.”

he pushes his thumb into your clit and looks up, lips shiny with your bittersweet slick. “what did you just call me?”

“sukuna,” you lie nervously, trembling beneath his touch and craving more.

“now, girl,” he scoffs, and the new nickname doesn’t sound as demeaning as the usuals. “that isn’t what you said. go ahead and say it again for me.”

you look him in the eyes, feeling small beneath his heavy gaze. “‘kuna. that’s what i said.”

sukuna offers a gratified hum before returning to your sloppy pussy. a glob of spit sparkles in the morning light as it slips down your hole, making more of a mess. “keep calling me that, i like it.”

white hot euphoria zips through sukuna’s nerves as he dines on the wet dessert your pussy is. it’s the best breakfast he could’ve ever had—sweet as sugar and made even better with your decadent moans spurring him on. oh, the way you shakily card your hands through his hair and let your nails scratch over his scalp . . each electrifying touch shoots straight to his cock, and he discreetly ruts into the matress.

his tongue dips between your folds and he groans against you, eyes rolling back when you squeeze down on him like a vice. the once cold room is hot, your bodies feeling feverish from your own shared heat—if you were outside, you’d have melted the snow into puddles.

sukuna has always had an abnormally long tongue. he ponders your reaction to him pushing deeper, but the fluttering of your walls leaves no room for second thoughts.

“sukuna, holy fuck,” you sob, a tear or two running down the bridge of your nose. “y-your tongue, it’s so big—w-wait, wait a second.”

it’s painful to lose the fullness of his tongue, but you pull back and cup his face in your hands, looking down at him with a desperate look he won’t be able to refuse. “can . . can i ride your face, ‘kuna?”

you’re so cute with that little pout and those glossy eyes begging for more. sukuna smiles meanly, the lower half of his face dripping with your essence while his teeth gleam sharply.

“you liked my tongue that much, huh?” you nod, looking a little dazed as he gets onto his back. he helps you swing a leg over him, but before you sit down, his hand lands hard against your ass. “shit, you’re such a dirty girl. jus’ begging for me to get you off, aren’t cha? show me how much you fucking want it.”

you whimper, gasping out some kind of affirmative answer. sukuna tenses his tongue and sticks it upwards, then tugs you down impatiently.

“shit!” you squeal, startled by how fucking long his tongue is. it fills you up almost entirely, probably an inch and a half short of your cervix. whiny ooh’s and ah’s fall from your lips as you unsteadily rut your hips into his face, grinding your clit hard into his nose. “sukuna, ‘m close, you’re gonna make me cum . . ”

“you’re gonna make yourself cum, girl. ‘s all you.”

his voice is muffled, but you can somewhat hear him over the lewd squelches and noisy moans that fill the room. despite it all, he’s got stars in his eyes as he watches you ride his tongue to oblivion—stringy drool slips past your lips and your tits bounce deliciously while your face crumbles in euphoria.

“oh my god,” you weep, voice breaking, “‘m gonna cum on your fuckin’ tongue—”

one blissful tremor is the precursor to so many more. your jaw becomes slack and tears run down your face as you finally reach your high.

“‘kuna, ‘m cumming!”

the stifling tightness in your tummy finally snaps and leaves you a convulsing mess on his tongue, shaking so hard your teeth inevitably begin to chatter. sukuna smacks his lips, almost entirely satisfied—but then he roughly lifts you and sits you down on his chest.

you’ve got hearts in your eyes and you’re obviously drunk on him, ready for more.

“clean it up,” he demands, tilting his head to the side. without question, you lean forward and kiss him, tasting yourself with a moan. a groan rumbles deep in his chest when you pull back and start to sloppily lick at his cheek, tongue running over his tattoos. “good girl.”

“sukuna, i need—i want . . ” you flounder breathlessly, unsure of how to ask him.

he slaps your ass, scarlet eyes darkening lustfully. sukuna clicks his tongue, egging you on. “beg for it.”

“beg?” you ask incredulously, grinding your cunt into his abs. “i hate begging.”

“then you don’t get what you want, simple as that.”

“but—”

“no buts, girl.”

“f-fine,” you cede, afraid of being left unsatisfied, “please, i need your cock inside me . . i need you to fuck me hard.”

“there she is,” sukuna coos, flipping you over and reversing your positions so he’s above you, “my nasty slut. you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

you nod weakly, which has him flipping you onto your stomach and huskily growling into your ear. “fucking say it, princess.”

“all yours,” you slur your words, limply letting him maneuver your body.

“on your knees,” he pauses to gather your wrists together behind your back, pulling you toward him. “that’s right.”

with his free hand, sukuna tugs his boxers down so quickly the fabric audibly tears, and he tosses them over his shoulder.

the room is a disaster. blankets and sheets hang off the foot of his bed while pillows litter the carpeted floor in every direction. not to mention the discarded pajamas and underwear scattered around as well, evidence of the storm between yourself and your roommate.

your cunt is throbbing by the time he guides the tip of his spit slicked cock between your folds. it’s bulbous and fucking huge as it presses into you, slow and deep. sukuna tosses his head back with a loud groan when his cock bottoms out, pulsing against your cervix.

“loosen up, girl,” he grunts, your sticky walls bearing down hard around his cock, “can’t fucking move.”

“w-wait,” you whimper, nearly falling forward. your jaw hangs open loosely as you try to fathom the stretch and fullness his cock imposes. “‘kuna, you’re too big, i can’t—”

“please, this sloppy pussy was made for me,” he huffs, drawing his hips back and leaving merely the tip of his cock inside of you. “jus’ take it. you can and you will.”

he says nothing else before shoving forward, plunging his cock as deep as it can go inside you. it thickly pushes past rings of muscle and stretches you open, filling your ears with wet squelches. he sets a ruthless rhythm into place, focusing on taking your ability to walk tomorrow. tears pathetically pour down your cheeks and fall from your jaw to the damp sheets below, and you no longer can control all the noise you’re making. babbled cries of yes! and inaudible moans fall from your bitten lips, all of it spurring sukuna on.

“hah, shit,” he rasps, unable to tear his eyes away from where you’re connected—his cock slides in and out of your creamy pussy rapidly, the smacks of skin against skin sounding like an applause. “b-been waiting for this, goddamn.”

“i thought you hated me,” you wail desperately, feeling each thrust of his cock in your lungs. whenever the tip roughly kisses your cervix, your cunt squeezes around him while you cry out something incomprehensible.

sukuna pushes his tongue into his cheek, digging his black nails into your wrists tightly. “you were the one who hated me the whole time.”

“i-i didn’t!” you protest weakly, struggling to recall what you were just about to say. “it was you who started it—with your friends!”

“what’d we do?” he groans, pushing his free hand through his hair to remove the strands sticking to his sweaty forehead.

“uh, you—right there!—you were . . ”

“did i already fuck you dumb, girl?” sukuna snarks, his palm coming down hard across your ass. “can’t even remember, hm? perhaps if you weren’t so busy slutting yourself out for me you’d have something to fuckin’ say.”

his words are bitter, but they manage to help you recall your memory. “you were talking shit about me, a-and you threw that party the night before a big test i had—shit, ‘m gonna cum!”

“ah ah,” he snaps, voice edged with something domineering and dangerous. you’re pulled back by your numb wrists, and sukuna leans forward to speak directly into your ear: “you don’t get to cum until i fuckin’ tell you to. now, girl—finish that story for me.”

a miserable sob tears past your lips, “sukuna, i-i can’t, ‘m gonna cum right now—”

your wrists are released, making you fall forward into the mattress. your head can’t stop spinning and you’re in no state to catch yourself, so instead you accept the new position mutely.

the palm of sukuna’s hand presses into the crown of your head and his nails dig into your scalp while his warm breath fans against the shell of your ear. “don’t you fucking dare,” he hisses arbitrarily. “i said to finish the story.”

“i-i heard them saying horrible things about me!” you babble gaspingly, “i think you went along with it . . i didn’t hear you telling them to stop.”

“so that’s why you hated me?”

“yes! god, but i didn’t really—i wanted to talk about it s-sometime, but not right now!”

he chuckles ruefully, letting your head go. “now, girl. if i’d known something so stupid was the reason you’ve supposedly hated me, i would’ve taken care of it much sooner.”

you cry into the sheets, feeling the telltale throb of his thick cock deep inside you. “please—please lemme cum!” the words slur together, making you sound truly cock drunk.

“alright, princess,” sukuna hisses, teeth sinking into his lower lip, “go ‘head and let it allll out. cum all over this fucking cock, lemme feel it.”

stars flicker across your vision, and you cum with a broken cry that tears from your throat almost painfully. your gummy walls grip him like a vice, sucking the cum out of his cock. with a drawn out groan, he finally cums, collapsing on top of you and panting into your shoulder.

as you come down together, high pitched beeps fill the house. the microwave and oven come back to life, and the lights in every room snap on as the power is restored at last.

“goddamn,” he huffs, pulling you into a sideways spooning position without letting his cock slip out of you.

“tired?” you ask hoarsely, tired eyes running over his sweaty, flushed face. “clearly, that took a lot out of you.”

“me?” sukuna barks in offense. “look at you, you’re the one covered in tears.”

you pull out of his arms, whimpering breathily as his cock slides out of your pulsing cunt. the base of it is covered in creamy rings while the rest of his length shines wetly. sukuna spreads your trembling thighs and groans loudly at the sight—frothy globs of cum spill from your weeping hole, which clenches around nothing hungrily.

truthfully, sukuna would never be able to rid himself of the memory of your cunt swallowing his cock eagerly. the slip and slide paired with the immense heat had nearly made him cum on the spot . .

sukuna’s chest heaves with each breath as he lolls his head to the side to observe you. “for the record, i’m no longer friends with those vile people. cut it off right after they came into my home and started talking shit about you.”

embarrassment crashes over you like a wave. “wait, you never told me about that!”

“you stopped talking to me and decided to be argumentative all the goddamn time.”

you roll your eyes, looking off the bed awkwardly. a few pillows are scattered on your side, and you reach over to pick them up, tossing them to the foot of the bed.

“anyway, how did my pillow wall get destroyed?”

“don’t get upset.”

“what did you do?” you question him accusingly, narrowing your eyes at him.

“after you fell asleep, i moved two of them.”

“i used six different pillows!”

he dismisses you with a wave of his hand, smirking at the frustrated shock that takes over your features. “i thought it’d help me figure out what your problem was in the morning. obviously, it did.”

you snatch a pillow and hit him right in the face with it, savoring the moment of justice like high quality chocolate. “there. that’s what you get.”

sukuna rips the pillow from your hands and hurls it across the room, turning over to you with a wicked smile playing on his lips.

“you were saying?”

[guiltyc0nscience]

⋆˙⟡ where do broken hearts go?, matt sturniolo

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

synopsis. in which matt feels like you aren’t considering his feelings and not putting as much effort into your relationship as he is, so he brings it up to you which results in conflict but was quick to be resolved.

warnings. angst. crying, resolved angst, arguing, matt’s lowkey mean in this.

word count.

you and matt had never had an argument as big as this. yous had had small disagreements and quarrels, which were solved in minutes. never huge fights. never the way it is going on right now.

you both had been trying to juggle your lives also while trying to maintain a happy, healthy relationship. which isn’t easy. with that, you were both on the brink of breaking down any moment now. but instead of that, your emotions turned into a big fight. not a good one.

today, you weren’t working in the office and matt wasnt out filming with his brothers. he wasn’t in the best of moods right now, you were too in your head. the perfect cause of a disaster. throughout the whole day, small things kept on building and building until everything went down hill after dinner.

you had been washing you and matt’s dishes, he cleaning up all the other little things. when he had made a snarky comment about how good of a sight it was seeing you finally cleaning up, had made you snap.

you had been moaning about it for a good hour, screaming at one another in the kitchen attempting to get your feelings out some sort of way.

“i just don’t fucking get it sometimes,” matt spat at you, “it’s like all you care and think about is yourself.”

“what?! what the fuck are you even saying?!” you yelled, the anger that had slightly died down was rising straight back up.

“you are the most narcissistic, self-centred, most selfish person i have ever met,” matt said through gritted teeth, “you never think about me. you don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

he took a step closer to you as you slammed the dish you were cleaning down, “you’re the one that’s inconsiderate, not me” he says.

“are you fucking kidding me? don’t talk to me like that ever again, asshole!” you said squinting your eyes at him.

a bitter laugh left matt’s lips, walking right up to you and looking down at you, “i’ll say whatever i want, sweetheart. because for once i’ve reached a fucking breaking point.”

“leave then. fucking leave then, if this is such a problem!” you yell in his face.

you were telling him to leave but this was his house that he shared with his two brothers. nick and chris.

“this is my fucking house. but i will leave!” matt yelled back, “maybe i will just leave and you can spend the rest of your life being the most inconsiderate, selfish jackass on the planet! maybe ill just go find someone who actually values me!”

“are you kidding me right now? are you implying that you’ve been fucking cheating on me?!” you raise your voice in disbelief.

matt hadn’t cheated on you. you just took his words the wrong way.

“no! it was hypothetical! if you’d let me finish, you’d know that!” matt snapped back, “i wouldn’t cheat on you, i love you!”

you were taken aback by his statement, “well, the things you’re fucking saying to me right now don’t scream ‘i love you’ very much!”

“i do love you!” matt snapped, “but god! why are you so selfish, so egotistical, and so inconsiderate! how many times do i have to say it for it to go through your thick, stubborn skull?!”

you scoff, “i’m egotistical? you’re the one that thinks you’re better than everyone else because you make a bag off making shit youtube videos! you constantly think you’re one better than everyone else, matt!”

“i don’t think im better than everyone else! im proud of my work, what the fuck is wrong with that?! i’m proud that i was able to take my passion and make myself a career out of it! i get to play my favourite games and do what i love for a living and have it supported me all while i provide for you too? how is many of that wrong?!”

you furrow your brows at the last part of his sentence, “you provide for me? i’ve got my own job, that i got by myself! i don’t need your fucking money.”

“you live in my house! i pay the bills. you can’t even provide for yourself when you make chump change in a month!” matt was absolutely fuming at this point, taking another step towards you.

you felt hurt at what he said, but you didn’t let it affect the way you presented yourself, “what?! are you fucking kidding me right now? you’re the biggest shit talker and dick head i’ve ever met!”

“no, the biggest dick head you’ve ever met is you! you, with you’re self-righteous ego and narcissistic thought process! i’ve met so many assholes in my life, but no one has even come close to how much of a jerk you are!” matt spat, “i’ve put so many hours into this relationship. i’ve given you everything just for you to come back and act like i don’t care about you, and call me the dickhead?”

you sigh as you think about how much stuff you have to have done by tomorrow, “matt, i don’t have time for this right now!”

“oh, no! i think we have plenty of time for this!” matt said as he slammed his palms on the counter, “we aren’t leaving this kitchen until you can look at me and tell me you truly love me, and that you’re sorry for all the bullshit you’ve been saying!”

you stared in disbelief at what was coming out of his mouth right now, “bullshit i’ve been saying?! you’ve said so much worse than i have, so if it’s anyone that needs an apology it’s me! but i’m not fucking pathetic enough to beg someone for some half-assed apology!”

“bullshit? i’ve been telling the truth this whole entire time!” matt said, you are selfish, you are inconsiderate, you are narcissistic. everything i’ve said is true! and don’t worry, sweetheart. you wouldn’t have to beg me for an apology from me, i’d refuse to give you one, just as you’ve been doing to me this entire time!”

you felt sick to your stomach from what matt was letting fall off his tongue like venom, “why are you with me then?! and done even say ‘it’s because i love you’ because that’s bullshit, because you don’t. if you did you wouldn’t say this whether it’s true or not!”

“i do love you! i love you so fucking much, you don’t even know!” the anger on matt’s face soon gave way to sadness, “i’m just sick of your disregarding my feelings. i’m sick of you being so careless about how i feel or what i want. i’m sick of feeling like the only one that’s pouring my all into this relationship. i’m just tired… it hurts… it hurts me that you never even give me a second thought, even though i have you on my mind at all times.”

“that’s not true at all matt! i do put my all into this relationship and i will give it my last no matter what. i love you more than i can even describe so don’t even fucking doubt that! and give me two times i disregarded your feelings, because i dont!”

“every time i ask you to make dinner so i can do some planning when i come home from filming, you don’t do it! you just brush me off and say you’re too busy or tired! or what about the times i have to beg you to give me some time alone, that i haven’t gotten any privacy in forever. yet you still barge right in when i shut the door and you just start yapping to me!”

“matt you’re not the only one with problems, you know! and i do make us dinner and when i do barge in there’s always a good reason, so don’t even start that!” you spit.

“yes i know that! and i try to help you with your problems when you talk to me about them! but when i come to you with how i feel, you just say you’re too busy to listen to me and that we’ll talk later. but we never do!” matt speaks.

“because when later comes, i always find out that you’re at parties posting up with a bunch of girls. or you’re sitting in a car with nick and chris!” you let roll off your tongue.

“i’d have time for you if you weren’t such a cold, detached person!” matt fires back, “and i’m not ‘sitting in a car’ with nick and chris! we’re working!”

“don’t you ever just think, oh i’m actually in a really good work position compared to other people. because i don’t know if you’ve realised but you don’t need to deal with people constantly blaming you for everything in work because you’re the youngest and easiest to blame and degrade! that is why im always so busy and tired, im constantly cleaning up the shit that you leaving lying about while also juggling my paperwork that i have to do at home!”

“yeah, well you have no idea what it’s like to be a full-time youtuber!” matt said, “i have to keep my fans happy, make videos, do collabs with other creators, all while having my own life! and whenever i come home after being out all day, what do i come home to every time? you sitting on the sofa, on your phone, and not even thinking about what i might want or need after i’ve been busting my ass all day!”

your jaw drops slightly with a puzzled expression on your face, “are you fucking with me? you’re not a child matt, you can do things on your own. just because i’m home before you sometimes does not mean i will be your slave! and if you do, fucking think again!”

“i don’t want a slave! i want my girlfriend! i want someone who cares about me! i want the one i love to put me before anything else!” matt was getting agitated, his eyes starting to water.

“i do matt! i do put you before everything, i try my hardest! i ruin my own mental health for you!” you say with tears running down your face.

“it doesn’t feel like you do!” matt said, “you’re always so distant! you’re always so cold and you never show me any affection! and i’m not asking for much! a kiss every now and again would be nice! you don’t even say you love me unless i say to first!”

you let out a sad sigh, “what do you mean? i kiss you every day! i say i love you all the fucking time!”

“you never do it first though! i’m the only one that ever initiates anything! im the one that is always showing affection! the other day i just wanted a hug after filming and you gave me a one-armed side-hug!”

you rub your eyes out of exhaustion, “matt, i’m tired!”

“i’m tired too!” matt snapped, his voice getting louder now, “im exhausted! im working my ass off to make us money and to make you happy and i get nothing but complaints and coldness in return!”

you whined before huffing out words, “i’m not complaining, you’re the only one complaining right now!”

“yes because you never listen to me!” matt nearly yelled, “im trying to tell you how i actually feel! im opening up and being completely vulnerable with you, you just shoot down every single thing i say! all i want is for you to care!”

“matt i do! i care so fucking much it hurts. i love you more than anything! i left my life in florida to come and stay with you full-time because i knew you didn’t want a long-distance relationship. so if that’s not me considering your feelings then i don’t know what is!”

“i never asked you to move here.” matt said through clenched teeth, “yes, i asked you to move in for the summer, and i get you had a shitty family, but you never had to transfer your job and move your entire life here! you never had to put yourself in a stressful and expressive situation, you did that yourself!”

“no i didn’t! don’t get me wrong i love being here with you, nick and chris. i fucking love it! but it’s really hard sometimes! and i get you’re going through hard times too with your family being in boston but you have open arms everywhere around LA, i don’t, that’s the difference! that is why im so cold and defensive sometimes! im scared to trust!”

“why can’t you trust me?!” matt yelled, “you’ve lived here for a year now! i’ve given you everything just for you to say that you don’t trust me! after all i’ve done for you, after all i’ve given up to make you happy, i still get this kind of bullshit from you!”

you panicked since matt had took what you said the wrong way, “i didn’t say that, baby! i said it’s hard for me to trust anyone other than you!”

“so what does that mean?” matt asked, “i don’t deserve your trust? you don’t trust me when i tell you i love you?”

“it means that i’m bottling everything up inside of me because i don’t trust anyone else other than you because i don’t want to put the stress onto you! i feel like you don’t understand what im going through, which is totally fine, but you don’t ever keep that in mind! yes, you’re going through a hard time too but i am too and you need to think about that when you say things to me. you’re not the only person fucking struggling!”

“no, i get that!” matt argued back, “we’re both going through stuff, but the difference is i make time for you! i make sure that your needs are still met when i have time! you on the other hand disregard my feelings and my wants! you never even try to understand my side, while im constantly trying to get you to understand! and now that i’ve finally gotten you to listen, you’re still saying im wrong!”

“i’m sorry matt! i don’t know what else you want from me, im falling apart over here!”

“i want you! i just want you to love me the way you say you do!” matt said, “i want you to show me, physically, that you care about me! i want you to show me that im a priority in your life, just like you’re a priority in mine!”

“i do care about you! i just go through rough patches where i don’t realise that im not showing you how much i care and love you!”

“why not tell me when you’re going through rough patches? if you’re struggling, then why don’t you tell me so i can be there for you! i’d never think of you any differently, i’d never think to call you selfish or inconsiderate! all you have to do is let me in!” matt exclaims with frustration.

“and that’s one of the hardest things for me to do! it takes time to let people in when you grow up the way i did, when you were constantly told your feelings didn’t matter and if you told people that you were struggling they would think differently of you! and i’m not saying all this for you to feel sorry for me, i’m saying this so you can try and understand it from my perspective.” you explain with tears rolling down your cheeks.

“i do understand! i do understand that you’ve had a hard life and it’s hard to trust and open up, but im not asking you to tell me every single thing that’s ever happened to you and that you’ve ever felt! im asking you to just tell me you miss me, or that you’re upset, or that you’re feeling angry or sad or frustrated! i’m asking you to open up just a little bit so i can do my best and try to show you that i love you!”

you tilt your head back and place your hands over your face before whimpering and tilting your head forward again, “and i’m trying matt!”

“i know you are!” matt said, his voice losing the edge as he looked at your tear stained face with empathy. he took a step closer to you and laid his hands gingerly on your shoulders, “i know you’re trying, i do, and it’s not fair for me to expect you to just completely open up overnight, but you’re tearing me apart too! i’m so worn out and tired from trying to get you to show me that my feelings matter to you!”

you hiccup just before you begin to talk, “i’m really trying to be better matt, i am! and i know what you want from me but it takes time. a lot of time. so please, just give me time and and you’ll get what you want in this relationship. and i’ll give you it whether it wipes me out or not!”

“how much time do i have to give you?” matt sighed, “i’ve given you nearly a year of time. i’ve been trying so hard this entire time to break through whatever wall you have up, and after a year you’re still telling me to wait? i can’t keep waiting forever!”

“i know and it’s not fair on you but it also isn’t fair on me to give you something im not ready for!” you whimper before sighing sadly.

“then what am i supposed to do?” matt exclaimed, stepping backwards and running his fingers through his hair, “if you’re not at a place that you can give me what i need in a relationship, when do you foresee yourself being there? another year? two? never?!”

“i don’t know! that is what i need to figure out and you to trust me on, but it’s hard!” you cry out.

“i’m doing my best to make this easy, but you still keep pushing back when i try to get anything out of you!” matt was frowning frustrated again, taking his hands to his face and massaging his eyes, “im just so tired of trying! i’m at my wits end!”

“matt, im sorry!”

“sorry isn’t good enough anymore!” matt almost shouted, “i don’t want another half-assed apology! that’s all you’ve given me our entire relationship, and it isn’t good enough!”

you internally groan, “matt, it’s not half-assed! i’m being considerate.”

“considerate of who? me? yourself?” matt spat, the anger in his voice returning, “because it seems like you’re trying to avoid having to do any work in our relationship and just want me to accept that you’re not ready!”

“well i don’t know what else you want me to do! because im seriously trying but you’re not giving me the time i need and that just takes us back to square one, baby!” you whine, wiping the tears that is running down your chin.

“but you’re not giving me anything to go off of!” matt’s voice was reaching high octive, the anger and exhaustion on his face evident, “i’ve been trying this entire time and every single time i tell you how i’m feeling you push my away. you ask me to give you time, and what exactly am i supposed to do while i wait other than be miserable?!”

your heart drops, “matt, baby… please. don’t give up on me.” you say your voice and heart breaking all at once.

“i don’t want to give up on you… i don’t!” matt said, the anger leaving his body as he watched your own sadness. he took a step towards you before suddenly wrapping his arms tight around you and pulling you into his chest, “i’m just so tired…” he whispered into your hair.

you sniffle before replying, “me too…”

matt didn’t say anything else, he just held onto you tight and buried his face in your hair. he squeezed you as tight as he closed his eyes and tried to get himself back under control.

there was a long heavy moment of silence that fell over the kitchen before matt finally spoke again, voice low.

“i’m sorry. im sorry im putting so much pressure on you, and you’re not ready. im sorry im losing my patience. i love you so much, but i just want to feel loved too… i want to hear you say it…”

“i love you, so fucking much.” whisper into his chest as you close your eyes, tears spilling out.

matt squeezed you tighter at your words, one of his hands reaching around to touch the back of your head in a protective hold. he rested his chin on top of your head, burying his face in the top of it as he closed his eyes again and inhaled the familiar scent of your shampoo. you could feel his body relax as you spoke, the tension leaving his tired and wear muscles.

“i love you too… i love you so much, even when you drive me crazy…”

“i’m really sorry for making you feel like this… i don’t mean it. i swear. it’s just… i just fuck up everything i do.”

“shhh…” matt hushed you, his hand massaging the back of your head in a soothing manner, “you don’t have to apologise for how you feel. i’m sorry for getting angry at you, i just want you to love me the same way i love you and i got frustrated and impatient.”

“but i fucked up our relationship…” you insecurely whispered into his chest.

“you may have said or done things that weren’t the best, but you haven’t completely ruined this relationship, sweetheart.” matt said quietly, pulling back now so he can look down at your tear stained face.

one of his hands came up to your cheek, his thumb gently swiping away one of the droplets.

“but i have or else we wouldn’t be having this argument…” you whispered.

“arguments are apart of every relationship, baby. this is natural, especially for us.” matt said, his tone gentle as he spoke, “this doesn’t mean you’ve completely ruined us. i still love you, and im sure you still love me.”

“of course i do, and don’t ever doubt it” you say shaking your head and looking down to the ground in embarrassment and shame that you caused this huge argument.

“hey,” matt spoke quietly as he took one of his fingers and placed it under your chin so he could lift it up, forcing you to look at him, “look at me baby,”

“hm?” you hum as you look up at him with a saddened look on your face.

his expression was so much softer than before, the exhaustion and the anger now replaced with love and concern. matt’s eyes searched your face as he kept his hand under you chin to hold you head up.

“i want you to listen to me and really hear me, okay?” he said in a soft and calm voice.

“okay” you whisper groggily due to the waterworks from before, and licking your dry lips.

“i love you. no matter how many times i get angry, or frustrated, or exhausted, i love you more than you will ever truly know. you haven’t ruined this. i haven’t lost my love or trust for you.” matt began to say, keeping his eyes fixed on yours, “i don’t ever want you to think that i don’t love you because i do. all i want is for you to try and meet me where i am, okay?”

“i love you. and im sorry for not doing what you expected from me. thank you for giving me a second chance, i don’t deserve you.” you say as another few tears spill out of your eyes.

“i don’t expect you to be perfect, sweetheart. i know you’ve gone through things and that’s what makes you human, but i know you still love me.” he whispered calmly.

matt dropped his hand from your chin to wrap around your waist again, and he gently pulled you forward to press you against his chest once more, his chin resting on top of your head and his arms wrapped around you in a firm hold.

“i love you” you whisper into his chest for the tenth time today, before leaning up and pressing a kiss to his lips, matt returned the kiss with gentle fervour, before burying his head in the crook of your neck and shoulder.

he held you tight, his body relaxing and conforming to your form as he held you close to him, enjoying the feeling of your body against his.

[sprytesukii]

you know me (better than i know myself)

bakugou katsuki x reader

katsuki is hopelessly in love with his best friend until you waltz into his life and warp it beyond his recognition.

rating: mature, 18+, MDNI

wc : 10.4k (holy fuck)

tags : mild to heavy angst, fluff, eventual smut, hurt/comfort, gn!reader (they/them pronouns), afab!reader, unrequited love (not between reader and kats), depictions of mild depression, genderfluid!denki, queer!katsuki, reader has a quirk, oral (reader receiving), p-in-v intercourse, unprotected intercourse (wrap it b4 u tap it pls!), soft katsuki, and they were roommates :0, Not Beta Read, i think that’s it T^T

an: this is the first thing i’ve genuinely written in over a year and jesus it was like i was possessed writing it LMFAO incredibly self indulgent and i had a lot of fun writing it! i hope you guys enjoy it (pls rb n leave feedback pls pls pls)

read on ao3

the warm light of the coffee table lamp casts a beautiful shadow across the planes of eijirou’s face — his sharp, angular nose, smooth cheekbones, plush lips that form a sheepish smile — and katsuki can’t even appreciate it, not with the absolute bullshit that pours from his best friend’s lips.

“the fuck you mean, you’re moving out?”

the words come out a lot harsher than katsuki intends, but he can’t even bring himself to feel guilty, not even when kiri’s face screws up in clear disappointment.

“well, uh, i told you, this new place is closer to my agency so it makes more sense. the commute’ll be much shorter and, uh…” he trails off then, a pretty pink blush spreading across his nose, highlighting the small spattering of freckles that katsuki is certain he’s the only one who’s ever noticed, a broiling heat setting alight in his stomach.

he feels like he might die.

“and.. kaito finally asked me to move in with him.”

there it is. fuckin’ kaito.

katsuki is far from an idiot — people call him a lot of names (brash, inconsiderate, a righteous asshole), but never dumb. they couldn’t unless they were outright lying.

part of what makes katsuki so intelligent is his observance.

of course he’s noticed eijirou’s late nights, his suspicious absences at group get togethers, the sweet smiles he makes as he taps at his phone screen, the fucking hickies.

bakugou katsuki is not stupid. he’s incredibly observant. especially when it comes to the massive crush he’s been harboring on his best friend for the last three years.

he’s not entirely sure when his reluctant tolerance of the bright redhead shifted to something more but he knows he’s been viciously, painfully pining over him day in and day out in the weeks (months, years) since.

and it’s not like kirishima hasn’t had partners before. he’s nearly impossible to resist with his intense attentiveness, his willingness to go above and beyond for those close to him, not to mention his insane physique, built from long hours out on the field and in the gym.

it’s no wonder katsuki has been in love with him for as long as he has been — eijirou is perfect.

perfectly imperfect, of course. he gets upset when katsuki sorts his clothes for him (“i’m an adult, okay? it makes me feel like you’re parenting me, man.”) or when he lectures him on his diet, or when he shuts him out after being friends for so long (when his feelings become too much to handle), but eijirou’s the only one who’s stayed.

katsuki has tried flings and a few more serious relationships but those have ended quickly because he’s just too much.

too loud. too frustrating. too closed off. too him.

but not for eijirou. never for eijirou.

that’s why when kiri mentioned he was talking to this new guy, he brushed it off. it would be like all the others who would eventually break it off because of the long hours at work or eijirou’s boundless enthusiasm and katsuki would be there to pick the sopping wet, heartbroken kiri off the ground and put him back together. they didn’t deserve him anyway.

but this kaito? apparently katsuki’s eagerness to ignore eijirou’s flings made him blind to what was happening — eiji wasn’t his anymore.

he’s moving out.

he’ll be gone forever.

subconsciously, katsuki realizes he’s been silent for far too long and that eijirou’s face has lost the hurt and is now painted with concern and confusion.

fuck, even now, he’s concerned. he cares so so much, except in the way katsuki craves.

“uh,” kirishima’s gentle voice breaks him from his thoughts, a big hand finding its way to katsuki’s knee, “are you okay dude?”

the touch sears through the expensive black joggers katsuki is wearing and he flinches so hard, he jostles the coffee table to his side. he barely sees kirishima’s brows furrow as he launches himself to standing, the telltale burn behind his eyes signaling the incoming wave of tears.

he can’t see katsuki like this, he fucking can’t.

katsuki marches to the kitchen, opening up the fridge and blankly staring into it while he tries to will the water back into his face and still the turmoil burning in his chest.

it feels like he’s aflame, like he’s suffocating, drowning.

he can hear kirishima’s steps behind him but thankfully stopping a reasonable distance away as he calls his name again, desperation coloring the word.

fuck.

with everything he has in him, katsuki grabs a random bottle from the refrigerator (a smoothie eijirou made for him with far too much kale and too little milk and a little note attached with his name and a smiley face. he’s gonna be sick.) and turns to face him, a strained, shaky grimace painting his lips.

“that’s-“ his voice cracks hard and he desperately clears his throat, blinking hard when he sees eijirou reach out for him and stop. “that’s fuckin’— that’s great. ‘m happy for you.”

the words feel like glass inching their way out of his throat and while he knows he sounds anything but, the words seem to do the trick, kirishima’s face lighting up like a fucking christmas tree.

“that means so much to me, man!” this time, he doesn’t stop himself from wrapping katsuki up in a hug, the full body contact sending a wracking shiver through his body. “and don’t worry! we’ll still hang out all the time and i’ll — yes! — finally be able to introduce you to kaito — you’re gonna love him, and-“

katsuki has to tune him out, if just to keep a hold on his sanity because otherwise, he’s gonna break.

he keeps it together through the rest of the conversation about kaito, tuning in only to give time appropriate grunts and hums while pretending like his entire world isn’t imploding in on itself.

he keeps it together, miraculously, as kirishima packs up his things, the evidence of their entwined lives for the past five years disappearing into cardboard boxes over the span of a few weeks.

he even keeps it together when he meets kaito on the move out date, even if it’s just barely. kaito is handsome — tall, taller than katsuki, with windswept brown hair, bright brown eyes and a dimple in his left cheek. if he wasn’t so fucking in love with eiji, he wouldn’t mind taking a piece out of him, but as it were, the sight of kaito makes him genuinely sick to his stomach.

it’s even worse that kaito is so nice. his quirk is even nicer — some nature type that makes it impossible for plants to die when touched by him. they turn to him like he’s the fucking sun and eiji does too.

by the time all kirishima’s stuff is packed up in the back of kaito’s truck, bile is burning at the back of katsuki’s throat as he says his final goodbye to kiri in the way of a bone crushing hug that doesn’t last as long as he wishes, as he craves.

kiri sends him a blinding smile as he climbs into the passenger seat of the truck, looking all too at home against the worn blue leather seats.

it’s now when katsuki wishes he was a little less observant because the hand kaito gently places on kirishima’s thigh and the subsequent full body blush makes him sick.

he waits on the curb the appropriate amount of time as the pair drive away before racing back into his building, up the stairs, into his unit and straight to the bathroom, kneeling over the toilet and heaving, chills wracking his body despite the sweat on his brow.

nothing comes out (praise whoever above because katsuki hates vomiting) and he slumps against the porcelain, resting his heated skin against the toilet seat.

he thought… fuck, katsuki has no idea what he thought, but he didn’t expect it to hurt this bad. he feels a little like he’s dying and lot like he’ll never be okay again. that kirishima walked out with his heart and all he’ll be for the rest of his life is a walking husk of a human being.

a wave of nausea overtakes him again and he debates leaning back over the toilet, but exhaustion overwhelms him and he falls asleep against the wall of his bathroom, sweaty, sick, and heartbroken.

(the next morning, he wakes up to a pounding headache and two texts from eijirou.

he drinks a shit ton of water first and pops an advil before opening the messages.

EIJI (18:21) : just got to kaito’s! dude it’s so nice i can’t believe ill be living here now ><

katsuki has to take a deep breath to fight against the wave of pain that hits him right in the gut, but he keeps reading, the second text simultaneously warming him and twisting the knife.

EIJI (18:25) : i’m gonna miss you so much kats T^T so weird living without you

he stares at the message until his vision swims before liking the second message and turning off his phone, tossing it onto the couch and trudging to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.)

the next few weeks prove to be incredibly difficult.

a new case is brought to best jeanist’s desk and as the best sidekick at the agency, he’s placed in charge of heading the search and capture of an elusive invisibility quirk villain.

the days are long and exhausting, and more often than not, he doesn’t even have time to miss kirishima or notice his things missing from the apartment — he gets home, makes a barebones meal and collapses on the couch for what feels like a four hour nap until he has to turn back around and do it all over again.

it’s sustainable until it isn’t.

a few too many missed meals and restless hours of sleep has him passing out in a morning briefing, prompting best jeanist to send him home for a mandatory two week “vacation.”

it’s a prison sentence, is what it is.

at home, there’s nothing to distract him from the utter lack of kirishima, from the idea that the one person who has seen all of him and loved him anyway has left.

most days it’s too much to bear, so instead, he sleeps.

the usual tidiness of his space slowly deteriorates as he wastes away, waking only to scarf down whatever is left in his refrigerator before going right back to bed.

his friends text him often — hanta, denki, even fuckin’ hitoshi — but he ignores them all. the texts from kirishima are the hardest to delete, all concerned words and pleas for them to just talk, but he does it anyway.

it’s better this way, he tells himself. this way, no one else is dragged down by his self pity.

izuku ends up being the one to break the streak on day nine of radio silence.

a knock resounds at his door and he ignores it, pulling his blankets high above his mussed blonde hair, effectively hiding him from view as he hopes whoever is there spontaneously combusts or, better yet, just leaves.

when the knocks stop, he believes the latter has just occurred and he sighs in relief, completely missing the sound of metal creaking and his doorknob falling to the ground.

he’s debating on taking another melatonin to find the sweet release of sleep once more when his bedroom door opens up and he startles, launching up out of bed, hands and quirk at the ready to destroy the intruder, but he’s slow, too slow.

izuku is on him in a moment, pinning him to the bed and disregarding his gnashing teeth and cursing to look him over with a detached gaze.

“katsuki,” he says, voice firm in effectively shutting him up, despite the way he wriggles for freedom (so ineffectively, it’s embarrassing), “you look like dogshit.”

a harsh bark of laughter escapes katsuki’s throat and even from his angle where he’s pressed into his pillows, he sees izuku’s expression soften.

“you’ve lost your tact, deku,” he responds, his words gravelly from disuse. izuku scoffs but lets him up, taking a step over a pile of clothes on the ground to lean against the desk opposite of the bed.

with his newfound freedom, katsuki sits up, absentmindedly rubbing his now sore shoulder, the pain oddly grounding. izuku watches the motion with the intense focus he’s carried throughout his entire life, though he’s a far cry from the boy who used to break his bones and cry over injured birds.

now, he’s built like a brick house, forest green curls tapered into a flattering modern undercut, the fat from his cheeks transforming into something more chiseled and adult. his eyes aren’t as soft either — they’re tired and, as he looks at katsuki’s form, tinged with worry.

“where have you been? no one has heard from you in a week.”

katsuki rolls his eyes, looking away from the gaze that pins him, the gaze he tried so hard to get to look at him without fear. there isn’t a hint of fear in them now, but katsuki is afraid there’ll be disappointment and that’s almost worse.

“none of your fuckin’ business,” he grunts out and he immediately knows it was the wrong response. besides eijirou, izuku knows him the best and after all they’ve been through, he doesn’t deserve this.

he never deserved any of it.

with that thought spinning around in his head, katsuki rubs a hand over his face with a quiet curse, leaning back against the headboard.

“fuck, i’m sorry,” it comes out as a mutter, but its effect on izuku is instantaneous. the previous hardness of his expression melts and he moves closer, his bushy brows furrowing together. katsuki can barely look at him but he does anyway, he makes himself. izuku deserves that much (he deserves so much more but one day at a time).

“we’re just worried about you,” izuku says quietly but without pity. never pity. “what’s going on?”

maybe it’s the way izuku’s freckled face reminds him far too much of eijirou’s own spattering of constellations or maybe it’s the fact katsuki hasn’t eaten in over fifteen hours, but he shatters in that moment, crystal tears filling up carmine eyes.

if izuku is startled at katsuki’s sudden change of emotions, he doesn’t show it, instead moving to envelop katsuki in his arms, allowing him to bury his face in the crook of his shoulder and let go.

katsuki tells him everything and by the end of it, his head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton and his eyes are puffy and red, but he feels better than he did all week.

izuku just looks thoughtful from his place sitting near the end of katsuki’s bed, the pair parting somewhere in between katsuki’s admission of throwing up when seeing kaito and kirishima together and his accidental confession of stealing one of eijirou’s hoodies from one of the boxes (it sits right under his pillow, but izuku doesn’t need to know that).

“i’m really sorry, katsuki. that fucking sucks,” izuku ends up saying and katsuki’s initial reaction is anger. he spills his heart and guts out to izuku and all he gets is that sucks? but when he opens his mouth to give deku a piece of his mind, he realizes that it does suck. it sucks royal ass and there’s nothing he or izuku can do to fix it - at least not yet - but the acknowledgment, without any attempt to give advice or make everything better, does wonders for katsuki.

he pushes out a watery laugh, his lip ticking up into a smile - for the first time in weeks - and izuku lights up a little. “yeah. it really fuckin’ does.”

the smile izuku sends back is blinding and for the one thousandth time, katsuki is reminded why the symbol of peace is just that.

they talk for a little while longer before izuku forces katsuki into the shower. he takes a long time, letting the scalding hot water turn cold before he emerges to find that his childhood best friend has started cleaning up the mess that has become of his apartment.

katsuki watches on for a moment until izuku raises an eyebrow at him and offers him a trash bag which he takes wordlessly, a wave of affection crashing over him so quickly tears come to his eyes. he blinks them away but he doesn’t miss the knowing smile izuku sends his way.

the pair work together in relative silence until the apartment is spotless and katsuki’s stomach is grumbling something fierce. izuku makes his way to the fridge but is met with nothing but a half carton of eggs and a rotting smoothie in the far corner, a sticky note attached to the lid. he fixes katsuki with a small, sad smile before digging through his drawers for a takeout menu.

when the food arrives, katsuki finishes it in record time and he can’t tell if it’s the fact they remembered to make it extra spicy or if it’s because he literally can’t remember the last time he had an actual meal, but it’s the best thing he’s eaten in a long time.

after they finish, izuku turns on the television and they both spend the evening shit talking a d-list hero film until they fall asleep on the couch, bodies slumped against one another, holding each other up.

—

that night seems to have knocked something loose in katsuki because the next morning, he wakes with his first alarm and heads to the gym for the first time since his mandatory vacation. by the end of it, his arms are burning from quirk overuse and he’s completely wiped, but he feels more like himself than he has in ages.

he finally texts his friends back (barring one) and they greet him back with high levels of enthusiasm and concern. it feels good to be received back into the fold with the love he’d thought he’d lost, his cheeks hurting with how much he’s smiling as the messages roll in.

katsuki finishes out his sentence and goes back to work on the fourteenth day with an earnest apology to best jeanist and a new lead on the villain after pouring over the case files in between hyperintensive workouts at the gym. best jeanist is quietly impressed, but the squeeze to the shoulder he gives katsuki tells him he was more worried about him than he let on.

the next few weeks pass in a blur, but this time it’s more pleasant. he watches shitty movies with izuku, deletes instagram when he sees a photo of kaito and kirishima on holiday in america, starts attending a pottery class on the weekends he has off with mina and denki, continues to ignore the texts from eijirou that are becoming more and more infrequent as time goes on, smokes with hanta and shinsou one evening and laughs harder than he ever has, and life feels like it’s slowly gaining its footing once again.

he realizes three months after kirishima had moved out that he should probably start looking for a new roommate or downgrade to something more reasonable. he seriously considers the latter, but when he looks at the space he cultivated right after he graduated from ua, he realizes he can’t quite give the place up.

he posts an ad on craigslist that night.

the next time the group goes drinking (kirishima is suspiciously absent, despite his reentry into the country a few days prior — mina mentioned it), katsuki brings up his roommate problem and denki latches on, his cheeks pleasantly flushed from the wine he’s been sipping on.

“oh, oh! i know - i know the perrrrfeeccttt roommate for you,” he slurs, toying with the earring dangling from his ear and fixing his excited gaze on katsuki’s face. “they’re like.. the besttt, dude, you’d - you’d love them.”

the words are vague, but when katsuki opens up his mouth to ask for more details, denki’s eyes widen and he rushes off to the bathroom, a hand over his mouth, nearly tripping over the his platform shoes and maxi skirt.

the topic of the roommate is quickly forgotten then, but it resurfaces a few days later at pottery class.

katsuki is glaring holes into the side of his slightly lopsided vase on the pottery wheel, internally going through the steps to see where he went wrong. denki to the left of him laughs and chatters as he makes his, frankly, hideous ceramic, the clay warped beyond recognition.

something in his one-sided conversation brings his attention to katsuki who’s startled at the sound of his name coming from denki’s mouth.

“yo, you still looking for a roommate?” he asks, tilting his head as a strand of hair falls from the lengthening ponytail at the back of his head. without alcohol in his system, denki looks a little more hesitant to be approaching this topic, but does so when he isn’t met with a howitzer to the face.

the group doesn’t know much of anything, just that kirishima and katsuki aren’t talking, so they tend to tread lightly around the subject. katsuki appreciates it, genuinely, but he’s not going to shatter at the sound of eijirou’s name - not anymore. it hurts still, of course, but the pain has dulled to a steady hum that he can ignore if he tries hard enough.

“yeah,” he grunts, turning his eyes back at his vase. “why? you got someone in mind?”

denki grins, showing off the lightning tooth gems on his canine. “hell yeah! i’ll give you their number — they teach the watercolor class here on tuesdays and they’re so cool.”

he speaks about you with obvious adoration and katsuki belatedly wonders if the two of you are dating, but doesn’t voice this curiousity, instead wordlessly handing denki his phone to put in your contact as “ROOMIE” with what feels like a hundred paint emojis after it. katsuki smiles at his friend’s antics and can’t quite bring himself to change it.

the colorful contact remains untouched for about another week until he gets a rent notice and remembers the little paint palettes in his phone.

in the middle of his morning workout, he taps out a quick text to you, before tossing his phone to the side and promptly forgetting about it.

katsuki [09:27] : Hey. I’m Bakugou. Denki gave me your number. I’m looking for a roommate. You interested?

ROOMIE [10:16] : oh hey yeah i’m interested

ROOMIE [10:17] : do you want 2 meet td

ROOMIE [10:17] : i’m at the cafe on 5th n cherry

ROOMIE [10:17] : in the back

ROOMIE [10:19] : i’ll b here 4 a while

ROOMIE [10:19] : just come whenever

katsuki only sees the message at the end of his workout a half hour later. the number of messages in a row and less than ideal grammar makes him turn up his nose but he quickly taps out an affirmative, before dapping izuku up and heading to the showers.

he makes it to the cafe twenty minutes later, scanning the place to see what he assumes is you tucked away in the back corner, your table full with books, papers, paints, your laptop and at least four empty cups of coffee.

katsuki raises an eyebrow at the sight but walks over anyway, telling himself he’s doing denki a favor by meeting someone he thinks so highly of so he won’t feel too bad when he tells him it’s not going to work out.

you don’t look up when he stops at your table, too occupied with the piece of art in front of you, your face twisted up in intense concentration.

you’re quite pretty, he notes subconsciously, the hard set of your eyes and one track focus reminding him an awful lot of himself when he’s swept into a difficult case. your complete unawareness gives him more time to take you in, though, so he can’t even bring himself to be too annoyed.

you’re wearing a bright yellow chargebolt hoodie that clashes terribly with your garishly pink acid queen baggy sweatpants. a pair of cellophane socks cover your feet where they’re stretched out in the seat across from you and your shoes (made to look like the red ones from deku’s costume, jesus christ) sit haphazardly beneath the table, empty.

it’s such a bizarre sight, katsuki almost laughs — almost — but he doesn’t, instead opting to knock your feet off the chair opposite you so he can sit down.

“a big fan of heroes, huh?” he asks, the action coupled with his words startling you so bad, your knees hit the underside of the table, threatening to upend all the precariously balanced objects decorating the surface.

you look angry at first before you realize who it is and once you do, you just look relieved. it’s an unusual reaction, one katsuki rarely gets from anyone who isn’t actively in danger, especially strangers.

“you scared the absolute shit out of me,” you say tiredly, rubbing a hand over your face and sighing. katsuki watches you recognize your own impoliteness in real time, a sheepish smile spreading across your lips.

pretty.

“fuck, sorry,” you extend a paint splotched hand to him and he takes it, shaking it firmly before it falls back to his side, fingers tingling. “i get super into shit and completely forget where i am. kami gets onto me about it all the time. says i’m prime villain bait or some shit. i think he’s saying it most of the time to freak me out, but he might actually be right. don’t ever tell him i said that though.”

katsuki can’t help but stare at you as you ramble at him with the familiarity of someone who’s known him for months, not just a few minutes. it’s uncomfortable in a strangely nice way and he can feel his muscles loosen as the nerves melt away.

“aw fuck, i’m sorry again. i didn’t introduce myself.”

you give him your name, offering your hand out for him to shake once more which he does with an amused look painting his expression. you don’t seem to notice, your attention being grabbed by the piece in front of you again.

“i’m bakugou,” he offers after a moment of silence. you don’t even look up when you respond.

“i know. you sent me that text, remember? also you’re like, super fucking famous, dynamight,” you look up at him through your lashes, teasing, and heat unexpectedly blooms on the back of his neck.

what the fuck?

in a bid to gain back control of the conversation (and himself) katsuki asks, “what’re you workin’ on? dunceface said you’re a painter or some shit.”

your nose crinkles at the moniker, but you don’t say anything about it, instead turning the sketchbook around for katsuki to look at it.

the piece is stunning, but it’s visceral and he can’t help but lean back a little when looking at it, stomach dropping.

a deer lays on the ground, gutted, blood, guts and viscera pouring out of its abdomen as a figure just out of frame reaches inside and pulls out its heart.

katsuki is disgusted but intrigued and that feeling only amplifies when you press a finger to the painting and activate your quirk.

suddenly, the hand in the painting moves so realistically he flinches — he can hear the deer’s heart beat, can hear the way the blood trickles through the blades of grass, can smell the coppery tang and can feel the rush of spring wind blowing past his face.

it’s like he’s there, in the piece, and he feels both a little sick and also so alive.

“holy fuck,” he whispers, shivering, and you laugh, deactivating your quirk, bringing him back to the real world. the sounds of the cafe flood in, replacing the smell of blood and spring fields with coffee and loose tea leaves. he shakes his head, eyes a little blown when they look at you.

your expression is playfully amused as you bring your sketchbook closer to your person, resting your head on the palm of your hand.

“sorry,” you offer, but you don’t sound very sorry at all, “should’ve asked before i used my quirk on you. not everyone likes that shit.”

the words are so nonchalant but you look like you’re poised to watch him get up and leave, never looking back. katsuki doesn’t think he could leave if he tried.

“nah,” his voice feels raw so he tries to clear it but the feeling doesn’t go away. “you’re good. just surprised me, ‘s all.”

your mouth parts in muted surprise and you tilt your head, appraising him like you’re seeing him for the first time. katsuki feels surprisingly bare as you study him, but he doesn’t drop his eye contact, despite the heavy pounding of his heart from your intensity.

the pair of you sit in silence like that for a moment or two longer before you break it, asking him if he wants something to drink. before he can tell you he doesn’t drink coffee though, you flag down the waiter, ask for a hot cup of tea (“darjeeling or oolong,” you ask the waiter, not even sparing katsuki another glance, “he doesn’t look like he fucks with green tea.” it’s true. he doesn’t. his heart does a stutter step in his chest.) and when it arrives to the table, katsuki asks you to move in with him.

you agree.

—

the move in process is so quick and easy that when it’s done, it feels like you’ve been living there for years.

your belongings integrate seamlessly into his own. your books about art history and watercolor technique find their way onto his bookshelves filled with classic japanese literature and hero history.

(he comes home one day to see you propped up on the couch with a thick book on the origin of quirks and heroism in japan that you stole borrowed from his collection. he just cocks his head at you when you meet his gaze and you shrug.

“i’m not japanese, i don’t know any of this shit,” you say in way of an explanation. “besides, this is important to you. i wanna learn.”

you turn back to your book like you didn’t just completely shake the foundation of katsuki’s world for a moment and he stumbles off to the kitchen, heat burning at the tips of his ears.)

your plants find their way on every windowsill and while, once upon a time, it would’ve made him think of kaito and that sick, curling jealousy would wrap around his chest and squeeze, now? it just makes him think of you.

(it helps you can’t really keep them alive so nearly every other week the two of you are replanting something new in the pots and vases katsuki makes in pottery class.)

your favorite foods join his in the refrigerator and the two of you take your meals together more often than not. katsuki cooks and you clean, either eating on the couch while watching a documentary or at the dining room table as you talk and talk and talk.

(the first time katsuki misses dinner, you wait up for him, even forgoing your own meal to eat with him when he returns at 2 in the morning.

“don’t do that shit again,” he grumbles when he finds out what you’ve done, his scarlet eyes piercing your own. you shrug, unafraid, tired eyes trailing lazily over his tank top clad form.

“don’t tell me what to do,” you retort after a moment, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips, “i like eating with you.”

your honesty, unabashed and loud, always bowls him over and he has to take a sip of his ice water to feel steady again.)

the relationship between the two of you is easy, for once, and katsuki finds himself looking forward to coming home, to you and your witty comments, sharp intelligence, and your uncanny ability to see right through him.

he swears it must be a hidden quirk, the way you seem to just know — know what he wants and needs without even asking and your accuracy rate is pretty much unbeatable.

after a particularly bad mission where the property damage is unusually high and the civilian casualties match, the leading hero news journalist puts out a scathing piece about him, sending him into an emotional spiral.

you find him that afternoon, curled up in bed, staring at the window blankly. you crawl up in bed beside him and you don’t speak, don’t offer him coddling words of “everything’s gonna be okay,” or “you did the best you could,” because if that was katuski’s best, he doesn’t fucking deserve to be a hero. not at all.

but no, you don’t offer him empty words of placation. instead, you brush a lock of his hair off of his forehead and look at him with that all-seeing gaze, your expression neither soft nor hard, but understanding.

“you’re not gonna let that shit happen again, right?” you ask, tilting your head. katsuki shakes his head vehemently, the mere notion of the same amount of dead bodies on his watch sending a fire through his chest as he sits up.

“fuck no.”

“good. now come here, i painted something new and i need to see if i get ‘good job’ or ‘holy fuck that’s shitty’ eyebrows from you.”

and that’s that.

you’ve even given him a nickname and it inexplicably makes his skin feel tight, like he needs to tear it off and show you, like it’s a display of how you make him feel.

it’s a lazy sunday afternoon, one he’s required to take off by best jeanist, and he’s spent it next to you on the couch, listening to a few of your records while you paint a forest scene, a skittish doe front and center with rivulets of water streaming from beneath it.

occasionally, you’ll activate your quirk and katsuki can suddenly hear birds chirping and the creak of the wood before he’s back in your cramped flat, the sounds of city sounding below.

it’s jarring and yet, comforting, both your presence and the quirk, in a way that still doesn’t make sense to him yet.

“bambi, are you even listening to me?” the term of what he assumes is endearment startles him out of his thoughts and he eyes dart to yours, an amused expression on your your brow.

“who the fuck are you callin’ bambi?” in his shock, he can hardly conjure up the ability to sound pissed, confusion instead hijacking his words, making them come out soft and gruff.

“you, idiot,” you reply, like it makes all the sense in the world. “you’re like a deer to me. something in you is skittish, afraid and yet, you’re still so beautiful.”

what the fuck.

katsuki’s breath completely evaporates from his lungs and he feels like he’s going to pass out at your frank words. it doesn’t help that you don’t break eye contact or look embarrassed to have said something so, so… intimate.

he can’t even begin to parse through how to respond to something like that, but you know that too, flicking a little bit of paint water at him with the tip of your brush. he sees the olive branch for what it is and he grabs it with both hands, the annoyed sound rising from his throat on autopilot as you laugh, but your eyes are still so knowing.

he thinks about that day everyday after with sickening butterflies flapping around in his stomach and those only magnify when you choose to call him the new nickname every single chance you get.

katsuki would not dream of stopping you.

—

it’s about two months into you moving in with him and he’s going out drinking with the squad. he’s invited you about thirty times but every time you decline, citing that you’re behind on grading art projects and that show you were looking forward to is airing tonight.

(you’re a substitute art teacher at the local elementary school, a fact that genuinely shocked katsuki when he found out.

you’d laughed, wide and unapologetic at his reaction.

“i know i’ve got quite the potty mouth but i clean it up for the kids,” you say, eyes twinkling. “they kinda love me, i think, but it might just be the bob ross videos i put on for them every friday.”)

katsuki chooses not to push but he knows that he’ll end up cutting the night short, just so he can sprawl next to you on the couch and watch you paint.

you seem to know it too (how?? secret quirk, it must be) if the knowing look you give him isn’t enough as he goes to change.

when he returns to the living room, he’s clad in a nice black button down that’s unbuttoned enough to show off the strong planes of his chest and his thin gold chain, and a pair of black jeans that fit him and his tiny waist incredibly well.

katsuki knows he looks good in this outfit, but he finds himself uncharacteristically nervous as he stands in front of you, your eyes dragging down his body as slow as molasses, igniting the skin as though it was a physical touch.

your eyes meet his once again, molten and hot, and katsuki’s knees nearly buckle at the sight. he’s never seen you look like that - not at him, not at anyone, and he finds that he quite likes to be the center of your attention in this way.

“you clean up nicely, bambi,” you murmur, your voice a lower timber in comparison to your normal speech.

the blush spreads immediately to all visible parts of his body and he can fucking see you holding back a grin. “fuck off,” is all he can say before he spins on his heel, grabs his keys, and marches out the door.

it takes everything in him to continue walking, out and up to the train station and then to the bar, because all he wants to do is turn right back around, back to your home and back to that lava-like gaze you pinned him with earlier.

it’s you that’s racing around in his mind when he pushes the door open to the bar, but all thoughts come to a complete, grinding halt when he sees kirishima at their usual table, surrounded by all their friends and grinning like he’d never left.

he looks different - after all, it’s been about a year since katsuki had seen him last. his hair is longer and his roots are grown out, his skin has taken on such a warm glow and it, impossibly, seems like he’s gotten even bigger somehow.

it’s also impossible to miss the black band on his ring finger signaling a new engagement ring which he figures is what they’re meant to be celebrating tonight, eyes belatedly catching on the comically tiny “i’m engaged!” sash hanging around his chest.

the sight of kirishima sends the most heinous bolt of anxiety through katsuki and now he really just wants to call you to come get him and take him home, to make him forget all about his unrequited love. he moves backwards to do just that, but he’s already been spotted by kirishima himself.

fuck.

katsuki is frozen as kirishima’s happy expression falters when he meets his eyes, cycling through shock, disbelief, stark hurt and then utter relief.

he can see the way kiri’s mouth forms “katsuki” from a distance as he puts down his drink and moves towards him, his feet completely frozen until they’re standing face to face (face to chest, really) for the first time in months.

“hey,” kirishima says, hesitantly, breathlessly, as his hands flutter uselessly at his sides, like he wants to just pick katsuki up but is stopping himself. “can we, uh, can we go outside and talk?”

katsuki just nods because what else is supposed to do? and as they move out, he catches the worried gazes of their friends watching the pair of them from the table. denki and izuku, the latter of whom knows the most (everything) and the former who managed to figure most of it out on his own.

(“takes one to know one,” he’d said, bitterly when he’d confronted katsuki a few weeks ago about his unexplained mandatory leave all those months ago. katsuki was confused until kaminari flipped around his phone to reveal a photo of him and hanta pressed tightly together in an embrace that was strictly platonic and yet, horribly intimate.

katsuki’s lips drew together into a tight line as he settled against the brick wall kami was leaning against, trying to light the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.

“you’re too good for plain face,” he says after a moment, attempting to channel his inner you, blunt and honest. “you’re gonna find someone better.” and just like all his thoughts as of recently, they’d flitted right back to you.

denki had watched his face carefully, cigarette unlit, a thoughtful look crossing his own expression.

“yeah,” he concedes, “i will, won’t i?”)

katsuki gives the pair of them a nod, holding up a hand to izuku who looks like he wants to follow them out of the bar, despite the pounding in his chest and the way he suddenly feels unsteady on his feet as they leave the building to step right back out into the cool, fall air.

kirishima’s stance is awkward and since neither of them smoke, they both just stand there, barely looking at each other and waiting for the other person to speak up first.

“fuckin’ hell- what’d you wanna talk about kirishima?” katsuki grits out, tired of the waiting game and suddenly, immediately, so exhausted. all he wants to do is be curled up beside you, with your all seeing eyes and gentle utterances of “bambi” in his ear.

the tact he’d lost in his haste to get this over with stings kirishima whose brows furrow in annoyance. “what do i want to talk about? i haven’t seen you in a year, bakugou, not since i moved out and you completely cut me off with no explanation whatsoever. i want to know why. what - what did i do wrong?”

his voice breaks on the last word and it sounds so sad, so uncharacteristically eijirou, that katsuki flinches, finally looking over at kirishima to see a broken, pleading man who lost his best friend for nothing more than silly, stupid feelings.

at once, katsuki feels all the fucking idiot asshole he is and it’s staggering how much that thought makes him feel like shit. he could’ve reached out, he could’ve, but he was so worried that he wouldn’t have been able to keep it together, spending time with kiri, and as time passed, the issue became that so much time had passed and he had no idea how to navigate this all over again.

he runs a hand over his face, leaning against the brick facade of the bar. “fuck,” he whispers, gravel crunching underfoot as kiri steps closer.

“i - i miss you, kats,” kiri’s voice comes out quiet and thick, “i got engaged and all i wanted to do was call you, but you weren’t there, you weren’t speaking to me and i-“ he takes a shuddering breath and katsuki’s eyes fill with tears.

“i was in love with you.”

the sounds of the street fade out as katsuki finally turns to look at kirishima, the tears falling down his cheeks.

“wha- bakugou, what?”

“i was in love with you and i couldn’t fuckin’ - i couldn’t do it. not to myself, not to you.”

kirishima face is drawn, pale and mouth gaping. his mouth closes, then opens again, then snaps shut, his head shaking in disbelief.

“why didn’t you - fuck - why didn’t you ever say anything, man?”

katsuki scoffs, the sound wet with grief. “are you shittin’ me? why the hell would i do that?”

kiri shrugs, long, dark lashes sweeping his cheekbones, leaving tiny wet marks. a year ago, the sight would’ve filled katsuki with rabid butterflies, but now it remains just an observation, one made passively and without thinking.

“i should’ve told you somethin’, i fuckin’ know that now, but i was - i was scared. scared of you hating me, scared of losing you. but i went and fucked that one up anyway, so,” katsuki laughs, self deprecating, and kirishima shakes his head vehemently, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him into a tight hug.

katsuki’s throat is tight as he gives into the embrace, burying his face into kirishima’s shoulder.

“you haven’t lost me, kats, and you never will,” kirishima whispers, pulling apart far enough to press his forehead to katsuki’s, red eyes meeting red. “i mean, who else is gonna be my best man?”

katsuki’s eyes widen and he takes a step back. “don’t fuck with me.”

kirishima shakes his head, a wet laugh escaping his lips. “not fucking with you bro. you’re my best friend. i want you there beside me on the happiest day of my life.”

after everything, after the year of no contact and the absolutely shitty way katsuki treated him, kirishima still wants katsuki by his side?

he’s honored, he’s out of his depth, he’s fucking nauseous, and he really wants to go home and tell you.

“i met someone,” he blurts and kirishima looks startled at the change of subject, but takes it in stride, a smile tugging at his face.

“that’s so great, dude, congrats! what’s their name?”

katsuki breathes it out and when he does, he realizes something, the force of it hitting him like a steel beam to the head.

“i think i’m in love with them.”

kirishima blinks, taking in katsuki’s tense form. he looks like he’s about to run away.

“i’m so happy for you, kats. really, i am,” kiri says, before being taken off guard yet again by the hug katsuki initiates.

“of course i’ll be your best man, shitty hair. i fuckin’ missed you too,” he murmurs and he hears kirishima sniffle. “i gotta go but text me and we’ll get lunch tomorrow or some shit, okay? i’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

he pulls away to see eijirou’s big wet eyes stare down at him with unabashed care and love, and katsuki feels his heart swell.

he got his best friend back and now it’s time to get you.

kirishima agrees to the meetup wholeheartedly and lets katsuki go with a hearty pat on the back and a shouted “good luck!” over the sound of the rain that started up during the last moments of conversation before going back inside the bar.

katsuki considers blasting his way to you, but he knows the optics would be incredibly unfavorable and his pr department would have his head, so he races to the train station instead and hops aboard, his mind racing with thoughts of you.

his hair is plastered to his forehead with rain by the time he gets to his apartment building and the button up is molded to his body like a second skin. he’s uncomfortable, of course, but he hardly pays it any mind because before he knows it, he’s unlocking and pushing open the door to your shared flat.

he’s home.

you startle from your place upside down on the couch, your paints and sketchbook cluttering the coffee table at the side while the tv plays an ancient looking cooking show quietly.

katsuki is bowled over by the sight, the weight of what he now knows as love sending him stumbling a little on his feet. he has to hold onto the doorjamb to keep his footing.

you sit up, observing, and you tilt your head. “you’re back early,” you comment, curiosity lacing your words.

he nods, not trusting his voice as finally steps past the threshold, kicking off his shoes and putting on a pair of hideous hawks themed slippers that you’d bought for him on your own birthday.

you hum thoughtfully before standing and disappearing down the hallway, katsuki’s eyes glued to you as you go. he can hear the sounds of you rummaging around in the bathroom, his feet frozen to the floor when you return, a fluffy towel in hand.

“you should shower, of course,” you say with a grin, opening up the towel and draping it over his head to dry it before moving on to the rest of his sopping body. “but i figured i’d keep you from dripping all over that ugly rug you’re obsessed with.”

katsuki doesn’t respond, can’t, and you don’t push or question, instead diligently wiping him down until he’s marginally more dry, eg, not actively dripping on the hardwood.

you move to go dispose of the towel and katsuki’s hand shoots out, not of his own volition, to hold you in place. it’s here he notices how close you’ve been standing to him, your breath wafting over his collarbones.

“bambi?” you question, unafraid of him, just lightly confused, but you don’t move away from him, somehow picking up his need for closeness without him saying anything, and he snaps.

“i love you,” he whispers, the explosion in his chest coming out in just those three gruff words, his carmine eyes boring into your own with an intensity you match.

a small smile spreads over your lips and your eyes light up, joy thrumming over your skin. “i love you too, katsuki.”

it’s perfect and katsuki can’t stop himself from cupping your face and pressing your lips together.

the kiss is gentle and chaste, your hands dropping the towel, coming up to rest on his forearms and holding him in place as you move your lips softly against his own.

katsuki feels like the rest of the world could implode right now, could be on fire or flooding or being overrun by villains and none of it would matter, not a single fucking thing because you’re in his arms and you’re kissing him back and you love him.

these thoughts ignite a hunger in him, a flame stoking in his belly, and he pushes further into the kiss, his hands sliding from their place on your face. one cups the back of your neck while the other slides down your back, pressing you firmly against the front of his body.

he’s almost giddy, having you like this, and he’s sure you can feel it because you’re smiling into the kiss like this is the happiest day of your life.

he thinks it’s his.

you continue trading kisses like this in your foyer, but it only escalates when your tongue flickers across katsuki’s bottom lip and you sigh softly, back arching against him.

katsuki has to break apart from you so he doesn’t consume you in that moment, but you don’t go far (you never do), your foreheads pressed together while you breathe in each others air.

“fuckin’ hell,” he chokes out and you laugh. “can i please - fuck - i need you.”

his honesty shuts you up quick and you nod, biting your lip. “take me to bed, bambi.”

and that he does.

katsuki’s hand finds yours and he pulls you towards his bedroom — you’ve been in there countless times, to watch movies, to nap, to read with one another, but of course, it was never like this.

the tension is thick but it’s not uncomfortable at all. you walk over to his bed and plop down on it like you’ve been in this situation a thousand times. the action soothes any residual anxiety katsuki might’ve had as he walks over to you, your heated gaze tracking his movements the entire time.

“take this shit off,” he grumbles, tugging at the garish all might crewneck covering your abdomen and you swat his hand away with an amused look.

he can feel his pout forming at your smile, but you just shake your head. “don’t tell me what to do, bambi,” but still, you raise grip the bottom of the thick fabric, lifting it up and over your head before letting it drop to the ground, leaving you bare.

or almost bare, if not for the objectively hideous, brightly colored, thin, cheap and lacey dynamight themed underwear covering your body.

“what the fuck is this?” katsuki doesn’t mean for his question to come out so reverent, but seeing you clad in his colors sends a bolt of heat down his spine so strong, he’s quite literally never been harder in his life.

you don’t seem to notice (but you always do), tilting your head at him with a grin playing on your lips. “they were on sale. didn’t think you’d ever see them.”

katsuki’s brows furrow at that, his hands tightening from their place on your hips. “who the fuck else was going to?”

you shake your head, like there’s something he isn’t getting. “no one. it’s always been you.”

“fuckin’-“ katsuki surges for you, claiming your lips with his with an urgency that had previously been lost. you respond in kind and this time, you’re letting out all these quiet gasps and sighs, writhing beneath him. he has to see you fall apart.

he reluctantly detaches his face from yours, kissing down your neck and sucking marks into the thin skin there, one of your hands sliding up to tangle into his hair, keeping him close.

a moan escapes him at the feeling of your fingers on his scalp, nearly getting lost in the mindless action, but he has to keep going. he makes it to your chest, laving his tongue over one of your nipples, flicking the hardened bud with the tip.

“f-fuck, bambi,” you outright moan and katsuki has to grind down against the mattress, his free hand sliding to pinch and pull at your other nipple.

your body can’t figure out whether to arch towards or away from his ministrations, which katsuki takes special delight in. you’re always so in control of yourself, even when you’re not, so it’s beyond rewarding to be responsible for your destruction.

“bambi - fuck - ‘suki, fuck me,” you groan and katsuki’s eyes roll back before he pulls off your nipple with a pop, his lips red and slick.

“nah.”

“nah?” you parrot, leaning up on your elbows with the closest thing he’s seen to annoyance directed at him written all over your face.

“nah. ‘m gonna make you come first.” katsuki grins, feral, and you shudder.

“get to it then, hero.” the moniker, while meant to be sarcastic and biting, just makes katsuki moan, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your (dynamight !!) underwear and tossing them to the floor.

he leans in, propping up one of your legs over his shoulder to bury his nose in the crease between hip and thigh, inhaling deeply. you smell sharp and tangy and so you that he couldn’t stop himself from taking a lick, entrance to clit, if he tried.

you sigh at that first touch of his wet muscle, melting in the bed while one hand remains buried in his hair and the other splays above your head. you watch him move with that intense look and you don’t look away so he doesn’t either.

he doesn’t look away as he slurps loudly at your entrance, tasting the wetness that’s gathered there with a pleased hum. doesn’t look away as he swirls his tongue around your clit, pulling a sharp gasp from your chest. doesn’t look away as he picks up pace, swirling, flicking and sucking until you’re chanting his name and “bambi,” your body tensing up as you buck your hips up into his face. doesn’t look away when you cum hard, soaking his lips and chin to which he eagerly groans, slurping up all you have to offer.

you pull him up to stop him from licking you through your aftershocks, kissing him hard once he gets to eye level.

“please,” you beg, eyes wide and urgent. who is he to deny you or himself?

katsuki stands and shucks off his boxers in record time, wrapping a hand around his cock that’s hard and leaking, the tip bright red.

your eyes eat him up hungrily, lingering on the way his precum spills over his knuckles with every slow stroke.

“i’m gonna suck your pretty cock tomorrow, preferably before breakfast,” you comment breathlessly. katsuki has to wrap his fingers around the base of his cock to keep himself from coming in that moment, taking a deep breath and glaring at you when you giggle.

“condom?” you shake your head, leaning back and spreading your legs to show off the wet mess he’s made of you.

“‘m clean and i’m in love with you. fuck me. now.” you can’t even sound commanding, not with the whine lying beneath your words, giving away how bad you want him. how bad you want this.

if the way katsuki’s cock legitimately jumped at your words is anything to go by, he obviously feels the same.

“goddamit, can’t fuckin’ say shit like that to me, jesus,” he rambles, crawling back onto the bed and notching the fat head of his dick into your entrance before leaning down to kiss you, open mouthed and messy.

he pushes into you when your tongue is halfway down his throat and he nearly chokes on it. you’re so soft and wet and velvety — he’s gonna cum so fucking fast, holy shit.

of course, you know it too, know him like the back of your hand because you squeeze even tighter around him and slide your hand down between your bodies to rub frantically at your clit.

“you - oh, god, you feel so fucking good bambi, fucking me so well, always taking care of me,” your words slur together as your eyes roll back, his hips slamming into yours at a quick pace.

he wants you to cum first, wants it more than anything, but the dirty talk coupled with the way you feel clenching around him has him shooting off faster than he expected, a low, long whine leaving him.

his hips stutter against yours and fireworks go off behind his eyelids. it feels like he’s coming forever as he humps into you and that feeling is only prolonged by you coming around him, your cunt clenching so tightly, you force him out, his spend spreading all over your mons and pelvis with a choked groan.

after another long moment, he slumps against you, exhausted and happier than he’s ever been.

you hum contentedly, wrapping your arm around him to pull him half on top of you, your body succumbing to the tiredness that’s so quickly overtaken you.

“i love you, katsuki,” you whisper, the phrase thick with sleep and emotion. katsuki feels burning at the backs of his eyes so he buries his face in the crook of your neck to hide, kissing your shoulder when the words don’t come.

you know, though. you always do.

—

“fuck, bambi, we’re gonna be late!” you screech from your (now) shared room, the sound muffled from where your head is buried in the closet.

by the door, katsuki is trying (and failing) to tie his bow tie, the red fabric remaining uncooperative in his hands. he groans in frustration, raising a hand to run it through his hair but stopping short when he remembers how you painstakingly fixed it for him a few hours ago.

“i know! it’s this stupid fuckin’ tie!” he shouts back, staring at himself in the little mirror you purchased, smiling a little despite himself when he remembers that trip to the home decor store with you, picking out new items that represent the both of you for your apartment.

speak of the devil, you step up behind him, looking gorgeous in a red, floor length dress, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“you look really good bambi,” you grin, fingers dragging down his abdomen to rest on his waistband, but his hands stop your downward motion while he gives you a halfhearted glare through the reflection.

“don’t start that shit,” katsuki turns around in your hold to face you, your hands immediately finding his undone tie. you work efficiently, face so scrunched up and focused that katsuki can only lift your face to press a kiss to your lips.

you melt, kissing him back easily and when you pull away, his lips are tinged with your lip products, marked by you. “you have a little something…” you trail off, wiping it away, not realizing how he stares at you like you’re the sun and he has no other choice but to revolve around you.

“marry me,” katsuki blurts, heat burning at the tips of his ears after a moment of you looking at him in utter disbelief.

he worries for a split second that you’re going to say no, but then your face splits into the most blinding smile he’s ever seen.

“are you proposing to me right now, bakugou katsuki?” you tease, fingers toying with the tie around his neck.

he nods, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer to him. “so what if i am?”

you laugh and nod, tears filling your lash line as the lighthearted facade drops to reveal you, earnest and honest and so so in love with him.

katsuki has no idea how he got so lucky, what he did in a past life to have you in his life and agreeing to be with him, in his life forever.

“of fucking course, i’ll marry you,” you say, grabbing his face and kissing him hard. “and i want nothing more than to make love to you on our brand new ikea sofa, but if we’re late to kiri’s wedding, he’s gonna kill me and make you watch.”

even the empty threat you make through your happy tears centers you in katsuki’s life, like you know that you are the center of his world, of his entire universe. you always know, know him better than he knows himself and there isn’t anyone on this whole earth who he’d rather be with than you.

he doesn’t tell you any of this though, blinking back tears instead and agreeing with a laugh, before finally ushering the pair of you out the door.

the thing is, katsuki doesn’t have to tell you.

you already know.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

The adventures of Eddie Munson, jerk

Written for the @steddiemicrofic challenge January 2024 edition

Prompt: hole, 404 words

Rated: T

Tags: modern AU; meet cute; HOH Steve Harrington; Eddie "foot in mouth" Munson; Eddie being a horny shit

Notes: based on this idea I posted a while ago. I'd link it, but alas, the tumblr search function sucks. I'll add it when I find it I guess. (Edit: found it!)

Ping.

Eddie's about to commit homicide in an airport terminal. Walk over to that asshole with the laptop and throttle him with the cord. Bury him in a shallow hole, chuck his beeping hell machine right-

Okay, breathe. 

He's overreacting. The guy's an inconsiderate jerk, but he doesn’t deserve to be murdered. Eddie's just a bit on edge ‘cause he got up at ass o'clock and now his flight is delayed and his neck is hurting from the plastic chairs and his phone is dying and- 

Ping.

Okay, that's it. 

Eddie stomps over, propelled by rage and too many energy drinks.

“Hey, asshole!”

Laptop jerk just continues typing. So he thinks he can ignore him, huh? Eddie reaches him just as the laptop dings again, grabs him by the shoulder. 

“Hey, dickhead, I'm talking to you.” 

Laptop jerk flinches so hard he nearly sends his device flying, head whipping up and- 

-shit, he's cute. Big, hazel eyes full of shocked confusion under a swoop of chestnut hair. Perfect, pouty lips parted in surprise. Eddie has a sudden impulse to wrap a hand around the curve of that throat, drop his voice, tell him to say sorry like a good boy. 

Which would be … wildly inappropriate. 

“Listen,” he says instead. “Your beeping is annoying the living hell outta me, so-” 

Something is pressed into his hand. Something rectangular and plasticy, like a business card.

“What the fuck?” Eddie mutters, lifts it so that he can read what it says. 

Hi, I'm Steve. I'm hard of hearing. 

Wait, what?

Eddie's eyes flit back to laptop jerk's face. He's smiling, but there's a distinct undercurrent of confusion and concern. Like he doesn’t know why Eddie's so angry, which is true of course, because he can't fucking hear, has no idea what he did wrong and fuuuuck, who's the jerk now? 

That shallow hole still sounds tempting, just for entirely different reasons. 

“Erm, it's just …” he starts, more slowly now, those pretty eyes following the movement of his lips. “I've been wondering if maybe …” 

Steve tilts his head. 

"... you'd wanna have coffee? My flight's delayed and-” 

If the curl of Steve's mouth is anything to go by, he knows exactly that this isn't what he wanted to say. 

He nods anyway. 

By the time Eddie’s flight lifts off, his phone is dead, but there's a sticky note with a number tucked into his pocket.

[hiraethwa]

ִ ۫ ּ ֗ – lost and found.

pairing: miya osamu x reader a/n: my ushijima fic procrastination/trying to get the creative juices flowing attempt word count: 700

miya osamu has few regrets in life. one of them was breaking things off with you when things got rough. that was a few years ago back in high school when he was immature and too caught up with trying not to be left behind by atsumu. 

his last words to you then were “i don’t have time for us right now.” he thought he had time on his side after volleyball, after high school, at the next stage of life, but he realizes now that it was childish of him to think that he would have more time in the future. 

with onigiri miya being a success in the city far away from your childhood home of hyogo, he is kept busy with the day to day operations of the shop. not that it would have mattered, since your family moved away from hyogo when he returned from nationals, and he has not seen or heard from you since. 

the eleven digits are still stored under your name in his phone, transferred from his old flip phone he used in high school, even though he had it memorized by heart. he had stared at the numbers for an unhealthy amount of time, unable to bring himself to dial it. 

it wouldn’t have mattered, he told himself, what was the point of barging into your life again when he was the one who ended things? no, he did not have the right to do so. heck, you could have moved out of the country for all he knows.

except he does know, he just can’t remember it. it was a few days before winter break. he vaguely recalls you calling and telling him something about moving in hysteria when he was busy with practice or some other thing that felt insignificant now that he thought about it, but he had brushed you off and told you that he will talk to you later about it. 

and then like the worst boyfriend in the world, he forgot all about it. in fact, he had gone and broken up with you before the team left for tokyo like the inconsiderate asshole he is.

if only he could recall where you told him your family was moving to. 

he taps into his call log, staring at the most recent entry dated last night. atsumu had gotten him drunk after yet another amazing win by the msby jackals, and like the lovesick fool he is, osamu had fucking dialed your number when he went to the bathroom. 

the call had gone through, each ring a steady succession after another, instead of the rapid beeps that signaled an out of service number. to his eternal horror, someone had picked up, his muddied brain registering the change when the ring tone he had been listening to stopped. that was enough to snap him out of his drunken daze and press the red button in a hurry.

but that piece of information did nothing to give him any answers. it could have been you, if you were still in japan and kept your old number. it could have been someone else who is using your number now. and he still didn’t know where you were. 

osamu groans, resting his head against the counter and closing his eyes briefly. it was late at night near closing time, and the person he was waiting for to show up at such an hour would be his horrible twin brother who was running late.

the ring from the doorbell has him perking his head up. finally. “i’ve been waiting ages for ya, ya scrub–” but the insults die in the back of his throat as he realizes it is not atsumu staring back at him with wide eyes.

the customer stands frozen in shock at his words, her form-fitting dress with intricate lace detailing, possibly tailor made, seemingly out of place at his casual establishment. her face is obscured by a mask, and osamu thinks that he may have frightened this poor lady, and is about to blurt out an apology when he meets her eyes. 

he would recognize that pair of eyes anywhere, he’s seen them in his dreams so many times he lost count since that fateful day in hyogo.

“y/n” he breathes.

looking for more? browse the library

[rafeslutsblog]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ CONTENT ⊹ 18+, ghostface!rafe x fem!reader, blood kink, dub-con, chase play, slapping, degrading, stalking — m.list

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

If there’s errors…look the other way ^^

The incessant ringing of the phone was driving you mad. Every 10 minutes it would go off, shattering the peaceful atmosphere of your movie night while you were chopping up some fruit.

It only made you more irritated that this was your only day off – the one day you had to yourself, away from college, work, and the recent spate of murders in the area.

Now some inconsiderate person was ruining it.

You take a deep breath and answer the phone, hoping it's someone who will quickly get off the line. "Hello? Who is this?” you say, trying to keep the frustration from your voice. A deep sigh, escapes your lips as you shove a strawberry into your mouth.

The fruit's sweetness does little to distract you from the unsettling silence on the other end of the line.

The only sound is the crackle of static. Your fingers twitch on the verge of disconnecting the call, the silence grows too unbearable.

But then, a voice slices through the static. Hollow, disembodied, it sends a chill down your spine,

“You look great in red."

You freeze, feeling the coldness of the knife in your hand as you stare down at your dark red tank top. You swallow hard, feeling the lump in your throat.

"What did you just say?" You press the phone closer to your ear, almost as if you were hoping you had misheard.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Do those strawberries taste good?”

His uncanny knowledge of the strawberries makes your stomach turn. The feeling of being watched starts to creep up on you as you carefully survey your surroundings.

“Who the fuck are you? This isn’t funny.” You blurt into the phone.

“Do you think I’m joking around? But that cute, dumb expression on your face is making this so much better.”

Everything is thrown out the window as your attention is consumed by the caller. You hang up the phone in distress and trust your instincts, quickly making sure that all the doors are locked. The ones that are previously unlocked are secured without delay.

The eerie sensation lingers.

Your mind races with questions. Could it be a prank? Is it just my friends and their stupid jokes? Your heart pounds with a mixture of fear and curiosity, as you wonder who or what could be responsible for this unsettling feeling.

The phone's shrill tone cuts through the silence once more. Initially, you're inclining to ignore it, but a nagging sensation tugs at your consciousness, urging you to.

The feeling of being observed grows more and more unsettling as you carefully examine your surroundings.

Every step you take seems to be met with an invisible gaze, as if someone or something was watching your every move.

You reach out for the phone, your other hand instinctively clutches a knife from the counter. “Listen, I don’t know who you are but leave me alone asshole!” The sheer uncertainty of the situation weighs heavy on your shoulders, constricting your chest and making each breath a struggle.

“Do you think I already made it inside your house before you could make sure all your doors were locked?”

As the words escape the person's mouth, you felt a sudden grip from behind. Two imposing arms enveloping you in a vice-like grip.

One, as solid as steel, snakes around your neck, constricting your breath, while the other, as firm as an oak trunk, clasps you tightly around your midriff. Making the knife in your hand instantly drop to the floor.

A scream, a raw cry of fear and surprise, tears from your throat, its piercing echo reverberates through every corner of the house.

In a frenzy of adrenaline and fear, you retaliate against the shrouded figure, throwing a forceful elbow that connects with a muffled grunt.

You have no doubt this is the same masked man who’s behind the murders in the cut. With a burst of energy, you break free, your feet pounds against the cold floor in a desperate sprint.

You bolt forward, your hands instinctively reaching out until they collide with the staircase. Panic muddles your thoughts as you scramble upwards, each step a lifeline.

Your mind is a mess as you run up the stairs, desperately trying to get to your bedroom.

The distinct sensation of being pursued floods your senses, a thrill of terror and anticipation intertwining in your chest.

Then there he is. The terror becomes tangible as a gloved hand ensnares your ankle, yanking you mercilessly back down the steps. Your body tumbles in a confused mess and you let out a terrified scream before his hand suddenly changes, seizing you by the hair and forcing you to the top of the stairs.

Your jaw strikes the hard floor, causing your entire body to ache. He leans in to press his chest firmly into your back and grasps your shoulder blade. Under the surface of terror, there’s a crazy rush that serves as a terrifying reminder of the peril you’re in.

A wild thrill beneath the veil of fear.

The man grinds his hips against your loosely covered ass. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Your breath hitches, it’s in equal measure because of his words and the depth in his voice. The raspiness in it as if he’s trying to invade your mind, and it’s working.

A stranger. This is happening.

“I’m going to ram my bare dick into that tight cunt of yours and rip you apart and you’re going to take it like the dirty whore you are.”

Holy fucking shit.

This is crazy. He’s crazy. You’re crazy.

You know you shouldn’t, I mean this is almost likely a murderer and god knows what else? He broke into your home, he might even kill you if he wants to.

And yet, you buck against him, your ass nuzzles into the hardness of his cock beneath the costume. You feel the bulge, you can feel it through your shorts.

You know how much it’ll hurt your virgin self. But it’s impossible to stop, not when you’ve gotten this far.

“Do you really think you can fight me, slut? Huh?”

You don’t know what snaps inside you. If it’s the name-calling or the condescension in it, but you squirm as a scream echoes through the empty darkness.

You twist around, squealing as you hit and claw anywhere you can touch him.. All that results is him tilting his head beneath that stupid, stupid mask.

His grin widens beneath it.

For years Rafe has pined over you, watching from afar. Even when you never noticed. You were a good girl, closed off and quiet. You weren’t a social butterfly compared to everyone else in town.

When he first saw you walking home from the library in that short black dress that hugged your waist perfectly, he knew he wanted to have you.

His obsession only grew when he saw how you were in private. If you asked him he could name all your favorite songs, foods, shows, and games in a second.

He wanted nothing more than to be by your side making you laugh and smile.

And he loved jerking off to the thought of you, thinking about fucking your tight little pussy as you begged for more.

What made it better was you never got close with any guys. Even if you did, they wouldn’t last long.

You were unattainable for him, but not anymore. He has his chance and he’s going to take it whether you like it or not.

He grabs both of your wrists and slams them above your head on the stairs as the shadow of his abdomen flexes over you.

You try to kick him as you wiggle, releasing god-awful raspy pants filled with the need to survive and something else. “Let me go, you fucking asshole.” You choke out.

You sound like you’re in danger, and you are. The only problem is that you want it.

Slap!

You need it.

You gasp as the sting registers on your face. He just…slapped you and…you’re wet. “Run your mouth again and I’ll fuck you raw in the ass.” He grabs your chin with his calloused fingers and shakes you, and you swear you’re dripping into your little shorts.

He growls in frustration, his fingers curling into tight fists. His grip on your hair tightens as he yanks your head back and rams you against the stairs.

You yelp and your hands shoot for him in a mad act of defense, but it’s too late. He’s already ripping at your shorts.

Why are you becoming horny in this type of situation?

Fuck just blame it on the movies.

You kick your legs in the air but your strength doesn’t match him. Even with the costume you can feel his muscles. Your heart races with the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you struggle against his weight.

“Fight all you want.” He pulls you closer, his hardened length grinds against your exposed lower half.

Rafe yanks your shorts off, cupping your clothed pussy with his palm letting a moan escape from your mouth. “Ah! Wait-no! This-o-oh...”

His hardened dick throbs, wanting nothing more than to fill you up and breed the shit out of you.

Your heart races as he rips off your panties eagerly and touches you instantly.

He slaps you on the pussy and you squeal, your back arching. The stairs feel so rough against you, but even they add a strange sense of stimulation.

“Look at your cunt weeping for me. Such a dirty slut.”

“I’m not…not a slut…”

He smacks your soaking cunt again, you whimper-squeal as he savagely thrusts two fingers inside you.

It’s so much rougher than when you handle myself, you can barely ever fit more than a finger. You wince at the unfamiliar sensation, growing wetter around the intrusion.

“Do you feel how my fingers are stretching you? Soon, it’ll be my dick and it’s bigger and harder.” You feel his palm rub against your clit as he relentlessly thrusts his digits inside you, with no sign of stopping anytime soon.

“You’re so fucking wet f’me…knew you were a whore.”

Overwhelmed by the dual sensations, she finally succumbs to the onslaught. Your mouth falls open, “Oh f-fuck..!” Her body convulses violently, her orgasm taking hold and milking his fingers.

He grunts in satisfaction as he feels her tightening around his fingers and her walls pulsing against them.

“Yes, strangle my fingers before you take my thick dick up this tight cunt.” He picks up the pace, his cum covered digits digging deeper into her soaked folds. It fuels to your orgasm and you don’t think you’ll fall down from it as the sound of his zipper reaches your ear.

He forces your thighs apart, not so gently. “Open them wide for me and keep them there.” You try to fight, but he pinches your clit, causing a sob to tear from you.

With his hand in your hair, he wraps the other around your throat and powers inside you in one brutal go. Your mouth remains open in a soundless cry and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the violation of his huge cock. It’s the literal definition of being torn apart and feeling every second of it.

“Mmm…a fucking virgin. Even fucking better.” The satisfaction and pure sadism in his tone leaves you gasping.

It’s so much better fucking you firsthand compared to his imagination, he couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe how much he waited and here you are, beneath him, clamping down on his cock

“I can feel your blood coating my dick. The best lube I’ve ever had.”

He pulls back almost all the way out and slams back in. Tears gather in your eyes from the sting of it, furrowing your eyebrows in pain. The way your being stretched and filled to the brim is overwhelming.

The pain is searing, burning, as his thick length stretches your tight little hole. You can barely catch your breath with each thrust, every slide of his hips.

And the most screwed-up part is that you’re craving the degradation and the immorality of it all. He drives into you with renewed energy, as if he’s indeed trying to tear your flesh and leave you bleeding on the floor.

“Oh my god it hurts…! Oh, p-please-..”

Your voice breaks with each plea, but he shows no mercy, his cock plowing deeper and harder into you with each passing moment.Your voice becomes high-pitched, almost hysterical now.

“Stop..! It hurts..oh, my fucking god..”

You don’t know why you’re saying it. It’s not like you want him to stop. In fact, you’re falling into the sting of pain more than you would ever admit.

Rafe groans loudly, his massive cock pistoning in and out of your quivering opening. “Take it all, bitch”

“S-slow down..”

But he doesn’t slow down anyway. He takes it to the next level until your breathing is chopped off. Until all you’re releasing are guttural sounds from deep in your soul.

“Mmm…yes, you’re so fucking tight.” His voice is deeper, darker, and laced with a frightening type of lust. Animalistic, even. “Pussy so good f’me.”

“Holy fuck!" you scream as his cock hits your cervix. It's too much, but somehow, it's also exactly what you've been craving.

He rolls his hips and then drives in again, making you see stars in the pitch-blackness. The stairs dig into your back and your air supply diminishes more by the second due to his hold on your neck and how dizzy you are.

The fact that you’re being fucked senseless by a man wearing a ghostface costume in the dark should be any sane person’s nightmare. It should twist you up and drag you down.

You should be crying because of the pain, and while you are, it’s not only that.

It doesn’t turn you off. It’s the exact opposite. Your body quivers under his assault, begging for more as your mind drifts into a haze of pleasure and pain.

You’re so wet that the audible in and out of his cock echoes in the air. The tangible smell of sex and sweat surround you both until they’re all you inhale.

And him.

There’s always him, hovering over you, immobilizing you in place and powering into you over and over.

He goes on and on, ramming inside you like he’s punishing you. Like you’re just a worthless hole he’s using to get off. “Do you feel yourself strangling my dick? Such a whore, even while being a virgin.” Your jack slacks open letting out incoherent words, “Oh-god..! You...”

“Ahhh…so fucking good.” He tightens his hold on your throat until you think you’re gonna faint.

“What’d ya say? Gonna say something about how im fucking your needy and tight cunt?”

But something entirely different happens. “We both know you like it-fuck..!”

You come.

This orgasm is different from anything you’ve experienced. There’s no buildup to alert you to the impact or those tingling sensations at your core whenever you’re about to reach a peak.

You can barely breathe as you let out a scream and shatter around his cock.

He picks up the speed of his thrusts, causing your back to slide up and down the stairs. It lasts through your orgasm, fueling it, heightening it, before he pulls out.

A groan escapes you when your pussy’s nerves tingle, indicating how sore and battered it is. You blink in confusion, still caught in your orgasm-induced haze as you stare at him.

He releases your throat but not your hair as he crawls up your body and settles on top of you so that his knees are on either side of your face.

Grabbing his hard cock in one hand, he slaps you with it across the lips and you taste the precum. “Open that mouth and take me like a good whore.”

“What-..? I don’t know how to-“ When you hesitate, he hits you three consecutive times on the lips and slaps your jaw. You open your mouth slightly and he thrusts inside taking advantage, instantly hitting the back of your throat. “There ya go..fuck yes. Your throat feels so goddamn good.”

You choke and attempt to squirm, but his grip on your hair tightens. He uses your mouth in the most brutal way possible, making you gag on your drool and tears. He barely allows you any air before he drives back in and does it all over again.

And again.

Your jaw is numb and your pussy aches, but the itch inside you is still there, demanding more.

Just when you think he’ll keep fucking your face all night long, he pulls out. “Open your mouth wide. Let me see your tongue.” You do as he tells you, wincing.

He moans, “Fuck….” Hot cum sprays all over your mouth and chin. “Lick every fucking drop.” You lick your lips, swallowing, tasting the both of you.

“Yes…”

He taps your mouth with his cock, not too hard now, but enough to get your attention. “You’re mine.”

[h4ndwr1tten]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠'𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧

featuring: roommate!satoru x reader

cw: fluff really, strong language? kinda suggestive.

the sudden, thundering sound of what seemed to be a crash had you jolting awake. you immediately sat upright and reached over to your lamp, switching it on and scanning your room on high alert. glancing over at your digital alarm clock, you found that it was only 1:03 in the winter morning. what kind of asshole would partake in destructing something this late?

the first person to come into mind was satoru, your roommate. he tends to stay up as late as possible doing the most random and stupid shit he could thing of. once, you caught him trying to fit himself into the shared washing machine at 3 am. but you remembered that earlier, you were going to confront him about how he left his used boxers and socks on the bathroom floor after his shower. when you stormed into his room, however, he was surprisingly in deep sleep.

so if satoru was slumped, where did the noise come from?

you debated leaving your bed for your safety or staying there, also for your safety, but ultimately decided on quickly checking the apartment for something unusual. quietly groaning, you forced yourself out of bed and into the hallway.

you hadn't found anything out of the ordinary, making you firmly believe it was an inconsiderate neighbor. nothing felt off and you weren't experiencing any sense of doom, so you returned to your bed and knocked right out.

only, an hour later, you woke up freezing. your room felt like pure ice and your body felt like you had been dipped into an ice bath. when did it get so damn cold? you thought, pulling your blanket higher up your body. it was snowing outside, but the cold shouldn't have been able to be felt with the heater on.

you tried to go back to sleep, but you only found yourself shivering despite the blanket. you rubbed your legs together in an attempt to warm you up, but it didn't seem to work. you huffed, irritated and uncomfortable by the temperature change.

getting up for the second time, you threw your blanket over your shoulders and went into the hallway to check the thermostat. there, you found satoru, also checking the temperature.

"cold?" he asked, his voice raspy from probably having been woken up to the same thing.

you hummed in response, watching silently as he tried to figure out what was wrong. he tapped at a few times, pressed the buttons every second, until he noticed that the temperature of the heater wasn't changing.

"it's broken."

oh.

"what? the thermostat?" you question, a little densely, but to be fair, it was 2 in the morning.

"no, the heater," satoru replied, tapping at his lips in thought.

that made a lot more sense. the weather from antarctica couldn't have just magically moved in with you. but did this have to do with the loud bang from earlier?

"satoru," you begin, "i woke up an hour ago because there was a bang, but i checked and nothing seemed broken inside here."

satoru hummed, turning away from the wall and to you. he opened his mouth to speak and you anticipated it, but instead, you watched as his eyes trailed down your frame, eyes falling onto your body. he was silent for a few seconds, visibly gulping. his face felt warm. could you see his pink-tinted cheeks in the dim lighting?

clearing his throat, satoru turned away and pretended to observe the thermostat, mumbling, "yeah, that might have... that might've been it."

confused, you look down at your body to find what elicited his behavior. it took you a second, but you noticed your hardened nipples poking out through your shirt. you forgot that was a thing. your eyes widened and you quickly folded your arms and blanket over your chest, feeling a tad bit embarrassed.

"what do we do now?" you asked, hoping to ease the awkwardness.

"how many blankets do you have?"

fuck, they're all in the laundry.

"one."

satoru side-eyed you, slowly turning to face you, his face deadpan.

"they're in the laundry!" you raised your hands in defense, effectively dropping the blanket to the ground.

it seemed to have caught satoru's attention because of the way his eyes moved down to the ground. then slowly up your figure, as if drinking in every part of you. your arms were still hiding your chest and you didn't look all that great right now, considering you were only in pajama pants and a baggy tee. but the way he looked at you made you feel like it was more than just the attire.

you shifted your weight onto one foot, warmth creeping up your neck. you had always felt some sort of attraction towards your roommate, but considering how insanely attractive he was, you thought that he would never even think of seeing you the same way.

but gosh, the way he eyed you like the most valuable treasure there ever was. the way there seemed to be a sort of want, desire burning in his eyes. that was enough to make you question his feelings.

"satoru?" you call, growing antsy under his gaze.

"sleep in my room," he suggests casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

"what...?"

he sighed, probably wondering if you were stupid, or deaf, or both. "the heating's down, and it's only going to get colder from here. i say that because we are both mature, grown adults, we sleep in the same bed because right now, shared body heat is likely the only thing that's going to keep us from freezing."

you were stunned, to say the least. that's the most and longest sensible thing to come out of satoru's mouth ever. had he thought of this before?

"i guess you're right," you mumbled, face flushed. "but wouldn't it be awkward?"

"it'll only be awkward if you make it awkward," satoru retorted, opening the door to his room and waiting for you to enter. "we're mature, right?"

you walked into his ridiculously messy room, sighing, "i am, but i don't know about you."

"hey!"

you flopped down onto satoru's bed, a lingering warmth around it from before he got up. your heart began to beat a little faster as he approached the bed, the fact that you were actually about to sleep with someone you've dreamed of sleeping with before.

"y/n?" satoru called out, breaking your stare at the floor.

"yeah?"

"that's my side of the bed."

you blush furiously, scrambling to the opposite side, muttering, "oh, sorry."

but once you were there, satoru goes, "that's also my side."

you snap your head at him, glaring. "what do you mean, this is also your side?"

"i sleep in the middle."

"are you serious?" you sigh, growing uncomfortable.

"yep," satoru said, popping the p and sprawling out across the bed like a starfish. his once (and extremely rare) seriousness was gone, and he was back to his irritating antics.

you sat at the very edge of the bed, nearly sliding off, uncomfortable in the silence. satoru's eyes were closed and his breathing seemed to have relaxed, and you wondered if he was asleep. you wondered if he really meant what he said by sharing the bed too.

"satoru?" you murmured, chewing the inside of your cheek.

"mph?"

standing up, you uttered, "i can just go back to my room, i don't wanna bother you. i'll get warm eventually."

you weren't lying. even though sleeping in his bed felt like a really good idea, both for your comfort and desire, you would hate to be a bother to him.

peeking an eye open, satoru reached for your hand and grasped it, pulling you back down.

"i'm joking, y/n," he sighed, slightly muffled by his pillows. "get in here."

he fixed his position, then opened his blanket to beckon you in. you frowned, snapping, "you basically just said there's no room for me after suggesting we share the bed."

despite that, you still found yourself crawling into the warmth of his sheets. you kept yourself at the edge, though, still afraid of taking up his personal space.

it's quiet for a moment again. you raise the blanket just up to the underside of your nose, nervously picking at the pillowcase. his scent engulfed you; a mix of his cologne and natural musk, with a faint hint of detergent. you realize this is real.

satoru sighs, and to your surprise, he throws his arm around your torso and pulls you into him, your back now pressed against his front. he doesn't take off his arm, but instead, gently runs his cold hand along your stomach as if comforting you.

"i was just messing with you," he mumbles, drowsiness in his voice. "but i'm sorry, you big baby."

realizing what he said, you elbowed him in the ribs, but not too hard to actually hurt him. satoru let out a fake whine, both of you laughing quietly after.

silence fills the two of you, the only noises being shared breathing and city noise from outside. it's quiet, but it's comfortable.

you roll over onto your other side to face satoru, finding him with his eyes already shut and brows barely pinched. even in the dark, you can still make out the outline of his perfect features, from his long lashes to his cold-nipped lips. you'd trace them if you could, but you refrained out of fear of waking him up and the fact that you were in no position to be touching him like that.

"i can feel you staring at me," satoru mumbles, fatigued huskiness in his voice.

you blush, grateful for the lack of light in the room, whispering an apology.

satoru opens his eyes, a faint smile sitting atop his lips. "i know i'm insanely handsome, but sleep," he teased.

"i was actually looking at that fat, glow in the dark pimple on your forehead, but okay," you snort, scooting in closer to satoru's warmth.

his hand darts to his forehead, yelping, "actually??"

you giggle, "no. sleep."

"you suck," he sighs, chuckling before bringing his hand back to around you.

you slowly slide your arm under his and wrap it around his torso, your nerves and hesitation fading when he doesn't make a move to remove you. satoru whispers a goodnight, lips ever so slightly brushing against your forehead. you whisper it back, and sleep comes over the both of you.

maybe the heater should stay broken...

note — gave up on my layout D:

m. list

[angstflavoured]

I would love to hear more about your toxic pim and charlie headcanons. All I can think of is Pim might be too desperate to prove something and Charlie has that "alpha male" thing

SO GLAD YOU ASKED !!!! I need to rant about this to clear things up bc I think about how Charpim would work so much and it makes me go insane bc their dynamic is fucking incredible.

Ill take this as an opportunity to do a little character study and explain why i think they would inherently be toxic at their very core 👹👹 and how I think their relationship would even function.

First off, a HUGE roadblock is the fact that they have completely different ideals. They want totally different things in life and go about life almost in completely opposite ways.

Pim's been shown in canon multiple times to want a normal, healthy, nuclear family. He wants a wife and kids and wants to raise them well and be the father figure for them that he himself never had. It's apparent that he wants to settle down, and just hasn't found anyone willing to. When he even talks to Shrimpina, he can't help puking and making a fool of himself and tossing and turning at night over it. This makes it clear that while i do NOT AT ALL think he's a virgin, Pim doesn't have a lot of experience with this kind of stuff. It's probably all been pretty awkward and never lasted very long.

I don't think that him or Charlie have any problems with being gay, but I do think that Pim settling down with a guy does inherently shatter his ideals. ESPECIALLY with the way Charlie acts. Being with Charlie wouldn't be a picture perfect movie couple, and I think that would really frustrate and disappoint Pim when Charlie doesn't act like he's "supposed" to. He wouldn't really be a BOYFRIEND to him. Pim is just a lot more romantic and holds a lot more hope in the idea of love than Charlie does. He's an optimist and Charlie is VERYRYYY much a pessimist.

The way that Charlie goes about relationships is MUCH more laid back and casual. His girlfriend (who IS CONFIRMED to be his girlfriend by Zach himself in the commentary videos, you can find it pretty easy on YouTube) is hardly ever mentioned and doesn't seem to hold much weight to him at all. To me, that whole thing with her being there kind of confirmed that Charlie casually hooks up with people/dates a lot, and doesn't really take it all that seriously. He doesn't have any intentions of settling down or moving in with anyone. Even in the ep where the fucken mustard chick was flirting with him, Charlie didn't seem to give two shits or even get a little flustered. He'd USED to that kind of stuff, where Pim isn't.

It's been a joke multiple times that even for a critter, Pim is perceived as pretty unattractive and weird looking 😭😭 and that's the biggest difference between them I think. Charlie is single BY CHOICE, while Pim is single because he can't get anyone who wants to long term date him.

If Charlie and Pim ever slept together or did anything, I think it would hold a lot more weight for Pim than it would for Charlie. Charlie is a fucking asshole! He doesn't show affection well, he's pretty inconsiderate of other people, he's very slobby and hardly takes care of himself. He wouldn't want to DATE pim the way that Pim would want to date Charlie. Pim would want to do all that mushy stuff that he's seen in movies that he's never been able to try, like holding hands and cuddling and going out to cute dinners.

CHARLIE WOULDN'T WANNA DO THAT! He's VERY CLEARLY SHOWN in canon to not be that kinda guy. He can hardly even think about himself, he doesn't have the time or want to expend the energy thinking about someone else on a daily basis. Just look at the fucking difference in their rooms--

They work at the same job at the same position, they should be making the same amount of money. And from the Brazil episode where they talk about funds, it doesn't seem like its a super lot. But Pim spent more time and money making his room look nice and his sheets and pillows match, somewhere with a nicer view and cute painted walls. Charlie just bought the cheapest, ugliest little shithole he could find.

You can fucking bet that they would not be good living together, that is if Charlie even wanted to live with him. You can literally see in the back that his sink is full of dirty dishes bro. He probably uses paper plates and plastic cups for everything so he doesn't have to do the dishes, you can bet he's always ordering nasty ass takeout food.

Also sorry, but like please open your eyes and look at the way Charlie treats Pim in the show. Obviously he cares about him and holds him as a dear friend, but he just is kinda a shitty person and doesn't do it very well a lot of the time. He's constantly fucking negative and rude, and it clearly takes a mental toll on Pim. Pim's always the one trying really hard to invite Charlie out to things, like in the alien episode. Pim just wants to hang out and tried to find something Charlie might like, and Charlie was grumpy and dismissive and tried to leave multiple times.

In the most RECENT EPISODE, he got in a physical fight with Alan and was being a dick about physical contact that he basically initiated. In the alien episode, Charlie was screaming at the aliens and ignored pim, ended up clocking him in the fucking face and didn't say a single word about it because HE WASN'T SORRY, HE DIDN'T FUCKING CARE.

they're both incredibly flawed people in completely opposite ways, and they'd both want entirely different things out of the other one. They'd both be trying to change each other, the way they literally already do in the show.

i love charpim more than anything with my entire soul, and im not trying to be a doomer about it, im just so sick of people potraying them like

Charlie: I... I like you... is that okay?

Pim: yes.... would it be okay if I kissed you?

LIKE GIRL WHAT ARE YOU SAYINGGGG THEY ARE GROWN ASS, DIRTY, GROSS MEN WITH DICK AND BALLS.

There was a whole episode where pim literally turned into a fucking crazy ass creature because he was so incredibly jealous of Charlie getting what PIM had wanted. Pim wanted to be a hero and help people and save the day and live out his little idealized world, and when CHARLIE got that and he didn't, it pissed him the fuck off. He wasn't happy for Charlie, Pim WANTED what Charlie had.

LIKE OH MY GOD, THEY'RE JUST SO DISFUNCTIONAL!!!

Their relationship would be fucking crazy and rocky and TOXIC, and that's like the whole appeal of it imo. that's literally how they act in canon. I think that the two of them could eventually work things out to be pretty happy, but it would NOT be without its hardships and it definitely would still never be anything even close to textbook.

THEY'RE FUCKING FREAKS IDK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

also almost forgot, not even to mention Charlie's substance abuse and how its canonically shown he gets rude and violent. like r u kidding.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for deliberately running into a guy?

🥰 to recognize

I recently spent a weekend in a well known party town - to the point the street in the main party area is closed to cars after a certain time. I was walking back from the party area (no bars nearby but still a lot of foot traffic) with friends when I saw there was a guy standing in the middle of the sidewalk on his phone. There were plenty of places he could have pulled over, but it looked like he had just stopped and started texting. After a night of dealing with inconsiderate people and being tired and, admittedly cranky, I decided “fuck it” and ran into him. Which I know is rude and, normally, I would feel horrible about immediately after and would think about for weeks from then on.

Instead, I kept walking without saying anything and after a moment I heard “oh, did I run into you?” I could pick up on the tension and kept walking without saying anything. This man then proceeded to follow me, falsely apologizing for about a minute before switching to insulting me and yelling at me. The phrase “this fat bitch ran into me” was screamed multiple times.

I kept walking and didn’t interact with him, and he followed me for at least two blocks, (it was about 10 minutes), yelling the whole time. One of my friends did tell him “sir, you’re an adult and you need to use adult words” at one point but he didn’t have a good response. He also demanded I say “excuse me” in between insulting me, which I didn’t do. Eventually he lost interest and stopped following me.

However, at the next stop light an older couple (mid 60s?) condescendingly told me “you know, when you run into some one, you do say ‘excuse me’”.

Thankfully, my friend who had yelled earlier leaped in to tell them he had been standing in the middle of the sidewalk and should have expected to get bumped. They were unimpressed and the woman of the couple kept making up scenarios like “well if I got tired and stopped, would you run into me?” And I wasn’t entertaining hypotheticals from a person who watched a man follow and yell at me for the last two blocks and did nothing besides decide to scold me, so I just told her “yes, you’d be self-centered and rude” to any of her various, increasingly wild scenarios.

I wrote this off, but recently I was retelling the story and someone agreed “well, that was very rude of you” and I feel like I’m loosing my goddamn mind. To me, any amount of rudeness I had was vastly overshadowed by that man’s actions. I feel like he should be run into more, to build character - I personally wish I had piledrived him into the ground. I know I was initially the asshole, but I feel like that man (especially) and that couple (more minor) were such huge assholes it’s cancels out my initial assholness. But what does the internet think?

[rleep80-blog]

I work at a Grocery Store. I have for about 15 years. Recently (within the last year) I was promoted. I went from a sheltered bubble of Store security, to a harsh reality. The reality is that I would rather deal with criminals who I already know have mental health issues, then the general public who hide there flaws for the sake of “presentation”.

Here is why….

I would expect no common decency from someone who has reached a point in their life that they steal or shit on the floor or stab someone in the head, to lack morals and values and common decency. So it was quite the culture shock, to realize that all of the “normal” people, are even bigger assholes. Case and point…

I am helping my produce department fill salads. I have a u-boat out. FULL of boxes. It is directly across from the two refrigerated doors I am filing. I have about three to four feet in-front of me. U-boat to salad wall. That’s what I am doing. Filling product. It doesn’t sound like it’s hard work. But the up and down and back and forth and bending and reaching and cutting my arms on the pushers , after time, it gets physical. Like…. I am sweating.

And it’s a Sunday. What’s wrong with Sunday? Well, EVERYONE for some reasons wants to grocery shop on god damn Sunday.

Anyway, I am there, in this little cubby corner of this huge ass store, and low and behold… here comes the first person. With a big ass cart. Rolls it right infront of my little space and wants me to stop what I am doing, get up, and move. So they can walk through my little space and interrupt me working. AS IF THERE WAS NO WHERE ELSE TO WALK. AS IF THERE WERE NOT 5 OPTIONS OF PATHS TO TAKE.

I smile and they say “excuse me” and shrug their shoulders and apologize. I let the first few instances of that blatant inconsideration roll off my shoulders.

And after any the 30th time, different people, I am to the brink of snapping on someone. Because not only do people do this all day to people working in a grocery store, but I am literally stocking 8 glass doors FULL OF GODAMN SALAD. You need the one salad I am filling. Or YOU need to get on the other side of me so bad and cannot walk around? It’s bad enough I have to sit here and wonder why we need 5,000 different types of fucking salad for your picky spoiled asses.

They will not stop. They will never stop. YOU will never stop. It’s entitlement and laziness and a sheer lack of respect or courtesy.

The general public does this all fucking day. Turning a two hour job into a three hour job. Making my body even more sore so you don’t have to walk a few more feet. The sheer ignorance blows my mind.

So yes, I would rather deal with a crackhead. At least I have no hope with a crackhead. I suppose I could be naive to think people are aware enough of their own surroundings that they take others into consideration? Wow… what a dream world that would be. 🖕🏽

# from my head

[lacedinweb22]

watching her sleep ❦︎ Vampire Next Door ♱✮♱ Miguel O'Hara x reader prev part Miguel's pov

She shows up at my door accusing me of having been drunk, of stumbling into her apartment with bloody hands. She heard the screams. I keep my wounds hidden, forearms crossed over each other. 

I comb through my memory, trying to think of how it might have looked.

After I dropped off anomaly #1 at headquarters, and after my little talk with Jess, I lingered on top of the apartment building with the annoyingly heightened urge to protect the people who live here. No big deal.

There was a fight in the alley below and I told myself I wouldn’t interfere unless necessary. I watch for a bit, observing the two men arguing and throwing weak, drunk punches at each other. It looked like a fair fight.

I climb along the side of the building, heading towards my window sill, when I feel the need to check on new girl. If she’s bothered by the noise, I’ll interfere. 

I creep down slowly, looking through her windows until I reach her bedroom. There she is. Peaceful and beautiful. She’s laying on her side, wrapped up in her comforter. I hope she’s not too cold. It’s raining hard tonight. 

The commotion in the alley grows, and now she’s tossing and turning in bed, her slumber disrupted by these inconsiderate assholes.

That’s it. They’re waking up the whole goddamn building. 

I crawl down the slippery walls, then stop when my watch buzzes. It’s an anomaly and I’m headed right towards it. I get closer trying to scope what I’m going up against, then realize they’re … twins? 

I jump down, startling both of them into separating. They both look up at me, surrendering, giving me the exact same face of fear.  

“Huh, twins, you couldn’t find another spot to fight? You’re waking up the whole damn building!” 

“Holy shit! It’s Spider–”

“Shut up, let’s keep this brief. What’s the issue here?”

“He showed up at my place! He’s trying to steal my fucking wife, steal my life!” one man accuses, shoving at the other.

“He was in my bed! Sleeping next to my wife!” he slurs, drunk off his ass.

“I can fix this, but you’ll have to come with me,”

“The hell I am, this is my home. This man is an imposter … and who are you supposed to be? F-fucking creep in a onesie!”

“Your home isn’t here, bud. I’ll take you there. Don’t be difficult.”

He shoves me, lazily, then starts running. 

“You’re going to take care of him, right?” the original idiot asks, watching his alternate self run off.

“Coño,” I exhale, running a hand over my mask.

“Yes just … you stay here, okay? Here.”

I run down the alley and turn right to see the idiot sprinting for his life, but failing, drunk and stumbling. I shoot web at him and pull him towards me. He starts screaming bloody murder.

“Spider-Creep is trying to kill me! Someone–” I web his mouth shut.

I drag him back to the alley, where the original guy is standing, waiting anxiously in the rain.

“You can’t talk about this ever, okay? If word gets out, he– he’ll come back, and steal your wife. Got it? This never happened.”

“What are you gonna do to him?”

“Return him,” I mutter, distracted by the beeping coming from my wrist.

I look down to a flashing “LOW BATTERY” warning. It won’t be enough to make the jump.

“Fuck me. Change of plans. He’ll be staying at my place for ten minutes, until this charges up,”

“Gosh, Spider-Man, it’s been an honor to meet you!” he breathes out, bowing to me. 

“Yeah, uhh sorry for the stress … you caused … you. I’ll take it from here,” I mutter, throwing the webbed man over my shoulder. 

“Take care of him– me, take care of me!” he yells running down the street. I nod. 

I wait for the original to run completely down the street and around the corner, then slowly crawl along the building to my window. 

He doesn’t resist. He’s drunk and seemingly falling asleep. I finally lay him on the floor of my living room, and rush to my bedroom to charge the batteries. 

Once I’ve hooked it up, I head back to the living room. He isn’t there. I turn around, searching for the slithering imposter.

I hear a grunt then look around the kitchen counter to find him lying on the floor, cutting through the webbing with a pocket knife. 

“Estúpido, you’re going to need more than a pocket knife to cut through that.” 

His arms are glued to the side of his body, but he still squirms, threatening me with the short blade. 

He slithers towards the door, the door that has six different locks on it. I let him entertain me; the batteries are still charging and I need something to pass time.

“You’re drunk. Can you just sit still and you know, be drunk?” I ask, looking down at him kicking against my door. 

He bangs the door harder then starts to scream, muffled through the red webbing. “¡Cállate! For fuck’s sake–” I grab his feet and drag him towards the bathroom. 

He sits up, taking stabs at my ankles. My suit glitches, somehow reacting to his stabs.

“What the fuck?” I look down at the malfunction. 

I reach for the knife; he jolts his body towards me, stabbing at my grasp, his blade dragging down my wrists and palms as I pull away. He cut through the nanoparticles. 

“How the fuck is this happening?” I look down at the blood trickling down my wrists. 

“I’m trying to take you home, pinche güey! Do you not want to see your fucking wife again? Are you having marital problems? Fuck off.”

I shoot web at the knife, gluing it to the wall behind him. 

“¡Idiotas como tú me hacen odiar mi puta vida!” idiots like you make me hate my fucking life

“Cabrón, cabrón, cabrón.” I stumble to the sink, washing the blood from my hands. It’s bad. 

“¿Por qué lo intento?” why do I try?

He starts screaming again, his voice muffled, but louder. I close my eyes, hovering over the sink, holding pressure to the slashes on my wrists. 

I storm over to him and punch him hard enough to knock him out, soft enough not to kill him.

He’s awakened the whole building. I’m sure of it.

My mind wanders to new girl.

I shake my head at the urge to check on her, looking down at the blood on my suit. She’s fine. She’s asleep. Leave her be.

But, what if… 

I deactivate my malfunctioning suit quickly, pulling on normal clothes then head for the window. It’s still pouring. 

I climb over to her window, the rain drenching me. 

I stand on the fire escape, blood dripping down to my fingertips and onto the stairs. 

I feel the anger burn in my cheeks. Tonight has been a test of my patience. 

I look in. She’s tossing and turning still. I wipe the window, the rain blurring my view. Her eyebrows are knit together as she moves under her sheets. Is she … okay? Is she sick? 

The rain pours down. I slowly slide the window up. It’s unlocked. 

I slowly climb in. I know I’m in the wrong. I know this is fucked, but it’s instinctual. My body is on autopilot, out of my control, and now

I’m here 

in her room. 

and it’s too late to turn back.

I watch her turn over, muttering quietly into the sheets. She’s just dreaming. She’s okay. It’s okay.

She suddenly stops muttering, lying quietly, beautifully tranquil. 

Her state of slumber pulls a sigh out of me. All of the anger drips off of me, I’m cleansed of my frustration, and for a second, I feel as at peace as she seems to be.

I look down at soaked cotton, annoyingly clinging to my skin. My hair drips down onto my face, I comb it back, then notice the blood and rain mixing on my fingers.

I look down at my hands, my wrists bleeding down, coating them. Shit. 

I look up to find her staring at me through squinted, sleepy eyes.  

She turns to turn on the lamp. 

I leap out pulling the window down against the beating rain. My claws scratch the surface of the window as I pull it down, my guard still up. 

I stand away from the window, my back pressed up against the wall. I wait for a moment before slowly peeking back in through the fogged up glass. She’s sat up, looking at the corner I stood in. She takes a deep breath then lies back down, pulling the sheets over her, trying to fall back asleep.

I turn away, pressing my back against the wall. I wince at this mess of a night. 

I was watching her sleep. The anomaly twin was right. 

I am a fucking creep. 

✩‧₊˚

next chapter here

[wxnheart]

𝙼𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚗 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚈𝚘𝚞 - 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐨𝐤!𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐂𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

inspired by this wonderful post by @pettyprocrastination. thanks!

Line Cook!Simon who's lost count of how many smoke breaks he's taken today because people are irritating and running a kitchen can be hard. If it isn't the disrespectful little newcomer fuck he has to tell off for the thousandth time, it's the fact that today's the day that one regular comes in and complains, yet again, about everything. If nothing's ever to his taste, why the fuck does he keep coming back?!

Line Cook!Simon who counts to 100 this time because he really hates losing his cool and fuckers, especially the younger ones, always try him. Is it the tattoo or the bloodshot eyes that scream murder? Do people really want these problems?!

Line Cook!Simon who ups the count to damn near 1000 this time because his dreaded customer has shown up. Again. And yeah, the crew's gonna be mad. Again. And yeah, he can expect the food to be sent back at least once. Again. Fucking hell, why does he even bother?

Link Cook!Simon who takes notice of you trudging along behind the yammering bastard. Oh. Oh. You're a pretty miserable thing, aren't ya? Emphasis on pretty. Never seen you around here before, but looking at you is much better than the Downer Dan who's talking your ear off. His lips can't help but quirk around his cigarette every time you roll your eyes whenever Downer Dan turns away from you. Oh well; he got his good view for the day. Back to work and running his nerves to the ground.

And poor you, accompanying your boss to lunch as a reward for your hard work or something like that. Your boss who's such an inconsiderate asshole that he didn't even give you time to respond to his invitation and so, here you are. He was busy talking your ear off about... something. Meanwhile, you were busy noticing the really scary guy out of your peripheral because it was better than listening to whatever your boss was talking about. You managed to get a good look when he turned away and put his smoke out and yeah, let's add rugged to the list—what was that, boss?

Your boss continues to talk your ear off when you two have been seated. His assholery knows no bounds. He's such a shit to the wait staff, delegating and talking at them than to them, and it's abysmal. If this were anyone else, you would've left but because it's your boss you have to sit and endure with a strained smile on your face. Fuck.

Your asshole boss critiques the food (even though it's been made to his liking and it's fucking good, what's his problem?) and pitches such a fit that the poor waiter, frustration simmering beneath their skin, takes the plate and practically stomps to the back. Your asshole boss who—OH SHIT!

It doesn't even feel like a second before you hear a crash and see the scary, rugged guy from before standing at your table (holy shit, is he a damn giant?!) and he's staring bloody murder at your asshole boss, the same boss who can't read the room and shut the fuck up. You would diffuse the situation but you're too busy staring at the scary, rugged, now cute guy to really come to your boss' defense.

Your boss is practically screaming and causing a scene, talking shit about how his food is never up to par and how he could buy their entire lives and the poor scary, rugged, cute guy is dead silent the entire time. Oh shit. All it takes to burst your boss' bubble is a: "Get the fuck out." Emphasis on fuck and oh, his voice—wait, what was that, boss?!

Your boss, indignant at such "treatment", retorts that this matter "wasn't over yet". Whatever the hell that meant. This time you intervene and use your best people-pleasing voice to calm him down. Somewhat. It's enough to convince the bastard to go and so he leaves but not without glaring at the scary, rugged, cute guy. The same guy who's too busy looking at you. Oh, dear.

You're embarrassed, doubly so, and you'll probably never hear the end of this from your asshole boss (because he holds a grudge like no other). You apologize profusely, a bundle of nerves, and give the justifiably disgruntled waiter all the money on your person. While it doesn't make up for the deplorable treatment and you're out about a couple day's worth of lunch, it's the least you could do. Besides, the little bit of food you did eat was good.

You take one more look at the scary, rugged, cute guy who... is still looking. You offer a smile (it was probably more like a grimace because anxiety) before leaving to catch up with your asshole boss. You may or may not have turned to catch one more glance. And almost walk into the door as a result. Oh, god. But if there's one thing for certain, asshole boss be damned, you'll be back to actually enjoy the food.

And unbeknownst to you, Line Cook!Simon, his temper abated somewhat by your actions, can't wait to see the view again. But fuck that guy you came in with.

[thissortofsorcery]

I can so imagine a scenario where Billy and Steve have been screwing around for months, like months, and while Billy has plenty of experience with sex, he’s never slept with anyone quite like Steve.

Steve who holds his hand during sex, Steve who gets off on Billy’s pleasure, Steve who kisses him before and after and during, who likes cuddling, who doesn’t avoid being seen with Billy at all and actually starts hanging out with Billy at school and out of it, who invites him to play basketball in the park and to get food after, and to stay over at his house like every weekend.

Naturally, Billy thinks they’re dating.

But they never talk about it. Somehow, for months of this, it never comes up in conversation how to define their relationship. It’s not exactly necessary, both of them being content as they are with what they have with each other. Whatever they think it is.

Until, of course…

Senior Prom.

Billy’s been dodging prom invitations left and right for two weeks now, leaving a trail of pouty glossed lips behind, claiming he has no interest in going to “the party equivalent of daytime tv”. Steve hasn’t said anything about it except a half-muttered comment that he went to Junior Prom with Nancy, after which he immediately changed the subject. Billy assumed he didn’t want to go either.

Which is why Billy’s surprised when he hears through the school grapevine that Becky Olson asked Steve to Prom and he said yes.

When Billy shows up at Steve’s house after school that day, he’s rage smoked half a pack of cigarettes and stewed in his anger all through the afternoon. Even Max heard about it all the way in the middle school, and offered to take Steve’s bat to his balls. Billy drops Max off at home after promising that if he doesn’t kill Steve, he’ll let her at him.

He lets himself into Steve’s house (Steve always leaves the door unlocked for him) and goes straight to Steve’s room (it’s routine by now), where he finds him sitting on his bed, going through cassette tapes.

“Hey, man,” Steve says. Entirely unconcerned.

Billy’s nostrils flare.

“What the fuck, Steve? Is that what you’re gonna say? ‘Hey, man’?”

Steve does look up then, and frowns at Billy, fucking confused. Like Billy’s saying nonsense.

“Yes? Hello? How was your day?” Steve says, nose scrunching up. “What am I supposed to say?”

Billy can’t fucking believe this. This whole time, Steve’s been so- Now he’s acting like he didn’t even do anything.

“Maybe start by telling me what the hell you’re thinking going to prom with some chick!” He yells, like he hasn’t been cursing her name for at least two hours.

Steve gets up from the bed then, runs a hand through his stupid hair, crosses his arms. Billy can see he’s closing himself off, going on the defensive right off the bat.

“Why are you mad at me about this? You don’t even wanna go,” Steve doesn’t raise his voice, but his words echo in the room same as a slap on his face would.

“I don’t know, Steve, maybe I’m mad my boyfriend’s going on a date with some girl!”

This isn’t making any fucking sense. Steve isn’t like this, an inconsiderate asshole going behind Billy’s back. He’s sweet. He’s always been sweet.

There’s something wrong here, and Billy can’t put his finger on it, and it just makes him angrier.

Steve rears back, brows going up, up, up towards his hairline, eyes wide, a sea of white around brown.

“Boyfriend?” He repeats. Licks his lips. “How- Why would you say boyfriend?”

Billy’s stomach sinks, takes everything in his abdominal cavity with it. He feels hollow, weighed down. All the fight has been sucked out of him.

That’s why the conversation felt off.

"Because we've been dating for like, three months, Steve," Billy says, or forces out, and his voice comes out shaky.

They were. He thought they were. Steve’s been- He holds Billy’s hand. They go on dates, as much as they can while staying under the radar. Billy stays over most weekends. It’s never been like this with anyone else, for Billy, not even in California. Even Before.

Steve’s eyes are still wide, but his eyebrows are doing the puppy dog thing, turned up at the inner corners like he’s hurt.

“I…” He starts, stops. Decides on something else. “We never talked about this.”

Billy rears back this time, feeling the sentence like a blow, and Steve follows him with a step forward, hand reaching out.

“I mean- shit,” Steve says, stammers, runs a hand down his face. “I didn’t know you felt that way. About me. I thought you didn’t-”

“What the fuck did you think when we were going on fucking dates, Steve?!”

“You’re my best friend!” Steve says, and it stings. “We do everything together!”

“And suck each other’s dicks, too!”

“I thought-”

“Thought what, this was some friends with benefits shit? If you’re my best friend and we’re boning, how’s that different from a relationship, Steve?!”

“We never talked about it!” Steve finally raises his voice, and the sound of it stuns Billy.

Steve makes an aborted motion with his hand, then again, before closing it into a fist by his side. He rubs at his eyes with his other hand, but not before Billy sees they are wet.

“I’m not going to assume you’re in love with me, Billy! What if I’m wrong? What if I spend months thinking you love me and it turns out to be bullshit?”

Steve’s breathing hard as he finishes speaking, cheeks blotchy red, and hands shaking. He looks terrified right now, terrified Billy’s going to give up on him and leave, going by how he glances from Billy to the door; terrified he’s hurting Billy, because he keeps reaching out but doesn’t step any closer.

Billy feels something click, then, a piece of the puzzle that was grating on him with jagged edges smooths outs and slots into place. That’s the Steve he knows, with his head tangled in so many feelings he can’t parse them out, but never uncaring. Never cold.

“Well, I do,” Billy says, stepping closer to Steve.

He walk forward until their toes are almost touching, until Steve has to tilt his head down to look Billy in the eye. Billy takes a breath and raises an eyebrow, raises his chin, gives Steve his best smirk like wants to eat him alive. Takes a chance.

“I do love you. Whatcha gonna do about it?”

Steve’s eyes jump between his, mouth parted, like a man lost searching for something. Like he’s looking at something holy. Billy feels tentative fingertips at his elbows, then fingers running up his triceps, until finally one of Steve’s hands closes around his arm. The other continues up, up, a long tingling line to his neck, and Steve cups his jaw like something precious. Rubs his thumb on Billy’s cheekbone, feather light, but Billy feels it like a brand.

“You mean it?” Steve’s voice comes out in a ragged whisper, breath spilling over Billy’s lips.

“I do.” They’re so close. Billy wants to take in all of Steve’s face, the way he’s looking at Billy, with his eyes half lidded and his lips parted, like he’s everything Steve could ever want.

“Basketball in the park,” Steve says, out of nowhere, voice still low. “In February. You complained about the cold the whole time but you still kicked my ass. I bought you a burger at the diner, after. That was our first date.”

Billy’s face splits into a grin so wide his cheeks hurt, and he bunches his hands in Steve’s dumb polo shirt, pulls him closer until Steve has to lean down those two inches to press their foreheads together.

“I love you,” Steve whispers against Billy’s lips, “I’m so in love with you.”

Billy nods, barely moving his head, unwilling to part where they’re touching, “‘m in love with you.”

Their lips really touch then, feeling like the first time even if they’ve kissed a thousand times before, are as familiar with each other’s mouths as they are with their own.

The scrape of Steve’s teeth against Billy’s bottom lip pulls a moan out of Billy, and he presses himself tighter to Steve’s body, pulls at his chest, his hips, wants to climb inside him and never leave.

No one’s ever felt like this. No one’s ever made Billy feel like this, this wanted, this needed, like the world starts and ends with them, together. That’s why Billy was so sure they were together. It couldn’t be anything else.

Steve’s the best thing that’s ever happened to Billy, and he’s not gonna let him go without a fight.

[venusinx]

ode to a conversation stuck in your throat

itoshi rin x reader smau

chapter XVIII: favorite trope

cw: cursing, making out

chapter XVII > series masterlist > chapter XIX

you paced back and forth in front of your door, waiting for the tell-tale sound of rin unlocking it with the key you gave him years ago. the door knob jangled and you fought back a yelp. unable to stop yourself, you reached forward and unlocked the door for him, opening it wide.

it was silent.

rin stared at you as if seeing you for the first time.

you stared back, taking in the bags under his eyes and his abnormally messy appearance. he looked like he hadn't slept the last 3 days since you two fought.

"hi," you breathed, "uh, come in, please." rin didn't take his eyes off you as he slipped by you, leaving his shoes at the door. he paused for a moment, unsure of whether to go to your bedroom like he usually would or stay in the entry way with you.

silently, you grabbed his hand, pulling him down the hallway to your room. you could've sworn he let out a sigh of relief as his fingers tightened on yours. he sat on the bed, and you thought he was trying to hide his disappointment as you took a seat at your desk chair a few feet away from him.

"so…" you started awkwardly. he was still staring at you intensely as you spoke. "i'm sorry about all the shit i said. i was angry and i dumped all that on you and it was completely unfair and hypocritical of me. you're not actually that much of an inconsiderate asshole." you paused for a moment before adding, "most of the time."

rin chuckled, running a hand through his hair. you tried not to stare at it.

you failed.

rin noticed your gaze and tucked his hands away almost self-consciously, but the air was now thick with tension.

"i'm, um…" he seemed to be struggling for words. "i'm sorry too. i was incredibly jealous and angry at myself, and i took it out on you when i really shouldn't have. i'm sorry, yn."

you smiled gently. "it's okay, rinnie," you replied, "what you said afterward made up for it." rin blushed. "which part?" he asked.

you rolled your eyes. "the 'i've been in love with you for years' part, the 'you mean the fucking world to me' part, the 'i didn't know i could love a sound as much as i love your laughter' part," you said, ticking them off on your fingers as you spoke. rin looked like he was about to hold his hands over his ears. "okay, okay, i get it," he muttered, face bright red as he looked down.

"oh, yeah, can't forget the 'i love the sounds you make when i'm inside you' part," you added boldly, eyebrows raised. his eyes snapped up to meet yours as he stilled.

"i- that… so you caught that…" he sounded defeated, as if he'd hoped you'd forgotten that part. you scoffed. yeah, right.

"yeah, i caught that, rin," you said. you stood up slowly from the chair, shifting toward rin until the front of your legs brushed his knees where he sat on the bed. "it was hard to miss." your voice was low, barely a whisper as his hands came to rest at your hips. his thumb brushed the exposed skin of your midriff, causing goosebumps to erupt across your body. you suddenly felt like you were on fire.

"did you mean everything you said?" you asked quietly, unable to meet his eyes as tears welled up in yours. one of his hands lifted from your hip to grip your chin. he lifted it so that you were looking into his eyes. "i meant every word," he said firmly. "every goddamn word."

unable to stop yourself, you wiped the tears from your eyes as you moved to straddle him. you buried your face in his neck, inhaling his scent, the one that always smelled like home. rin wrapped his arms around you tightly, one hand twisted in your hair.

"aw, come on, don't cry, yn," he said with a chuckle, "how very lukewarm of you."

you giggled through your tears. "i assure you, itoshi rin, i am very, very hot for you." his hands froze before you added, "not lukewarm in the slightest."

rin sighed. "you really know how to make my heart stop dead in my chest, you know that?" you laughed, pulling back to look at his beautiful face. "i know, rin."

the two of you leaned forward at the same time, lips meeting lips as your hands tangled in his hair. his hands moved, one falling to the small of your back to pull you closer and the other one drifting to cup your cheek.

you pulled back for a moment, knowing that if you continued what you were doing with him, you'd forget what you wanted to say. your forehead rested against his as you whispered, "i love you rin. i'm so in love with you it scares me."

rin smiled softly. "i love you too, yn," he murmured. he seemed to think for a second before asking, "does this mean we're together now?"

you threw your head back with a laugh. "yes, rin, this means we're together now."

rin grinned, unable to hold back his joy as he brought you in for another kiss. you held his face in your hands as the two of you fell back onto the bed, overcome with happiness.

in the back of your mind, you were thinking about nagi's words from over a month ago.

i love the childhood best friends to lovers trope.

he was right, you decided as rin kissed each of your fingertips, your knuckles, and your palm.

that was your new favorite trope.

chapter XVII > series masterlist > chapter XIX

a/n: i admittedly still need to write the final chapter for this smau so that's awkward,,

taglist: @punkhazardlaw @sarah-saystuff @ashnootnoot @xiriela @froggie-zusya23 @vanitasbrainrot @lesliesleisure @shironagi @1isabelfox @celestair @rin1802 @rroxii @reiners-milkbiddies @arxliana @kiopanxp @kawaii-angelanne @sleepygraves @dei-lilxc @y-sabell-a @k0z3me @lilactaro @mellozhi @matchablossomsss @rainb3rrie @vernorexiaaa @httpsanon @bloombb @izumi-astra-123 @karmatiz @msameikanevaeh @ascybous @niko-ash

[star-neo-love]

I Hope We're Still Friends [part 2 of 'Not Allowed' series]

☆ Part 1 [All By Yourself, Sitting Alone] ☆ Part 3 [Yeah, I Hope You Don't Mind] coming soon... ☆

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☆ summary: Nick was getting better at controlling his thoughts, aided by the unyielding support of his two younger brothers. He knew getting over you and moving on wouldn’t be easy, and often, the only thing keeping him from spiralling was purposefully filling his mind and life with packed distractions and a frankly hectic schedule. But it worked. Or it did. Until you came back. Meeting your eyes in the middle of a crowded mall was not a part of his plan, and honestly? It set him back. By a lot. Actually, it had all gone down the drain. Evident in the fact that he was holed up in his room again, as he had been since getting home. The pain of his still-healing wounds being ripped back open was all-consuming, heart feeling raw, mind and thoughts spiralling as he fell back into the constant, tearing flood of questions. But you never could leave him alone.

☆ tags: reader spawns at the worst moment, chris is protective, nick is going through it and reader is NOT helping, still angst ig (sorry guys i lied last time), not together yet, reader is reaching out tho!!, kinda dialogue heavy at the end there... ☆ cw: angst, swearing, not much really anything tho

☆ word count: 1453 words

☆ hope you guys enjoy!! ☆

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Nick had been getting better, slowly but surely plodding along the path of recovery. Sure, he slipped backwards occasionally, bad days sometimes being more like bad weeks, but he was doing better.

Of course, just when he felt he could start to forget you, you crashed right back into his life. You had never been able to leave him well alone, even when you were gone, you were always plaguing his mind.

So he supposed it was only fitting that you’d come back just when he thought he was rid of you.

Nick couldn’t help the tinge of bitterness that twisted in his gut when he locked eyes with you. You seemed perfectly fine, still just as bright, surrounded by friends, dressed in an outfit that looked meticulously planned but that Nick knew you had likely thrown it on on a whim.

He hated you more than he ever had in his life. Perhaps for the first time in his life.

But the minute your eyes met his, all the hate sapped out of him, the burn and twist of indignation replaced with the burning of tears in his eyes, choking in his throat.

“Nick! Bro what are you- Oh...” Chris had jogged back over to Nick, who was rooted in place, eyes locked with yours.

Humiliatingly, he could feel tears stinging his eyes already, and he startled as Chris set a hand on his shoulder, blinking away the tears and turning.

“Let’s go.” he muttered.

“You okay?” Chris mumbled, not moving, simply looking into his older brother’s eyes with concern.

“Yeah. Can we go? Please.” Nick snapped, voice shaky even to his own ears, cracking on the last word as he choked on pain and tears.

He felt as though you had reached out and wrapped your hands around his still-healing heart and torn the fresh wounds apart again, ripping him open without a care.

Nick shook Chris’ hand off his arm, stalking away as his vision swam with unshed tears, his breathing shaky as he stumbled blindly away.

With his back turned, he didn’t notice the way you ignored your friends and tried to follow after him. He didn’t notice the way Chris glared at you and pushed you back with a firm hand on your chest, eyes cold as he looked into yours. He didn’t notice the way you raised your voice, eyes filling with tears just as his did, your voice strained and cracking as you argued with Chris.

“Fuck off, asshole. If you think i’m letting you anywhere near Nick you’re fucking delusional. And you’ve hurt me and Matt with your selfish, inconsiderate actions too jackass.”

He didn’t notice the way you slumped, defeated, tears spilling over as Chris scoffed and turned away, warning you off.

He didn’t notice the way you grit your teeth and walked back to your friends, bidding them a terse goodbye with a shaky voice before practically bolting to your car and driving away.

Chris jogged back up to Nick, joining him and Matt, exchanging looks with Matt when his worried eyes found the youngest’s. A silent conversation passed between the two younger triplets, and Matt steered Nick back to the car, Chris on the other side.

There was a tense silence as the three bundled into the car, Nick jamming on noise-cancelling headphones almost as soon as he had buckled into the backseat, cutting off any attempt from Matt and Chris to talk to him.

With a heavy sigh and a weary look exchanged with Chris, Matt shook his head and pulled out of the parking lot, driving back home, grip nervously tight on the wheel. When they had finally pulled back into the driveway of their home, Nick immediately got out of the car, disappearing wordlessly into his room before either of the two could stop him.

“Fuck...” Chris groaned, running a hand through his hair in frustration as he threw himself down on the couch, sprawling out and tipping his head back.

Matt brought his hand up to his mouth, nervously fiddling with his lips, picking at his thumb and chewing on his nail, eyes worried and wide as he stared up the stairs where Nick had disappeared. He stood over Chris, hovering anxiously right beside the couch.

“Should we go... Talk to him? What happened anyways?” Matt blurted, breaking the anxious silence of the living room.

“Y/N happened.” Chris hissed through gritted teeth, voice bitter and harsh.

He was hurt by you as well, they all were. You’d all been best friends after all, though not as close with you as Nick had been, Chris and Matt still smarted from the sharp sting of betrayal and confusion when you drew away.

You’d been practically brothers in all but the DNA shared between the three triplets. You and Nate.

Fuck, Nate.

He didn’t even know yet. Had you cut contact with him too? If so, he was likely confused and worried as hell right now.

Actually, Nate hadn’t mentioned anything at all. Surely if you had cut him off, he would have asked, right? So that meant...

Matt seemed to have come to a similar conclusion as Chris if the sharp exhale he let out was any indication.

“Huh, guess he’s fine with Nate.” Chris muttered bitterly.

“What... Did- Did we do something?” Matt mumbled, biting at his thumb, worrying at the skin around his nail.

Scoffing, Chris crossed his arms over his chair. “Yeah like what, the fucker just up and cut us out one day, wouldn’t even let us ask what was wrong.”

“But, it’s just- Why would he do that?” Matt furrowed his brows, thoughts racing at a hundred miles a minute.

“Who cares, as far as I’m concerned, he can fuck right off and stay away.” Chris muttered bitterly.

“Oh come on bro you don’t mean that and you know it. Y/N’s been around almost as long as we’ve been together, you can’t just forget that.” Matt mumbled, so hurt by your behaviour, and yet unable to pretend he didn’t want you back in their lives.

“And what do you want to do about it then? Huh Matt? You saw how wrecked Nick was just from seeing him today bro, do you wanna have a repeat?” Chris snapped, exhaling sharply through his nose.

“Chris. C’mon, you know there’s something wrong, we grew up with him. He wouldn’t just dip for no reason.” Matt reasoned, not knowing if he was trying to convince Chris or himself at this point.

“Yeah? Cause it seems like that’s exactly what he’s done. And besides, I told him to fuck off and stay away from us today at the mall. He said he wanted to 'explain himself and apologise'.” Chris retorted, clenching his jaw.

“What? Chris, why would you do that?” Matt asked, tone incredulous. If you had wanted to explain yourself, why would Chris have pushed you out so harshly?

Chris frowned at Matt, eyes wide with disbelief. “Bro, fuck you mean 'why would I do that'? Did you not see how fucked up seeing him got Nick? You think I should have let them talk?”

Matt sighed, dropping his head forward for a moment, sagging as the stress and tension suddenly drained from him. “You... You’re right. But- But we should probably try to talk to him, later. There’s got to be a reason.”

“Fine... Not- Not now though. If we do it we gotta do it with Nick, or I'll feel like we’re betraying him.” Chris relented, slumping against Matt as the older boy finally dropped down beside him, leaning into him.

“Of course, I'm not sneaking around behind his back either.” Matt agreed with a determined nod, falling silent as he and Chris both found their eyes drifting to the stairs, both worried for their older brother.

“Should we go check on h-” Matt started, before being cut off by the noise of a notification.

Specifically, a text, a custom tone he knew was yours.

His eyes widened, and he scrambled to tug his phone from his pocket. Chris sat bolt upright, also reaching for his phone, apparently having received one as well. Fishing his phone out at the same time as his brother, they both fell silent, looking at the twin messages on their screens, before looking up and meeting eyes.

“Can we talk?”

What the fuck.

“Bring Nick please, he won’t pick up my calls. I just want to explain.”

Grim expressions on their faces, they both turned to look up the stairs. Chris huffed, frustrated.

“Fuck, even now he still shares a brain with us huh?” He muttered bitterly.

“Let’s get Nick...” Matt sighed heavily.

“I’ll try.” He hit send before standing.

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thanks for reading, this was kinda really bad, but I hope you guys liked it 🥰!! xoxo, ACE

what do we think?? 🗣️ I'll dive into the reader's side of things in the next part, as well as wrap it up cause I ran out of lyrics for the titles... so the next part is gonna be LONG💪💪😩 ik I said reader would get a redemption, AND I PROMISE HE DOES, but this part ran away from me, so hopefully the next part will be the happy ending!!!😁😁

[scared to make promises about when I'll post part 3 [Yeah, I Hope You Don't Mind cause I can't stick to a deadline for the life of me. but I'll aim to have it out this weekend, or at the latest, next wednesday🙏🙏]