#gentle bear league

[v6quewrlds]

HOMIESEXUAL, BURROW & IOSIVAS.

pairing⠀⁎⠀joe burrow/andrei iosivas x reader. word count⠀⁎⠀10.3k.

summary⠀⁎⠀joe burrow comes and goes through your life like the tides. just when you think you've caught him, he slips away from your grasp. just when you think you've finally moved on, he sneaks back in with empty promises. as if things couldn't get any messier, enter andrei iosivas, joe's wide receiver.

author's note⠀⁎⠀huge thank you to @xolilyxo for saving my life with this idea <3 i haaaate writing meet-cutes/first dates so bear with me for the first part of this fic. joe is genuinely horrible in this one sorry lmao but i love toxic!joe and this was so fun to write. will be taking a little bit of a break from this blog so take this as an apology <3 warnings⠀⁎⠀some usage of y/n, vicious cycles, situationships, reader needs to stand up, 18+ mdni, smut, angst, fingering, a singular spank, backshots!, choking, empty promises, joe will say anything for a nut, condoms used as metaphors lollll, no real ending bc i couldn't choose.

You adjusted your earbuds, the pounding bass of your workout playlist keeping pace with your sprints on the treadmill. The burning in your lungs was a familiar sensation, a small price to pay for the endorphin rush that washed over your tense muscles.

Your attention was squarely focused on your sprints and breathing, exhaling sharply as you watched the clock on the treadmill count down to the end of your cardio session. The chime signaling the end of your workout pierced through the music, and you slowed to a jog, taking a moment to catch your breath and lower your heartbeat.

As you lowered the speed and incline to a brisk walk, you felt a presence beside you. You glanced over to find Andrei, the Bengals' wide receiver, hopping onto the treadmill next to you. His eyes lit up when he saw you, and a smile slowly spread across his face in recognition.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice warm and easy. You took in the sight of him, the tattoos on his left arm flexing as he pressed the start button on the machine. “Y/N, right?”

The two of you had met a few times in passing at games and parties, but you never really had a chance to get to know him beyond small talk. “Yeah. You're Yoshi?” you said with a smile, using the nickname you had heard the team float around him.

He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Andrei, but Yoshi's cool. I didn't know you came to this gym.” He matched your pace as you walked side by side, your legs moving in unison.

“Yeah, it’s convenient, for when I’m in town for work and don’t want to miss a workout. How about you? How’s your first off-season in the league treating you?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady as you inhaled and exhaled as intentionally as you could.

Andrei’s smile grew. “It’s been intense, but I’m loving every second of it. Gets a little lonely without the team around though. How about you? You work with Sam's fiancee, right?”

“Jess? Yeah. She was my RA during my freshman year. We work in marketing together. She’s the one who talked me into joining her in Cincinnati after I graduated. Best decision I ever made, really,” you replied.

Andrei nodded, his gaze flickering to the screen of his treadmill as he cranked up the speed, long, tanned legs still in a walk despite the speed increase. “I'm still getting used to the city, but the people here are great. And the fans are crazy about football, which is pretty awesome to be a part of.” He took a sip of his water, his dark eyes meeting yours briefly before returning to the display in front of him. You couldn't help but notice the way his biceps bulged as he lifted the bottle to his mouth.

“I don't wanna keep you from your workout, but it was nice seeing you, Andrei.” you said, your racing from more than just the cardio. You stepped off the treadmill, your legs feeling like jelly as you headed for the locker room.

“Hold up,” Andrei called after you, his voice filled with a gentle urgency. He quickly followed you, his eyes searching yours. “This is kind of random, but would you be down to grab lunch or something sometime?” His question hung in the air, charged with an undercurrent of hope.

“I’d like that,” you said, a genuine smile playing on your lips. You felt a sudden warmth spread through your body, and you hoped the fluster in your voice wasn’t too obvious. Andrei’s eyes lit up, and he immediately offered to exchange numbers. You swapped phones and tapped in the digits with fingers that trembled slightly from the excitement of the moment.

The next few days, the two of you texted back and forth, coordinating your schedules. It was a delicate dance, considering your busy lives, but somehow, it worked. You found yourselves with a mutually free afternoon and decided to meet at a quiet spot, a hole-in-the-wall burger joint that had been recommended to Andrei by some of his teammates.

At first, you didn't recognize the address or the name of the burger joint. But as you pulled up to the nondescript building, the heavenly scent of sizzling meat and the sound of laughter spilling out from inside sent your memory hurtling back to nearly a year ago.

You had come here with Joe once.

Joe was a waxing and waning fixture in your life, coming and going with the tides of the football season. The two of you had first met when Joe was drafted by the Bengals, and you quickly recognized the pull of his charismatic orbit. His charm and easy confidence had drawn you in, and your friendship grew into a passionate, secretive not-quite-relationship that had always been tinged with the bittersweet frustration of knowing it couldn’t last.

The league was unforgiving, and Joe had been clear about his priorities - football, family, and his foundation - none of which included space for you. But as the months went on, you found yourself hoping that maybe he would get his head out of his ass. As if he would suddenly wake up and realize that he did have a little space for you in his very short list of priorities.

But there wasn't space. Joe Burrow was a creature of habit, and football was his first love. He'd told you that himself, more than once. The season had taken precedence over your somewhat casual arrangement, and by the time summer rolled around, it had all but fizzled out like the last whispers of a forgotten promise.

Now, as you sat across from Andrei, the smell of greasy burgers and fries swirling around you two, you felt a pang of guilt. You would have had to be blind to miss the way Andrei's brown eyes lit up when he talked about his day and listened eagerly to your lame office stories. He was so earnest, so present, in a way Joe was incapable of being - not that it was the quarterback's intentional doing.

The two of you talked about everything from your families to your favorite movies, and it was easy, comfortable. Andrei had a way of making you feel heard that you hadn't felt with Joe. He wasn't distracted by the shadow of football, his mind wasn't a million miles away on the field. He was right here with you, in this moment. And when he reached out to steal a fry from your plate with a dimple you hadn't noticed before, you felt a jolt of something you hadn't felt in a long time—true, uncomplicated happiness.

“Yo, earth to Andrei! You okay, man?” Tee Higgins’ teasing voice cut through the air as the team gathered around their lockers post-workout. Andrei had been lost in his thoughts, his eyes glazed over as he replayed the events of the past few days texting with you.

Andrei snapped out of his daze, his cheeks flushed with a mix of exertion and embarrassment. “Yeah, my bad, guys. Just had a good session out there.” The lie rolled off his tongue, but the smirks from his teammates told him they weren’t fooled.

“Oh, I bet you had a good session, alright,” Charlie said, waggling his eyebrows. Their side of the locker room erupted into laughter, and even Andrei couldn’t resist a chuckle despite the roll of his eyes.

“Leave him alone, he’s just got a crush is all,” Chase Brown chimed in, slapping Andrei on the shoulder.

Andrei felt the weight of his words and his cheeks grew even warmer. He knew he was being obvious, but he couldn’t help it. You had consumed his every thought since your first real conversation at the gym. The way you had looked at him, the way your laugh had filled the quiet moments between your words, it was intoxicating. He hadn’t felt this way about someone since high school.

“She's older too, ain't she? Like by two years?” Tee said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Andrei nodded, his face growing hotter by the second.

“Yeah, but that's not a big deal, right?” he managed to get out.

Chase laughed. “Who? Jess' friend? That's cool, she's a catch for sure. But why’re you blushing so hard, man?”

Andrei shrugged it off, trying to keep his cool. “It's nothing. Just met up with her a few days ago, you know how it is.”

“Oh, he's gone,” Charlie exclaimed, grinning as he slapped Andrei's back. “You got it bad, dude.”

“Shut up, man. It's not like that,” Andrei protested, his voice betraying the excitement he felt.

Joe kept his head down, focusing on his own locker, pretending not to hear the jokes at Andrei's expense. But the mention of your name sent a jolt through him. He knew he had no claim on you, he had made that clear when he chose football over you time and time again - he was aware. But the thought of you with Andrei was like a knife twisting in his gut. He felt a strange mix of jealousy and protectiveness, a storm of emotions that left a dark, uncomfortable weight on his chest.

As Joe made his way to the parking lot, he was flanked by Ja'Marr and Sam on either side as they talked about their evening plans. He cleared his throat, trying to dislodge the unspoken tension. “Has Jess mentioned anything about...?” he ventured, keeping his voice casual, not completing his thought hoping Sam would catch the unspoken name.

Sam shot him a knowing look, eyes narrowed, lips curled into a smirk. “Do you two get off on playing this weird hot and cold game?” He asked Joe, a disbelieving chuckle bubbling from his chest.

Joe’s face remained impassive. “What are you talking about?” He played dumb, hoping his friends hadn’t noticed the jealousy bubbling beneath the surface.

Sam rolled his eyes. “I haven't heard anything about her seeing anyone, but why don't you just text and ask her? Or better yet, just tell her you fucked up and want her back? I know she hasn’t blocked you yet, Jess reminds me of that every time you two come up in a conversation.”

Joe scoffed, trying to play it cool. “It's not like that. I just want to know she’s good. It’s been a while since I’ve seen or heard anything. That's all.” But the way his heart hammered in his chest, his blue eyes defensively wide told the defensive end it was a lie.

“If you say so,” Ja’Marr spoke up, his voice filled with an unmistakable hint of amusement. “But if I was her, I wouldn't take your ass back.”

Joe shot him a look that could've frozen water. “Thank you for your input, Ja’Marr,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing.

Sam laughed again. “Look, I'm sure she has nothing to hide. If she was seeing someone, she’d tell Jess. And since she hasn’t, then maybe it’s not that serious yet. Just apologize, I’m sure she’ll hear you out.”

Joe nodded, trying to convince himself that it was true. But the gnawing feeling in his gut told him otherwise. He knew he had to see you, to find out for himself what was going on. He couldn’t stand the thought of you with someone else, not when he hadn’t even had the urge to officially end things.

After arriving home, Joe found himself pressing your contact name, then the FaceTime button, his heart racing. When you picked up, he could see the surprise in your eyes. You looked beautiful, the soft glow of your bedside lamp highlighting the warm tones of your skin. Your curly hair was pulled back into a loose bun, and you had that look on your face, the one that told him that if he played his cards right, you’d fall right into his lap, just like you used to.

“Hey?” you said, a hint of wariness in your voice.

Joe took a deep breath, trying to keep his cool. “What's up?”

Your eyes searched his for a moment, reading the tension in his voice. “Not much, just sitting at home. What’s up with you?” you asked, playing along.

“I was wondering if you’re busy tonight,” Joe said, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “I haven’t seen you in a while. Thought I could come over, catch up.”

You leaned back into the cushion behind your head, raising an eyebrow. You knew Joe’s moves better than anyone else. At times, you thought you knew him better than he knew himself. “Why? You miss me?”

Joe’s eyes held yours, the intensity in them unmistakable. “Yeah, I did. And I wanna see you. If that’s okay?”

You felt a mix of excitement and annoyance. Why was Joe suddenly interested again? You knew he couldn’t just turn it on and off like that - not matter how much he liked to pretend he was unbothered by the gray area of your situationship. But the temptation was too strong. You missed your connection, the way he made you feel.

“Okay, come over then,” you said with a sigh, unable to completely hide the smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth.

Joe arrived at your apartment later that evening, and the moment he stepped inside, it was as if you had never stopped seeing each other. He took in the familiar scent of your perfume and the sight of you curled up on the couch. He couldn’t help but feel like he was home. The two of you talked about nothing and everything, the conversation flowing easily like it used to. He told you about the team's new plays and strategies, and you updated him on work and Jess' wedding planning.

But there was an undercurrent of tension, something more than just your unresolved history. Andrei's name hovered in the air, unspoken but present. As the night grew later, Joe's eyes searched yours, looking for answers he knew you wouldn’t just volunteer to give him.

“So, are you seeing anyone?” he finally asked, his voice casual, the rush of blood to his face anything but.

You felt a jolt of nerves. You should’ve known this was coming. “No, I’m not seeing anyone,” you replied, your voice steady despite the guilt of such a lie creeping in. “Not officially, or anything.”

Joe’s expression didn’t change, but you could see the muscles in his jaw tense. He knew you well enough to read between the lines. He knew you were lying to him. “But there’s someone you’re interested in?” he pushed.

You nodded, looking away from him. You felt the guilt press harder on your chest. “Yeah, I guess. It’s new, and I’m trying to figure it out. Figure him out.”

Joe leaned in, his hand falling over the back of the couch as if attempting to surround you without actually touching you. “Is it serious?”

His voice was a mix of curiosity and something else, something that made the guilt in your stomach coil tighter. He had a way of suffocating you, of making you feel like you were drowning in his mere presence, and you hadn’t realized how much you missed that feeling.

You took a deep breath. “No, it’s not serious. Not yet, anyway. We’re just...seeing where it goes.”

Joe nodded, his eyes focused intensely on yours. The silence between the two of you grew heavier, charged with unspoken words and desires. Finally, he leaned in closer, deciding he was tired of playing cold and now wanted the hot.

“Can I kiss you?” Blue eyes bore into yours, plump pink lips parted before his bottom lip was pulled between his teeth.

Your heart skipped a beat. You knew what giving in to him would lead to, but you couldn’t resist. You nodded, and Joe’s mouth was on yours before you had the chance to reconsider. The kiss was familiar and yet somehow new, filled with the same passion you had always shared, but with an urgency that hadn’t been there before. It was as if he was trying to claim you, to remind you of what they had before you were swept up in someone else's tide.

As Joe’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, you felt the weight of the decision you needed to make. Andrei’s sweetness versus Joe’s intensity. The comfort of the known versus the excitement of the unknown. Your thoughts spun like a tornado, threatening to consume you. But for tonight, you decided to let it go, to lose yourself in the feeling of Joe’s hands on your body.

You moaned against his mouth, giving in to the moment. And with that one sound, the two of you were back to where you had left off months ago, your bodies tangling together in a dance as old as time. You stumbled towards the bedroom, hands fumbling with clothes and buttons, eager to reacquaint yourselves with each other's skin.

“Joe,” you whispered breathlessly as your bodies collided in a fiery embrace, the passion igniting like dry grass in a summer field. He kissed you like he owned you, and for a moment, you let yourself believe he did. Your bodies moved in a symphony of desire, every touch a silent declaration of his intent.

“What do you want from me, Joe?” you managed to ask between gasps, your body responding to his touch despite the turmoil in your mind.

“I don’t know what I want,” Joe murmured against your skin, his voice ragged with need. “But I know I can’t stay away from you, no matter how much I try.”

Your head tilted to the side as Joe's lips attached themselves to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that made your body tremble. The room was spinning with the weight of his body on top of yours, you felt like you were drowning in his touch. It was all too much, too familiar, too overwhelming.

Joe let out a breathy chuckle against your neck, drawing a confused furrow of your brows in response. Your eyes cracked open in question, his blue eyes staring deeply into yours. “Isn’t this my shirt? You kept it?”

You felt a heat creep up your neck, the fabric of Joe’s shirt you had borrowed one night months ago clinging to your body. It had become embedded in your rotation of casual wear that you had completely forgotten it didn’t truly belong to you. “It’s comfortable,” you murmured, your voice thick with shy lust.

Joe's eyes searched yours, a hint of possessiveness flickering in their depths. “It looks better on you than it ever did on me,” he said, his voice gruff as he pulled the shirt over your head, leaving you in only a pair of panties. The air in the room grew thick with anticipation, your eyes locked as you both knew what was coming next.

With a fierce passion that seemed to have been building for months, Joe's hands explored every inch of your body, relearning the curves and planes he had once known so well. His touch was rough, almost desperate, as if trying to erase any memory of anyone else that had been there since him. And for a moment, you allowed yourself to be lost in it, to be consumed by the fire that was him.

He set you back against the sheets of your bed, eyes hungry as they trailed over every inch of your exposed skin. He settled over you, his frame broad as it obstructed your ability to think - or see - anything but him. His hands slid down your body, caressing your waist, your hips, before slipping into the band of your panties. He tugged them off, tossing them aside with a primal growl that made your stomach flutter.

“Unreal,” Joe hummed under his breath, his eyes roving over your bare form, his fingertips tracing the outline of your thighs, your belly, the swell of your breasts. The word seemed to hang in the air, a declaration of his desire, a claim of ownership.

You felt a shiver of anticipation, your body responding to his touch despite the chaos in your mind. You leaned up, your hands finding the hem of his shirt and tugging it over his head, revealing the hard planes of his chest, his muscles flexing in the dim light. Your eyes met again, a silent challenge, a silent question, a silent promise of what was to come.

With a low sound, his hands slid down to your thighs, urging them apart as he settled between your legs. The heat of his skin against yours was almost too much to bear, and you found yourself arching up to meet him, your nails digging into his back as he kissed your neck, your collarbone, and your breasts. His mouth was everywhere, leaving a trail of fire in its wake, and you could feel yourself spiraling out of control. The pads of his fingers traced circles on your inner thighs, moving higher, closer to the center of your need, until you were writhing beneath him.

“Joe, please,” you begged, the words slipping out unbidden. He chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with a hunger that was almost predatory. He knew exactly what he was doing to you, and it was a power trip he didn’t even bother hiding.

“Gimme me a minute,” he hummed darkly. His thumb grazed your clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body, making your back arch off the bed. “I want to make sure you don’t forget who this pussy knows best,” he whispered, his voice thick with arousal.

Your eyes widened, and you bit your lower lip to stifle a gasp. The possessiveness in his tone was something new, something you had never heard from him before. It was raw, primal, and it sent a thrill through you that you couldn’t ignore.

Joe’s fingers teased and prodded with a firm pressure that had your hips moving instinctively. He watched your face, his eyes hooded and intense, as if memorizing every reaction. His free hand slid up your torso to the sides of your neck, giving it a trying squeeze that made you moan. The sound was music to his ears, and his mouth found yours again, his tongue demanding entry as his hand continued its merciless torment.

The sensations were overwhelming, and you couldn’t help but respond to his dominance. Your legs fell open wider, giving him full access, begging for more. And Joe delivered, his fingers slipping into your wetness, his eyes never leaving yours. He watched your face contort with pleasure, his own expression a mix of satisfaction and hunger.

“You’re so wet for me, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “Always so wet, so ready. I love that about you.”

Your eyes rolled back in your head as he worked you over, his thumb pressing down on your clit as his fingers curled inside you. You could feel your orgasm approaching, a storm cloud gathering on the horizon, ready to break at any moment. You didn’t know if you could handle it, didn’t know if you wanted to handle it.

His hand moved faster, his grip on your neck tightening slightly as he watched you writhe and unravel beneath him. Your breaths grew shorter, your moans louder, until you were practically sobbing for release. And when it came, it was like nothing you had ever felt before. It burst through you like a tidal wave, drowning you in pleasure so intense it was almost painful. Your body spasmed around his hand as you rode out the wave, Joe’s eyes never leaving your face, his thumb pressing down harder on your clit as he watched you come apart.

When the tremors finally subsided, you lay there, panting and boneless, staring up at the ceiling. The room was spinning, and you could feel Joe’s weight on top of you, his cock pressing against your thigh. He kissed you deeply, his tongue tangling with yours, as if trying to claim your mouth the same way he had claimed your body. And for a moment, you let him, savoring the taste of him, the feel of his hardness against you, the scent of his sweat and cologne.

“On your stomach, pretty girl, just like that,” Joe ordered, his voice gruff with need.

You mindlessly complied, rolling onto your stomach with a shiver. The coolness of the sheets against your overheated skin was a stark contrast to the heat of Joe’s touch. You felt his hand glide over your back, tracing the line of your spine before it trailed back down, his thumb rubbing tight circles into the base of your spine as he distracted you from the anticipation as he pulled a condom on. Then, without warning, his hand connected with your ass in a firm slap that made you yelp and jolt forward. You looked over your shoulder at him, eyes wide and questioning.

“Want you to remember me every time you sit down tomorrow,” Joe said with a smirk, his eyes ablaze with possessiveness. He grabbed a pillow and placed it under your hips, shifting your ass a bit higher. You could feel his cock, hot and heavy, pressing against you. The head of it slid against your wetness, teasing you, making your pussy clench with want. He didn’t waste any more time, pushing into you in one swift movement that made you gasp, your head falling forward into the sheets.

You felt filled to the brim with Joe, his size stretching you in a way that was both unavoidable and incredibly satisfying. You could feel him everywhere, his grip on your hips tightening as he started to move. He was relentless, his thrusts deep and demanding, setting a pace that had you panting and moaning into the sheets beneath you. You knew your thighs were going to be sore in the morning, but you didn’t care. This was what you had been craving, this was what you had been missing.

“You feel so good, baby,” Joe murmured against your ear, his teeth grazing your skin as he whispered sweet nothings that sent shivers down your spine. You could feel his breath hot and ragged against your neck, his hips slapping against your ass with each thrust. It was needed, it was carnally satisfying, and it was everything you had been trying to ignore.

Your eyes squeezed shut, and you bit down on a stray pillow to muffle your moans. You didn’t want to admit it, but Joe had a way of making you feel like no one else ever could. It was infuriating and intoxicating all at once. Your hands clawed at the sheets, trying to find purchase, as Joe’s rhythm grew more intense. You could feel your orgasm building again, a slow burn that was starting at your toes and working its way up.

“Fuck, Joe,” you murmured, your voice muffled by the fabric. He chuckled, the sound sending vibrations through your body.

“Just how you like it, huh?” he said, his voice a low rumble in your ear. You whimpered, unable to form words as he continued to fuck you relentlessly.

Your eyes squeezed shut, the sensation of him inside you was overwhelming. Each thrust was like a declaration of his claim, each slap of skin on skin echoing through the room. He was everywhere, his heat enveloping you, his scent infiltrating your senses. It was too much and not enough all at the same time.

“Mm, that’s right,” Joe encouraged, his voice thick with pleasure as he watched the way you responded to his touch. “You need more from me, don’t you?”

You choked out a strained 'yes', the words trapped in your throat by the intensity of your building climax. You felt him shift behind you, his cock sliding out of you briefly before he turned you onto your back. He hovered over you, his eyes burning with desire. His hand found your chin, tilting your head back as he kissed you again, his tongue plunging deep.

With a powerful surge, he thrust back inside you, filling you completely. Your nails raked down his back, your legs wrapping around his waist as you tried to hold on to the last shreds of your sanity. The sensation was exquisite, his length stroking you in ways that only he seemed to know how to. You could feel your body responding to him, your inner walls tightening around him as he picked up the pace.

“Love being inside you, always have,” Joe murmured, his eyes locked onto yours as he pushed deeper, his hips moving in a rhythm that had you both racing towards the edge. Your breathing grew more ragged, your breasts heaving with each thrust. “You’re so fucking perfect, baby. Fuckin' made for me.”

Your eyes fluttered shut again, the words playing on repeat in your head, echoing through your body with every stroke. You knew you shouldn’t let his words affect you, but they did. They hit you in a place you thought you had closed off to him through the distance. A place that was still raw and tender, despite the time apart.

“Missed your pretty voice whispering my name. Can you say it again for me?” Joe rasped, his teeth grazing your neck.

“Joe,” you breathed, your voice shaky and needy. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, and you felt his cock swell at the sound.

“Say you missed me,” Joe urged, his eyes searching yours as he continued to drive into you. His movements grew more urgent, each thrust more forceful than the last.

“I missed you,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. His eyes flared with triumph and need, his strokes becoming more powerful. He slammed into you, pushing you further into the sheets, with such a fervor that made the headboard thump against the wall with every thrust.

“Fuck, yes,” Joe groaned, his voice strained as he pushed into you. The sound of the headboard colliding with the wall grew louder, punctuating the air with a steady rhythm that matched his own. “Missed you too, more than you know,” he murmured against your skin.

Your eyes squeezed shut, the confession sending a bolt of heat straight to your core. You wrapped your legs around him tighter, your heels digging into his ass as you encouraged him to go harder, faster. The feeling of his cock hitting just the right spot inside you was divine, and you knew you were close.

“I'm sorry,” Joe murmured, his breath hot against your neck as he kissed his way across your throat. “I'm sorry I've been an asshole. Did I hurt you?” He didn’t stop moving, his thrusts still deep and demanding.

Your eyes flew open, and you stared up at the ceiling, your heart racing. The tenderness in his voice was unexpected, and it hit you like a punch to the gut. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond verbally or physically, too ashamed to admit the truth out loud. But Joe read you like a book, his gaze searching your expression for confirmation.

“I know I did,” he said, his voice low and remorseful. He slowed his pace, his strokes becoming more deliberate as if trying to convey his regret through every touch. “But I’m not gonna let you go again, baby. I promise you that. You’re mine, and I’ll make it up to you, every single fucking day if I have to.”

Your heart swelled at his words, even though a part of you knew you shouldn’t let them affect you. But here you were, lying beneath him, your body singing with pleasure, and you couldn’t help but believe him.

“Okay.” You whispered, still avoiding his gaze as your lips pouted in thought.

Joe’s expression softened, and he leaned down to kiss you, his hips stilling for a brief moment. When he pulled back, he said, “Gonna make you feel so good, baby. Just hold on for me, okay?”

The look in his eyes was earnest, and for a moment, all the tension between the two of you dissipated. You whispered your approval, your hands moving to his face, your thumbs tracing the sharp line of his jaw. You could feel his muscles tense as he took a deep breath, then his hips began to move again, slow and steady, as if he were savoring every inch of you. His eyes remained fixed on yours as he pushed into you, each stroke sending a new wave of pleasure crashing over you.

Your walls tightened around him, your body responding to his gentle dominance. His hands roamed over your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He kissed you with a tenderness that was at odds with the roughness of your fucking, his tongue dancing with yours, tasting every corner of your mouth. It was as if he was trying to claim you all over again, to erase every memory you had of anyone else.

And for a moment, you let yourself believe there was no one else.

Joe’s eyes searched yours, his expression a mix of lust and something deeper, something that made your stomach flip. His movements grew more calculated, his hips snapping against yours as he drove deeper. You could feel yourself climbing, your body coiling tightly around him, ready to shatter.

“Look at me, baby,” Joe murmured, his voice thick with desire. “I need to see your eyes when you come for me. I need to know it’s all for me.”

Your eyes opened, meeting Joe’s intense gaze. His eyes were like blue flames, burning into your soul. You could feel the pressure building within you, your orgasm threatening to break free. Your moans and whines were strangled as they escaped your throat, your breaths coming in quick pants as you tried to hold on.

He leaned down, whispering in your ear, “Good girl. Let go for me. Take what you need from me, baby. Wanna hear you scream my name when you do it. Give it to me. Give it all to me.”

The words were like a trigger, setting you off into an explosion of sensation. You moaned his name, your body convulsing around him as you shattered into a million pieces. Your nails dug into his skin, your legs tightening around his waist as the most intense orgasm of your life ripped through you. It was as if every nerve ending in your body was on fire, each spark igniting a new wave of pleasure.

His own climax followed closely, his hips jerking as he buried himself deep inside you, groaning out his release as it spilled into the condom preventing his proximity from truly reaching you. Joe's weight pressed you into the mattress, his breathing heavy in your ear. You remained connected for a few moments, your hearts pounding in sync. Slowly, he pulled out, rolling to the side and disposing of the condom before pulling you into his arms.

Your mind raced as you lay there, your body still trembling. You felt Joe's thumb stroking your cheek, wiping away a stream of tears you hadn't even realized had fallen. He kissed the bridge of your nose, his touch gentle and soothing.

“I've got you,” he whispered, pulling you closer. “I'm not going anywhere.”

You curled into him, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest. Joe’s arms around you felt like home, and you didn’t want to leave that behind.

You sighed, deflating against him with no energy to question his intentions or the future. For now, all that mattered was the warmth of his embrace. The comforting beat of his heart against your ear lulled you into a sense of peace you hadn't felt in months. The two of you lay there in the afterglow of passion, your breaths slowly syncing as you held each other tightly.

Your head continued to spin over the next few days, the intensity of that night with Joe replaying in your mind like a highlight reel you couldn’t turn off. Each time you saw Andrei at the gym or exchanged texts, you felt that dreadful pang of guilt. The sweetness of his smile and the genuine concern in his eyes made you feel like the worst kind of person for indulging him when you couldn't get Joe off your mind.

“I'm the worst,” you groaned to Jess one evening, a week after Joe’s unexpected visit. You were lounging in Jess and Sam’s living room, a bottle of wine between the two of you.

Jess looked at you, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. “What do you mean, babe?”

You took a deep breath and recounted the evening with Joe, leaving out the explicit details but sharing enough to paint the picture. Jess’ eyes grew wider with every word, until finally, she spoke.

“Yikes. You might be in deeper than you think,” Jess said, her voice a mix of shock and amusement. She took a sip of her wine, her eyes fluttering over to Sam as he took a seat next to her, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. “Babe, did you know about this?”

Sam looked at you, his expression begging you to play along. “Know what?”

You rolled your eyes with a huff, “Samuel, please. Did Joe say anything to you?”

Sam’s eyes darted to his fiancee whose eyebrow arched in challenge before he cleared his throat. “No actually. I told him to talk to you about the Andrei stuff, but he didn’t say anything happened.” He took a sip of his sports drink, the in-season replacement for his usual beer. “He's actually been pretty tight-lipped about everything, to be honest. Did you guys ever talk it out like I told him to?”

You sighed, playing with the stem of your wine glass. “Sort of. He said some stuff that... I don’t know. It just messed with my head. He said he missed me and that he’s not letting me go again. And when we were together... it was like nothing had changed.”

Jess’s eyes searched yours, understanding dawning as she frowned. “In a good way? Or in a...”

“In a way that seriously makes me question my self-respect,” you replied, your voice laced with frustration and self-pity. You took a long sip of your wine. “And now I’ve got Andrei, who’s so sweet and caring, but he’s also... I don’t know. He’s just different.”

Jess leaned in, her expression earnest. “Look, I know Joe’s got that... that pull, you know? And it’s easy to get swept up in it. But you can’t ignore what you have with Andrei either. Maybe you should take a step back from both of them and figure out what you really want.”

You nodded, knowing Jess was right. But the thought of cutting ties with either of them made your stomach twist. You enjoyed the excitement of Joe, the comfort of familiarity, but there was something about Andrei's gentle persistence that was equally intoxicating. You took a deep breath, setting your wine glass aside.

“I know you’re right,” you said, rubbing your temples. “But it’s so complicated. I don’t want to lead Andrei on or hurt him.”

“What about Joe?” Sam asked, breaking the silence. “I know you guys were never officially together, but do you care about potentially hurting him?”

Your gaze drifted to the floor. “Honestly? I don't. Not in the same way. With Joe, it's complicated. He's complicated. I don't even know if he'd ever truly let himself be hurt by me.”

Sam and Jess exchanged a look, the gravity of the situation settling over them. “Maybe you should just talk to them,” Sam suggested, his voice gentle. “You owe them that much, at least.”

You nodded, the weight of his words sinking in. You knew he was right. It was only fair to be honest with both Joe and Andrei about your feelings. But the thought of that conversation, of potentially losing one or both of them, was worrying.

Andrei felt like he was slowly going insane, his eyes scanning every line of your last text to him over two weeks ago. He had tried calling, but you always seemed to be busy or your phone went straight to voicemail. With the Bengals' season reaching its peak, he had been thrown into a whirlwind of games and practices, leaving him little time to dwell on his feelings. But now, with the team entering their Bye Week, he had nothing to distract him from the hold you had on his thoughts.

On the second day off, unable to stand it any longer, Andrei found himself at your gym again. He hoped to catch you, to talk things through, to understand what was happening. When he saw you, you looked stunning in a sage green workout set that hugged your curves in all the right ways. He approached, his heart racing, his mind a whirlwind of questions and fears.

“Hey,” he called out, his voice calling out softly through the sparsely populated gym. You looked up, your eyes briefly widening before you schooled your expression into something more neutral. He could tell you were surprised to see him, but there was something else there, something that looked suspiciously like anxiety.

You stood from your spot on the floor where you were stretching, casually reaching for your water bottle. “Hey, Andrei,” you greeted him coolly, your eyes avoiding his.

Andrei’s stomach twisted, his mind racing with a thousand things to say. He took a step closer, his eyes searching your features for any sign of your connection. “Can we talk?”

You hesitated, glancing around the gym before nodding. The two of you found a quiet spot in the corner, the clinking of exercise equipment the only soundtrack to your conversation. He watched as you took a sip of water, your eyes desperately trying to find something to focus on other than him. It was clear you were avoiding eye contact, and his heart sank.

“Look, I’m sorry if I misunderstood things and freaked you out,” Andrei began, his voice tentative. “I just... I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about you, and I don’t get why you’re avoiding me.”

Your eyes finally met his, and he was taken aback by the sadness in them. You sighed, setting your water bottle down. You began to clear your throat to speak but paused, your hand picking at a piece of lint dusting your top. Andrei felt his heart racing, unsure of what you were about to say.

“If you don’t want to see me anymore, just tell me,” Andrei said, his voice thick with emotion. “But don’t ghost me. That’s not who I thought you were.”

You could only look at him, your chest tightening at his words. The truth was, you didn’t know what you wanted. Your mind was a whirlwind of Joe’s gravity and Andrei’s sweetness. You took a deep breath, your eyes never leaving his. “It’s not that, Andrei. There was a situation that came up and... I just need some space to figure things out. It’s nothing you did, I promise.”

He searched your face, looking for any hint of what you were referring to, but you offered nothing more. Andrei nodded slowly, his Adam's apple bobbing with an unspoken question. “That’s all I’m asking for. Just tell me if you need some time. I’ll wait, I just... I can’t ignore the way I feel about you. And if you don’t feel the same, then I need to know that.”

Your eyes softened, your heart torn in two. You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “Andrei, I feel the same. I really do.”

He searched your eyes for any hint of a lie, finding none. The relief visibly washed over him. “So, what’s the deal, then? Why the distance?”

You took a deep breath, your mind racing with the events of the past few weeks. You had been avoiding Joe's calls too, the fear of what you might admit in the heat of the moment too strong to risk. The guilt was eating at you. “It’s complicated. I have some personal things to figure out. And I don’t want to lead you on, Andrei.”

Andrei nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “Okay. I can give you space. But, when you’re ready, can we talk again? Maybe go on an actual date?”

You felt a rush of warmth from the earnestness in his voice.

“Sure,” you said, your voice soft. Andrei's smile was like the sun breaking through the clouds. All he wanted to do was give in to the hope that filled him at your words, to press his lips to yours and show you just how far gone he was. But he knew you needed space. So, with a nod, he stepped back.

“I’ll give you some time. But just know that I’m not going anywhere, okay?” His words were firm, a declaration that resonated in the quiet corner of the gym.

You nodded. Your throat was tight with the effort of holding back your true turmoil. “Okay,” you whispered.

Andrei’s eyes searched yours, as if trying to read the story behind your guarded expression. He smiled slowly, a mix of hope and pain etched into the lines of his face. “Cool, just text me when you’re up for it. We can keep it casual, no pressure.” His hands buried in his pockets as he took a step back, giving you the space he promised.

You felt a pang of longing as you watched him walk away, his broad shoulders slightly slumped. The reality of your situation was like a heavy weight pressing down on you, and you couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach. You needed to talk to Joe, to understand why he had come back into your life so suddenly and what he wanted. But the thought of facing him, of admitting to your feelings and the mess you had created, was terrifying.

Days turned into nights and the week stretched on. Your thoughts consumed you, a tumultuous storm of emotions. You went through the motions of your daily routines, but your mind was elsewhere, replaying every moment with both Joe and Andrei. The intensity of your feelings for Joe was undeniable, but the tenderness Andrei offered was something you hadn’t experienced before.

So with a deep breath, you reached for your phone and typed out a message to Andrei. “Hey, I’m free tomorrow. If you’re still down, maybe we can grab brunch?”

Your heart skipped a beat as you hit send, the gravity of your decision setting in. Andrei’s response was almost instant, his excitement palpable even through the screen as he offered a time and a location for your date.

The next morning, as you sat across the table from him at a cozy bistro, the scent of pastries and fruity drinks mingling in the air, you felt a mix of anxiety and anticipation. The conversation flowed easily, filled with laughter and the kind of comfort that comes from unguarded openness. But there was a new tension between the two of you, a known thread of desire that hadn’t been there before.

You found yourself leaning in closer to him, drawn to his gentle smile and the way his soft giggles crinkled the corners of his eyes. When he walked you to the door of your apartment, you held on to a half hope that he would kiss you. But when he just gave you a warm, lingering hug before pulling back to look into your eyes, you realized that maybe this was exactly what you needed. A break from the intensity that Joe brought. A chance to explore something new, something that was patiently waiting for you to catch up instead of dragging you along for the ride.

The door clicked shut behind you, leaving you in the quiet embrace of your apartment. The scent of Andrei’s cologne lingered on your clothes, a sweet reminder of the date that couldn’t have gone any better. You took a deep breath and leaned against the door, your heart pounding.

Andrei hadn’t stopped smiling since he hugged you close that morning. His cheeks constantly flushed, and his eyes gleamed whenever he thought of you. He felt like he was floating, his every step lighter, his spirits soaring. He had been waiting for this moment since he first met you, the chance to show you that he was more than just a younger teammate of your best friend’s fiance. He wanted to show you the man he was and the love he had to offer.

The other guys immediately picked up on the change in Andrei's mood, his energy at practice the first day back from the Bye unmistakably lighter. Tee and Charlie exchanged knowing glances, and Chase was the first to speak up. “You keep smiling like that, you might be able to start catching with your mouth.”

Andrei chuckled, shaking his head as he took his place for the next drill. He hadn't realized he had been smiling so much, but he couldn't help it. The date with you had been like a breath of fresh air, and he was eager to see you again. You hadn’t stopped texting since that day, lightly flirting and setting up another date. He was trying to keep things casual, trying to moderate his excitement, but it was hard when he felt like he was finally making progress.

On the other side of the field, Joe noticed Andrei’s change in demeanor, his own mood plummeting. You had shown no interest in seeing him again, and the realization that you might have moved on with someone else—someone on his own team—was a bitter pill to swallow. He threw himself into practice, pushing his body to the limit to distract himself from the ache in his chest. But every time he looked over, Andrei’s smile was like a knife twisting in the wound.

“I’m down bad, bro,” Andrei chuckled, his eyes crinkling as he watched Tee and Ja’Marr laugh at the honesty of his admission. “I haven’t even kissed her yet and she’s all I can think about.”

“You haven’t kissed her?” Tee’s eyebrows shot up, incredulous.

Andrei shrugged, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I want to, but I don’t want to rush it. I’ll do it when it feels right.”

Tee nodded, understanding. “Just don’t wait too long, man. Girls like that, they don’t come around often. You gotta let her know what’s up before someone else does.”

“Speakin’ of, I’m surprised Joe was cool with you two hanging out,” Ja’Marr said casually, rolling his shoulders as the words spilled out casually.

Andrei's eyes snapped over to him, his smile fading. “Joe? What do you mean?”

Ja’Marr looked up, catching the shift in Andrei's expression. “You didn’t know?” He paused, realizing he might have just stepped into a minefield of unspoken locker room drama. “My bad, bro. Never mind.”

But it was too late. Tee stepped forward, shaking his head at Ja’Marr’s retraction. “Nah, finish what you were saying. Andrei deserves to know what’s goin’ on.”

Ja’Marr took a deep breath. “Okay, so, they had a thing a while ago. No labels or nothing, but it was definitely more exclusive than just hooking up. They decided to cool it off because Joe was focused on rehabbing his wrist, and she didn’t like feeling like a distraction. But they do this weird hot and cold shit every now and then, it’s toxic as fuck, honestly. But that’s just how they like it, I guess. Sam swears they soulmates but I don’t know about all that.”

“Damn,” Tee breathed out, his eyes wide as saucers as the information sank in. Andrei's heart dropped to his stomach, the revelation hitting him like a sledgehammer. The world around him grew quiet, the laughter and shouts from the other players fading into the background. He stared at the football in his hand, his mind racing.

“What the fuck, man?” He looked up at Ja’Marr, his voice low and tight. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Ja’Marr held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Look, we all knew you had a thing for her, but it’s not my place to stir shit up where there might not be anything. Besides, Joe never talks about what they got going on, you know how he is. You and Joe are cool, and she’s not his girlfriend. You do you, you know?”

But Andrei didn’t know. He had thought he had a shot with you, that the connection was real and genuine. But now, knowing that Joe had been in the picture before - and possibly still lurking in the background - the doubt began to creep in. He couldn’t help but feel like he was just the rebound, the second choice. The easygoing charm that usually filled him was gone, replaced by a storm of confusion and anger.

After practice, Andrei went straight to his locker, avoiding Joe’s gaze as he packed up his gear. His mind was racing, trying to piece together what this meant for him. He shot off a text to you, asking to meet up at your place. He needed to hear it from you, to understand the depth of what had happened between you and Joe.

When he arrived, there was a storm in Andrei's eyes that you had never seen before. You felt a sinking feeling in your gut, knowing that something was wrong. He stepped into your apartment, and you could see the tension coiled in his stiff shoulders. He didn’t bother with pleasantries, his question coming out in a rush. “Did you and Joe have something going on before me?”

Your heart stopped. You hadn’t expected this. You took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “We did. But it’s over. It’s been over for a while.”

Andrei’s eyes searched yours, looking for a lie, for any reason to believe you were just playing games. “Then why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was tight, each word forced through gritted teeth.

You felt the walls closing in on you, the guilt of your omission weighing heavily on your chest. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Andrei. It was a complicated situation, and I didn’t know what to say without messing things up between us. I care about you, and I didn’t want us figuring things out to be tainted by me explaining my past with Joe.”

“I don’t care if you hurt me,” Andrei said, his voice filled with intensity. “I care about being with you, about us. How could you think keeping that from me would be better than letting me decide for myself?” His gaze was unwavering, and you knew he wasn’t going to let this go without a fight.

You looked away, your eyes stinging. You knew you messed up, but you didn’t know how to fix it. “I’m sorry, I just—”

Andrei’s hand on your cheek made you stop. He turned your face back to his, his eyes searching yours. “Don’t apologize. Just tell me if there’s still something between you two. Because if there is, I can’t do this. I can’t compete with him.”

Your heart clenched at the raw honesty in his voice. You took a deep breath and met his gaze. “No, there’s nothing going on. I want to move on.”

Andrei studied your face, the tension in his body slowly uncoiling as he saw the sincerity in your eyes. He took a step closer, his thumb brushing over the stress lines marring your face. “Okay,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Okay.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, the air between you charged with a tension that had shifted from anger to something more complex. Andrei leaned in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was both tender and demanding. It was a declaration of intent, a promise that he wouldn’t back down. The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, and you felt yourself melting into it, your hands curling around his shoulders as if you were holding on for dear life.

When you finally broke apart, panting, Andrei searched your eyes again.

“Fuck it.”

He didn’t need to say more. With a newfound sense of urgency, he scooped you up into his arms and carried you to the bedroom, your kisses growing more frantic with each step. The weight of your confessions and the unspoken tension between you had transformed into a fiery passion that could no longer be contained.

In the dim room, you undressed each other slowly, as if savoring every moment. Your hands explored familiar yet new territories, the heat of your bodies melding together as if you were two puzzle pieces that had finally found their rightful place. The intimacy was intense, a blend of attraction and lust that neither of you had ever experienced together before.

“Are you sure?” Andrei’s voice was a gentle rumble against your skin as he paused, his hand hovering over the clasp of your bra. You nodded, the anticipation in your eyes unmistakable.

The rest of your clothes fell away, and you were left in nothing but the glow of the streetlights filtering through the blackout shades. Andrei took his time, exploring your body with a reverence that made your heart swell. Each touch was deliberate, each kiss a silent promise that he would be different from Joe, that he would treat you as more than an option.

Andrei’s hips moved in a steady rhythm, his eyes never leaving yours, as if he was afraid that if he blinked, you would vanish forever.

“Keep those pretty eyes on me, I don’t want you to slip away from me again,” Andrei whispered against your ear, his breath hot and heavy as your bodies moved together. “Gonna make sure you don’t forget me, no matter what happens with him.”

Your eyes searched his, a mix of want and fear. You nodded, your voice a breathy whisper as your eyes rolled back with a flutter of pleasure. He was so deep, so gentle, so deliciously slow as he pushed into you, making you feel like the most precious thing in the world. Your calves resting against his shoulders, legs parted, giving him full access, and he took it with a groan of pleasure that made your toes curl.

Andrei’s eyes never left yours, as if he was trying to memorize every detail of your face in the throes of passion. It was raw and beautiful, and it made your heart ache in a way you didn’t know was possible. You could feel yourself letting go, giving in to the moment.

“I’m all yours,” you murmured, your voice thick with need. Andrei’s response was to kiss you again, hard and demanding, as if he was sealing your fate with every touch of your tongues. The sound of your bodies coming together filled the room, a testament to your connection.

His hips began to pick up their pace, propping himself up on one elbow, his other hand roaming your body, leaving trails of fire wherever it went. Your chest heaved, your breath hitching as you felt yourself getting closer to the edge. You were falling, and you hoped you might never get back up again.

“Fuck,” you whimpered as he reached between you, his thumb circling your clit with a precision that made your back arch off the bed. Andrei’s eyes were intense, watching your reaction with a hunger that only fueled your own. The room was a cocoon of desire, the air thick with the scent of your arousal and the sound of your ragged breaths.

“Good girl, takin’ my cock like this,” Andrei groaned, his teeth clenched as he fought to hold back. He knew he had to give you what you needed, what he knew you deserved. He could feel the tension building in your body, the way you tightened around him with every stroke. He leaned in closer, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, his words hot and fast. “You’re so perfect, baby, so fucking perfect.”

“More, please, I need more,” you moaned, your voice shaking. He could feel the desperation in your words, the need for release, and he was more than happy to oblige. His hand found your neck, his thumb gently caressing your pulse point as he picked up his pace, his hips slamming into you with a force that was both gentle and fierce.

“Come for me, baby, come all over my cock,” Andrei urged, his voice low and demanding. And as if on cue, your body obeyed, the tension snapping as you shuddered beneath him, your orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave. He watched as you came undone, the sight of your pleasure etching itself into his soul. He couldn’t hold out much longer, the feel of you tightening around him pushing him over the edge.

With a moan of his own, he came, his release hot and powerful as he filled you. He collapsed next to you, his tanned chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. You blinked slowly, biting back a smile as you felt him shiver against you, his milky white spend slowly leaking out of you.

You turned onto your side, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth as a hand came down to brush through Andrei's dark hair, your eyes shining with a newfound fondness for the man beside you. He pulled you closer, your limbs tangled together like vines, and you felt a warmth spread through you and couldn't help the giggle that escaped. Your giggles spurred Andrei on, unable to suppress his own chuckle as you two erupted into laughter at the absurdity of your situation.

The room grew quiet, the only sound was your mingled breathing and the occasional creak of the bed. Andrei’s thumb traced patterns on your bare shoulder, his eyes studying your profile in the soft light. “I meant what I said,” he murmured, his voice serious despite the playfulness of moments before. “I want to be the only one for you. I can handle whatever shit comes up with Joe. I just need you to be honest with me.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a knot in your stomach. The weight of your decision settled on your shoulders like a heavy blanket. “I will,” you said finally, tilting your head up to catch his eye. “I promise.” He responded with a soft, lingering kiss on your swollen lips.

Eventually, Andrei’s grip loosened, and he rolled away from you, smiling as you whined at the sudden loss of his warmth. “I need to use the bathroom. Need me to get something to clean you up?”

“Please,” you replied with a tired smile, watching him stride across the room naked. The confidence in his step was something you hadn’t seen from him before - not off the football field at least - and it made your stomach flutter. He closed the door behind him, humming softly to himself. You settled into the sheets, releasing a sigh of contentment.

But like clockwork, it didn’t last long. It never lasted long.

Your phone lit up on the nightstand, catching your attention with the notification of a new text. You rolled over, reaching for it lazily and your eyes widened as you saw Joe’s contact name on the screen. The message was deviously simple, as it always was. Your heart beat out of your chest as you read it to yourself.

Are you free tomorrow? We should do something. Miss seeing you.

[m4nj1r0s]

Slightly!Yandere Shinichiro general headcannons

Note: I went off-track a little with cute moments 😭

- SIMP. You’ve probably heard it 100 times, so let me be the 101st, he is a SIMP.

- Has your picture as his lock screen and Home Screen, has a polaroid of you two in the back of his CLEAR phone case, another polaroid in his wallet and a framed picture of the two of you in his shop.

- Looks at you with love-hearts in his eyes whenever you’re talking. It could be about the economical state of the world and he’d still listen intently just because you’re the one saying it.

- Everyone says he doesn’t have any skills with girls, which is true, but he is genuine and that’s already better than the majority of men.

- Will hug and kiss you in front of his friends because he literally does not care what they think. They’ll all probably groan and tell him it’s gross.

- Has accidentally blown a puff of smoke in your face from a cigarette and when you started to cough he panicked. Got you a cute teddy bear to say sorry though.

- Has your skincare and makeup routine memorized, and products. This man knows your shade and the brand you use for foundation and concealer. Always stocks it up for you when he sees you’re running low. Loves to watch you apply skincare and makeup and will get flustered if you ask him to put it on for you.

- Is always so gentle with you. He hasn’t hurt you, and won’t ever. Not even accidentally. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him!

- Benkei and Takeomi give him bad girl advice. Wakasa knows better but he’s never around when the other two give Shinichiro advice… When he tries it with you, he gets genuinely shocked when you tell him you don’t like whatever he tried.

- One time, he asked you if you were on your period because you were mad at him, and when you asked him why the hell he would ask that, he replied “Takeomi told me that you’d think I was attentive and knowledgeable about women’s hormones if I asked you!!”

- They’re probably the reason he doesn’t get girls tbh

- But he has you, he doesn’t need anyone else.

- He does get jealous super easily. He doesn’t even know how he pulled you in the first place, but he WON’T lose you.

- Has and will use his connections from the Black Dragons to beat anyone who tries to get with you. He’s not going to get his hands dirty (probably because he doesn’t know how to) if he has people to do it for him.

- Celebrates every little milestone in your relationship. Expects you to remember as well. Like, what do you mean you forgot this is the anniversary of the first time he fed you?!

- Dreams of a nice, domestic life with you in the future whenever he sees you with Emma and Mikey. He wants 4 kids and a nice house by his grandpa’s dojo.

- Mikey and Emma LOVE you. You’re their big sister now! Especially Emma. It’s hard for her in an all male household, so you’re her rock when it comes to things her brothers and grandpa don’t understand.

- Emma loves to do girl things with you, like face-masks, doing nails and gossiping about boys you guys like. Although it’s only really Emma who talks about boys she likes, since she’ll get grossed out if you talk about Shinichiro in a romantic manner. That’s her stupid, goofy older brother after all..

- Mikey is constantly asking you if Shinichiro is paying you to pretend to be his girlfriend because you’re wayyyyy out of his league! Shinichiro is a bland 4 and you’re a 10!!

- Mikey and Emma definitely crash your guys’ dates sometimes. Especially if you guys are going on a picnic or to the mall.

- Grandpa Sano likes you as well, you’re keeping Shinichiro from getting into trouble and being a goof. Although, most of that is just how he is.

- Mikey definitely introduces you to Draken as his big sister. And Draken probably sees you as his big sister too, you guys probably do have cute moments.

- One time, you saw Draken sat on a bench on his own and you took him to the convenience store and got him candy to cheer him up and talk about why he was looking down. Mikey joined you guys half-way through with a bag of dorayaki (no, he did not share).

- All in all, you guys are a cute ass couple and the kids all look up to you two.

[inkykeiji]

what now?

character: dabi | todoroki touya

genre: smut + angst

notes: eeeee happy birthday dabi!!! sorry i’m a day late, and sorry i keep writing angst for your birthday. this piece is set directly after dabi’s touya reveal, in that dingy little safe house he seems to love so much! please heed the warnings below and stay safe!

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, rough sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dom/sub dynamics, use of master/owner/sir, fem!reader, minimal prep, biting, branding, blood, the piece switches between both dabi and touya as names, size kink + size difference, spanking, objectification, degradation + dumbification, a lil bit of praise, dabi’s pretty mean when he’s fucking, dabi carries reader, toxic relationship, dacryphilia, choking

words: 8.8k

It’s dark by the time he returns, reeking of charred flesh and ash. He had stashed you away in a decaying little safe house—a place no one else knew about, a place that was his and his alone—and had told you to wait for him. He had promised he’d return to you, no matter how long it took, no matter what happened, he’d be back, pinky swear.

Touya never breaks his pinky swears. Dabi might, though.

You had seen his video. You had been watching the news just like he told you to, anxious, waiting for any sign or indication of trouble, of terror, but the heat and the dust had been too much for the news cameras to penetrate, and there had been no reports of casualties on either side. 

Yet. 

It’s astonishing to think that the whole world knows his name now—his true name, the one buried in his blood and his bones, the one staining his soul, the one he can’t snuff out, no matter how hard he tries. You remember the first time he told it to you. 

“Touya.” 

He had said suddenly, randomly, while laying in bed with you one night back at the League’s hideout—back before all of this was set in motion, back when there was just the gentle clink of glass sounding beneath the floorboards, followed by a muddled curse and the rapid mashing of plastic buttons. 

It was muttered out in the dead of the night, when the wind was stagnant and the moonlight shimmered through grimy windows, brilliance of the beams diffused by the dirt, turning everything a hazy silver, glinting off his stitches.

“Hmm?”

“That’s my real name. Touya.”

“Touya,” you had murmured to yourself, rolling the letters around on your tongue, allowing them to seep into your flesh. “It’s beautiful.”

“Todoroki Touya.”

Oh.  

“It’s still beautiful,” you said softly, after several moments of silence, feeling Dabi melt beneath your words, tender yet resolute. “Even if the man who gave it to you isn’t.”

“Yeah,” he had responded, though his voice had sounded weird to his ears; odd, off, broken. “Fuck that guy.”

And that had been it. You hadn’t made a big deal about it, or pushed him to tell you more, or badgered him with questions and curiosities about his past. You had just accepted it and continued on. 

He had offered up shards of information over the next few months, always murmured out in the dead of night, always a piece and never a whole, always something too jagged to fit with any of the other pieces of his jigsaw he had gifted you. 

But it didn’t matter. Who he was, his past, the name he carries around and DNA twined inside his body—none of it mattered. He was, and will always be, the man you love, irregardless of the name he was born into, and the curse it bears.

The harsh unlatching of that decrepit painting startles you from your stewing thoughts, your gaze snapping toward the noise just in time to catch Dabi crawling through the trick window, entrance hidden behind the heavy gilded frame. 

Your legs toss themselves off the fraying couch the instant his gaze meets yours, heart kickstarting thick bouts of adrenaline to rush through your veins, footsteps keeping time with the tattered exhales each bang of your heart sends barrelling up your throat, body colliding into his only a moment later.

He catches you with ease, laughing loudly as he sweeps you from the floor, strong arms locked at the wrists around your lower back. Instinctively, your ankles hook together at the base of his spine, fingers immediately wandering into the dirty hair at the nape of his neck, whole body wound around his own.

He’s still laughing, bright and breathless and so, so beautiful, even as he crushes his lips to yours, even as your tongue pries past his teeth and slams against his own. It spills down your throat in warm vibrations and you swallow it readily, greedily, hands sinking further into tufts of ink-tinged ivory and twining the strands around your knuckles, desperate to tug him closer. 

The tang of death stings your tongue, earth and copper and smoke, so poignant you swear you can taste their screams, those who lost their lives to his flames and Machia’s feet and the rubble left in their wake, but you don’t care.

You don’t care, because he’s here, he’s home, he’s safe and back in your arms, with his teeth clacking against yours and his spit flooding your mouth and his unruly little giggles consistently breaking the flow of your lips. 

“Did you see it? Huh? Did you see it?” he hurls the words into your mouth, lips still mashed against your own but spread in a smile, sapphire eyes twinkling.

“I did,” you confirm with a nod, tips of your noses nudging. “I did, it was brilliant; you were brilliant, baby.”

“I know,” he snickers, foreheads knocking together, breath wafting in small, ragged pants across your face as his feet begin to move, unable to stand still. “It couldn’t have gone more perfect, I swear to fuckin’ Christ. It was—It was better than I could’ve ever imagined. I can’t even believe it.”

Words continue to tumble from his lips in excited gasps as he twirls in wide lopsided circles slow and careless around the decaying little safe house, his boots conjuring small puffs of dust beneath their soles.

“I wish you could’ve been there, baby, honest. I wish you could’ve seen that fucker’s face, it was fuckin’ priceless, and—Oh! Fuck, how could I forget the best part!” 

Halting his whirling, he pulls back to look at you more resolutely, as if he has to see the whole picture, sapphire darting around your face all wild and erratic, his smile spreading impossibly wider; uncanny, inhuman, eyes glowing with the thrill of the secret he’s about to spill.

“Shouto was there, too! How much happier could a coincidence get!” 

“Shouto?”

“I wasn’t expecting him to be there, but seriously, it was the cherry on top.” 

His feet begin to move again, resuming his impromptu dance number, adrenaline thrumming in his veins, overflowing from his orifices—smile stretching, chest swelling. 

“His presence is what really made it spectacular, you know? Sure, dad was broken, but Shouto…” Dabi shakes his head. “Little baby Shouto was knocked off his fucking feet.”

“Oh, I can only imagine…” 

…How horrifying of a realization it must’ve been; how terrifying it must’ve felt to encounter your father’s worst mistake in the breathing, bloodied flesh.

“I doubt he even remembers me—” Dabi continues, “he was only five or so when I died; he barely knew me at all.” He laughs, but it sounds tangled, caught on something buried in his throat. “Imagine that! Your big brother, only ever a ghost haunting your life, back from the grave!” 

“I’m sure he was very shocked,” you giggle, pressing your forehead to his again, fingers combing through the hair at the back of his skull. 

“Shocked? Baby, he was beyond shocked. He was—He was—I don’t even have a word for it!”

Another laugh spills from his lips, jagged and squeaky and full of razors. 

And, oh, how breathtakingly beautiful genuine happiness looks on him, even if it’s tinted with derangement—the edges of his smile a little too sharp, the glint in his eye a little too vicious.  

“The whole thing sounds magnificent,” you admit, soft and genuine, lips brushing his own. “I’m so happy it went so well.”

“It was perfect,” he gushes in a sigh. “The only way it could’ve been any more perfect is if mom, Yumi, and Natsu were there—but I’m sure they all caught the broadcast.”

You’re sure they did, too. That news programme had been playing on every major screen across the entirety of Japan; you’d have to be buried beneath a rock to have missed it.

He’s still babbling, feet still hopping and skipping around with you cradled tightly to his chest as the anticipation of his return finally wears off, clears from your system, and you take a real, good look at him. 

And your heart sinks.

New burns have bubbled up on his cheeks, leaving only a sliver of skin between them and the scars below his eyes. Staples have snapped in half, hanging precariously from chunks of dead flayed flesh, their broken edges tinged an ugly black, burnt by Todoroki flames. Speckles of crimson are splattered artfully across his hair—though whether they belong to him or someone else, it’s hard to tell—the small remaining patches of healthy skin marred by dried black dye. 

“Baby,” you breathe, struggling to keep your smile from trembling, struggling to keep concern from seeping into your voice. “You’re filthy.” 

“Yeah, you should’a saw the other guy!” he giggles at his own joke, strident and sticky in his throat, but his smile is still so bright.

“And you’re hurt.”

He blows a dismissive breath from between his lips. “Can barely feel a thing, though—and I’m not even rolling right now!” 

“Still,” you say, a frown beginning to weight the corners of your grin. “You should let me clean you up.”

“But it isn’t even painful.”

“Still,” you repeat, tender fingers brushing strands of white back from his forehead. “I want to clean you up.” 

Begrudgingly, he allows it, sat on the closed toilet lid and continuing to chatter on as you tend to his wounds, words bubbling up on breathless excitement, massive smile still slapped, almost uncomfortably so, across his face.

Oxygen keeps escaping him before he finishes his sentences, everything bouncy and enthusiastic, and it’s such a stark contrast to the Dabi you’re used to, with his languid apathetic drawl and unhurried, uninterested speech. 

And despite the subject matter, it’s nice, it’s cute. 

He tells you about his father’s paralyzation and the tears in Shouto’s eyes and the horrified panic coating their faces as careful fingers dab and wipe and smear, meticulous in their task, devoted to their cause, your head nodding along with his endless recounter, emitting the perfectly placed ooh’s and mhmm’s, asking questions when the opportunities present themselves.

And even though you love seeing him this way, full of pure joy and exhilaration, you can’t quite kill the question sprouting in the depths of your mind, chewing on the back of your brain.

What now?

It’s on the tip of your tongue, searing your tastebuds, begging to be spoken. You try to swallow it down, but it claws at the back of your tongue, clinging, curling up in your throat and refusing to be forgotten. 

What now? What’s going to happen now that Enji knows of his existence? What’s going to happen the next time he encounters his eldest child, swathed in the flames he once cherished so dearly, praised so hopefully, eating away at his boy as his hatred burns higher, blazes brighter, consumes his blood and flesh and bones and hopefully swallows down the monster that bred him in the process? 

Will there even be anything left at all? Of either of them?

Does Dabi even care? Does Touya? 

You know he’s still in there, despite the fact that his heart’s been corroded by the bitterness that’s been festering inside of him for eleven years—you’ve seen him. 

You’ve seen him, trailing along with Toga, causticity eating at his teeth as he spits that she’s fucking stupid, this is so fucking stupid, but allowing himself to be led anyway, zero resistance as her tiny hands tug him along behind her bouncing form, feet following willingly. 

You’ve seen him, meticulously picking through the glass bowls at the League’s small Halloween get together, checking and then double checking that everyone’s favourite candy is there, growling that he really doesn’t give a fuck, actually, he’s just looking for his own all the while, despite the fact that his fingers have skipped over that particular chocolate bar several times. 

You’ve seen him, on those nights where Tomura just can’t get to sleep, sprawled out on the couch in the early hours of the morning, dirty boots an inch from Tomura’s crossed legs, staring blankly at his phone and waving Kurogiri off with a go to bed already, old man. 

 So what now?

“He tried to cool me down.”

The sudden switch to a quiet, monotonous voice snaps you from your tangle of thoughts, eyes refocusing on Dabi’s face, realizing you’ve rubbed a streak of his cheek near raw. 

“What?”

“Shouto. He tried to cool me down. With his ice.” A pause, a drop of blood, balancing precariously on his lash line. “Like…Like how mom used to.” 

His Adams apple bobs with the heft of a thick swallow, his eyes blank and unblinking, staring at your shoulder. 

The blood in your veins runs frigid, hand held rigid and hovering over his wounds.

“During the fight?” 

His gaze stays fixed on that spot as he nods, slowly, just once. 

“I was overheating, and he…” 

Another beat of silence passes, the sound of your own breathing echoing in your ears, harsh and fast with the rapid beating of your heart. The blood collecting along his lashes finally overflows, escaping their confines to pool in the crinkles of dead skin and coat gold in crimson.

“Hey,” you murmur, so gentle, so soft it inspires a second wave of blood, dainty hands cupping his jaw and tilting his face to yours. 

Thumbs swipe through the thick streams of scarlet trickling down his cheeks, smearing bright strokes across healthy skin. His eyes, red and glazed but tearless, hold yours for a moment, his nostrils twitching twice. 

Beneath your palms, the hinges of his jaw flex with another dense swallow, warped smile wobbling a little.

“Whatever,” he says, voice less than an octave off from normal. “Doesn’t matter, not important.”

It does, you want to say. It is, you want to insist—

“All I want to do now is celebrate the best day of my life with the love of my life.”

Saliva pools beneath your tongue, the threat of tears thick in your throat.

“Touya…” your eyes search his face, worry woven into the wrinkles between your furrowed brow. “It—”

“Please,” he whispers, so quiet it’s barely more than a wisp of air, his eyes closing briefly for a moment as he gathers himself, lids lifting a second later. “Let me have this.” 

You want to, you so desperately want to—want to allow him this space to be happy, unfiltered and unadulterated, even in all of it’s unhinged, brainsick fervour. You don’t want to ruin this for him, the self-proclaimed Best Day of His Life, but…

What now?

It’s nipping at your lips, leaving them tingling and twitching, but you press your tongue to the roof of your mouth and suck, melting the question in the smothering heat. 

Now is not the time to ask. You will save this question, will fold it into a neat little shape and stash it away in your stomach, where it will rage and roar and demand to be spoken, where you will shove it down and stomp it into submission until it is time to be released.

You refuse to steal this moment from him.

“Okay,” you finally murmur, stroking his blood-slicked cheeks. “Okay.”

It’s hard to ignore the concern scraping at the walls of your skull, to disregard the talons tearing at your heart, to snuff out the flames licking at your lungs, but you’ll do it for him.

Always for him.

And for the first time tonight, his smile softens, sharp edges gone melty with love.

Large hands, hardened by blue fire and the ends of Marlboros, skim up your bare thighs, the callouses adorning his palms scraping roughly against sensitive skin, inspiring trails of chills in their wake. The hem of your dress pools around his wrists as his touch climbs higher, filthy fingers, with dirt caked beneath their nails and grime lining their cuticles, wiggling their way beneath a frilly pink waistband, curling almost protectively around your hips, tips digging into supple flesh just shy of too hard.

“A perfect day deserves a perfect end, don’t you think?” 

The question drips from his lips in a sultry murmur, stare heavily lidded as he tugs you down into his lap, a leering smirk smeared across his face. 

“Oh, yeah?” your arms wind around his neck, nose bumping against his own. “And what’s that?” 

“Stuffing my favourite girl full of my cum.” 

Lips trace along the edge of your jaw as he speaks, words leaving sloppy strokes of saliva as his mouth moves against you skin. 

“Over,” kiss, “And over,” kiss, “And over again, until it’s leaking out of her pretty little pussy, all over her pretty thighs, all over my pretty cock.”

“I think that—ah—I think that’s a great way to end the day.”

“Mm,” he hums, painting a flat, wide stroke of saliva up the column of your neck, the tip of his tongue tracing your cupids bow, nose bumping against your own. “It’s my favourite way to end the day.” 

His lips press to yours, tongues finding each other instantly, dragging across one another in crude, sloppy caresses, heavy and slow and firm as they grind, massaging together in little circles. It’s almost as if you’re trying to soak up his taste, to permanently imbue your tastebuds with it, to keep a little reminder of him—a single piece—with you forever. 

It’s messy, thick drool oozing from the seams of your conjoined mouths, but you don’t care, licking excess saliva from the corners of his mouth, sucking the dribble steadily collecting on his bottom lip, lapping up the foamy spit coating his chin staples, leaving them gleaming with you. 

Lips clash again, teeth gnawing their way into the warm, wet heat of mouths, desperate to devour any part of each another you possibly can, sucking gasps and mewls and laughs from one throat into another, inhaling shards of your souls and swallowing them down, burying them in pits of stomachs and depths of guts—keepsakes, kept safe.

You can taste his blood in your mouth, salty with the tears that can’t fall, trickling from the edges of his eyes. Unfurling from your mouth, the tip of your tongue licks a thin strip up his ragged cheeks, over dead skin and warm bumpy metal, sopping up crimson sadness and consuming it. 

You hold it for him, extract it from him, bear it with him, letting it soak into your heart where it can stay, for as long as he needs it to.

But that isn’t enough for him, because he wants something in return; he wants your blood, too.

Sharp teeth sink into your bottom lip, sucked taut and pressed tight to his tongue, a muted chuckle vibrating in his chest at your responding yelp. The strong hinges of his jaw flex, burrowing ivory deep, deep, deeper into your flesh, until the barrier snaps and copper explodes on his tongue, sticky and potent and so, so much. 

He refuses to release you, ribs rattling with a growl when you try in vain to tug your lip free from its captors, a sob hitching in your throat, followed by a wheezy whine. 

“Stay put, goddamn it,” he mumbles the words through his occupied teeth, tongue stroking your lip in the process. “M’not finished.” 

Your squirming stops almost instantly, body deflating into his own, and he huffs out a snort, hot against your face. 

The grip of his teeth loosens marginally, the tip of his tongue laving over the steadily weeping wound in firm, thorough strokes, tracing every indent his teeth left behind, dips rapidly swelling and filling with watered down blood, a mold of six teeth carved into your flesh. 

The strength of his suction increases, siphoning fresh blood from the tiny gashes, and he moans a little, eyes rolling back in his skull as fluttery lashes frame the whites, his hips twitching up. 

Sicko. 

His cock is already hard, rutting into your core in irregular little movements, the lace of your panties so delicate you swear you can feel it throbbing, his motions molding the dainty fabric to your soaking folds with every slight jerk upward.

Slim fingers flex, grip on your hips tightening and further burying his nails in your flesh as he forces you to begin rocking in his lap, grinding down to meet each roll up.

His lips have left your own again, his mouth streaked with your blood, a pretty pink shimmer glazing the bottom half of his face. Blood is still trickling from the six tiny slashes his teeth left, overflowing from the seam of your mouth and flowing down your chin in unbroken streams. 

Swiping a thumb through the thin floods, he smears sticky crimson across your skin, collecting a healthy swap of the substance on the pad of his finger—so much so it begins dripping down the curve to settle in the lines of his knuckle and his palm.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, repeating the action, painting you in messy shades of yourself. “Just beautiful.” 

A whimper slips through your lips, eager tongue catching his thumb and curling around the appendage—protective, possessive—drawing it into the heat of your mouth. 

He lets you guide him willingly, watches with lust-blown pupils as your lips pucker around the second knuckle, slick tongue cradling his thumb as it sucks it to the roof of your mouth, pools of saliva washing your blood from his skin. 

His breath is coming out in hot, hard huffs, exhaled through parted lips as your mouth tightens, swallows his thumb down further. His pupils pulse, gnawing away at his irises as they try to devour you whole, blue so thin it’s scarcely an outline tracing gaping orbs of black.

Your hips are still gyrating against his in erratic little circles, a single palm still clasped around your waist guiding you, encouraging you as he bucks in response, straining cock rubbing along your cunt. 

It’s just barely catching your clit, nothing more than teasing little grazes, dense heat simmering in the pit of your tummy.

You need more.

“Dabi,” you whine a little, wriggling in his grasp, a desperate attempt to garner more friction. 

“Uh-huh?”

“Touya.”

“Yeah, baby,” he answers, the nonchalance in his tone contradicting the mischief glinting in his eye. “What is it?” 

Chrome chips your nails as you claw at the heavy buckle of his belt, leather squeaking against metal. His free hand captures your wrists easily, holding them together in one palm, hard enough that the bones grind together.

“You want something? Huh?” 

Brows knitting, you glare at him, bottom lip quivering a little, fighting the urge to jut into a full-blown pout, fighting the urge to spit out what do you think? 

“You know.”

He does, of course he does. 

But that doesn’t mean he’s just going to give it to you.

“C’mon, I wanna hear you say it,” he purrs as your chin puckers, your whole face scrunched up in a scowl. “C’mon, baby, c’mon, be a good little girl and ask for it.” 

Sapphire scathes your skin, almost as bright and burning as his flames, his unadulterated attention nearly too much to bear, confidence and brattiness withering beneath his scorching stare.

Lashes fluttering, your eyes flee his, tears forming to shield you from his heat, shoulders caving inward in an attempt to protect you from his unyielding scrutiny. 

“W-Want your cock.”

His tongue clicks in disapproval, a mocking frown slapped across his face barely suppressing his amusement, eyes shining, power flaring. 

“That’s not asking, sweetheart.” 

Swallowing thickly, you force your gaze to his, lids squinting a little beneath his brilliance.

“Can I please have your cock? Please?” 

“Please what?”

And although he’s acting unaffected, he can’t quite quell the spasming of his hips, jerking up in minuscule movements and grinding his cock into your sopping hole, panties clinging uncomfortably to your folds.

An eyebrow raises, a question of Well? I’m waiting… imbued in the subtle action. 

He isn’t going to give it to you unless you ask properly, like a good little girl is supposed to.

As expected.

“Please, Master,” you mewl, fingers curling over the edges of his belt and tugging, sharp leather biting into soft hands. “Please, please, let me ride your cock, Sir.”

Cavernous eyes observe you for a moment, scanning for dishonesty, grin growing when a whine vibrates in your throat, low and needy.

“Please?” you whimper, the leather of his belt creasing beneath your grip, squealing as it rubs together, a plead hitching in your chest. “Pl—Please, Sir.”

“Alright, alright,” he’s pacifying, acting as if he’s doing you some sort of favour, as if his cock isn’t jumping eagerly with each drool of pre-cum leaking from its slit. “Go on, then. Get it out.”

Words of thanks are pouring from your lips as your hands hastily undo his pants, yanking at the buckle, tugging at the zipper, shoving at the waistband, messy and urgent until his cock is finally released.

The stretch is nothing short of incredible, as it always is with him, little hole trembling as it swallows around his girth, drawing him in further and further, deeper and deeper, slow and steady until the head nudges your cervix, his hips twitching up twice, ensuring he’s hit the end, buried to the hilt with nowhere else to go, completely stuffing your cunt full. 

And despite the trademark ache, delicate flesh stinging as it splits into little fissures to accommodate him, your hips begin moving immediately, starved and raring, whimpering a little into his shoulder as you cling to him, every rotation of your hips radiating pricks of pain through your gut.

“God, you’re pathetic,” he snorts, but the insult is soft, edges dulled by love. “So fucking desperate for my cock, aren’t you?” 

“Can’t help it,” you murmur, rubbing your cheek along the curve of his neck, then his jaw, streaking your face with his sweat. “Missed you so much.” 

“I know, baby,” the tip of his tongue swipes through the blood still staining your chin. “Bet you missed my cock just as much, if not more.”

“Yes, yes, Sir,” you’re nodding in messy little motions, hips still rocking languidly against his own, clit gliding against his slick pubic bone in rhythmic strokes. “I did, I missed it s’much—”

A gasp slices through your slurred words, sharp air shoved from your chest as his hips begin snapping upward, rough and ruthless and without warning, the hands grasping your hips tightening around your flesh as he forces you to stay in place.

“Of course you did,” he grunts out, as if it’s preposterous to think otherwise. “I’m not at all surprised; my sweet lil slut can’t live without my cock, can she?” 

“Never, never, ne-never,” you babble out in confirmation, words stuttered harshly with the piston of his hips. 

Another laugh spills from his lips, airy and malicious in melody.

“No, never,” he rasps, ever-so-slightly breathless with the effort, dewdrops of sweat beginning to adorn his hairline. “Fuck, how would you ever get off without me, huh?” 

The question sends a pang searing through your heart, echoing a question you’ve been asking yourself often as of late—how would you ever survive without him? 

The thought stings your eyes, thick tears rushing to cloud your vision and rendering him nothing more than a watery blur of ivory and violet.

“I—I wouldn’t, Sir, I wouldn’t!” you cry out, rapid fluttering of your lids dislodging teardrops, streaming down your cheeks in glistening pairs. “I n-need you, I need you, always, always, al-always!” 

Your fingers curl against his shoulders, nails catching on staples, a hiss spit from the gaps of his teeth. They sink into grafted skin, dead and weathered and dusted in ash, and cling, knuckles locked and stiff as you try to pull yourself impossibly closer to him.

Gnarled flesh collects beneath the edges of your nails as your grip strengthens, chewing on his body and gathering it in your grasp, consuming whatever tiny slivers you can, a silent plead to stay.

“It’s okay, precious,” he hushes you, lips pushed into a mocking pout, contradicted by the smothering affection exuding from his eyes. “M’here, m’not going anywhere.”

God, you hope not. 

“Please, please—” 

And you drown yourself in it, drown yourself in him; his taste, spicy hickory and warm smoke, exhaled onto your hungry tongue, soaked up and swallowed down; his gaze, overflowing with adoration and intense attention, tying itself in a thick braided noose around your neck and tightening; his touch, stamping his prints into your flesh in blotchy bursts of blue, singeing his name with licks of sapphire that welt and wound, that crust and crater and scar. 

Your ribs squeeze, sucked inward by the voracious black hole your heart has morphed into—never sated, never filled, always vying for more—whole body curling beneath the strain.

But he’s right there to hold you, to steady you, to keep you intact, his hands the stitches you need to keep from unraveling.

“I know, I know,” he’s cooing as you choke on sobs, still scraping weakly at his back, “your Master’s gonna give you what you need.”

Slim fingers flex, soot-stuffed nails latching onto your flesh like tiny leeches, dug in nice and deep, using his grasp as leverage to control the speed and angle of your hips. 

Your feet skid against the chipped bathroom tile, the muscles in your legs tensing as you attempt to find stable purchase on the floor trying to aid in his movements, to fuck yourself on him.

It’s no use, though—it’s not like it matters, anyway, not when Dabi’s got complete domination over your body, over all of its movements and positions, manhandling you into whatever arrangement he pleases, reduced to nothing more than his favourite little plaything. 

“It’s real cute,” he’s telling you in that sugared condescension you’ve come to love so much, “that you’re trying so hard to help me.”

A whine escapes your lips, caught somewhere between apologetic and petulant, hips stammering as they begin to slow, and he laughs. 

“Aw, no, don’t stop,” his tongue clicks against his teeth. “Keep trying, it’s so precious.” 

And although his tone is taunting, full of characteristic derisive glee, his eyes are encouraging, begging you to keep going, for him. 

And so, you do, desperate to please him, the muscles in your thighs beginning to burn as you work in vain to pathetically hump away at him, hips knocking together irregularly as your footing continues to slip.

It doesn’t do much to assist him, but he’s happy anyway, a certain type of pride saturating his features, dulling the points of his wide smile, dimming the harsh brilliance in his eyes, turning his face into something a little softer, something a little sweeter.

Dabi keeps an iron grip on the pace—not that you’d ever expect anything different—forcing you to ride him hard and fast, bouncing you on his cock as his hips buck up in expert rhythm, completing your movements every time. The head drags over that engorged spot with each pound into you, sending a judder of scorching sparks to rush through your blood, each bout more intense than the last.

“God, look at you, you’re such a little slut for me, huh?” he pants out, rapacious eyes sweeping across your face, keen to soak up your expression. “Taking my cock like you were fuckin’ made for it.”

He’s really fucking into you now, jerking you on his cock like a toy, because you are—something that’s his to use whenever, wherever, and however he sees fit, something that’s his to own, to care for and splinter to bits and painstakingly piece back together, over and over and over again.

Tears of ecstasy are pouring from your eyes, cascading down your face in twin streams, excess dewdrops embedded in spiked lashes glittering with every rough pump of his hips.

It all hurts—always does, with Dabi, incapable of treating anything with any degree of gentleness; not a flaw, just a fact, oblivious to his own strength—but the pain only works to elevate the pleasure, pushing it higher and higher and higher until it’s choking you, smothering your lungs and stuffing your throat and spilling out your mouth in the form of messy, stringy sobs.

“S’been so long, Sir, so long,” you weep, nails burrowing further into his body, almost as if they’re desperate to reach his core—to pry past his ribs and claw into his heart and curl up in his soul. 

Because it has been so long, too long, most of Dabi’s attention soaked up by Paranormal Liberation duties and his own extensive planning as Shigaraki’s due date drew closer and closer, any scraps of time thrown your way whenever he had a spare moment to sneak off to this dilapidated safe house where he’d stashed you away, his visits sporadic and unpredictable. 

“You’re right,” he says, and there’s a tinge of melancholy to his breath. “It’s been way too long since your sweet cunt has been filled with your Owner’s cock, hasn’t it?”  

“It has, it has,” you’re nodding sloppily, tongue tangled in threads of spit.

“My poor lil pussy,” he pouts, and it’s so derisive. “Must be starving, it hasn’t been stuffed nice and full with my cum in forever.” 

“No, no, no,” you’re chanting in agreement, “feels so empty without you, Sir, feels s-so wrong.”

“Aw, don’t worry, sweetheart,” he crudely laps at the steady stream of tears, vicious bouncing causing his teeth to nick your cheek. “I’m gonna change that.”

Chapped lips find your ear, slicked with saliva, his voice dropping an octave as he continues. 

“Because tonight,” he breathes, sweltering against your ear, his tongue darting from between wet lips to trace along the curve. “I am going to stuff you so full of my cum that—ah, fu-fuck—that it’s going to flood your cute lil tummy, that it’s gonna seep into your organs, into your fucking blood, that it’s gonna be leaking out all over the fucking place.” 

“Oh, oh, please, Sir, please!” 

The pleads come out as a single string, melded together with drool and garbled on your tongue. Little jolts of fire shoot through your body with the constant ramming of his hips, flames licking at your veins as they sear through them, the sharp slap of your ass against his thighs complementing his harsh pants and your broken moans.

“Yeah, I know, my little cumslut wants that so badly, doesn’t she?”

Your brain struggles to stitch together a sentence longer than his name, your mind gone delirious for his seed—and it’s an aching, it’s an addiction, sick and depraved and downright uncontrollable—little uh-huh!’s mercilessly fucked from your throat, head bobbling along with the affirmations.

You can feel it, a taut pleasure building within your body, a fluttering that furls into a tight ball of sapphire flame in the pit of your belly, pulsing a little faster, a little harder, a little more with every drive of his cock. 

“Oh, Touya, Tou—Touya!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, say my name.” 

A growl rattles against his ribs, whole chest vibrating with the force of it, and his head dips down, slick tongue painting strokes of thick, shimmering saliva across your skin, an artist priming his favourite canvas.

“C’mon, tell me who’s making you feel this good—” and although it’s supposed to be a command, it comes out as a plead, voice tapering off into a low whine, muffled against your shoulder. “Tell me, tell me.”

“You, Touya,” you choke out, the name mangling itself in your throat. “You, you, you!” 

“You’re goddamn right, it’s me.” 

Sharp teeth bury themselves in your flesh, mouth clamped over the junction of your neck, harder and harder and harder until the barrier of your skin finally splits, syrupy copper erupting on his tongue. 

His name shatters on your lips, a dark chuckle soaking into the wound when you arch your neck, stretched and strained and offering him more room to work despite the squeal of pain sticking in your throat

It’s all so much, too much, his teeth in your flesh and his cock filling your cunt and—and—!

“Gonna—gonna—!” 

A large palm collides with your ass, sick slap echoing off the cracked walls. 

“Is that any way to ask your Master for permission?” Dabi spits, voice dripping with disappointment. “God,” he huffs out a laugh, incredulous, but the mirth shining in his eyes is so bright, so blazing it almost hurts to look at. “My cock must’ve really made you go fucking stupid, huh? Don’t you know this body belongs to me?” 

Another spank lands against your bottom, a yelp hitching in your chest with the ruthless jackhammer of his hips, his fingers sinking into the burning flesh in a bruising grip, amplifying the sting of the slap, digging it deep into your tissues. 

“This body is not allowed to cum unless I say so—so ask nicely, you little bitch.” 

“M’sorry!” you cry out, a fresh torrent of tears flooding your eyes. “M’sorry, m’so sorry, Master—”

“Yeah? Yeah?” 

His other hand snakes between your heaving, sweat-drenched bodies, thumb and forefinger clamping down on your clit and tweaking, hard enough to force a scream from your tongue, sending spikes of pain rushing through your veins. His fingers flatten against the engorged little nub a moment later, rubbing hard, quick circles into it, a malicious little giggle squeaking in his throat because it’s so swollen, baby and Christ, you must wanna cream all over his cock so badly! 

Sounds of affirmation spill uncontrollably from your lips, head nodding in frenetic little motions, whole face shimmering and sticky with salt, snot, sweat. 

“Uh-huh? Uh-huh?” 

He’s mocking you, chin tilted up in superiority, staring down the bridge of his nose to regard you in patronizing pity, eyebrows raised and imploring you to continue. 

“Apologies are not asking, baby,” his grip catches your slippery clit again, twisting it harder this time, your eyes scrunching shut as a cry shatters on your tongue, fingers scrabbling against his shoulders, tearing out staples. 

He’s right, you know he is, but he’s making it difficult to speak, difficult to ask, difficult to stitch together a single word at all, let alone a full thought, when he’s playing with your clit like that, alternating between pulsing pinches and gentle caresses, the calloused pads of his fingertips providing just the right amount of friction. 

Your whole body quivers with the effort of holding your orgasm back, muscles pulled tight and taut with the strain, and he laughs—beautiful, breathless, bona-fide—cock twitching inside of you. 

“Pl—Please, Sir,” you manage to gasp out, entreatment forced from your tongue in a single thin breath. “Please, let me cum, please, please, please!” 

The pleads melt into one gooey stream as they flow from your lips, slathered in drool and dripping from the corners of your mouth in thick cords. 

“Yeah? You want it? You wanna cum all over your Owner’s cock?” 

“Yes, yes!” you practically wail, pawing urgently at him. “Please, sir, let me cum, make me cum, I wanna—I wanna—”

“Alright, alright,” Dabi’s pacifying, but his actions don’t slow, hips merciless with their assault on your body. “Go ahead, sweetheart, make a pretty mess on me.” 

Never one to disobey a direct order from your Master, you do, almost instantly, entire body convulsing as your cunt pulses around his shaft, gushing so much slick that it floods his thighs and soaks the waistband of his pants.

The constant circles ground into your sensitive clit as you spasm around him only work to heighten the pleasure, brain gone numb with the shocks of ecstasy coursing through your body, another flurry of jolts sent through your veins with every run through the routine, skin rippling with the impact. 

He doesn’t stop his assault even after you cum, vehemently refusing to let up even as the clenching of your cunt fades into something faint and erratic, even as violent tremors loop through your veins, entire body quivering in his tight grasp, even as your fingers claw weakly at his wrist, crooking staples and scraping scarred flesh, blood rushing to fill the gouges left by your nails. 

No, he doesn’t stop until you’re teetering on the brink of passing out, wandering in and out of consciousness, his name leaving your lips in a near incomprehensible jumble, slurred and heavy with spit. 

Only then does he scoop you up in his arms, your legs dangling limply from his elbows as his palms firmly clutch your ass, hard cock still aching and buried deep inside of you, and carry your pliant body to that worn, fraying couch, with the puffs of white cotton leaking through the polyester and the exposed springs groaning beneath your weight.

You barely notice the change in scenery, though, still blissfully fucked out, nerves gnawed raw  by his overstimulation, a soft hiss slipping from between your teeth as the scratchy cushion rubs against your bare bottom, a raised imprint of Dabi’s palm and all five fingers still rapidly swelling. 

“It’s my turn now, angel,” Dabi’s words drift over your body in an indistinct haze, vision fuzzing at the edges, your head nodding instinctively. 

“Gonna—Gonna make good on your promise, Master?” 

“I always do, don’t I?” 

And then his hips are thrusting, cockhead repeatedly ramming your cervix with every harsh plunge forward, leaning down to catch fresh tears with his lips. The tip of his tongue traces their salty trajectory all the way to your bottom lashes, matted into wet little spikes, before sucking a hickey into your cheek, tiny capillaries bursting beneath his tongue, staining the thin skin with swiftly developing violet.

Tufts of ivory cling to his temples in damp clumps, dried black dye liquifying beneath his heat and running down his cheeks, leaving streaks along the line of his jaw and the curve of his neck. Sweat collects in the dips of his collarbones, shimmering gently in the flickering light spilling from the television set, a wavering news reporter recounting the tragic events of today, stuttered by static.

“God,” he nearly whines, voracious eyes sweeping across your face, desperate to soak up your twisted expression of pleasure-tinged pain—the way your lids keep drooping as you struggle to keep them pried open, eyes speckled with stars, lashes encrusted with tears; the way your tongue keeps lolling out to draw your slick lip back between your teeth, muffling your whimpers and mewls, and oh, no, he can’t have that, a gentle tut of his tongue clicking against his teeth as his thumb tugs it free from your mouth, drawing out a stringy whine in the process.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous when you go dumb from my cock.”

The words leave his lips in an airy gasp, as if he can hardly believe you’re real beneath him, as if he can hardly believe it’s his cock making you look this way, a hand leaving your waist to slide along your torso, taking the hem of your dress with it, rough palm tracing every curve and dip and bulge as it crawls to your collarbone. 

He takes his time to admire you—to appreciate the sensation of your skin beneath his touch, fingers gripping, kneading, scraping, gathering palmfuls of you in his grasp before letting go again in a stunned sort of marvel—hips slowing to an uneven rutting, unable to fully halt his fucking. 

Keeping a firm, steady grasp on your body and pinning you in place, his free hand continues to roam, hardened fingertips sinking into the pretty blue lace of your bra hard with enough force to elicit a yelp from your lips, amusement tugging at his lips. 

“So, so beautiful,” he pants, eyes skimming your now exposed body, his fiery gaze outlining every edge, dedicated in committing every contour to memory. “Fucking look at you.” 

In all the time you’ve been with him, your body has become a scrapbook of Dabi. It tells stories of him—what he’s done, how he’s felt, where he’s been, why he did it—stamped permanently into your flesh using his teeth and his tongue and his flames, in raised flesh and puckered craters and glittering scabs.

You can’t tear your stare from his face, though, too busy worshipping him, sapphire eyes gaping and glazed as they travel along your body, soft huffs of breath escaping his lips, pushed from his throat with the tender heaving of his chest, saliva glistening on his lips, smeared so prettily across the staples climbing his chin. 

Dainty fingers grope at the air, pathetic and yearning, clawing at nothing, and he laughs a little, nothing more than a smooth, deep vibration at the back of his tongue.

His touch finds the apex of your thighs again, nails dimpling flesh as he spreads your legs wide—so wide your muscles begin to burn, taut beneath the strain—a quiet groan rumbling in his chest as he stares at your stretched cunt. 

Two fingers press into your clit, still slick and swollen, grazing over it in slow caresses—back and forth, back and forth, gliding easily over the puffy nub and snorting a little at the way your hole flutters, eager and aching, squeezing his cock, sucking him in, begging for more. 

So cute. 

Eyes wide and unblinking, he plays with you in a trance, slowly but surely building up pleasure in you, pressure in you, fascinated by the way your body so readily reacts to his simple motions, grinding circles and rubbing strokes and pulsing fingertips. 

It enraptures him, puffs of hot air exhaled through slightly parted lips as he watches just his touch bring you to orgasm for the second time tonight, obsessed with the way your cunt trembles around his cock, a surge of your essence streaming from your hole, embracing him in a thick, wet heat.

Your cunt gorges on him—so fuckin’ greedy, even after cumming twice—fluttering a little around the base of his shaft, still oozing so much slick that it’s glazing your ass and his balls, steadily seeping past the tight seam of your hole. 

It’s so pretty, it’s so fuckin’ pretty, baby, he’s breathing, eyes hazy with awe, hips drawing back just a little to watch the way your body clings to his girth, sheathing his cock in a shimmering layer of arousal. 

A palm wraps around the base of his shaft, the head of his cock still buried an inch or two in your straining cunt, and he jerks himself hard and quick, sick wet slaps echoing out among the room as his hand slams between your cunt and his pelvis. 

“Fuck, f-fuck—” 

His hips start moving on their own accord, too impatient, his hand nothing compared to the sweltering ecstasy of your cunt, and he releases his cock, sticky hand collaring your throat, pinioning you to the couch, his thrusts so vicious they’re jostling your body up the cushions, the palm crushing your airway keeping you in place.

Lithe fingers flex as their grip on your neck tightens, coarse pads of his fingertips beginning to heat up, blood in your veins bubbling beneath his touch. 

Your flesh melts beneath his hold, melds itself to his grasp, desperate to stay in his hands forever. 

The sting is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, his palm and all five of his fingers singed into your skin in the prettiest, most precious permanent necklace. You can barely breathe, exhales coming as weak little wheezes, and you swear his flames must be licking into your throat, down to your lungs and straight through your veins, incinerating your blood as your body goes numb, cunt clenching around his cock for the third time, wailing out shards of his name. 

But you don’t allow his hold to let up, to loosen at all, both of your hands placed firmly over his, holding it there harder, a loud moan escaping his lips, his hips stammering out of rhythm. 

“Brand me, Master, brand me, brand me,” you’re gasping out, voice wrecked and raw. “Make me yours, mark me as yours, forever!”

“Jesus Christ,” he nearly sobs, his thrusts turned brutal, primal, losing any semblance of finesse as he relentlessly fucks you, motions stuttering as he finally cums, a violent shudder coursing through his body before he collapses on top of you, drenched in sweat as his cock throbs, filling you to the brim with hot, thick cum. 

“More, Touya, more, more!” you’re crying out, scrabbling at his shoulders as you try to pull him closer, shivering legs latching around his waist as tight as you can manage as your hips roll up to meet his own, crudely humping him. “Gimme more!” 

A groan, dense and heavy, spills from his lips, his entire body rippling with hiccups as he ruts into you—automatic, instinctual, desperate to give his sweet girl what she wants, even if it hurts.

“Yeah, yeah, ye-yeah, Touya, Touya, fill me with y’r cum!” 

And so, he does, using your cunt to milk himself even as his form quivers with every rock of his hips, chills skidding across his flesh with every bump of his cockhead against your abused cervix. 

He keeps going, just like you begged him to, just like he promised he would, until your tummy is stuffed full and your cunt is leaking with his seed, until neither of you can take it anymore, bodies shuddering with every hump and drag and grind, deliquescing into one another, a puddle of limbs. 

You stay like that for a while, his body blanketing yours, breathing as one, being as one. Gentle fingertips trail up and down the column of his spine as his bones begin to fuse and harden again, tiptoeing over the trails of staples stitching dead skin to healthy flesh and evoking a mild shudder, pads of your fingers pressing into each golden suture, counting them lovingly, kissing every one. 

Eventually, after your fingers have traversed across all thirty-one, he shifts, manhandling you onto his chest as he shuffles himself beneath you, cradled between his thighs. 

“What now?”

You don’t mean to say it, don’t mean to shatter that delicate, post-orgasmic, precarious peace with two simple words, but they claw up your throat and pry past your teeth and gnaw on your lips, desperate to be vocalized, immortalized, heard.

What now? 

They’re uttered out softly enough, lips moving against his heart, warm breath seeping into his chest, the question worming its way beneath his skin. 

His muscles go rigid, his breath stalling in his lungs.

What happens now that his goal has been reached, Part One in his plan succeeded? What’s the next step, now that the world knows Todoroki Touya is alive and simmering in his hatred, fuelled by spite and ravenous with revenge?

What happens when he goes to face his father for the final time? And what happens if he never returns?

“Oh, I dunno,” he sighs out, but his voice trembles. “We could fix this place up, all nice and swanky, have a couple’a kids, get a golden retriever—y’know, real nuclear family type shit.” 

You laugh, but it comes out strangled, sounding strange to your ears, a distorted sob. 

“The dream, huh?” 

“Yeah,” he says, quiet, nostalgia for a time that has never happened, that will never come, aching in his words. “The dream.” 

A silence settles over the two of you, as tender as the edges of a festering wound.

“I have to do it,” he says after several moments have passed, and his voice is soft—softer than you’ve ever heard it before, softer than you ever thought him capable of—infused with apology.

He does.

You know he does. You understand why. That’s how the story ends, the final chapter he’s been drafting—you were never meant to be a part of this tale, written in between lines and margins, stuffed between words, twined throughout the pages nonetheless. But ultimately, this is his story—to write, to tell, to edit, to revise, to create, to conclude. 

You know.

But the acceptance sticks in your throat, furled into a tight, hard lump, so you nod instead, punctuating your affirmative with a kiss pressed to his chest, planted right over his heart. It soaks into his skin, burrows itself into pulsating muscle and finds salvation there, finds home there, a puzzle piece that snaps into perfect place—something that’s always been missing, now complete. Something he’ll take with him, when his pen leaves the page, when his book snaps shut.

You don’t dare look at him. You don’t need to. You can feel the stutter of his chest, hear the hitch of his breath tangling on hard truths to swallow, smell the copper streaming down his cheeks again.

And you hug him tighter. 

You know. And no matter how badly you wish to, you won’t stop him. 

[tojisun]

bear with me but uhm

we can’t be friends by ariana grande is so. like. best friend reader x hockey player/best friend! gaz during their collegiate years

just the overflowing pining and the “he can’t possibly like me…” moments with your friends while you all stay up late at night, trying to study for your midterms.

and your friends tell you—because they know—that no, you’re totally wrong because kyle absolutely can—because he does—like you. but your doubts continue to bloat, and how could they not build when kyle’s being scouted for the damn junior leagues, and he’s soaring heights you can’t reach because you’re stuck here, left behind, and you just.

you love him so much.

he is everything good in your life. everything that is beautiful.

he fills you up with so much joy and love, and he is so gentle and careful and tender, but also so full of silliness and boyish charm as he pranks you and fucks with your brother, tugging you two out of your slumps—for separate reasons—and is so patient when your minds continue to fight back.

kyle tucks himself beside you when it’s off-seasons, helping you with the courses that you find the hardest. he is so warm beside you on those days, and you burn from within because the words you want to say tickle the back of your throat, building, almost spilling, until—

“i got drafted for the juniors!” he yells, laughing, hoisting you up in his arms, deaf to your shrieks.

and.

and time pauses, it stills, because kyle is taking off, leaving you.

“holy shit,” you say, giddy despite the cold dread of your loneliness creeping down from the base of your neck to the plane of your spine. “holy shit, kyle, that’s so- i’m so-”

his eyes are bright, warm, full of unbridled joy, and his cheeks are round in his smile.

you breathe in, forcing the dread out of your chest because— “i’m so proud of you, kyle,” you say, and you mean it.

despite the fear and the anxiety of being separated from him, you truly are so, so proud of him.

he hugs you close and you pretend that the tremors overtaking your body is because of your excitement.

[dreamsinarcadia]

The Window

The one where sleep-logged Sonny forgets to close the window

pairing: sonny x fem!reader

warning: yet to be proofread

She wondered how best to describe her love for Sonny. Some days it was exhilarating as it was intoxicating - he’d come home armed with flowers and a smile so bright it’d crease the corners of his eyes. He’d linger at the door and fill in the silence with stories of his day as she’d nod attentively from her spot in front of the mirror, applying make up while trying not to melt into a puddle at the intensity of his gaze. Some days he’d walk straight into her arms, a storm cloud practically raging to life over his head as he’d lament the loss of the day’s match.

But even in times of pure frustration, Sonny’s gentleness was like a blessing in disguise - a patch of blue sky amongst the dark clouds. He’d wrap strong arms around her, trapping her in the bastille of his warm embrace on nights when the silence was deafening, inadvertently chasing away the shadows of doubt that she didn’t even realize were creeping in.

Waking up to the uncomfortable prickles of a shiver running rampant on her skin was by no means the way she wanted to be greeted in the morning. With a disgruntled sigh, she willed her eyes to open as much as possible to try and read the time. The clock on the bedside table read 7:35 am, a perfectly reasonable time to wake up and get ready for work, yet all she wanted to do was burrow deeper into the covers and slip right back into dreamland.

She honestly had no one to blame other than herself (and maybe even Sonny). She’d insisted that her boyfriend eat something before bed, and he’d retaliated by coaxing her to staying up way past both their usual bedtime hours. She’d charmed him with stories of her grandmother playfully wielding her slipper as a weapon against her siblings, her father travelling from Goyang to Seoul on a daily basis in an attempt to woo her mother, and a few more stories in an attempt to distract him from the weariness of the day. Of course, this meant that she’d lost track as the hours that slipped away in the quiet comfort of each other's voices, filling in the gaps that too often felt like chasms in their time together.

With the demands of his life, Sonny was like a fleeting gust of wind in the summer. It was a demanding lifestyle, one that he’d fought tooth and nail to achieve. Bearing this in mind, she never once asked him to devote more time than he honestly could on her. So when he could carve out time just for her, she treasured it, sleeplessness and all. His laughter was worth the countless yawns she’d have to endure at work (much to the amusement of her coworkers).

He was worth the loss of sleep.

Shifting underneath the covers, she focused her gaze on Sonny, dozing blissfully by her side. The sight of him, long lashes resting against the curve of his cheeks and his lips parted just slightly enough for a light snore to fill the silence, made the corners of her mouth tug upwards into an amused smile. He really was the epitome of innocence at moments of stillness, the sharp edges of a man put down by the events of the day lost in slumber. His arm was draped languidly over her waist, anchoring her close to his side in that tender and protective way he always did, even in his sleep. He always ran hot; the heat and weight of his limb was nothing short of grounding, reminding her that despite the chaos of his world they were each other’s anchors.

Yesterday’s match against Liverpool had been resoundingly intense, and the following drop in points on the Premier League table had taken a toll on him. She could tell that he was beyond exhausted. The performance could honestly be chalked up to the fact that half the starting team was in the depths of a medical nightmare. They’d lost, and yet Sonny blamed no one but himself. He felt raw, exposed, his mind a blend of misery and despair, haunted by the taunting boos and curses flung his team’s way from the fans in the stands. The bitter disappointment of the evening still clawed relentlessly at his dreams.

The unhurried flutter of the window curtains signalled the cool morning breeze intruding into her bedroom, but not even the chill of the breath of wind could wake the human furnace beside her. As she lay in silent envy of her boyfriend’s ridiculously gorgeous slumbering form - whilst wondering how best to shove him off the bed in the nicest way possible - her attention zeroed in on the open window.

The claws of another chill ran shivers up her spine, so she burrowed deeper into Sonny’s side, taking full advantage of the warmth he inadvertently provided. As if sensing her discomfort, his arm immediately curled tighter around her waist, though he remained in a state of blissful slumber. He must have been running through mental notes on the match though, because his muscles were tightly coiled as if ready to spring into action at any given moment. His breathing, in contrast, remained steady and constant, and she tried to match her own breathing to his rhythm. Maybe that would help lull her back to sleep.

Her eyelids fluttered as drowsiness quickly began to pull her back into its loving embrace.

If only she’d remembered to close the damn window before bed—

And suddenly her eyes were wide open as realisation slammed into her consciousness. She was not the window culprit. It was Sonny!

She hadn’t been in the room at the time, but she could easily picture it; him half-dazed, muscles screaming in protest, vision clouded with the weight of the match’s results, and then . . . the window left ajar, as if his mind couldn't quite handle the simple task with everything else loaded on his plate.

She couldn’t even feign annoyance even if she’d tried. He must have been truly drained to forget a task that he’d practically drilled into his routine. She took the time to appreciate the familiarity of his body pressed against his own, the rhythmic thump of his heart beat, the wonderfully mind numbing scent of vanilla and something so indescribably Sonny and the way her fingers travelled up to tangle his hair, eventually pulling him from his dreams.

Face twitching, long eyelashes fluttered against the pillow as his lips parted to inhale a sharp bout of air. Her fingernails scraped lazily across his scalp, the familiarity of the motion finally waking him from whatever remnant of sleep he had been lost in.

“Sonny,” she whispered playfully. “Did you forget about anything last night?”

He grumbled incoherently in protest, shifting a little to try and pull her closer, but she wiggled back just enough to keep him succumbing to the drowsiness. As if to prove her point, she jammed her icy toes into his knees. He immediately jerked, his forehead creasing as his eyes shot open at the surprise attack, no longer able to hang onto the last tempting tendrils of sleep. Sonny blinked, not quite seeing her through the thick haze of sleep. The half-conscious, and thoroughly puzzled, sleep-logged look he gave her honestly was adorable.

“Goodnight kiss?” He tried, voice rough with sleep and doing wonders to send an eruption of butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. His cheeky little smile carried the tilt of mischief she’d come to adore.

Shuffling forward to close the gap she’d created, Sonny pressed a kiss to the warmth of her cheek, taking a second to marvel at the immediate relief of tension from his shoulders. He could spend days in bed like this with her.

“The window, Son Heung-min,” she reminded him. “I’m freezing.”

His expression adjusted as a less than stellar joke dawned on him. “Ah,” he exclaimed thoughtfully. “I’m Heung-min.”

She really did resist the force of a tidal wave in order to stop her eyes from rolling to the back of her head, so chose to jab a finger into his shoulder instead. “Baby. The window.”

Sonny blinked, trying his best to assess her words the best he could after having just woken up, before craning his neck to pin his gaze on the confounded window. Clarity finally broke through as he smashed his face into the pillow and groaned to try and escape the responsibility. The corner of his mouth, however, quirked into a small apologetic grin. “I forgot. I’m sorry.”

“Mmm. You’re lucky I’m comfortable,” she teased lightly, combing her fingers through his hair and running them across the back of his neck, watching in delight as he shivered delicately under the cool touch.

Humming in agreement, he yanked her closer to his side and grabbed the sheet so that she couldn’t escape. “Can I close it in a minute?”

She raised an eyebrow, a gesture that he couldn’t see from having his face mashed into the pillow, but definitely felt in his bones. “I can feel you glaring at me ,” he mumbled as she laughed and kissed his shoulder. It was time to get up and get ready for practice anyway.

He released a groan that came from the depths of his chest, clearly not thrilled about leaving the comfort of the bed and his beloved girlfriend, but the glint in her eyes was inventive enough to get him in motion. At a snail’s pace, he pushed himself up, his bare chest exposed to the chill in the room (he’d shucked his hoodie into a corner of the room at some point in the night). His sweatpants hung delectably low on his hips, the fabric clinging to his frame in a way that left so very little to the imagination.

In that moment, she just laid there, still in the soft glow of the morning light, admiring him as he broke into a lazy jog to close the window. His muscles rippled with each movement—his broad shoulders, the small bruises adorning his hip and legs at whatever knocks he’d picked up on the field, the defined lines of his chest and abs, all sculpted from the harsh physicality of the life he led, a few of the endless challenges and unspoken battles on the pitch. There were scars—faded over the course of time—chiselled into his skin like a map of his past, each one a testament to the strength he carried, the price he paid to be the athlete he was now.

She never asked about them; they were a part of his past that he’d really rather not have experienced. Though they were reminders that the sport he played was at times more dangerous than expected, they never scared her. If anything, each scar made him more real… more human. More her Sonny than the beloved Son Heung-min captaining both a Premier League and National team.

Her heart practically swelled triple its size at the way his back muscles rippled when he yanked the window shut with a nimble touch before turning around. The chill no longer bit at her skin, and the air was significantly warmer. The warmth, however, wasn’t simply because of the window being closed. It was him. It has always been him.

Sonny’s lips, upon catching her gaze the moment he’d turned around, curved into his signature wide smile, completing missing the fact that she was ogling him like a tall glass of cool water on a sweltering summer day. “Better?”

“Yes,” she mumbled. “Thank you.” Her voice, still a little rough with sleep, caught in her throat as her eyes raked his figure. She was fighting an internal war to keep a raging blush from colouring her cheeks and setting her ears on fire.

His smile faltered at the way she’d been silently staring at him, mistaking the quiet admiration of his build for something else. Raising a hand, his fingers ventured across the five o’clock shadow on his face. “What? Drool on my face?” he asked, a touch of humour in his voice.

She shook her head. “No,” she said, much softer now, “just… you.”

Crossing the distance between the window and the foot of the bed, Sonny beamed down at her and scrunched his brows in question. “Me?”

Words couldn’t quite articulate how much she loved him, and she didn’t quite know how to get the message across without bursting into tears. “I love you,” she said simply, choosing to tell him the truth as it simply was.

He stood still, smile melting into something that read quiet contemplation as he studied the sincerity in her tone and eyes.

"You do?" he murmured, his voice a little raspier than usual, thick with untapped emotion. He rounded the corner to stand by her side and reached over, his hand brushing gently against the apple of her cheek, a gesture that seemed to speak volumes more than words could.

She nodded, her impish little smile still there, but now tinged with a softness that only he could extract from her core. "Yes," she whispered again, a little breathless at the unexpected intensity of the moment, "just you, Sonny."

The silence seemed to stretch for hours, though it was a glacial ten seconds at best. He studied her, his gaze deep and knowing, like he was searching for something in her eyes. And then, with a slight curve of his lips, he said it back, his voice so raw, so full of everything he usually kept hidden beneath multiple layers of humour and sarcasm.

“I love you.”

It was simple, but the way he said it—the way his fingers ghosted over her cheek before trailing down to cup the back of her neck, the way his gaze softened, like the weight and noise of the world didn't matter as long as she was there—made the words feel more real than anything. Then, slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing against her in a soft, lingering kiss.

When she pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, his breathing steadier now. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

“Yes, you do,” she countered, moving her hands from underneath the covers to rest on his shoulders. “And if you can’t believe that right now, then believe this: I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”

He didn’t respond with words this time. Instead, he wound his arms around her frame to pull her in, holding her like she truly was the only thing anchoring him to the world. And perhaps, for the time being, that was exactly what she chose to be.

They stayed like that for a while as the morning stretched on, ignoring the cries of the alarm that alerted them of the danger of running late for work. And honestly? The world could wait.

happy new year everybody 💙

comments and reblogs are always appreciated 💙

[reverieparacosm]

Swain x F!Reader, if you have the time and energy?

Swain (League of Legends) x F!Reader

Summary: Worried for Swain, burdened by his responsibilities, you find comfort in his presence.

Warnings: none

Note: Here it is! I wanted to write a small and cute scene. <3

The chill of the night presses against your skin, a welcome respite from the stifling heat of the day. You stand at the balcony's edge, the city sprawled beneath you like a tapestry of flickering lights. A lone raven, its silhouette stark against the moonlit sky, circles overhead, its caw echoing the unease that gnaws at your gut.

You are lost in contemplation, your thoughts a tangled web of anxieties and desires, when a shadow falls across the marble floor. The click of heavy boots on stone sends a shiver down your spine. You don't need to turn to know who it is.

"My dear," Swain's voice, a silken whisper laced with steel, slithers into the silence. "It is late. You should rest."

You turn slowly, meeting his gaze. "My mind, Swain," you say, your voice barely above a breath, "is too restless for sleep."

You feel his presence draw nearer until he is standing right beside you. His physical form is intimidating to most, with his black armor and fierce demeanor, but to you he has always been gentle.

"What troubles you so?" he asks, genuinely concerned.

You hesitate, unsure of how to express the tumult of emotions within you. Swain patiently waits, as he always does, for you to gather your thoughts.

"The responsibility you bear is crushing," you whisper, your voice trembling. "You carry the weight of an empire on your shoulders, alone. What if… what if we lose?" The thought of Swain, defeated, is unbearable. "I only wish there was more I could do to ease your burden. What if you…" you can't finish the sentence. Your heart aches with the fear of losing him, of losing everything.

He turns to face you, lifting your chin delicately with his gauntleted hand so your eyes meet his intense gaze.

"You ease my burden more than you know simply by being at my side. Your caring nature and compassion are a rare light in this world of constant battle and sacrifice. Do not underestimate the strength you give me."

His words warm your soul but still you worry. "What of the future, when we are gone from this world? Will our lives have meant anything if Noxus does not endure?"

A small smile plays at the corners of his lips. "You question too much the fickle hands of fate, my dear, when the present offers so much more."

He brushes a gentle kiss to your forehead, and you sigh contentedly, finally relaxing into his tender embrace. You lay your head against the ornate plating of his chestplate, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart beneath. Here, in his arms, is the only place you feel truly at peace.

After a tranquil moment, Swain speaks again. "Come, walk with me through the gardens. Their beauty may help lift your spirits."

Hand in hand you wander the moonlit paths, surrounded by fragrant blossoms in full bloom.

Fireflies drift through swaying leaves and vines like miniature sparks of hope, their gentle pulse a counterpoint to the adagio of your hearts. Pausing beside a lush orchid display, you admire exotic blooms in muted daylight. Their delicate petals flutter with every whisper, seduced by summer zephyrs carrying whispers of love unvoiced.

Turning, Swain's gaze meets yours beneath a tapestry of stars. His large hand encloses your cheek in a gentle caress, belying the ferocity lurking beneath silk-clad skin. Leaning into his touch, you sigh softly.

"These remind me of you, delicate yet resilient," Swain observes. "Just as fragile beauty can thrive even in the harshest of environments, so too does your kindness persist despite witnessing endless hardship."

His words warm your face with a blush. For such an intimidating leader, he has a poetic soul. You turn to face him, meeting his intense gaze once more. An unspoken understanding passes between you in that moment.

Closing the mere inch between your parted lips, Swain seals your mouth with his own in a kiss of deepest longing. A sigh escapes you both to mingle in the breathless space. His lips mold fervently to yours in slow exploration, reacquainting himself with every subtle contour.

A flick of his tongue begs entrance, which you gladly grant with a small moan of surrender. The kiss deepens as Swain maps your willing mouth with thorough passion. You cling to his broad shoulders, warmth curling low in your stomach from his sensual tutelage alone.

All too soon, he withdraws just enough to graze your kiss-swollen lips in fleeting adoration. Your eyes flutter open to meet his smoldering gaze, mirroring the flames he has kindled within your core with nothing but his kiss.

Chests heaving, you remain locked in wordless communion, desire and devotion flowing between you like an unbreakable current. The kiss has left you aching for infinitely more.

When you finally part from him breathlessly, Swain takes you in his arms and continues on his way at a fast pace. You cling to him trustingly as he carries you back inside, the doors of your chambers bursting open with a flick of his wrist. Gently he lays you upon the feather-soft bed, following to hover protectively over your trembling form.

His eyes drink you in like fine wine before capturing your mouth in another searing kiss.

Hands that have commanded vast armies now roam your body with achingly tender care. Safe in Swain's embrace, all the world seems to fade away, leaving only your entwined forms locked in an ageless dance of passion beneath the starry light.

In the hazy afterglow you lie nestled against his broad chest, fingers idly tracing patterns across his scarred skin as his even breaths stir your hair.

A deep serenity fills you, chasing away the restless thoughts that had plagued your mind only hours before.

Swain places a lingering kiss to your forehead. "However the tides of fate may turn, know that you have given my life purpose and joy like nothing else. I vow to you that as long as there is breath in my body, Noxus will stand, so that our love may endure through the ages."

You smile blissfully up at him. "Then let this be the new dawn of an era where compassion and strength walk hand in hand." With that you seal your promise with a tender kiss of your own, hearts content to leave the future in wiser hands than your own as you lose yourselves fully in each other's loving embrace beneath the night sky.

[chuunai]

fem girlfriend dazai ! who is whipped for you. her heart can’t contain all the love she feels for you, her darling belladonna. the one who she clings to nonstop and covers in lipstick marks. kunikida doesn’t approve of it at the office, but she sure does. besides, sitting on your lap and burying her face in your tits is way nicer than documents that atsushi can do.

fem girlfriend dazai ! who clasps your hand openly as you two walk home from the office, whining about how ‘boring’ and ‘horrible’ it was without you when she had to go on a solo mission. the chime of a door opening as you two buy canned crab for dinner because your girlfriend can’t cook and neither can you. her voice calling out to you as she begs you to buy some shitty matching couple’s shirt. you’re too broke to buy it, so you go home.

fem girlfriend dazai ! who lazes around on the couch staring at you as you make a makeshift meal of canned crab, sake and some random vegetables. her lap is your seat—no other option is available. she always steals your food, it’s practically impossible to eat by yourself at this rate. imagine trying to eat a snack in your closet, only to feel her hands come out from nowhere and take your food because turns out she was in the closet too!

fem girlfriend dazai ! who helps you clean dishes afterwards, seeing the suds gather on both your hands as she playfully bumps her hip against yours. drying both the dishes and your hands off as she nibbles on your ear for fun. although the sight of your skin wet with water has got her prepping her tongue muscles for a long night.

fem girlfriend dazai ! who happily spends a night between your thighs, lips wrapped around your clit as her fingers knead at your thighs and hips. death by suffocation of your thighs is a great way to die. her last meal, too—the way her tongue licks a long stripe up your pretty cunt, juices coating her chin. it doesn’t matter how many times you’ve came already, you can give her just ‘one more’

fem girlfriend dazai ! who eventually gives you mercy, wiping off the mess between your legs with a towel before snuggling up to you. she’s always been too tired for proper aftercare, but she doesn’t hold back from cuddles and kisses. telling you about how good you were, her head nestled on your chest. her pretty girl makes her heart beat so much and fast.

fem girlfriend dazai ! who watches you drift off to sleep, her insomnia keeping her up. watching how your chest rises and fall with each breath you take, the gentle murmur of her name—‘osamu’—slipping out as you dream. probably about her. she wouldn’t blame you, though. she’s irresistible, yet you’re so out of her league.

fem girlfriend dazai ! who wonders why you picked her as your girlfriend. in her opinion, you could’ve had anyone, yet you picked her fucked up self. the weight of her past and all that it means for the future. god, you’re too good for her. she’s not good enough to put a ring on your finger. not good enough to wake up next to you every morning as you smile and kiss her. but she’s too attached to leave. ever.

fem girlfriend dazai ! who ultimately decides to sleep, eyelids slowly closing. it’s been two years already, you and her. the relationship. maybe soon, she’ll be good enough to take you to that one park nearby—with the pretty pond and tulips and roses—where she’ll get down on one knee, pulling out a box and asking that dreaded yet needed question.

fem girlfriend dazai ! who can’t bear to not be yours.

[flwrkid14]

Damian Wayne’s LPS Collection – It’s Not Playing with Toys

Okay, so imagine this: Damian Wayne has a secret Littlest Pet Shop collection.

Not because he likes toys, of course—don’t even dare suggest that to him—but because they’re tiny animals. And we all know Damian has a soft spot for animals. If he can’t have a real shark, lion, or eagle in Wayne Manor (not that he hasn’t tried to convince Bruce), he compensates by collecting their miniature versions.

Each animal has a name. Every. Single. One. They all have distinct personalities too. His tiger, for example, is named ‘Asad,’ and it’s fierce but gentle. His dolphin, ‘Iris,’ is curious and stubborn. There’s a black-and-white shorthair named ‘Sable’ who bears an uncanny resemblance to Alfred the Cat (and might just be his favorite). Damian has meticulously thought up their likes, dislikes, favorite foods, and even specific ways they “interact” with one another.

But here’s the kicker: Damian refuses to admit that these figures are anything remotely close to toys. No, no—he collects them. They help him stay in tune with animals he respects but can’t keep. He’s not playing with them, he’s “accompanying” them.

Example? Damian shows up to dinner, Sable tucked into his jacket pocket. When Dick raises an eyebrow, Damian coolly explains, “No, Grayson, I am not playing with toys. She is merely accompanying me at dinner. I find her presence comforting.” Dick tries to hide his smirk because, seriously, it’s so Damian.

Deep down, though, these LPS figures give Damian something important. They allow him to be a kid—in a way he’s always struggled with. Sure, he’ll never admit that, and yes, he might even find the act of “playing” with figures completely beneath him. But these tiny animals let him indulge in a bit of imagination, something he didn’t have much of growing up in the League. It’s quiet. It’s personal. And it’s something that brings him comfort in a world that can often feel too big and too serious for a boy his age.

So if you catch Damian in the Batcave with a mini lion figure on the desk while he’s working on mission intel? Just know he’s not playing. That’s ‘Shahir,’ and he’s only there for… company.

[tickly-giggles]

Feather Ticklish (My Hero Academia)

Warning: Tickle fic ahead!

Characters: League of Villains (Shigaraki, Dabi, Twice, Hawks)

Shipping: Technically DabiHawks but they're not together yet

Lee: Dabi

Ler: Hawks

Word Count: 2,683

Summary: During a meeting at the LoV hideout, Hawks notices Dabi looking more down and apathetic than usual. He tries to make him feel better, but when words don't work, he realizes he may need to take another approach.

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

It had been quite a slow day. The League of Villains had rather frequent meetings as of late, especially due to the pesky heroes getting on their case now more than ever. They usually consisted of what their goals were to be after they succeeded, an entire alphabet of alternative plans, and what to do in the worst case scenario - that being the heroes finding their hideout, a traitor in the League, or one of the League members dying.

The current meeting was regarding their newest recruitment, and how he was going to be of service to them. Shigaraki had a way of talking that made the meetings simultaneously entertaining, yet hard to bear. He was very passionate when he spoke, but his voice was shallow and raspy. Hearing it in large quantities didn’t help Dabi’s headache, especially when he had a tendency to ramble and go off topic.

The hot-headed villain rested his head against the big table they were all seated at, the cold surface stinging his skin in a refreshing way. Slowly, everything started to sound as if he were underwater, and he tuned out his cohorts’ voices. With a gentle sigh, Dabi closed his eyes and listened to nothing while he waited for his headache to subside. 

Bzzzt-! 

He jolted at the sudden vibration against his leg. With a low grumble, he fished his phone out of his pocket and glowered at the notification.

Bird Brain: hey, u look down. u ok?

Dabi furrowed his brow, then looked up at Hawks. He was sitting directly across from him.

Hot Stuff: Why are you texting me? You’re right in front of me.

Bird Brain: we’re in a meeting. i cant just talk over ppl

Oh, he supposed that made sense. Dabi rolled his eyes and responded.

Hot Stuff: Well I’m fine. Now leave me alone.

Dabi huffed as he placed his phone on the table, screen side down. He tuned back into the meeting - what was going on? … Ah, Shigaraki moved onto a different topic. 

Twice raised his hand, “I know we’ve talked about the heroes finding our hideout, but what’s gonna happen if they do? I’m not worried, they’ll never find us!”

“Even if they did find us, Twice, they would stand no chance against us.” 

Shigaraki put two fingers to his chin for a moment, then smiled weakly at his friend, 

“Think of it all like a video game. We’re an army defending an entire tower, and another army is coming after us with their own arsenal of weapons. We have to defend as much as we can and, in the meantime, we’re only getting stronger.”

He smirked and raised his arms out on either side of him, taking a confident, triumphant stance,

“We learn the opposing army’s strengths and weaknesses, as well, and that only further solidifies our victory!”

“We shouldn’t be too lax about it, though,” Hawks chimed in calmly.

He grinned at Shigaraki and leaned back in his chair, resting his hands behind his head,

“The heroes may not know about the hideout now, but we shouldn’t rule it out as a possibility.”

“Of course, which is why this is our course of action.”

Dabi huffed and rested his chin in his hand, absentmindedly watching the meeting go on without really listening to anything being said anymore. None of it really concerned him. He knew what he was going to do if the heroes infiltrated. He was going to kill them, every last one. He watched as Shigaraki took the floor once again, rambling on about yet another plan.

Bzzzt-!

What did Hawks want now?

Bird Brain: u sure ur good? u look tired

Dabi glared at his phone as he irritably typed back a response.

Hot Stuff: I’m tired of you texting me, leave me alone. 

Bird Brain: why’d u give me ur number then?

The hot-headed villain growled and placed his phone back down, a little harder than he meant to. He rested his head in his hands and breathed in slowly, trying to calm himself down. Admittedly, he wasn’t sure why he was so angry. He just felt very tired and wanted to be left alone.

Suddenly, his body involuntarily twitched and jerked as he felt something soft rub up against his side. He furrowed his brow and swatted at it, thinking it was just a bug or something. When the soft flicking persisted, however, his chest tightened and he clenched his fists in an attempt to keep the overwhelming desire to react at bay. 

What was going on?!

Dabi’s breath hitched as he felt a second offender flick against his lower tummy, and it was getting increasingly more difficult to keep himself calm.

Bzzzt-!

Not now, Hawks!

He opened his phone and his stomach lurched at the text.

Bird Brain: somethin the matter~?

Dabi looked up at Hawks, who had the biggest shit eating grin on his face. No one else seemed to notice how he was acting, so this had to be his doing. Then, it all clicked. He shakily grabbed at the soft objects that kept sending tingles up his spine and, when he grabbed one, pulled it out of his shirt.

A red feather.

If looks could kill, Hawks would have been turned to ash. The number two hero bit back a howl of laughter. He gleefully savored Dabi’s reaction, so much so that he sent even more of his feathers to attack the annoyed man.

“Grrk-!” 

Dabi gasped and desperately clutched his seat when he felt feathers on every healthy part of his torso. Most of his body was scarred, but the parts of his skin that weren’t were extremely sensitive. He was having trouble keeping it together, and Hawks’ odd form of entertainment had only just begun.

Bzzzt-!

Bird Brain: u havin muscle spasms or somethin? 

You asshole, you know exactly what’s going on!

He couldn’t even focus enough to grab his phone and type back a retort. He was going to kill Hawks for this.

Bird Brain: im actually concerned and u ignore me? some friend u are

We are NOT friends, you dick!

The soft tickling of the feathers was only getting worse. Some of them flicked back and forth very fast, while others slowly dragged up and down the sensitive skin. The duality drove Dabi insane, and his knuckles were turning white from how tight his grip on the chair was. 

“Hey, Dabi. You okay?” 

Twice whispered, placing a concerned hand on his friend’s shoulder.

Dabi jumped and swatted his hand away, 

“I-I’m fine, Twice, fuck off.”

“Jeez, sorry, dude,” 

Twice raised his hands in apologetic panic, then warily turned his attention back to the meeting.

The hot head quietly groaned, sweat trickling down his forehead. Laughter bubbled up in his throat like acid reflux. He squeezed his eyes shut and desperately tried to focus on something else. 

Bzzzt-!

Bird Brain: careful not to laugh~. dont wanna draw attention to urself

So he’s outright admitting it now? The smugness of that asshole.

Bird Brain: where else are u ticklish?

Dabi shot a glare at Hawks, though it wasn’t as intimidating as he hoped it would be with his quivering lips and flushed cheeks. Like he would tell him where he was ticklish. He wasn’t even sure himself. The last time he was tickled was when he was a kid, he thought he had grown out of it. The opposite seemed to have happened. In fact, he didn’t remember being this sensitive.

Bird Brain: thats ok. i’ll find out for myself~

Like hell you will!

“What?”

Shit, had he said that out loud?

He turned to Shigaraki, who was staring at him with a suspicious gleam in his eye. Dabi gulped nervously and shook his head.

“N-Nothing, sorr-eeEEHEHEE!”

He slapped his hands over his mouth and gaped at his cohorts in horror. One of the damn feathers had dipped directly into his belly button. He chanced a glance at Hawks, who was looking as confused as everyone else.

That damn snake!

“Are you sure you’re okay, Dabi?” Twice asked again, looking more amused than concerned at this point,

“You’re being ridiculous!”

Dabi quickly stood, nervously quivering as he stumbled out of the room without a word. The villains looked amongst each other, all wearing confused expressions, when Hawks stood and politely pushed in his chair.

“I’m gonna go see if he’s alright.”

Dabi stood just outside of the hideout, leaning against a wall and greedily gasping for air as he tried to calm down. Luckily, Hawks had shown an ounce of mercy when he exited the building, and his feathers were no longer assaulting his ticklish torso. Phantom tingling lingered on his belly and sides, and he rubbed at the areas desperately.

“What an asshole,” he muttered to himself after he finally regained some composure,

“I’m gonna kill him.”

“Why’s that?”

Dabi whipped around to see Hawks exiting the building, a playful smirk on his face. He sauntered over to the hot-headed villain, who grumbled and stepped backward.

“Get the fuck away from me, Hawks.”

“What’s wrong?” The number two hero laughed,

“I just came to check on ya.”

“Like hell you did!”

Dabi heatedly pointed at the door leading into the hideout,

“What the hell was all that?!”

“All what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, birdie,” Dabi hissed.

He glared intensely at the winged hero as his right hand was engulfed in blue fire.

“Whoa, whoa,” Hawks chuckled nervously, hands up in an attempt to defuse the situation,

“Calm down, man. I just wanted to see you smile.”

The response was so shocking that the villain lost concentration, and his fire was extinguished. He gawked at Hawks, unsure of how to reply. He wanted to see him smile?

“What?”

“‘What’ what?”

Dabi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger,

“You’re a dumbass.”

“Well that’s not very nice~.”

By the time he recognized the teasing tone in Hawks’ voice, it was too late, and he was trapped. Hawks hugged Dabi up against his chest, hooking his arms in between his own and forcing them high above his head. The hot head yelped and thrashed to get out of his hold, but crumbled as soon as Hawks’ giant wings beat against his torso.

“FUHUHUHUHUHUHUCK!!”

Dabi tried doubling over, but the hero had him held tight. He kicked his legs and attempted to curl up, but nothing was stopping the overwhelming ticklish sensation. The incessant flapping of his wings caused the villain’s shirt to rise up, so none of his upper body was protected. Not only that, but the feathers were so fluffy and stiff. They were both insanely soft and dangerously accurate.

“STOHOHOHOP, AHAHAHAHASSHOLE!”

“Wow, you’re really ticklish, huh?” Hawks chuckled.

“I WILL ROHOHOHOHOAST YOHOHOHOU, BIHIHIHIRD BRAHAHAIN!”

“You’re not in the position to be making any threats, hot stuff. Tickle tickle tickle~!”

Hawks smiled at the ticklish mess he was making of the villain. To put it simply, he looked adorable. His hair was a mess as he thrashed and writhed, a giant smile split his face in two, the healthy skin on his cheeks was flushed a bright red, and his overall demeanor was entirely different from how he usually was. To see Dabi, of all people, completely incapacitated due to a little tickling was hilarious. More than that, however, it was humanizing. It gave him a glimmer of hope that these villains could have some level of empathy in them, too.

Hawks grinned deviously as three feathers detached from his wings, and flew to Dabi’s belly. He had to admit, what he made them do was quite cruel, but his laughter was addicting.

“I remember getting quite a reaction from aroooound… here~?”

Two of the feathers slowly circled Dabi’s belly button, while the third dipped directly in and twirled inside of it unfairly fast. The scream that escaped him was inhuman. Hawks’ wings gliding effortlessly across every inch of the villain’s torso, combined with the feathers honing in on his belly button, was enough to send him over the edge. His knees buckled and he would have fallen to the ground had Hawks not been holding onto him. Shrieking laughter quickly turned into silent hysterics as Dabi threw his head back against Hawks and practically fell limp in his arms. The hero’s face flushed slightly, and he couldn’t help but laugh along with Dabi.

When he finally regained his voice, he shrieked hysterically,

“STOHOHOHOHOP!! FUHUHUHUCK, IHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAN’T! C-C’MOHOHOHON, CUHUHUHUT IHIHIHIT OHOHOHOUT!!”

“Sorry, what was that? I can’t understand you when you’re laughing like that~.”

“FUHUHUHUHUCK YOHOHOHOHOU!!”

“Maybe I’ll stop if you ask me nicely.”

“FIHIHIHINE!! FINEFINEFINE PLEHEHEHEASE STOHOHOHOP, HAHAHAHAPPY?!!”

Suddenly, it all stopped. Hawks released his hold on Dabi, and he came crashing into the hero. He eagerly sucked oxygen into his lungs, coughing a little as he did so. His breathing was labored and wheezy. Hawks noted the scent of smoke. He smiled at the villain as he rested against his chest, trying to regain his composure. 

After a few moments, Dabi’s breathing slowed, and he felt his heart rate return to normal. He looked up at Hawks, who had a hand atop his head, petting his hair. His face contorted into one of confusion, then anger, and finally mild embarrassment. He shoved off of Hawks with a grunt and dusted off his clothes. Hawks chuckled and followed suit.

“You okay?” He had the audacity of asking after a moment of silence.

The glare that Dabi shot him sent him into his own laughing fit.

“Lohohook!” 

He cackled as he wiped mirth from his eye,

“I said I just wanted to see you smile! You can’t be mad at me for that.”

“On the contrary,” Dabi growled,

“I’m furious.”

“You looked adorable~.”

Dabi’s breath hitched and his face went red all over again. He told himself it was only due to the residual tingling on his skin.

“Do that again and I’ll kill you.”

“What, ya don’t like being tickled?”

“Was me screaming for you to stop not an indication?”

“I dunno, man, some people actually do like it.”

“Yeah, well those people are psychotic.”

“Says the mass murderer.”

Dabi stared at Hawks, not really sure how to respond to that. He simply furrowed his brow and rolled his eyes,

“Why was seeing me smile such a big deal anyway, birdbrain?”

“Well, like I said, you looked down. ‘sides, I never see you smile aside from an occasional smirk here and there,”

Hawks shrugged and stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets, feeling bashful all of a sudden,

“Watching you laugh like that, without a care in the world, it was cute. You looked happy.”

Happy?

Dabi’s glare returned, but only for a short moment. Finally, he sighed and moved to head back inside of the hideout.

“Whatever, hope you had fun. Cuz you’re never doing that again. Oh, and one more thing.”

Hawks moved to follow him, but stopped when he turned around to address him a final time.

“Watch your back, birdie.”

With that, he walked inside without another word. A shiver ran up Hawks’ spine. What did he mean by that? Deciding not to think much of it, the number two hero simply followed Dabi back inside and reclaimed his seat at the table. 

Everyone was still there, waiting, and Shigaraki scoffed when they finally returned.

“About time. Can I continue now?”

“Sorry about that,”

Dabi replied calmly,

“Go ahead.”

As Shigaraki started his explanation from where he left off, the hot-headed villain glanced at Hawks. A feeling of triumph washed over him as he examined the hero’s face. He looked calm on the outside, but it was clear to Dabi that he was quite nervous. A low chuckle escaped Dabi’s lips, causing Hawks to shoot his gaze over to him.

When they caught each other’s eyes, neither of them emoted for a few moments. Then, Dabi made a simple motion of his thumb running across his own throat with an evil smirk on his face.

Hawks gulped. He was doomed.

A/N: I wrote a sequel! You can find it here: Watch Your Back :D

[profoundbondfanfic]

Hi! I’ve been trying to find some good omega!cas fics, would you be able to recommend any? I’ve done some of my own searching, but I can always count on your reviews so wanted to check!

Hey! I hope you were looking for a long list because we got a little carried away with this lol

A Baby for Christmas by DyslexicSquirrel (Explicit, 11k words)

Dean Winchester finds a list of all the Eligible Alphas in town when he’s fixing Castiel Novak’s car and the fact that he’s not on it surprises him more than it should. He’s been pining for Castiel since he showed up in Oak Grove alone and pregnant, but Castiel never gave him, or any other alpha, the time of day. Now he’s on the hunt for a mate. Can he come up with a plan to make Castiel realize he’s the perfect alpha for him and make both their Christmas wishes come true?

A Little Grace by tricia_16 (Explicit, 99k words)

Castiel is well aware that a handsome, surprisingly gentle alpha like Dean was way out of his league even before he made the decision to become a single parent. Dean's been kicking himself for blowing his shot with Cas before he could even ask for it, and now Cas is happily taken (and adorably pregnant) by an alpha who doesn't deserve him. Neither one of them could have guessed that Castiel's baby would be what brings them together, but it turns out that a little Grace goes a long way.

All That's Best of Dark and Bright by orphan_account (Explicit, 21k words)

Dean Winchester is an alpha cop. He's got a soft spot for omegas with kids and a short fuse when it comes to people hurting them. When he signs in for his shift, his first call is to a break-in in a well to do suburban neighborhood. He meets Castiel Novak and his young son, Alfie. Someone has broken in to Castiel's house and scent marked. Castiel is unwilling to offer much information about himself or his life. Dean's happy not to push, but his partner Benny thinks that Castiel might know more about who broke into his house than he's willing to admit. As Dean tries to get Castiel to open up to him, he finds himself drawn to the omega. But Castiel has to be mated, right? He already has a kid. Or at least, that's what Dean believes.

At a glance by Nachsie (Explicit, 44k words)

The first time Castiel laid his eyes on Dean Winchester, he couldn't comprehend two things about him. One, why this incredibly handsome man was smiling at him asking to borrow his drink...and Two? Why he immediately smashed Castiel's drink into another man's face? Whoever said love was dead, never met Dean Winchester.

Decadent by Redamber79 (Explicit, 36k words)

Dean is the owner of Glads n Roses, where he specializes in unique flowers and bouquets, particularly in flower language. He also sells chocolates on the side. When Decadently Yours, a chocolate shop, opens across the street, Dean sees it as challenging his business. It doesn't take long however, before they strike up a deal to sell the new business' chocolates in the shop, and then he begins to fall for the Beta Castiel, even though he knows he's involved with the Alpha Gabriel, though not mated. As Dean and Cas get closer, he discovers something else. Cas is actually an Omega, with the sweetest scent under his blockers. But Dean refuses to poach, and as long as Cas is with Gabriel, he won't make a move. Life, however, has something else in mind.

Expectations by everandanon (Explicit, 418k words)

For centuries, the Winchester princes have taken omegas from the northern town of New Eden to bear the royal heirs before exiling them to the countryside - a punishment for a past dispute caused by the town's strict beliefs. When Prince John marries Lady Mary of Campbell and puts a Queen on the throne, however, most people assume the tradition has been set aside. Thus, it's a complete surprise to Dean when he's sent to New Eden to retrieve the girl they've arranged for. Cas, as a male omega in backward New Eden, has been ostracized and condemned by his town since he presented. To make matters worse? His sister is being given away to the crown prince of Winchester, never to return. But when the morning before the prince's arrival dawns and Anna is nowhere to be found, the town's council decides there’s only one thing for it: They’ll simply have to give him Cas instead.

Friends Helping Friends (Telling Me What My Heart Meant) by Annie D (scaramouche) (Explicit, 6k words)

Dean and Cas have known each other for about a year now, and in that time, Cas has never gone into heat. So far.

Following His Lead by InvictaAnimi (Explicit, 98k words)

Peak alpha, Dean Winchester, has the perfect life on paper. He owns his own architecture firm, is building a real estate empire, and has the choice of just about any omega partner that catches his eye. A fateful flight to London changes everything for Dean when he finds his true mate, the intrepid freelance photographer, Cas. Cas is gorgeous, brilliant, competitive, and driven. He’s everything that Dean could have hoped for. He’s also keeping secrets from him. Once they find each other, they must remain close until they mate or suffer from the debilitating and painful mating sickness. It wouldn’t be a problem if his mate would stay put, but Dean finds himself chasing his omega throughout Europe, using only the clues his mate leaves him. Dean must choose between his old life and this stranger, his career and his future mate. As an alpha, he is used to being a leader, the one in charge. To be with Cas, though, he’s going to have to follow his lead.

Head Down, Walk with Reason by goldenraeofsun (Explicit, 63k words)

As an omega, Castiel is ineligible for the throne after his father dies. When his uncle takes the crown, Metatron's first order of business is to arrange a betrothal with King John for the hand of his firstborn son, the Crown Prince of Terra. So Castiel flees. On his first night on the run, Castiel stumbles into a band of outlaws just at the border. Injured and wary, he has no choice to stay with them. And although he had planned to return to his own kingdom once it was safe, home might not be the place he left, but instead with Dean, their alpha leader that took him in.

Homemade by saltnhalo (Teen and Up, 5k words)

Dean Winchester, a successful but perpetually overworked and overtired engineer, meets chef and restaurant owner Castiel, his new neighbor. Castiel courts him in the form of homemade meals in Tupperware containers and handwritten notes, and Dean eventually takes it upon himself to return the favor.

In the woods by MalicMalic (Mature, 28k words)

All Castiel wants is to lead a simple life, away from the high society and his controling alpha mother. One chance encounter in the woods makes him believe that dreams just might come true, until life decides to make things complicated for Castiel. As he tries to save himself and his future, he doesn't realize that the solution to all his problems was just around the corner.

Lonicera by zation (Explicit, 46k words)

The one where destiny had a discussion with faith and they decided to have some fun, much to Dean and Cas’ chagrin.

Looking for: Alpha to Match Swimsuit by SillyBlue (Mature, 70k words)

Cas is 44, has a distant husband, a crappy job, and his only child is leaving for college. He plans to distract himself with a beach vacation for which his son and niece convince him to buy a cute swimsuit. But his husband decides he won't "let" him go to the beach dressed like that; a man his age in a bikini? Cas decides to keep the swimsuit - he can easily add "divorced" to the list of things to be sad about during his vacation after all. Claire and Jack decide to intervene by secretly creating a dating profile for one purpose: to look for a man that matches Cas' swimsuit. The unusual profile attracts Dean, who decided to combat his impending midlife crisis by taking some weeks off of work and buying beach wear that he had every intention of banishing to the back of his closet once it arrives. Lucky for him this has provided him with the perfect speedos to match Cas' swimsuit.

No Righteous Path by jupiter_james (Explicit, 111k)

On his 40th birthday, Dean Winchester suddenly begins to worry that he may have lost his chance for a real mate. He's been so focused on his business as a 24-hour roofing and repairman, that he's never taken the time to date properly, or even make any lasting friendships outside of his family. Beginning in their late 30's, alphas and omegas start to lose their mating and bonding hormones, making it more difficult - and often impossible - to mate or bond with anyone past a certain age. But as a modern Alpha, Dean would be content with a companion, at least. Blood bonds aren't the be-all, end-all. However, after a late night emergency roofing repair call from Castiel Novak, Omega, Dean starts to hope. Yearn. The only hangup is that Castiel admits to being as old-fashioned as the books he teaches. Nervous to go against his religious upbringing by being with someone who he can't bond properly, as alphas and omegas are intended to do. But he can't deny his attraction to Dean, and despite his sensibilities, he thinks that, just maybe, he can change for the man he's falling in love with.

Ready To Run by CrzyDemona (EvelynRaith), Inkblooded_Witch (Explicit, 117k words)

Castiel and Jimmy have always been close, on opposite sides of a single coin. While Jimmy’s rebellions have been loud, blatantly throwing every indiscretion in their father’s face, Castiel’s have been quiet, easier to hide, less publicly embarrassing. For this reason it’s no surprise when Jimmy is slated to be married off first. Something they’re informed of right as he has decided he wants to marry Balthazar, an Alpha he’s been courting on the sly for some time. Neither of them have been optimistic about their fates should they be left to their father’s tender mercies. Castiel knows that once Jimmy is gone, he will be next. He likes Balthazar, and sees no reason why they should both be condemned, so they hatch a plan. While Jimmy elopes and boards a steamer to Europe, Castiel boards a train to Nebraska as his twin. Knowing your life will never be the same is one thing, but Castiel never could have predicted what chaos would come of him getting on that train. Starting when plans to slip away before he reaches his intended destination quickly go awry.

real alpha by sharkfish (Explicit, 14k words)

Castiel has used Real Alpha since he was old enough to afford it. They’re a reputable company, and have never disappointed: every few months, Castiel calls in to an automated system to make his request, and within hours, there’s an alpha knocking on his door to fuck the heat out of him. He doesn’t care who it is, what they look like, how much stamina they have, whether they are angels or humans. It’s just an ends to a mean.

Refugee by RachaelLikesYaoi (Explicit, 123k words)

Dean Winchester was used to his brother bringing home omegas from work. They were all basically the same. Quiet, reserved, and... haunted. It made sense, Sam worked for a strictly omega lawyer that dealt with all sorts of different cases. It never really bothered Dean when they were brought home. They fixed up their guest room, replaced a couple of locks, and more often than not he wouldn't even see the omegas. It was easy. A piece of cake. Then Sam told Dean over dinner one night that one of his clients would be living with them for a year to complete his house arrest. A whole year, and no matter how many times his brother told Dean that the guy was harmless, Dean couldn't forget about what the omega had gotten arrested for. Assault. With a deadly weapon.

Roots of Fate by orphan_account (Explicit, 40k words)

Castiel Novak leads a quiet life in the little town of Fairhope. He tends his gardens and takes pride in filling his great-grandmother's footsteps as the town's honorary green witch. His quiet life comes to a halt when he gets a new neighbor and it's none other than the alpha of his dreams and high school crush, Dean Winchester. But Dean's not alone, he has a daughter now. Overnight, Fairhope is flipped on its head as every available omega and beta in town fights for the alpha's attention. Cas tries to help as best he can but Dean eventually comes up with his own solution and that's when the posters show up. Posters that claim that Dean Winchester is looking for a mate. But to win, you have to get a key from a certain orange cat. Let the games begin!

Running with the Wolves by Dancingdog (Explicit, 381k words)

Castiel made one mistake and it landed him with a child. Knowing his brothers would never accept an unmated omega with a child, Castiel chose not to tell his family about Samandriel for six years. But Michael found out anyway and Castiel soon finds himself on the run from his furious family. To save both his and his son's lives, he flees into the wilderness, where the 'wild folk' reside and they must learn to live as wolves rather than humans if they are to survive. Except, the wild folk are not the savages Castiel was led to believe whilst growing up, and he finds that maybe being a member of Dean's pack isn't so terrible afterall. Then his brother, Gabriel, shows up and takes an interest in Dean's omega brother, Sam. The problem? The Winchesters and Novaks have been enemies for centuries.

Scent Deprived by Destielshipper4Cas (Explicit, 41k words)

Dean rescues an omega from an illegal research facility. But after years of scent deprivation, the omega is catatonic at best and on the brink of going feral at worst. Now it��s up to Dean to save him. In order to break past Cas’ defenses, he might just have to let him into his home and heart in return.

The Stars Will Remember by casblackfeathers (Explicit, 60k words)

Being a hunter was all Dean knew ever since his mother had been killed by a demon when he was four. Hunting, offing monsters, and then jumping to the next case was his life. Then he met the most alluring and breathtaking omega he had ever seen and spent the next five years loving the hell out of Cas, their life together filled with the domestic lovey-dovey stuff Dean had never thought he would dig so much. When a simple salt-and-burn goes sideways, it ends up with Cas’ memories stolen from him. Dean is left to pick up the pieces of the life they built together, his ‘make it up as he goes’ strategy to prove to his mate that Dean’s still worth a damn, his only chance at getting Cas back. He’s done a shitty-ass job at keeping Cas safe before, but he will pull out all the stops now to woo his mate again and stir the memories Dean knows are still there buried deep inside Cas’ mind.

Undercover Boyfriend by CassondraWinchester (Explicit, 60k words)

Two men, one lie, and a whole bunch of trouble. Castiel Novak’s in serious trouble. His sister’s destination wedding in Mexico filled with several days of activities, is in only two days. And everyone expects to meet his underwear model Alpha boyfriend — the one he invented. Now Cas has to produce a half-naked hottie or suffer the worst humiliation of his life. But Cas just doesn’t date those kinda guys! Or even know any for that matter. Undercover FBI agent Dean Winchester’s cover is blown and he needs to disappear fast. When he ducks into a bar he runs into Castiel, a comic book artist, one very hot, but geeky Omega. And as luck would have it he just happens to be looking for an Alpha. Could they be the solution to both their problems? Or will trouble find them on the sandy beaches of Mexico?

You can also check our omega!castiel tag for more fics.

[leggerefiore]

cw: fluff, alternate idea for bw game ending where n wins kinda, drabble

pairing: N/Reader

You fell to your knees.

N stared down at you.

The legendary dragon stood menacingly at his back — Reshiram's wings spread out as it, too, glowered at the sight of you. You had put in everything you had to desperately convince the already doubtful man that his convictions were not going to help anything; not pokemon - not people! But, despite Zekrom awakening and coming to your aid, you had failed. Horribly, terribly — You felt like your throat had swollen closed. Tears burned your eyes. Was N's willpower simply more than your own? You felt equal, but he had still won out in the end.

Before your concerns swelled any larger, he knelt down to your level and brought a gentle hand to wipe away your tears. That eerie smile was on his lips again. His determined expression having faded with his victory in toe. You fought back an urge to sob. Ghetsis's cane on the floor brought you both to reality. His harsh glare at the sight of your closeness with N apparent. The dragon behind the green-haired man took a defensive posture and let out a cry. This brought the supposed king to alert as his eyes went wide. You knew somewhere deep down, N was just a ploy in the grander plans Ghetsis held for himself. Yet, even to protect him from this, you had failed.

Whatever concern you may have had for N was vanquished when the man defeated Ghetsis rather quickly in a battle. The weakness from their battle with you seemed to matter not. You swallowed as Ghetsis looked horrifying. For a moment, you feared that he would attack either you or N, but the dragon was steadfast in guarding you both — Even calling back its defeated brethren back from unconsciousness. You found yourself behind N as he stared down at the man he viewed as his father. Betrayal was etched on his face. How could it not be? A pure heart like N's own would not dare doubt those around him. Alder and Cheren's entry brought reality back. Despite your loss, the league was still making moves to protect the sanctity of the region.

Ghetsis was quickly detained by the two, leaving you alone with N again.

Reality seemed to have hit him hard. His eyes went to the throne that he was to claim as his own and you. Finally, a hand was offered to help you back to your feet. Something twisted in those blue eyes of his. The sparkle in them was never there. An ominous void always lingered. He pulled you into himself, embracing you to himself. His long hair tickled you. Hands grasped tightly onto your shirt. A shaky breath left him. You perhaps would have expected tears, but nothing was to follow. He clung to you for the longest time in silence. It was a torturous moment of facing your own feelings for the man and what would follow.

Eventually, he pulled away, eyes meeting your own again.

“… I wanted you at my side,” N's words caught you off-guard, “Please, won't you support me? Don't you see the truth I bear?” He sounded desperate. His dream… To liberate pokemon from humans. There was truth that there could be positives… Cruel humans existed. But… You shook your head. There was no way you could help in good conscience. His eyes narrowed. Hands grasped your wrists tightly. He nodded. “… What follows this…?” His gaze turned to the light pouring in beyond the throne. You followed him as he walked to it. Somehow, your heart still called for him.

“… Will you join me then?” he held out his hand to you, “There is a lot out there to learn… I see now.”

You took it without hesitation.

The way his eyes lit up drew you in more.

You wanted to see it more.

~

Sunlight drifted in through the leaves above. It was spotty and distant under the shade provided by the trees surrounding you both. Your head rested on N's chest as his arm wrapped around your waist. The air swirled the smell of the late afternoon. Wild pokemon wandered around, unbothered by either of your presences. It seemed they almost viewed N as one of their own most of the time. A hand came to gently stroke your hair as you shifted around. You lifted your head to meet N's eyes. He gave you a gentle smile. Your lips met his own. The arm tightened around you.

If only this peace could last forever… The dragons rested nearby together.

Perhaps, in each other, you found the balance that Unova needed.

[the-dawn-star]

Dabi with teen reader who hides behind him whenever meeting new people that they don’t know? Like he will be talking to someone new that the lov recruited and they will just be behind him holding onto his jacket scared of the person because they have bad trust issues and are just generally scared around new people they don’t know

A/N: This was so hard to write and I'm not really happy about this but I hope you like it.

-S

+300ish words.

The one thing that people forget about being a villain, there are those tasks that no one wants to do. Those boring ones that are more of a chore than anything else. 

And today Dabi had pulled the short straw and gotten the task of introducing a new recruit to the base and the members.  

New members were most of the time kids that didn’t understand what they were joining into nor the fact that they could die in the process.  

He tried to introduce the members the best he could and tell which ones are best to leave alone but he really didn’t care about the possibility of the recruit poking the bear.  

For once, you had decided to come to the base with Dabi. You weren’t really a part of the league but because of your affiliation with Dabi, you were pretty much considered an unofficial member.  

The recruit started to talk and the same second Dabi had drowned out the words.  

Dabi got the urge to turn around and walk away but decided against it purely out of boredom.  

The villain was brought back to reality by a gentle pull on his jacket.  

He knew it was you even before seeing you and turned his attention completely to you. 

The recruit quieted, clearly confused by the situation in front of him.  

“Is everything okay?” Dabi asked, turning away from the recruit.  

“Yeah, I was thinking of going back home,” Your words were quiet, and Dabi saw you side-eyeing the recruit.  

“Yeah, let’s get out of here,” Dabi was already turning to the door, clearly wanting to leave just as much as you.  

“What about him?” You asked, pointing to the recruit. 

“Toga can take care of him!” Dabi was half out of the door. 

“Kurogiri said not to let Toga do the tours!” You yelled back, panicking a bit before running to Dabi who closed the door with a bang after you got to the other side.  

[lazycats-stuff]

I saw your last order and thought of an alternative.

In the Young Justice cartoon, they discover that Cadmus has a clone of Superman. Now imagine that the reader (he's from the justice league) and bruce discover that cadmus made a clone with the following dna: reader, bruce and ra's. Everyone is shocked when they discover even Ra's, their son may have Ra's hair, blue-green eyes and skin.

Then you can decide the rest.

Okay, this is interesting. I love it. Also, 1.1k followers in a short period of time... Thanks guys.

Summary: Cadmus made a clone with the 3 people that no one would ever think of.

Warnings: established (Y/N) x Bruce Wayne, clones, Ra's creeps (Y/N) out, Bruce is protective, (Y/N) is almost a mama bear.

(Y/N) and Bruce are the staples of the Justice League and the power couple of both Gotham and Justice League. They know each other for a very long time and the two compliment each other very well. (Y/N) was more gentle and kind of less scary, while Bruce was rough and scary. That is in the field of course.

In private, Bruce can be soft, especially with his sons and partner. (Y/N) is the one of the pillars of the family, alongside Alfred. His sons are protective of him more than they are of Bruce. (Y/N) found it heartwarming and he loved them all as if they were his own.

(Y/N) was also a vigilante alongside his husband and the two vigilantes are loved by their city. Sure there are critics, but the vast majority of the city loved them both. Some loved (Y/N) more than Bruce, but it was bound to happen when you have one who is rough and one who is more gentle than the other.

The Justice League was in awe of them both. It was the sheer way that the two cooperate and work together. There was mutual support from both sides, constant communication, even through the looks and subtle touches. The two know each other very well and lead the League very well.

And the two were the best of the best in what they did. Interrogations, tactics, strategies and locating somebody, (Y/N) and Bruce are the ones to call. More so when they are kings of blackmail. (Y/N) just loved blackmailing evil people and then see them crumble.

Ah.

Now, one of their biggest enemies was brewing something. It was the Cadmus project that has been around for a long time. It has ties with the US military and several major corporations are the ones to blame for the project. They seem to experiment on metahumans, aliens and everything else that isn't a human.

Of course, they had a lot of advanced technology with them and (Y/N) wouldn't be shocked that they dabbled into a lot of illegal activities. Cloning was one of those activities. There have been a few cases of cloning with the heroes, Superboy being one of those cases.

(Y/N) liked Superboy, but he had to admit, he was shocked when he was brought to the League. He looked so much like Clark and it freaked (Y/N) out badly. But soon he helped Clark with accepting the fact that in a way he is a father now and he had to help the clone out.

We all know how that turned out.

As for (Y/N) and Bruce, they had a rare night off. Both of them were exhausted and had to take a night in. The League urged them to take the night off, despite the fact that they had to raid an alleged hideout for Cadmus. Everyone said to sit it out due to their exhaustion.

(Y/N) said sure and dragged Bruce to their home. The two spent an lovely, relaxing evening, without a care in the world. (Y/N) felt great and Bruce, although he would rather die than to admit it, he liked this.

And yes, Bruce would go on that mission, but for (Y/N) he would stay. Unlike Bruce, (Y/N) had a sense when he had overworked himself and that's why every now and then he would take a break. And of course, in the process drag Bruce with him.

And that's what brought the two together in bed right now, just laying down next to one another, hands wondering over one another, just eager to touch one another. They were too tired to have sex, the contact was just enough for them.

" You know, I have to admit, I might have needed this break. " Bruce said as he rested his hands on (Y/N)'s hips, pulling him to lay his head on his chest, just above Bruce's heart. (Y/N) loved that spot more than anything. It reminded him that Bruce is alive and well.

" I knew it. " (Y/N) said, smiling as he put his arm over Bruce stomach.

" I hope the mission is going well. " Bruce said and (Y/N) hummed. He did too, but Superman and the others are going to be okay. Besides, they are more than capable to fight without them both.

" It is, I can tell you. They are more than capable to take over a little bit, B. " (Y/N) mumbled quietly, eyes closing. He was tired and Bruce followed him. The two were just ready to fall asleep, until a phone rang out in the room. Bruce and (Y/N) couldn't tell which one, but they both groaned in unison.

" You pick up. " (Y/N) said as he rolled over to let Bruce get up. Bruce huffed as he took the phone and answered. (Y/N) listened with his eyes closed, kind of exhausted.

" We'll be there. "

(Y/N) turned over, opening his eyes. " What's going on? "

" They have found a clone in the hideout. They say we have to come, but Clark sounds distraught. " Bruce said, quickly getting up. (Y/N) quickly got up too and the two quickly went to the cave. They put the suits in silence and Bruce activated the portal as they put their cowls on.

(Y/N) reached for Bruce's hand for a second. Bruce stopped as he turned around.

" What's wrong? " Bruce asked softly.

" I just have a bad feeling about all of this. " (Y/N) admitted and Bruce nodded. Sometimes, (Y/N) would get this gut feelings and sometimes they would be true, but sometimes wouldn't, but still, they have agreed to be careful when getting it.

" Alright. " Bruce said, leaning down to give (Y/N) a kiss before both of them became serious. They stepped through the Zeta tubes and in a quick moment the two were in the Justice League headquarters. Wonder Woman walked up to them and the trio started walking to the holding cells.

" While going searching the hideout, we found a clone. I think it's better to see it for yourself. " She said and Bruce and (Y/N) had to look at one another in wonder.

What is that supposed to mean?

(Y/N) saw what it meant when his eyes laid on that clone. That poor kid us a mix of Bruce and (Y/N). But there is one problem. There was somebody else's DNA. (Y/N) was shocked and he stepped closer. Okay.

How?

" How the hell... " (Y/N) started but trailed off. The clone walked closer to the glass cell just as (Y/N) did. Bruce was not far behind, watching the clone and his husband carefully.

" Whose DNA is this? " Bruce asked, not taking his eyes off of the duo.

" The DNA came from you two and... " She stopped for a moment and Bruce had to look at her.

" Wonder Woman, whose DNA is it? " Bruce asked and she looked at him with worry.

" Ra's Al Ghul's. "

Bruce and (Y/N) looked at one another. WHAT?

(Y/N) tried to say something, but couldn't. Ra's? RA'S?! (Y/N) couldn't blame the clone. It wasn't his fault by any means, but Ra's DNA? That explained the eyes though... And maybe the hair too.

Oh God.

" So what do we do? Is he a metahuman? " (Y/N) asked Wonder Woman and she shook her head.

" A human just like the two of you. " She confirmed and (Y/N) was a little bit relived. Okay.

That is not so bad.

" Okay. I think that we will take him under our wing, " (Y/N) paused before glancing at Bruce once more. " But what do we do about Ra's? He will interested. Moreso, I am interested how they got his DNA. "

" Aren't you interested how they got ours? " Bruce asked.

" There are times when we were injured badly on missions. I don't have a doubt that they have been looking through all the blood. " (Y/N) said and Bruce had to say that it wasn't that far from the truth. Will they ever know how they got their DNA? Not really. But that sounded like the most plausible option.

" Well, that would sound tedious. " Wonder Woman said and (Y/N) rubbed the back of his neck. Bruce noticed that his husband was nervous and has excused them from the room. Bruce led his nervous husband out in an empty hall.

He knew that his husband was about to break. His husband still couldn't fully reign his emotions in, but that doesn't matter to Bruce. (Y/N)'s soft spot were kids. He couldn't bare to seem them hurt and that was okay. Bruce could be strong in that aspect for both of them.

Bruce brought his husband in his arms, allowing him to hide his face and (Y/N) let out a shuddering breath. He was taking deep breaths to calm himself down.

" We have to take him in. " (Y/N) said as he removed his head from Bruce's chest.

" I know. " Bruce said, caressing (Y/N)'s face with his gloved hand.

" Poor kid... I'm sorry. "

Bruce shook his head as he leaned down to kiss him. " Never apologize for showing emotions. Never. That's one of the many things I love about you. It reminds me that I'm human and not something indestructible. You remind me that Batman is not just a symbol, but a human too. " Bruce said, giving (Y/N) a kiss on his cheek.

" Okay. I don't think that it would a good idea to take him in tonight. " (Y/N) said and Bruce nodded.

" We have to let him stay here for a while, he needs to get adjusted a bit. Once we know he is stable, we can take him back home. Okay? " Bruce said and (Y/N) had to nod in agreement.

" Good. Now, lets get back and tell Wonder Woman our plan. " Bruce said and (Y/N) composed himself.

(Y/N) and Bruce came back to the manor and slept until lunch. (Y/N) was stressed beyond belief and Bruce made sure that he distressed. (Y/N), like said before, loved kids and they were his soft spot. More correctly weak when it came to their sons. (Y/N) is a mama bear.

Through and through.

After eating lunch, (Y/N) wanted to spend time together with his husband, so they decided to relax on the couch watching a random movie they picked from Netflix. (Y/N)'s head was on the pillow that he put on Bruce's lap and the rest of him was covered by a blanket. Bruce's hands were gently going through his hair and they were both relaxed.

" Masters, Ra's al Ghul wishes to speak with you. " Alfred said and (Y/N) sat up quickly. Bruce tensed up. What?! The two stood up quickly as Alfred went to get Ra's.

" Why today? " (Y/N) mumbled to himself as he crossed his arms.

" Bruce. (Y/N). " Ra's said as he walked up to the two, taking (Y/N)'s hand to give it a kiss. Bruce rolled his eyes in the back, bringing (Y/N) to sit down next to him on the couch. Ra's sat down on the armchair, crossing his leg together at the ankle.

" I heard about a clone with my DNA. Is it true? " Ra's asked and Bruce nodded.

" Well, how did they do it? " Ra's asked and (Y/N) just shrugged his shoulders.

" I have a theory, but it's under a big if. " (Y/N) said and Ra's gave him his fully attention.

" And what would that theory be? "

" My guess would be that when we were injured on missions, they would go back and analyze the blood to find ours. We are all human after all. " (Y/N) said and Ra's gave it some thought.

" I have to say, it makes more sense than what I have been thinking. " Ra's said and (Y/N) didn't say anything in response. He didn't know what he thought.

Bruce put his hand on (Y/N)'waist, squeezing lightly. (Y/N) didn't like Ra's by any means and the man freaked him out. The flirting is something that made him really dislike Ra's. He is a married man, he is married to the love of his life. His Bruce. His B.

" Is that why you came here for Ra's? " Bruce asked, taking over, speaking for both himself and his husband.

" Yes. I wanted to see if it was true. Now there is a question of what to do with the boy. " Ra's said and glanced at (Y/N). He knew that kids are his soft spot.

" We help him adapt and he comes to live here. " Bruce answered for his husband once more and (Y/N) nodded.

" So he is a normal human? " Ra's asked, wanting more clarification.

" Yes. Although I have no doubt that he has a lot of skills when it comes to fighting skills. " (Y/N) chuckled to himself quietly. They didn't test him yet for it, but still. (Y/N) could only imagine the skills that that kid had on him.

" Good. I'm afraid that I have to go, but we will be seeing each other once more. " Ra's said as he stood up and (Y/N) and Bruce both stood up to. Ra's said goodbye to both to them, but not without giving (Y/N)'s hand a kiss goodbye.

(Y/N) forced himself to stay calm and once Ra's left the room, (Y/N) laid back down on the couch, covering himself with a blanket. Bruce watched in silence as his husband hid. He sat down next to him, bringing him into the position that they were in before Ra's came.

" Why does he like playing with me B? " (Y/N) asked and Bruce shrugged his shoulders.

" My guess it's that he likes you, but can't do anything since you are with me. And besides, he is trying to piss me off. " Bruce said and (Y/N) buried his face into Bruce's stomach. Bruce's hand was going through his hair, gently comforting him.

(Y/N) has never been the one to break and just allow emotions to take over, but Ra's was a pressure point for him. He didn't like it and he didn't like Ra's and it made him just...

It made him a whole lot of things that (Y/N) didn't like.

" Just breathe. " Bruce instructed. (Y/N) did as Bruce told him and he found himself to be more calmer. He closed his eyes as he just basked in presence of his husband.

" B? " (Y/N) prompted and Bruce hummed.

" I love you. "

Bruce allowed himself to smile. " I love you too. " He leaned down to kiss his husband's head. They will take the boy in soon and Ra's? Well, they could deal with him later. Right now, they are fine.

[slowcatsworld]

Julian Loki acts like an older sibling. PART 2

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Small disclaimer: as far as I’m aware his family hasn’t been mentioned in the manga nor the egoist bible, so bear with me.

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Julian Loki & Charles Chevalier’s dynamic: patience

Julian Loki is so incredibly patient with Charles that it’s almost endearing with how Loki responds to Charle’s contrarian attitude. Julian repeatedly tries to redirect Charles to get the kid to focus on taking his ‘homework’ and football seriously. And while this is inevitably for Loki’s own future benefit, he gentle parents Charles so well. This is seen when he counteracts Charles’ contrarian system to trick him into listening to him (I’ll put an image of the panel.) Julian doesn’t raise his voice, resort to violent or degrading words, or physically harm Charles-except for kicking a soccer ball at his shoulder/head lol unlike some characters (I’m looking at you Michael.) During the current PXG vs BM match when Charles asks to be subbed out because he has no interest in playing any longer in chap. 259, Julian is still speaking calmly and controlling himself even though this has shown to anger him.

Julian Loki’s coaching mannerisms: politeness

This one panel in Chapter 246 really stood out to me so I wanted to include it.

After the PXG vs Barca match, Julian and the French team have a post game meeting in the locker room. Loki debriefed the team (starting by praising the whole team with quote, “good job today, everyone.”) and gave them personalized ‘homework’ or critiques to help them improve as an individual player. This was normal, I thought. What stood out to me was how polite and formal his speech was. There were no single digs or transgressions at all. There was no harshness or abrasiveness at all either. Everything was rather soft spoken, with ‘please’s and suggestions. I thought that was rather refreshing, to see he’s a teenage boy with manners. He’s always had manners though, since when he and Isagi met for the first time, Isagi was able to pick up on his politeness (as discussed in Part 1.) It makes me feel as though he was raised right with a good set of parents, he’s probably a mama’s boy.

I also think that it’s worth mentioning how much I doubt that he will use the star system to enter the PXG vs BM match. I doubt he’s entered like all the other masters except for Noa in the previous PXG matches, and since he has already declared minimal interest in the league itself there is no way he would join the match. He doesn’t gain anything by doing this, and it also shows his restraint. His mindset his precisely why he doesn’t stand to gain anything if he were to join the match. Unlike Chris Prince, he doesn’t want to stand out and upstage the other players. Unlike Marc Snuffy, he doesn’t want to enforce his control and strategies over his players by joining their ranks. So cool to think about in my opinion. He’s more calm and collected, like Noel Noa. Noel wouldn’t gain anything by joining the match either. The only reason he joined the previous matches was to stop the other master strikers and limit their influence on the field’s plays and players.

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OKAY! Next part I’ll actually talk about him being an older sibling bc I haven’t said squat about that yet in two posts of analysis ranting lol

[cailinsblog]

Wrapped Around Her Finger | cale makar

Cale makar x reader

Masterlist

It had been a hard-fought game, but the Colorado Avalanche had come out victorious. The energy in the locker room was buzzing with excitement, everyone slapping each other on the back, and Cale Makar was grinning ear-to-ear. His team had just secured another win, and now it was time to celebrate.

The plan was simple: the whole team, along with their significant others, would head out to one of their favorite spots in the city to unwind and have a drink. Cale, however, had something else in mind—he couldn’t wait to spend some time with Y/N.

As the players headed to the bar, Cale’s eyes were already scanning the room for you. When he spotted you laughing with a group of the other wives and girlfriends, his heart swelled with affection. He couldn’t help himself—he had to be close to you, especially after the adrenaline of the game.

He didn’t care that the boys were already starting to tease him. Cale was known for being the quiet, focused one on the ice, but when it came to you, he turned into a soft, affectionate puppy. And tonight, after a big win, he felt like being extra clingy.

As Y/N chatted with the other girls, sipping her drink, Cale made his way over to the group. He tried to act casual, but the glint of mischief in his eyes was hard to miss. He casually reached for a beer from one of the nearby tables, popping the top off with a quick twist. The moment he spotted the opening, he couldn't resist walking up behind Y/N.

Without saying a word, Cale slid his arms around her waist and pulled her back against his chest. His head rested gently on top of hers as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her hair.

The group of girls giggled, and Y/N couldn't help but smile at the sweet gesture. She could feel Cale’s warmth through the thin fabric of her dress, and it made her heart flutter. His hands were gentle around her waist, and the way he tucked his head on top of hers was almost like a protective, tender embrace.

"You’re so clingy tonight," Y/N teased softly, turning her head just enough to meet his eyes.

Cale grinned sheepishly. "I’m just happy to be with you," he murmured, his voice soft and sweet.

"Aw, look at Cale," one of the other girls cooed, teasing him. "He’s turning into a little teddy bear tonight."

"Yeah, we’ve never seen him this affectionate," another one chimed in, chuckling as the rest of the group shared knowing glances.

Cale’s face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and affection, but he didn’t pull away from Y/N. He tightened his arms around her, making it clear that he had no intention of leaving her side.

"You know you love it," he whispered in her ear, his voice playful but sincere.

Y/N laughed softly, playfully rolling her eyes. "I do, actually," she admitted, her heart swelling with affection. "It’s just so cute how you get when we’re out in public."

"Hey, she’s my girlfriend. I can’t help it," Cale responded with a shrug, though his grin made it clear he wasn’t sorry.

The other girls all exchanged amused glances, and someone piped up, "Cale, you’re the most adorable guy in the league when you’re like this. It’s like we’re seeing a new side of you."

The teasing continued, but Cale didn’t seem bothered by it. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it. He had nothing to hide when it came to you. He was proud to be close to you, to hold you, and to show the world just how much he cared.

As the night went on, Cale stayed glued to Y/N’s side. Whether they were sitting together at a table or walking to the bar, he always found an excuse to be close to her. Every now and then, he’d slip his hand into hers or wrap his arm around her waist, his possessiveness just enough to make Y/N’s heart skip a beat.

At one point, Cale even leaned in to whisper in Y/N’s ear, "You’re looking extra beautiful tonight, you know that?"

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, but she smiled, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. "You’re making me blush, Cale."

The guys, of course, noticed the affectionate exchange. Nathan MacKinnon, who had been sitting across from the couple, raised his glass and shook his head with a teasing grin.

"Look at Makar, man. Thought you were too cool for this kind of stuff," MacKinnon teased. "What happened to the guy who’s always got his head in the game?"

Cale rolled his eyes but didn’t back down. "He’s still here, just… enjoying the win, that’s all."

"Yeah, enjoying the win *and* your girlfriend," MacKinnon shot back, grinning.

"I don’t mind," Y/N interjected, winking at Cale. "It’s kinda cute."

The teasing continued for a while, but it only seemed to make Cale cling to her more. He was the first to admit that he was a little more attached than most, but with Y/N, it was different. She made him feel grounded, and in the chaos of a hockey season, she was the calm he needed. And tonight, after a win like that, he was determined to savor every moment with her.

Later in the evening, when the group was moving toward the dance floor, Cale took Y/N’s hand and pulled her close. "Dance with me?" he asked quietly, his voice full of affection.

Y/N nodded, feeling her heart flutter in her chest. "Always."

As they moved to the music, Cale held her close, his arms wrapped tightly around her as if he never wanted to let go. He rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closing in contentment.

The boys, watching from the sidelines, exchanged amused glances. "Looks like someone’s whipped," one of them joked, but there was no malice in their words. They all knew how deeply Cale cared for Y/N.

"Yeah, but I think she’s got him wrapped around her finger," another said, grinning.

Cale didn’t care. He was happy, and that was all that mattered. He had everything he wanted in that moment—his team, his friends, and the girl he loved. And the way he held her in his arms, never wanting to let go, made it clear that tonight was just another perfect chapter in their story.

He wasn’t just the quiet guy on the ice anymore. With Y/N by his side, he was whole. And he was more than okay with being the clingy, affectionate boyfriend if it meant being with her.

[a-shy-blueberry]

Just Friends

A/N: It's been like a super long time since I've written anything but I felt inspired today, so I hope you like it! Pairing: Tamaki Amajiki x F! Reader Genre: Fluff/Smut Summary: Tamaki has no idea how to confess to his best friend that he likes them, but what happens when opportunity strikes? Warnings: Minors Ageless Blogs DO NOT INTERACT, Aged up Characters, No Beta, Smut, regular Tamaki Anxiety Word Count: 1319

Tamaki, I don’t understand why you just won’t ask her,” Nejire pouted. Tamaki adored his friend but these weekly lunches they had been having were starting to turn into a source of stress.

“I just can’t,” he replied as if he could even explain to her the leagues of difference there was between the two of you. The way your smile lit up the room, the gentle curve of your lips as though there was some kind of hidden joke only you knew.

You were the epitome of sweetness, but even still he could not bring himself to ask a simple question of you, couldn’t bear to see the downcast turn of your eyes as you pitied him. Softening your rejection as much as you could to avoid hurting him.

“Come on you’ve got the perfect opportunity right after this all alone with her, it’d be a great time to ask her out!” Mirio patted him on the back as if that would work to bolster his spirits. But he didn’t want to just ask you out, how could something as mundane as a date compare to how he felt about you. He wouldn’t be able to, he just knew it.

“I’ll consider it,” he said meekly to his friends, packing up his things and leaving the coffee shop. Your friendship was something he treasured more than anything, how could violate your trust in him, the comfort you felt just hanging out with him. You’d be disgusted by his ulterior motives.

Tamaki shook his head, he’d just be resolute to keep your friendship, which would be plenty for him. So long as you were in his life, he’d be happy. He kept walking, feet bringing him closer and closer to your apartment, and he tried to avoid that little voice in the back of his head, goading him for being cowardly to tell you how he really felt.

When Tamaki arrived, he was excited, the two of you had planned a movie night, a double header of his favorite movie and yours. It was sweet.

And romantic the small voice in his head said.

No, it’s not like that. He argued, God he felt like he was going crazy, he knocked on your door trying to focus on the present moment. You would probably think her was a weirdo if he kept getting lost in his thoughts.

“It’s unlocked!” You shouted. You sounded distracted, probably getting everything set up. Tamaki turned the handle and let himself in.

What he entered was the last thing he expected.

You were exiting the bathroom, towel wrapped around you, hair still wet. Tamaki felt himself flush.

“Sorry, I’m running a little late, just let me get dressed really fast and we can start our movie!” You said, turning towards your bedroom, the towel you’d chosen was small, and when you turned around, the bottom of your ass was just barely peaking out. Tamaki felt his blood rush south.

He could do this.

“I like you,”

It just slipped out, Tamaki felt his hand slap over his mouth, oh my god what had he done. You turned to face him, he couldn’t even look at you, he didn’t want to know that downtrodden face would look like. God you were about to reject your best friend.

"Are you sure?"

Am I sure? Tamaki had never known something to be truer. He steeled himself.

"Yes." His voice was confident, but he was in agony, skin flushed with color as he continued to avoid your gaze.

Your hands traced his hips. When had you gotten all the way over him?

"Amajiki, look at me," you said. Your hand trailed up his body to cup his cheek. Your other hand tracing circles on his hip. This was simultaneously the best and worst moment of his life. You were so close to him, he looked down. Your towel was starting to slip.

Oh God why did I look down?

“Look at me,” you gently reminded him. You were pressed so close to him; did he have a boner? Oh god he might, you were going to feel his boner and reject him. He was going to gross you out. He didn’t want to look but you were guiding his face with your hand, his eyes connected with yours and your face—

Your expression was soft.

“I like you too,” you said and in that exact second, Tamaki felt happier than he thought he would ever feel, the moment was absolutely perfect then your towel dropped.

Your towel dropped.

You were naked.

Naked.

Tamaki pulled you close, covering you with his arms as if onlookers would bust into your apartment at that exact second and he could somehow shield you.

Blood was rushing to his ears, he could feel the swell of your breasts against him, the points of your nipples touching his chest, but over everything, the musical sound of your laughter as he held you. He looked at you.

“Well, that could’ve gone better,” you said. “But you were bound to see me sometime.” You stepped out of his arms, holding his hands as you backed up, allowing him to look at you.

“Well…” You prefaced and something came over him. His lips crashed against yours, his hands holding your face as he deepened the kiss. He felt your tongue dart into his mouth and growl emitted from his chest. You tasted so damn good. The kiss broke but before he could have a chance to apologize for his outburst you grabbed his hand again, pulling him towards the couch so he’d take a seat. Your eyes were filled with lust as you straddled his lap feeling his half-hard cock grind against your bare pussy, his pants already dampening with your arousal.

You groaned, swirling your hips, rubbing on him, feeling him on your clit.

"I wanna feel close to you" you said, your forehead met his, your breathing ragged as you worked yourself up, your hands scraped up taking his shirt along with them as you helped him remove it, pinching his nipples before descending back down to play with the trail of hair below his belly button. Your lips brushing against his, over and over as you danced together, coming apart for seconds before coming together again.

Tamaki's hands moved down your back, stroking up and down before descending to your ass, a hesitant squeeze that grew more aggressive from the noises you made. Kneading your ass, moving you against his cock.

"Need you," you whined. Your fingers, stumbling with the buttons of his pants. Finally unzipping his fly and pulling him out. Stroking him till he was hard. You guided him towards your folds, swiping his head through your messy cunt, soaking the head with your cum and finally sliding him in. His hands made their way to your ass, kneading it as he moved you up and down his shaft.

Your hips were rolling as you tried to take him deeper, his fingers messy on your clit.

"Fuck baby please," you whined into his neck, lips sucking at the junction that met with his shoulder.

Tamaki groaned at the nickname, his wildest dreams coming true.

He thrust up into you, over and over, his fingers pressing hard into your nub, you felt your body jerk, your orgasm rushing over you, the feeling of your pussy tightening spurring Tamaki on, his thrusts growing frantic as he neared his end, groaning into your ear his balls twitching as he filled you up, the spurts of hot cum inside filling you to the brim.  

You were panting, body collapsed into Tamaki. A soft press of lips to your forehead.

"I’m so glad I told you” He whispered, cradling your face, and bringing your lips to his kiss you. When you pulled away, it was with a smile on your face.

“I’m glad you told me too.”

Thank you for reading! Likes, comments, or reblogs are appreciated!! ♡

Do not interact with 18+ works if you are under the age of 18, do not copy or repost my works, or share on other platforms. Do not use AI with any of my writing. All Characters are aged up, at least to their 20s. All characters belong to Kohei Horikoshi (BNHA).