#hero x lover

[amethystpath-writes]

No, No, No

NOT A PR0MPT

I present to you /*…a vampire snippet. Yippee! Tough themes: character death, a little bit of blood- not descriptive, possessive and manipulative villain. Arguably not the worst, but worth mentioning :p

******

“Hero, we need to-” Lover’s voice was cut off with a loud bang. Hero would have screamed if her ears hadn’t rang out first, but the sound was so loud that any and all processors went out the window.

In a daze, she looked behind her. What happened? What was that sound? Was it really Lover’s voice she heard? Where was he? Hero held her head to settle the swaying of her vision.

“I warned him.” The footsteps entering her room was what drew her attention to Lover.

A shrill gasp filled her ears. It was her. Her gasp. Lover’s body. Her tears. On his red chest.

She found him, and oh, how she wished she hadn’t.

“No,” she heard herself say. “No, no, no, no, no!”

“He could have left. I gave him the opportunity to, but oh no. Poor. Hero.”

Hero couldn’t stop the no’s from spilling. She tripped over them, mumbled and groaned and cried, rocked back on her heels and rested her knees against Lover’s back. “Say something. Lover, stay with me, please.”

She hadn’t paid attention as to where the steps came from, where they were going, or even where they stopped. If she had been paying attention, she would know the footsteps stopped where Lover’s head lay, where she was crying and shaking her partner’s body. So much hope, and what for?

“Come on, up you get.”

Hero wasn’t sure of the words leaving her mouth. All she knew was that she was screaming so hard that her voice could no longer be heard. Not by herself, not by the man hefting her over a shoulder, and certainly not by Lover, who Hero now realized was in a pool of something glistening.

The moonlight filtered through so perfectly through Hero’s room at night. It only brightened her room after 3am, so she didn’t get to bask in it often. Had the circumstances been different tonight, Hero would have ran to her window and watched the moon until she could hardly keep her eyes open. The light was bright enough to lull her to sleep, and dim enough that it barely reminded her of what she was as it touched her skin.

“You can’t leave him! You can’t leave!” The pool, she finally realized, was blood. Lover was bleeding out. Of course, his chest was red earlier, when she pressed her head aside it, but Hero thought…well, Hero was in shock. She didn’t think anything.

“The money is in bringing you back alive. No matter for anything else.”

The word ‘money’ did not register in Hero’s brain. This man was being paid to kidnap her by any means necessary, including killing Lover and leaving him to rot on the floor of their bedroom.

She swung her legs into her captor’s legs, trying to aim higher or lower- wherever his more sensitive spots were. She felt disoriented, but she punched and kicked and kneed and-

“You keep doing that and you’re not going to like the consequences.”

But Hero wasn’t good at listening, especially when it came down to large, burly men carrying her over a shoulder. She screamed, “Put me down!” until there was a rasp in her voice.

The man obliged, bouncing his shoulder so that Hero’s body became unhooked from his own. However, he kept hold of her legs so that they acted as a fulcrum. Hero’s body fell back and she had only a moment to realize that she was about to hit the ground.

In the next moment, Hero was opening her eyes against weights on her lashes. She was tired- so tired.

“You look unwell. Go back to sleep, doll.”

Her eyes were already half-closed by the time the voice spoke. She easily agreed with it. She didn’t feel well, as much as she was sure she looked unwell.

But then again, her eyes were opened, and though she was unsure whether it was the same moment, or another undetermined amount of time, she wasn’t susceptible to suggestion.

A groan escaped her lips as she drearily blinked. All she could focus on was the intense throbbing at the back of her head. Hero touched a finger to it. She gasped, not at the pain which erupted at her own touch, but at the fact that everything she thought she remembered, every hazy detail, was real. “Lover.”

“Not quite.”

Her head snapped up, taking in the room she sat in for the first time. And not just the room. Villain.

“Where am I?” she demanded, though her voice shook.

The room was grey, and Hero could only tell by the hand-width slit in the wall, which allowed for one beam of sunlight to come through. Aside from Villain standing across the beam of light, the room was empty.

“You’re home, with me,” Villain said. When Hero didn’t respond, he continued, “I heard you put up quite the fight.”

Why wouldn’t she? Large men walking into her room after her partner just…“Where is he?”

Villain returned her question with a smile. With just the barest daylight seeping through, Hero could only slightly see the wicked teeth that scared her away so long ago, the ones she found her tongue rubbing against in her own mouth. She recoiled from herself.

“You think Lover was your friend?”

“He was my partner.”

He began stepping forward, slowly, as if preparing to comfort Hero. “He was hindering you, my sweet, from your full potential.”

Her gums were throbbing, something that hadn’t happened since she and Lover became an item. Even when the man broke in, Hero felt more confused than fearful or defensive.

“You cannot change what you are.”

“I wouldn’t even be this if it wasn’t for you,” she bit back. Her gums hurt badly enough that a short whine escaped her.

“Do you know why it hurts?” Villain asked. “Your head, your gums, Lover’s death?”

Death? No, he wasn’t dead. Sure, he was injured, and badly at that, but no, Lover wasn’t dead; he couldn’t be.

“It’s because you ran, Hero. I was willing to help you adjust, to grow into what you are, but you refuse to embrace it. You want that pain to go away, don’t you?”

Her pain had nothing to do with her running. If anything, she should have run away so much sooner. In fact, never knowing Villain would have been the best. He was a predator, a killing machine. And now, Hero was just the same- or would be, if she didn’t choose to control her urges.

“I’ve dealt with the pain for long enough.” And it was true, she had. “I don’t need to conform to it, or whatever it is you’re trying to convince me to do. I don’t need this,” she said. “I don’t need you.”

“You love me,” the villain said. “And I know you do because I can feel your heart beating from here.” Here, being two feet away from her. Still, it was a distance that no regular human would sense a heartbeat from.

“I am terrorized by you. I am horrified and I’m scared.” She didn’t want to give him the upper hand or any advantage of the situation, but what didn’t Villain already have? He was suave and he got his way with anyone. He was strong- mentally and physically, and it wasn’t just because of his theory of ‘leaning into vampirism.’ He killed Lover- no, not killed. He hurt Lover, and Hero was going to get him back.

“You’re still thinking of the mortal.”

“Get out of my head.”

“You can come back to me, Hero. That- that temptation is gone, and I’m here for you. I’ll help you adjust.”

“Stay away from me,” she blurted as Villain took a step towards her. “Stay away from me. I don’t want you. I will never love you, Villain. Never.”

Now this…this stopped Villain in his tracks. While his emotions were known for being hidden, now they were ever clear. Anger. Disgust. Vengeance.

“You’ll learn,” he said. “You’ll learn that you need me more than the very blood in your veins. When you’re starved- because you don’t have that little blood bag you called Lover- you will beg me to love you like I did. You’ll beg me to give you another chance. And because I won’t bow to you, bow to you like I did the moment I turned you, you’ll stand in that window until you burn.”

Hero felt the heat of him, the anger pulsating against the beating of her heart. Whether she liked it or not, the two of them were synced.

“When you fall, it will be no one’s fault but your own. I offered my love. You denied it.”

With this, Villain left, and Hero cried in his wake.

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw implication, enemies to lovers, kinda bitchy reader,

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about the poor college boy who’s struggling to get used to dorm life and his loud neighbor who isn’t making matters any better.

He has never been shy about telling someone off. People should have the common decency not to blast their infernal music so loud that the entire dorm shakes. And you, whoever you may be, are no exception—he thinks while pounding on your door with his fist. Fuck knows if you can even hear him over your speakers.

But lo and behold and despite all odds, you open up.

“Excuse me, can you turn it down?” His words might be polite, but his voice is anything but—glaring down at you… who quickly turned out to be a girl… 

Yeah, definitely not the idiot ass-hat with the shitty body odor he was expecting. But a pretty girl in a short tank top without a bra and booty shorts so tight and short he would think you’d bought them ten years ago.

“It’s eight?” You raise your brow at him, face otherwise dull.

Okay, so you weren't what he was expecting. And sure, it might make his throat a little tight, among other things. But still, he not going to let it change anything. 

“Yeah, I’m tryna study.” 

That was a lie. He was actually about to go to bed. But he wasn’t about to tell you that. Judging by the way you were looking at him, he’d say you’d just laugh and slam the door in his face. Maybe even turn the volume up to spite him.

Not that telling you he was studying was any better.

“There’s something called a library for that sorta thing,” you drawl.

He’s right—you’re the sardonic type. There’s usually no use fighting with people like you, but still, he must stand his ground and insist, “Yeah, well, I prefer my room.”

You reply in kind, smiling now with a short excuse for a laugh, “Oh, what do you know, me too.”

You’re a little hard to read. That felt like sarcasm, but it wasn’t all that easy to tell. He’s mostly certain you couldn't care less, but at the same time, you’d humored him this long. So, maybe…

“You’ll turn it down then?”

As expected. You just laugh and shut the door in his face.

He stands there for a moment. You must be blowing your eardrums sitting in there. He thinks about knocking again, maybe dropping some of the politeness this time and demanding you turn it down.

But he ends up going back to his room. He decides then to wait another hour, thinking you might come to your senses despite your poor attitude. But at zero point, do you turn your music down by even a single lousy notch. 

Lying in his room, he’s hoping someone else might come by and tell you off. That maybe then you’d listen.

But a couple more minutes later, he realizes he can’t wait for that to happen and decides to test his luck again. Abruptly springing from his bed, he marches over to your room. Doing as he did last time, nearly kicking your door in with his banging.

“Oh my god, dude, what is your problem!?” you bark once seeing him.

And his eye nearly twitches in turn. “My problem? Really? You’re one to talk!”

You gape at him, both glaring at the other. 

“It’s eight-thirty. What? Is it your bedtime or something?”

“No. But I would appreciate it if I could hear myself think in my own room!”

“Oh? Well, maybe you should call your mommy and cry about it!”

Again, all you do is slam the door in his face. However, this time, you skip the laugh and settle for a simple yet efficient grimace that lets him know you’ll not be answering the door again.

Several days pass. He caved and invested in a pair of noise-canceling headphones. But still, he hadn’t been able to fall asleep when he wanted. But suppose that wasn’t all your fault. To be honest, he’d probably be struggling either way, with or without your music. It’s not easy living in a new place. 

It’s lonely, too.

But that can’t be helped. At least not for him. He’s not too good at trying to make friends. And yet, there’s someone at the door. 

Three firm knuckle knocks let him know. But who it might be is anyone’s guess. Still, he begrudgingly answers.

“Oh… so this is you, huh…” 

It’s you—the hot but nasty girl next door, wearing that same pair of shorts he’s been thinking about every day without wanting to. 

You don’t seem too pleased to see him either, even when you’d been the one to knock. 

“Ugh…” You look around, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly before gritting your teeth and finally mustering up enough gall to actually spit out what you’d come there for. “You wouldn’t happen to have a screwdriver or something?”

This time, it’s him who raises his eyebrow. “Or something?” he repeats. “What would that be exactly?”

You scoff then, about to leave, grumbling out, “Never mind–” but he interjects before you’re fully turned around.

“Wait there.” 

It’s to both of your surprise when he disappears into his room.

He isn’t gone long before he’s back with a screwdriver. 

“Here.”

You don’t say anything, just rudely rush to grab it without even looking at him, but when you pull it to yourself, you’re pulled back, stuck to the same spot. He holds onto the other end, looking you right in your shocked eyes.

“You know, it’s customary to say thank you when someone does something for you.”

You look flushed—a little chagrined, maybe—but ultimately, you can’t really argue with it, mumbling out a bitter “Thanks.”

He smiles then, chuckles even. Not nicely. Smugly. 

Admittedly, it’s not his best moment, but who can blame him? You haven’t exactly been so nice yourself. Right now, he can tell you almost feel like rejecting his offer altogether, but that refusing at this point would be too petty so you just have to grin and bear it. 

It’s actually kind of cute.

“Bring it back once you’re done,” he says, then lets go of you, and off you go, nearly stomping away.

He goes back to studying, shaking his head at you. You can’t have many friends either with that attitude. Suppose you have that in common.

Sometime later there’s a frustrated scream coming from the other room. Then, the sound of a door handle roughly getting yanked, someone storming down the short distance of the corridor before throwing his door open unannounced.

“Your useless screwdriver isn’t doing its stupid job!” you yell in a whine, almost throwing the tool at him where he sits by his desk. It lands in his bed next to him instead.

You look utterly disheveled at this point. Dewy-faced and frustrated, hair a total mess and even hotter still. It’s really unfair. How come a bitchy brat like you looks like that, even when you’re a wreck? It shouldn't be allowed.

“I highly doubt it’s the screwdriver's fault. You positive it’s the useless one?”

This time, you just growl without words before turning on your heel, about to stomp out the same way you’d arrived—but again, he finds himself stopping you for whatever reason he still can’t understand.

“Wait.” He gets up from his chair and picks up the screwdriver you’d chucked. “Le’mme have a look.”

You shake your head with a scoff, “No way. I’m not letting you in my room.”

“You didn’t seem so reserved when you came barging into mine.” Ignoring you, he walks straight past you.

“Wait–” you protest, but he doesn't bother. 

He just opens your door and reveals the breakdown you’d had just earlier. Having but one word to ascribe to the scene.

“Wow.”

Suppose you were both in your own right struggling with acclimating to dorm life…

“It’s not my fault I’m not a carpenter or whatever. The instructions said it was simple,” you excuse the mess of planks and screws and bits all belonging to your unassembled wardrobe among all the clothes that are meant to be in it. “They lied.”

He scratches his neck, feeling a little bad for you despite everything. This would take anyone over an hour—probably even more, to be honest. Even if you managed on your own, you’d have a hard time pushing it into place. Not that it’s any of his business. But hey… if he played his cards right, maybe he could get something out of this in the end.

“Alright. I’ll make you a deal,” he says then, folding his arms upon his chest while looking down at you. “I’ll set this up for you.” He leans down, that same smug smile from before plastered on his face as he comes with his condition, “If you promise to lower your music after eight.”

Honestly, with your looks, you could probably knock on just about anyone else's door and ask for their help instead. They probably wouldn’t ask anything in return. But hey, can’t blame a guy for trying.

And to his surprise, you actually seem to think about it. Maybe you’re one of those girls without a clue. You even do this cute thing where you chew your lip in thought, a furrow between your brows. 

You look up at him when you’re finished. “Ten.”

You’re bargaining with him now? He was expecting you to say something like fat chance. But no, you’re really that desperate.

He thinks about agreeing but then doesn’t. No, it might be a little scummy of him, but since he’s gotten this far, he might as well keep the act up and stand his ground. 

“Eight,” he insists.

And you’re face scrunches as you fold, going down to “Nine.”

But no, following the same logic that had worked for him up until now, he still doesn’t budge. “Eight.”

You purse your lips, and he thinks he’s blown it, that you’re just about ready to bark at him to get the fuck out. But you don’t. Instead, you become even cuter. Giving in with a sigh, “Okay, fine.”

He honestly can’t believe it. Though his face shows no shock, he’s dumbfounded on the inside. He can’t believe that worked. Here’s this chick who all but told him to go fuck himself just a few days ago, now all but begging him for his help. Or no, begging is a strong word, but still.

He has to go back into his room and fetch the rest of his toolbox. Turned out you did need an or-something—a drill. No wonder you weren’t managing. But after a little over an hour of tinkering while you lay on your bed reading a magazine—and at some point asking you if it was okay if he removed his shirt before he died of heatstroke, then bothering you for a drink—it was finally finished.

“Alright, all done.” He announced, and after sliding it into place for you, he clapped his hands together and said, “Ta-dah.”

He then takes a look at his wristwatch, wanting to see how long he’d spent, but comes away with another fun discovery.

“My my, would you look at the time?” he grins again, showing it to you. “Just passed eight.”

It makes him snicker. And not expecting a thank you after that comment, he just gathers his tools and slings his shirt over his shoulder, ready to excuse himself. 

“Let me know if you need a cup of sugar, neighbor.” 

He’s just about to open the door when you speak up.

“Thanks, but I'm good on sugar, actually.” 

Your voice is a little different this time—not annoyed, though not chagrined like earlier either—no, something new. Something that makes him turn around again. 

You’ve rolled off the bed, now standing just a short distance away, hips tilted, standing slanted with your arms crossed loosely, wearing those same tight little short shorts he’s never seen you without but could definitely picture on the floor.

Yeah, in his wildest dreams, or so he thought…

“I might need some help breaking in my bed, though, if you’re interested.” 

You step closer, sizing him up where he stands, and then you smile, offering him a small coy laugh. “That is, of course, if it’s not already passed your bedtime.”

He swallows thickly—nearly drops the toolbox to the floor but manages to keep his cool, though just barely.

“No, I think I can help you with that.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Touya, Natsuo ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Nanami, Geto, Megumi, Toji ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Kageyama, Kuro, Iwaizumi, Sakusa ♡ CSM – Aki ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin, Sae, Karasu ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi, Genya ♡ WB – Sakura, Kaji

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[anime-villian-irl]

"id let the world burn for you"

"I'd kill for you"

"id die for you"

"I'd sacrifice the world for you"

BORING!

Yawn snore snore. Honk shoo honk shoo.

I got twelve other guys ready to that for me. You already do that. You already destroy the world I would just happen to be there while you did.

The real question is.

Would you save the world for me?

Would you put aside your hatred for humanity and put my love for it Infront? Would you save the world because I love the world? Would you stop killing because I hate killing? Would you find a way to live because I want you alive?

Death and destruction are easy as hell. Do you know how fucking easy it is to kill someone? To blow up a building? Shure security is in the way but if it wasn't there it would be easy as hell.

You'd do the basics shure. But would you do the hard thing and save the world because I asked you to?

Would you push aside your hatred of everyone but me because I asked you to nicely?

Would you?

[atlasshrugd]

no but the thing is, when the hero falls in love with the villain she is falling in love with the darkest parts of herself. she is owning her shadow and the owning makes her stronger. it is not about whether a ship is toxic or romanticising abuse because it’s not about two individuals. the struggle is not one between two people, just like the love is not between two people. when the hero falls in love with the villain she is loving herself. when she loves herself she is stronger, better, able to transform darkness instead of running from it. at the moment of loving, a person changes. the loved changes. and the love of the villain changes the hero. it’s all about this, don’t you see?

[the-modern-typewriter]

“You know,” the hero said, as they touched down on the villain’s rooftop. “People keep telling me I’m yours.”

“Do they.”

The villain seemed entirely unperturbed by both the statement and the intrusion; eyes possibly closed behind their shades, all artful laziness as they sprawled upon a deckchair by the pool. Their long limbs seemed to stretch for miles of unmarred skin. It was obscene. A brazen promise that the villain needed no armour, no defences, whatsoever.

“With varied looks of awe, jealousy and absolute terror,” the hero said.

A smirk curled the villain’s lips, then, just briefly.

“You wouldn’t happen,” the hero crossed the space between them, “to know anything about that, would you?”

The villain slid the shades up when the hero blocked the sun; looming over them, hands on hips. Their head tilted as they considered the hero. Their gaze simmered.

The hero leaned down slowly, bracing their arms on the back of their chair on either side of the villain’s shoulders. They raised their eyebrows to repeat the question.

“You know,” the villain said, “normally when you get in a mood to interrogate me it’s at least about less obvious things. Don’t tell me you’re getting slow on me now. You’re much too young and pretty to be taken round back and shot because you’re past working age.”

“I’m not yours.”

“Babe.”

It seemed impossible that one word, so fond and so mocking all at once, could contain quite so much chiding. The hero’s face burned.

“I didn’t agree to this.”

“And I’m sure the earth didn’t sit down and have a formal chat about orbiting with the sun either,” the villain said, “and the moon didn’t negotiate tide times with the ocean. C’est la vie. The facts of the universe remain.”

“I’m pretty sure we are not a fact of the universe.”

“And yet…” The villain hooked their fingers into the front of the hero’s shirt, tugging them closer, until their lips were inches apart. “Like a gravitational pull, here you are.”

The hero kissed them, then, savagely.

It was their first kiss, but the villain didn’t miss a beat. They slid their legs apart so that the hero could settle with one knee on the lounger braced between them. They tugged the hero’s shirt again like perfect choreography, the elegant execution of another mastermind plan, drawing the hero closer still. They claimed the hero’s mouth, in turn, despite the fact that it was so clearly not a claim that needed making.

“You are such a piece of work,” the hero muttered, breathless. The moved to bite the villain’s neck, obnoxiously higher than the line of their collar. “You can’t just go around telling people I belong to you. Screw you.”

The villain laughed. Their other hand slid around the hero’s back, sun-soaked palm smoothing down before their fingers squeezed the hero’s arse. Their bodies rocked together, pooling heat treacherous and molten in the pit of the hero’s stomach, making them gasp. The villain’s other hand stayed locked around the hero’s shirt, keeping them close.

“Babe,” the villain said again, all teeth and delighted, terribly delightful malice. “Do you really still think I had to? Do you actually think that’s a conversation I bothered to have?”

“…Ugh.”

The villain caught the hero’s chin, turning their head up again. They captured the hero’s mouth in another fierce kiss, and it did feel as inevitable as gravity, as inescapable as a riptide.

The hero was mortified to hear a small moan leave them.

“People are going to think I have terrible taste,” the hero said. “Oh my god.”

“You do have terrible taste,” the villain said. “We could have been doing this ages ago if you weren’t so stubborn.”

“I’m not yours.”

“Say that again when you manage to stop kissing me.”

The hero huffed. They forced themselves to stop, panting, and immediately missed the feel of the villain’s lips against them.

The villain laughed again, shaking their head. They slid their hand from the hero’s collar, up to their throat, fingers splaying over the hero’s racing pulse.

“I don’t mind you fighting it,” the villain said. They bit their lip, eyes dark. Their thumb caressed the hero’s jugular. “You know I like watching you fight. But you hate liars, babe, so at least do us both the courtesy of not being such an unconvincing hypocrite. You wouldn’t stand up anywhere near so well under my interrogation.”

The hero glared at them. They didn’t protest again, though. The villain wasn’t wrong after all. They tried not to think what that brand of interrogation might entail. They failed.

“I hate you,” the hero said, instead, and it didn’t feel like enough.

“Mm.” The villain was once more unperturbed by such a declaration. “You’re still blocking my sun. Your options are to either move, or I’m putting you beneath me. I need to get my back anyway.”

The obvious option was to move. To fly away the way they’d come and keep flying. The hero's heart pounded in their ears. Want drummed through their veins, like poison.

“Maybe I’m not yours,” the hero said. “Maybe you’re mine.”

"Oh, love.” In an instant, the villain had flipped them.

The hero’s breath hitched.

The villain, oh so leisurely, straddled the hero’s hips.

The hero imagined the villain’s hands on their wrists, pinning them down, taking what was wanted without the hero needing to ask or give up anything. Their mouth felt dry.

The villain looked at the hero like they knew, too well, all the ways in which defiance could be surrender. Mere bravado. A lie that the villain was only thinly indulging, and only because they were getting their way anyway.

The hero swallowed.

The villain smiled. They leaned down and pressed the gentlest of kisses to the hero’s lips – just enough to stoke the fire – and then settled. Cuddled. It would have been sweet on someone else, if it wasn’t so infuriating. If the hero didn’t feel like they were about to explode. Itching for a fight or – or –

“Of course I’m yours, babe,” the villain said, against their ear. “Do you really think that’s going to save you?”

No.

No, as the hero stared up at the gloriously clear blue skies, they really rather thought they were screwed.

[frickingnerd]

rivals to lovers with bakugou

pairing: katsuki bakugou x gn!reader

tags: rivalry, mutual feelings, idiots in love, lots of fighting (as in training fights), petty bakugou, bakugou has a soft spot for you

you had caught katsuki's eye ever since you defeated the boy on one of your first days at UA

you were on a team with izuku, playing the heroes, while katsuki was on a team with iida, playing the villains

you and izuku had defeated him that day and katsuki swore that he would never lose against any of the two of you again!

he kept giving his all, whenever he got the chance. during the sports festival, the license exam and the internships

the two of you always had similar results, always scoring just a point more or less than the other

katsuki hated that he never got to win against you. those small wins by a point or two wasn't what he wanted!

he wanted to crush you and show you how powerful he really was!

his little rivalry with you slowly started to turn into an obsession

he learned all the small things about you, in an attempt to use them against you

he knew your fighting style better than anyone else!

he knew you better than anyone else!

before he realized it, his resentment towards you had faded away and instead was replaced with affection

he knew you so well and he had fallen in love with those small things about you

katsuki still pretended to hate you, to keep the rivalry going, but he started to get softer around you

you noticed that he'd let you win certain fights. or how he would only end a fight when you were pinned underneath him, instead of knocking you out like he used to

it didn't take a genius to realize that katsuki had fallen in love with you

and perhaps he would start to notice soon, that you had been in love with him for even longer…

[country-bumpkin-cutie]

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but not all enemies have to become friends to turn into lovers. Sometimes, you can hate a bitch and still think they’re hot as fuck 🔥

[demigod-shenanigans]

Hands down one of the funniest things about tlh Valgrace is how badly Leo wants them to be in some sort of imbalanced rivalry/prince and stablehand situation but Jason just. Being way too nice for it to work?

Leo: I am worse than you in every way imaginable. I hate your stupid good looks and the fact that you’re this perfect hero and I will never measure up to you.

Jason: Incorrect! Actually you’re incredible and better than me in so many ways and I wish I could do half the stuff you do! You’re so cool! I’m so lucky to know you and love that we’re best friends :D

Leo: …what the hell is happening

[hairmetal666]

It's 3am. It's pouring down rain. Steve's soaked to the skin, been wandering the city for most of the night, hasn't slept in almost 24 hours, thinks maybe he's on the brink of delirium, and then a truck hits a pool of ponded water, sending a muddy wave cascading over him.

He just wants to go home but Dustin lost his dog and he can't leave a puppy out in this weather.

Steve steps off the curb, and what looks like a shallow puddle turns out to be a water-filled hole. He crashes towards the pavement, nothing he can do to stop it. As fast he's falling, he's miraculously not, arms wrapped around his waist. It takes a second for his brain to catch up, to understand that he's being held upright in an old-fashioned, romantic dip.

"Careful, sweetheart," a deep and smoke raspy voice says from above him.

it sends chills down his spine, the good kind, and warmth slips through him. His rescuer is a solid 10 knockout. Long, curly hair; eyeliner; decked out in leather and studs and chains. He smells like booze and cigarettes and weed, and it's intoxicating. Steve has to fight the instinct to nuzzle the guy's leather jacket. He's beautiful, holds Steve with the swagger only a guy with rings on every finger could pull off.

And Steve is a mud soaked mess in sweatpants and a threadbare Hawkins High tee. But the guy holding him isn't letting go. He stares down at Steve, brown eyes wide.

"Steve!" A voice calls over the patter of the rain.

"Dustin?" He says at the same time that the man holding him says, "Henderson?"

"Eddie?" Dustin asks.

"Wait, dnd Eddie?" Steve gets his feet under him, but Eddie's arms don't drop.

"You're the famous babysitter Steve I've been hearing all about?"

They gape at each other until Dustin reaches them.

"What are you still doing out here?" Dustin shouts. "We found Dart hours ago."

"Dustin!" He thinks he might cry. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You weren't answering your walkie!"

"Fuck." Steve drops his face to his hand. The walkie. Which is on the table by the front door where he and Robin leave their keys.

Steve swallows his frustration, the misery of waterlogged shoes, having to be up to open the store in a few hours, meeting the hottest guy he's ever seen when he looks like a drowned rat.

"I promised I'd find Dart, didn't I? Now what the hell are you doing out so late?"

"Mom and I were looking for you!"

"Let's get you back to the car, man, okay?" Steve says to Dustin. He wants to end this weird, terrible, embarrassing night before it gets even more humiliating.

"I can give you a ride home," Eddie says. He's got this weird, intense look on his face, staring at Steve.

"I'm only a few blocks away. I'll be fine. C'mon, Henderson."

"Oh, I can walk him. You head home."

He nods, starts towards his apartment, but turns back just in time to see Eddie and Dustin share a look he can't parse.

---

A few days later, Dustin's following him around at work, chattering about dnd as Steve shelves books, and without taking a breath during a soliloquy about owl bears, says, "Eddie's running a one-shot for us next week. You should come! It's a great way to get into the game."

"I'm not playing dnd," Steve answers. He slides a book onto the shelf. "I've told you this."

"Yeah, but you liked Eddie, right? He'd help you out!"

Steve squints at the kid. "I didn't really meet Eddie to know. Anyway, I'm sure he doesn't want a newbie crashing."

Steve is pretty sure Eddie doesn't like him, based on their short introduction, so he's not interested in forcing himself into the guy's dnd club. The night they met was humiliating enough, Steve in all his dorky glory.

"No, he totally wouldn't care. C'mon, Steve!"

"No can do." He ruffles Dustin's hair as he walks away.

He thinks that'll be the end of it, but every few days, for weeks Dustin and all the rest of the kids stop at the store to beg him to join their dnd club.

---

Steve is working the register and he hears the shuffling clank of a customer, looks up and finds Eddie. He's staring at Steve with that same look from the night they met, intense and piercing, cutting straight through the heart of him. He feels himself start to blush.

The first thing out of Eddie's mouth is, "Wait, this is your store?"

"Yeah?" Steve asks. "Is that--is that weird?"

"No! Not at all. It's a good store. Cute." His nose wrinkles when he says it and Steve's blush grows hotter. He knew Eddie thought he was a dork.

"Cute. Yeah. Right. Can I help you with something?"

Eddie rocks back on his heels, hands going to the pockets of his leather jacket, sending his chains jingling. "Oh, so, actually I wanted to see if you were busy?"

"Yeah, man. I'm busy." He laughs, doesn't intend to be mean about it, but he and Robin only opened the store six months ago and both take night classes at the local community college. Plus, everything he does with the kids.

Eddie's face flushes bright. "Oh, sure, of course. Yeah, I--I'll see you around."

The door thunks to a close behind him, and a voice immediately pops up to ask, "What the hell was that?"

He turns to find Max Mayfield hands on hips, glaring up at him, Robin close behind.

"Shouldn't you be in school?"

Max rolls her eyes and strides up to the counter. "Why were you an asshole to Eddie?"

"He started it!"

"I highly doubt that."

"Okay, Ms. Know-it-all, why don't you tell me what happened?"

"I know for a fact that Eddie came in today to ask you out. So, tell me, Steve Harrington, why he rushed out of here looking like a kicked puppy?"

"What?" He yelps. "Eddie doesn't even like me!"

She glares. "Doesn't like you? He's been pathetic about you since you met."

He gapes at Robin. "Don't look at me," she shrugs. "But that guy was definitely here to ask you out."

"Fix it." Max commands as she stomps out the door. "He bar tends at that metal place on 68th."

---

It's just after 9pm and he's at the metal bar on 68th, decidedly out of place in the yellow t-shirt and jeans he wore to his business accounting class.

It's fairly busy for a weeknight, but Eddie's not hard to find. He's obviously in his element, bobbing his head to a song Steve's never heard as he mixes a drink.

With a hard swallow and a healthy dose of humility, he walks up to the bar.

"Be right--" Eddie starts, balking when he notices Steve.

"Can we talk?" he shouts over the music.

Eddie's eyes widen a little, but he nods, slips out from behind the bar to guide him to an employee exit.

"What's up, Steve?" Eddie asks. His hands are in his pockets, shoulders bowed in.

"I wanted to apologize."

"What for?"

"Earlier, I--when you said the store was cute I thought you were making fun of me."

"But--why?"

"I thought you didn't like me." Steve cringes at the admission.

"What?" He laughs.

"I don't know. We met in the middle of the night and I was covered in mud looking for a dog that wasn't lost anymore."

"Steve. Holy shit." Eddie shakes his head. "You looked gorgeous that night. The way your clothes were sticking--you know what? Never mind. Did you think I wanted you to come to dnd because I hated you?"

"You wanted me to come?"

"Dustin didn't..."

"No! And he's been asking me to play dnd weekly for the past five years."

"Jesus Christ," Eddie slumps agains the brick wall at his back. "No wonder you turned me down today."

"To be fair," Steve slumps next to him. "If I had realized you were asking me out, I wouldn't have turned you down."

"No?" Eddie asks. His brown eyes gleam.

"Definitely not. I've had a crush on you since that night. Sort of devastating since I thought you didn't like me." Steve runs his hand through his hair, watches Eddie track the movement.

"The store is cute, Steve. I--uh--I've been a few times. Back before I knew you were the owner! I just kept seeing a hot employee with great hair and a perfect ass, and the vaguely mean lesbian barista gives me free drinks."

"That's Robin," Steve says. He's smiling so hard.

"I know that now," Eddie smiles back. "Sorry for being an idiot."

"Me too." Steve nods. "Do you--could I still come to dnd? Or take you out sometime?"

"Why not both?" Dimples pop on Eddie's cheeks, and Steve's heart flips.

"I like both." They're still against the wall, but drifting into each other's space.

"So Dustin said."

It surprises a laugh out of Steve. "I'm gonna kill him."

"Too bad. He's a nice kid."

"Eh, we've got six more to choose from."

"I have a few more hours here, but there's a diner down the street that does some of the most mediocre pancakes I've ever tasted. Meet me there? Around 2?"

"A thousand lost puppies wouldn't make me miss it."

The next time Steve is out at 3am he's pressed against a building, Eddie kissing him so thoroughly he knows he's never recovering from this one.

[wisecura]

Closer

College AU: somewhat enemies to lovers/fwb

Katsuki Bakugo x f!reader 3.3k

Summary: as long as you’ve known him, Bakugo has been your least favorite person. He’s loud, arrogant, and you’re his favorite target to mess with. And how you ended up at the same frat party, on the same night, in the same closet—you’ll never know.

Warnings: enemies to lovers trope, ex boyfriend, you aren’t completely aware how he feels, you hate him, semi-public sex, fingering, kissing, choking, degradation, belittling, pet names, not so nice names, your horny, aren’t we all?, breeding, claiming, jealousy, did I miss anything?

AN: Am I putting off my Sheets series to write another short fan fic? yes. Is that a bad thing? maybe. Should I stop?...*huffs indignantly* no.

Needed a change of pace for a minute so thank you for reading! This is entirely educational for me. I’m still new to writing and need a better grasp on writing out these scenarios and scenes. Thank you for giving this a shot and let me know how it is! Sorry if the proofread is a bit off!

The look in his eye was downright nasty.

Nothing short of plain cruel as he glared down at you.

How on earth you found yourself stuck in a damn near locker-sized closet was a mystery. And how you managed to find yourself squished against your absolute least favorite person, Katsuki Bakugo, was a goddamn anomaly.

“Can you get the hell off my foot-“ You shush him quickly, your ear peeled to the door.

“Don’t shush me. You’re the one who dragged me in here like a damn lunatic. You wanna play seven minutes that badly?”

You glare up at him in the dim closet, his stupid cocky smirk barely visible in the sliver of light from the cracks in the door. He was so smug it was almost unbearable standing this close to him. You’re already kicking yourself for acting so impulsively. Your voice hushes out in a whisper-“Oh, please. I’d rather be stuck in here with a rabid raccoon than you.”

“Tch, you’re practically clinging to me right now. You sure about that, princess?”

Your cheeks flush as you realize just how close you actually are to him, your chest brushing against his every time you breathe. The cramped space offers no room to move away, and his broad shoulders make it feel even smaller. “I’m not clinging to you, you idiot! There’s no fucking room in here to not be touching you.”

He chuckles lowly. The sound reverberating in his chest. You don’t know if it’s the stale beer running through your system or the fact that you hadn’t gotten laid in two months. It’s annoyingly attractive, and you hate the flush that settles across you face. Sure he was handsome as hell—6’2, chiseled body, handsomely sharp features. Deep red eyes that drew you in and that windswept blonde hair. And of course—what ruined everything for you—that mouth.

“Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.” Words dripping with a condescension that he reserved solely for you.

And those fucking pet names—You’re about to snap back when you hear the muffled sound of voices outside the closet. Your heart jumps into your throat as one of them catches your attention—it’s your ex. Just the one person you were trying to avoid. He was chatting with someone but it was muffled—“Yeah, I swear I saw her come upstairs. Someone said she'd be here tonight.”

Your blood runs cold, and your fingers instinctively clench at his chest. You lean in closer to hear him through the door. Bakugo stiffens at first, at your somehow closer proximity, then leans down slightly so his lips are near your ear.

“What? you scared—“ your hand covers his mouth in milliseconds. Effectively shutting up the loud mouthed blonde.

He manages to understand your wordless request…but his breath is so warm against your skin, and you curse yourself for the way it sends shivers down your spine. He notices, of course—because of course he does—and his grin turns downright wicked. In hushed tones—

“Relax, princess. He’s not gonna find you. Though if he does, this’ll be one hell of a misunderstanding, yeah?”

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yeah? And you’re a real pain in the ass, but here I am, letting you feel me up like your life depends on it.”

You want to shove him, tell him off, something—but the voices outside the closet are coming closer and closer. You press yourself back against the opposite wall, but only at expense of your stability. Those fucking heels that you insisted on wearing tonight almost took you out. Fortunately, Bakugo managed to steady you. And unfortunately, you now have to feel every inch of his chest pressed that much more against you. His hands now grip your waist tightly, and your almost flush with him. “Careful now. You’re starting to look a little flustered there.”

“I’m not flustered. I’m annoyed.”

“Sure, that’s what that is.” You hear your ex speak again, his voice laced with thinly veiled frustration. Now sounding right outside the door. “Where the hell is she? Did she sneak out or something?”

You hold your breath, your heart hammering in your chest as his footsteps pause. Bakugo notices, his teasing demeanor shifting slightly as his gaze flicks to a sliver in the door. For a moment, he looks almost serious. Before long, the footsteps retreat, and your ex’s voice fades as he heads back downstairs. You can hear his laugh echoing the hall.

The silence in the closet was deafening. You realize you’re still leaning against him as you attempt to move back. You don’t get far though, your legs are basically tangled at this point. Trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck.

“Don’t. Say. A word.”

Bakugo leans back against the wall, and you know he’s about to push every button you have. This was an awkward situation to be in. And all by your own doing.

“What, about how you were clinging to me like I’m your knight in shining armor? Or how red your face is right now?”

“I swear to god, I hate you.”

He pauses for a second. “Seriously, what’s his deal, though? Why the hell is he looking for you so damn bad? Thought you two were done.”

You glance up at him, your head spinning. The buzz you had was still going—not enough to consider yourself drunk, but enough to make the cramped closet feel warmer than it should be. His sharp crimson eyes are locked on you, his expression a little too serious. Once again he just looked pissed off. You have the mind to feel embarrassed about the situation. The two of you were never close, arguing more than anything.

“I don’t know. He’s…weird like that. He doesn’t like losing, even when he doesn’t actually want me.”

“Tch. Sounds about right. He’s always been a piece of shit.”

Your eyes narrow at him, even though deep down you know he’s right. His abrasive and blunt nature always grated on your nerves. Though there’s something about hearing it now, in this moment, that makes it hit differently. You'd never been one to back down from one of the many fights you shared with him.

“Oh, and you’re so much better? You’ve never been nice to me once, Bakugo.”

He snorts. “Yeah, maybe I’m not nice. But at least I’m not out there screwing around behind your back. You sure know how to pick 'em.”

His words sting and you feel your brows furrowing. You open your mouth to spew the nastiest insult on your tongue, yet before you can get it out, he leans in just enough to make the cramped closet feel all the more smaller. Now sporting some heavy bedroom eyes, his smug looking face come within inches of yours.

“Do you ever close that damn mouth of yours? That’s probably the real reason you and that asshole aren’t together anymore.”

Irritation bubbling over—half from indignation, half from the way his voice drops lower, rougher, like he’s daring you to argue. Why this turns you on so much, you aren’t sure. You felt your thighs clench slightly. Tying to steady your breathing.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to talk so much if you weren’t always such a jackass!”

You expect him to snap back, to argue, to yell—but instead, he tilts his head, his smirk widening. Knowing. He shifts against you, spreading out all the more, making you hyper-aware of just how close he is. Your heart pounds, the buzz of alcohol mixing with you shit sense of judgement.

Then it happens—you feel his leg between yours, grazing high up on your inner thigh, and a small, involuntary whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it.

Your hand shoots up to your mouth in horror. Embarrassment washing through your very being. The sound hangs in the air, and you instantly wish you could take it back. His eyes widen slightly, obviously a little surprised, before narrowing again. Of course, he leans into it, the teasing his smirk turning downright predatory.

“What the hell was that, princess?”

Your face burns, and you try to turn away, but there’s nowhere to go in the tiny closet. He pulls you closer, the balance on your heels easily teetering you towards him. You try and scramble off his chest—out of the closet, embarrassed and unnervingly needy. But he pulls you towards him again, your hands planted on his chest. You sure as hell couldn't stand the thought of him being the one to throw you a bone tonight. His voice dropping to a taunting whisper.

“Now—hey, hey, where you goin? You just whimper for me? Never thought I’d hear you make a sound like that.”

“I—I didn’t—shut up! and let go!” You hate how breathless you sound. The warmth of his body between your legs was overwhelming, and every inch of space between you feels like too much. You really fucking hated him. Yet the way he looked tonight was so tempting. But that was just the alcohol talkin.

“Nah, I don’t think I will. Not when you’re lookin' at me like that.”

You try to look anywhere but at him, but there’s not much to see in a dim closet, is there? He leans in just enough that his lips are inches from your ear, his voice a low rumble that makes your knees weak. Thank god he was holding you up, right?

“Guess you’re not as tough as you like to act, huh? Or maybe…you just like being put you in your place.”

You open your mouth to argue, to tell him he’s wrong, but the words die in your throat as his hand brushes up your side, slow and deliberate, groping you above your dress. He’s toying with you, and the bastard knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s infuriating how your body betrays you, leaning into his touch. Your fingers grip at his shirt. Your pussy clenching around nothing. His head is firmly planted in the crevice of your neck now, in a far too intimate gesture.

“What’s it gonna be, princess? You gonna tell me to stop? Or are you gonna admit you don’t hate me as much as you think you do?”

You don’t have a second to answer as he nips at you, trailing small kisses in his wake. You feel your hands tremble as you wrap your arms around his neck. You pull him closer.

Bakugo's grip tightens on your waist as you lean into him involuntarily. His cock twitches at the feeling of you pressed against him, as he grinds himself into your sopping core. Your hitched dress making it all the easier. “At least she seems to like me.”

You gasp at the sudden intrusion of his fingers rubbing you through your panties, your eyes rolling back as he expertly plays with your clit. His lips continue their bruising pace, sucking, marking, biting until he finally captures your lips in a brutal all consuming kiss. You whimper against his lips, the punishing pace on your clit has your head spinning. He pulls back, a wet string connecting your lips.

"Fuck you're so wet for me already. Practically drippin'."

He pulls his fingers back, dragging them across his lips, sucking you down till he was clean. His eyes remain on your dazed expression. Yours trail the movement, absolutely feral, practically begging for more. It’s been to long.

"'N you taste so fuckin' good too." His gaze darkened as he watched your hips move against him, seeking some kind of friction. You could feel the heat through his clothes, his dick pressed right up against you. You so badly wanted it inside you—your mouth, your tight hole, hell—anywhere.You couldn’t help but be angry at the loss of his fingers.

"Such a needy little thing. Mmm princess, you're killing me.” You all but whimper at his words, and his restraint snaps. With a damn near animalistic growl, he pins you back against the wall, effectively caging you in place. His head dips, capturing your lips again in another hungry kiss while his free hand hikes your dress up further. He all but rips your panties off, the loud ripping of fabric echoes in the confined space.

You barely notice him slotting them into his pocket, as his fingers finally delve into your slickened folds. His cocked throbbed almost painfully in his pants as you completely melt against him.

You moan against his lips as his fingers slide into your slick heat, a filthy sound escaping you as he starts pumping them in and out roughly. He curls his fingers inside of you, hitting that sweet spot that makes you tremble and whimper even more. He feels your walls tighten around his digits, your body begging for release. He pulls away, looking down at your flushed face, heavy breaths fogging the air between you.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" Instead of any coherent response, you let out a needy whimper, trying to avoid giving him the satisfaction of you begging. As if his fingers weren't knuckle deep in your cunt, making you light headed. As if he weren't inches from giving you the best orgasm you've had all year.

"Not good enough, princess. Tell me how much you want my cock inside you." He nibbles your earlobe, his fingers increasing their pace, pushing you closer to the edge. He was being mean. You know he's just taunting you. But you hated the way his words made you gush.

He could obviously feel your body tensing up, he knew you were close. But you know he won't let you come until you said what he wanted. He bites down harder on your earlobe, eliciting a yelp from you. His other hand grips your hip tightly, steadying you as he thrusts his fingers in deeper. Your slick coating his hand, dripping down your thigh. "Say it," he growls, his voice low and demanding. Your body writhes against his touch, your whimpers and whines picking up. "Come on. You know you want to. Beg me to fill you up." You getting wetter and wetter, gushing around his fingers as they slid in and out effortlessly.

"Please Katsuki…fuck me…please…" Finally, rewarded with your broken plea, he smirks triumphantly before pulling his fingers out of you, leaving you damn near foaming at the mouth.

"About time," He growls, savoring the sweet sound of your desperate panting before he roughly pushes your legs further apart, hiking one leg up. His fingers bruising your thigh, spreading you open for him. His fingers are replaced by something far better—his hard cock. His head falls back with a strangled moan leaving his lips when he finally buries himself in your sloppy cunt. Bakugo doesn't take his time, no, he fucks you like he owns you.

Hard and fast, like a man starved. His movements are rough and animalistic, his hips slamming into yours with groans and grunts of his own. You're sure people outside can hear you, even over the loud music. But you're so cock-drunk, mind hazy that you don't really fucking care who hears you—you just want him.

"You're so goddamn tight, princess." He mutters, his voice husky, and sounding almost impressed. You let out a choked moan, nails digging into his shoulders. He grasps your hip roughly, his pace picking up. Thrusting deeper, faster, harder, until all you can hear are your wet squelches filling the closet. Your tight little pussy clenching around him like a vice. He groans against your neck, teeth digging into the tender flesh.

"Such a greedy little slut, aren't you?" You aren't able to respond—his cock bullying your cervix at every thrust, oh so deliciously. Each word bringing you closer and closer, as you practically drool at the thought of his cum buried into you. You meet his thrust with your own small grinds as he gives you another throaty moan. "Oh fuck yes—" His grip on you tightens, sure to bruise indents forming under his fingertips, as he drives his fat cock into you g-spot repeatedly. "Is this what you wanted? Wanted my big cock to full you up?" thrusting harder with each word. "Fucking needy little thing, you wanna cum for me?" His hand winds up to wrap around your neck, as you clench harder around him. He hisses at the feeling, "Or should I just leave you unsatisfied like that worthless ex of yours?" He smirks down at you and you cant help the gasps coming from your wet lips. "He ever make you this wet, sweetheart? You ever had such a good cock?" You shake your head, quickly, always eager to please.

"No, I fucking thought so." His tone drips with satisfaction. He thrust into you with a brutal ferocity, clearly enjoying the way you whimper and squirm under his touch. "You always did have shit taste in men." His grip tightens on your neck, not enough to suffocate you, but enough to make you gasp and dip your nails in deeper. "But that ends now, princess." He growls against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "I'm gonna be the only one fucking you like this from now on. You hear me? Should I tell you what I'm going to do to you? How I'm going to fill you up—make you mine?" His words are hot against your ear, his breath fanning over your flushed skin. That dick hitting every sweet spot that makes you see stars. "Or maybe I’ll just show you."

His fell grip on your neck tightens just a fraction, making it more difficult to breathe as he slams into you even harder. You hear people in the hallway, but he doesn't seem to care. "I'm gonna fuck you so good you won’t even remember your own name, let alone his." His words boarded on venomous, and if you didn’t know any better—you’d say he was jealous. His hips grind against yours in a punishing rhythm. "Then I'm gonna cum inside you, fill you up with my seed." His voice drops to a low growl as he whispers his intentions into your ear. "I'm gonna breed you. Make you mine." He can feel you tensing around him, your orgasm building fast. "Say it, princess. Say you want me to breed you." He thrusts his fingers into your mouth, coated in your own juices. "Say you want my cum inside you."

"Please, Katsuki…fuck, please, please cum inside me…breed me—" he lets out a low groan at that. "Such a good girl, so fucking good for me." That's all the encouragement he needs. With a growl, he slams into you one last time, his cock pulsing as he fills you up, long streams of curses filling the small space, telling you to take it, take it, sucha good girl. Your walls contracting around him, milking him dry as your orgasm crashes over you, spasming around his cock. His grip on your neck loosens slightly as he pulls back, watching as you ride out your climax. Your eyes are glazed over, mouth open as you try to catch your breath.

"Fuck, princess. That was…goddamn." He pants, resting his forehead against yours. For a brief moment, his expression softens, but it's gone as fast as it appeared. He withdraws from you slowly, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. You can feel his cum pooling between your legs, dripping down. He reaches down, pushing it back up into you, plugging you up.

"Mmm, look at you. Such a mess for me." He says, voice low and husky, before leaning in and licking a long, possessive stripe on your neck. His body pressing in against yours. Your cheeks ignite at the intimate gesture. It’s felt too—too intimate now. Too much. You finally have some clarity at the situation, "Hey, uhm—" and suddenly there was a knock. Both of your eyes shoot wide open in panic. Bakugo straightens up, pulling himself back leaving you cold, before tucking himself back into his pants. You watch in mortification, tugging your dress back over you legs. You panties missing—somewhere.

Fuck

come home

[a-pastel-edgelord]

Despite all the commonly held beliefs about him, Atsumu is not a bad guy. He knows this because he hasn't moved from his spot at his desk once today. And sure, maybe his eyes wander over to you and his mind keeps conjuring vague questions about how your day is going—regardless, he's not going to budge. He may end up burning a hole into his math work sheet from his staring, but it's a small price to pay.

He's taken you for granted. After you got a boyfriend. Little ole you, who never quite changed from being a snot-nosed brat in his mind until all of a sudden you couldn't hang out. The space you used to occupy (somewhere between Suna and Samu) is conspicuously empty. It's not right.

You don't eat lunch together anymore: instead, your stupid boyfriend (he's in Kita-san's class, and not even that good-looking by the way) collects you and off you skip to some obscure corner of the school where you guys probably make eyes at each other over your bentos. You don't walk home with him and Samu these days, no it's Whatshisname doing it in their place while holding your hand and calling your name with sugary familiarity. Like that guy knows something he doesn't. Well, jokes on your boyfriend because Atsumu knows how ugly you are when you cry or how spine tingling your whoops of glee are, or how your eyes absolutely sparkle when you eat something you like. Atsumu is willing to bet a month's worth of Osamu's cooking this scrub doesn't even know what your favorite café order is.

Fuckin' ridiculous.

But what's Atsumu supposed to do about it?? If you like this guy seriously, it's the least he can do to not get in the way of you being happy.

Are you happy? You deserve it, more than most people, in his opinion. Life hasn't been super fair to you, so the least it can do is give you someone who treats you well. Yeah, maybe it's just the universe balancing itself. This thought sustains him for a little while as the days pass.

Until he misses a spike serve in a particularly spectacular fashion. The ball ricocheted off the wall and out of the open gym doors. He rounds the corner of the gym, snatching up the wayward ball, only to look up at a sound. On the other side of the chain link fence that separates the gyms from the fields is your boyfriend with his tongue down the throat of the captain of the soccer team.

A grin, all teeth, cracks across his face. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears as blood rushes to his brain. His breath becomes shorter, and he checks himself before he starts hyperventilating. Atsumu Miya is not a bad guy, really he's not. After all, who wouldn't be happy to get what they want?

[bebx]

love the classic damsel in distress trope, but the damsel in question is a pathetic fictional man bleeding out in the dark somewhere on the floor before his ridiculously gorgeous knight comes for his rescue just when he’s about to pass out, and the ridiculously gorgeous knight in question is actually a deranged villain who is his archenemy. but they both have these frustratingly unresolved sexual tension going on where they both hate each other but are also super possessive and protective of each other in the sense that no one else can hurt this little guy but me!!!! and so the knight carries his pathetic damsel in his arms bridal style back to his goth castle where they have hot, kinky gay sex ever after (after he nurses his pathetic enemy’s ass back to health, of course, can’t risk bruising our fragile damsel when he’s already half dead).

[catofadifferentcolor]

Terrible Fic Idea #92: Percy/Apollo, but make it The Trojan War

Into every fandom, a time travel fic must fall - or in this case a second one, because I somehow got to thinking about the delightful PJO trope of Percy being thrown back in time to The Trojan War and realized that doing so misses out on a fantastic opportunity.

Or: What if post-TOA Percy Jackson and Apollo time travel to shortly before The Trojan War?

aka the Tried To Change The Ending fic

Just imagine it:

Everything follows canon through TOA, with one exception: rather than struggle to catch up in the mortal world following the Second Gigantomachy, Percy elects to stay at Camp Half-Blood. There he can homeschool at his own place with programs tailored towards ADHD children and still visit his family on the weekends - and not get into any more ridiculous situations in the mortal world when one of the gods kidnaps him or sends him on a quest to find their sneakers.

This, naturally, stresses his relationship with Annabeth - who, now that she's no longer living at camp full time, calls it the easy way out. But Percy is tired and struggling in mortal high school where everyone thinks he's a delinquent idiot when another option exists seems foolish. Percy and Annabeth break up and drift apart.

Enter Apollo, fresh from his latest stint as a mortal. He's trying to do his best by his children, which includes popping by camp as often as he can get away with - which in turn means spending a lot of time with Percy, who at this point is unofficially running CHB because it's not like Dionysus or even Chiron have done a brilliant job of it in recent times.

(First aid, strategy, and mythology classes are made mandatory. Percy personally ensures every demigod knows enough about self-defense to be able to survive long enough to run away or for help to arrive. Bullying is cracked down on so hard that it's this, not Percy's generally parental nature, that has people calling him Camp Mom.)

Percy and Apollo become friendly. Enough so that some of Apollo's kids assume they're dating and keeping it on the down-low so as not to draw Zeus' ire. Or Poseidon's. Or anyone else's. It's on one of their not-dates that they're yeeted into the past, without warning or explanation.

And so 19-year-old Percy Jackson and post-TOA Apollo find themselves in Ancient Greece c. 1220 BCE, roughly thirty-five years before the destruction of Troy.

The time travel is immediately obvious, as Apollo becomes the closest thing a god might experience to being high the moment they land in the past - being a powerful god in modern times is nothing like being a powerful god at the height of his power in ancient times. It's overwhelming (and somewhat alarming from Percy's POV, but kind of funny in retrospect.)

The specific date is harder to determine, but made clear when Hermes shows up and starts going on about you'll never believe what father's done now: he seduced the Spartan queen as a swan and she's laid an egg. Hera is furious - especially as they're saying the girl that hatched from it is the most beautiful in the world, even though she's only a few days old. It's nuts. By the way, where have you been? You missed the last two council meetings. Do you want Dad to punish you?

Apollo at this stage is very high. He's also been USTing over Percy for quite some time and is worried what the gods of this era might do to Percy without divine protection (smiting or seduction, it's all on the table). But mostly he's very high, and so to keep Percy close and safe he declares he's been off having the dirtiest of dirty weekends with his latest lover and that Hermes' presence is ruining the mood. So if he would kindly leave, please and thank you, he'd really rather get back to it without an audience.

This, naturally, is a surprise to Percy, but he rolls with it because 1) he doesn't have any better ideas on how to get rid of Ancient Greek Hermes so they can figure out what the hades is going on and 2) he's been USTing over Apollo ever since he recovered enough from Tartarus to start feeling attraction again.

Fueled by mutual UST, they put together a cover story that should hold the next time a god with too much prurient interest shows: Percy is now Prince Persē of Gadir - a Phoenician colony that will grow into the future Cadiz - well past the edge of the Greek world at this stage but not beyond belief for Poseidon to have visited, as it's obvious who his father is. They claim his mother is the King of Gadir's youngest sister and as such Persē had a royal upbringing, but was far enough down the line of succession that he was free to chose to sail east and explore his father's homeland. Apollo caught sight of him on his journey, one thing led to another, and here they are.

(Are there easier, more sensible cover stories? Possibly. But the UST refuses to let them consider any of them now that a fake relationship is on the table.)

Deciding what to do about The Trojan War is much harder. On the one hand, it's a lot of senseless death and destruction. On the other, without it we don't get The Iliad and The Odyssey - two of the most influential works of literature in western civilization - and Aeneas doesn't go off to Italy (leading to the founding of Rome, which would change the history of western civilization a lot). In the end, they decide to let the war happen but do their best to mitigate the worst parts of it.

And so Percy goes off and becomes a hero of Ancient Greece while pretending to be in a relationship with Apollo.

This stage of things is filed with angst from both parties, as both Percy and Apollo want a real relationship with each other but think they're abusing the other's trust by eagerly faking their relationship. There's a lot of PDA, a lot of feelings, and limited communication. It goes on for quite a while and would probably exasperate quite a few people if everyone in the know didn't think they were already in a relationship.

It's also filled with modern day Percy being confronted by realties of life in Ancient Greece. It's not just mortals knowing about - and interacting with - the gods: it's everything. It's food and clothes and language and culture and housing and travel. He can play a lot off it as being a traveler from the edge of the known world, but some of it has him asking Apollo if he's being rick rolled.

Apollo, meanwhile, is having troubles of his own. He is not the god he used to be and it's hard pretending otherwise. He tries to walk the line of doing enough to be believable and holding back enough not to despise himself, but it's a fine line, he fails often, and he spends a not insignificant amount of time worried he's backsliding.

And so it goes until 7-year-old Helen of Troy is kidnapped by Theseus to be his wife.

This, naturally, does not fly with Percy, who by this time has built up something of a reputation as a hero. He teams up with the Dioscuri to rescue Helen.

One would think this would earn him Zeus' favor. It doesn't. Instead, Zeus sends monsters to harry him for refusing to let Castor and Pollux take Helen's captors' loved ones captive and raze Aphidna for Theseus' crime. Percy manages to hold his own for quite a while but eventually, exhausted from the near-constant fighting, is gored and left for dead by the reformed Minotaur.

...and when Apollo arrives, frantic, to heal him, Percy ascends instead, becoming the greek version of Saint Sebastian - a minor god of heroes, strength in the face of adversity, and athleticism; sort of halfway between Hercules and Chiron.

Then and only then do Percy and Apollo finally get their act together, confessing to each other how much they care for the other and how much they don't want this to be fake any longer.

History proceeds apace - albeit with Persē being a second immortal trainer of heroes.

24 years after their arrival in the past, 16 years after Percy's ascension, The Trojan War begins. Despite their best efforts, there's only so much they can do - war is war and gods are gods. They are able to stop some of the worst excesses on both sides, but in the end Apollo still sends the plague that causes Agamemnon to take Briseis for his own, which caused Achilles' departure from the field, Patroclus' death, &c - not because Apollo was trying to maintain the timeline, but because in the instant he sent it he was angry and reverted to his old ways.

Troy falls...

...but when Zeus tries to use this as an excuse to ban gods from interacting with their demigod children, Apollo is able to say that's a bit extreme isn't it? with enough backing from the rest of the council that Zeus is forced to amend his ruling so that the gods are only allowed to freely visit their children on the "cross quarter days" that fall between each solstice and equinox (1 February, 1 May, 1 August, and 1 November).

This changes everything and nothing.

Time continues its inevitable march. Greece has its golden age before being conquered by Rome, which splits apart under its own weight and forms several smaller countries, which eventually spread their cultures around the world...

Apollo and Percy are there for it all. Persē is a minor figure in mythology, but never forgotten. He is ever-present in Apollo's temples - though the Church will later try to rewrite their myth so that they were merely sworn fighting partners, rather than lovers who eventually had a quite lovely wedding on Olympus (and then, at Poseidon's insistence, an even bigger ceremony on Atlantis). Percy takes over day-to-day operations of CHB from practically the moment the Trojan War ends.

...and so Persē is there the day Sally Jackson tries to get her son to camp, and is able to intervene when the Minotaur attacks on their border. He's able to meet her and her young son, Perseus ("Mom named me after you and the guy that killed Medusa since you're the only two heroes to have happy endings!"), and guide him through the trials that come with being a child of prophecy.

One day that Percy will hand Luke - who was never happy with the limited attention the gods were allowed to give their children - a cursed dagger so that Kronos can be defeated. That child will be offered godhood, turn it down, and go on to have a happy life with his eventual wife, Annabeth. He will never have his memories erased and be sent to Camp Jupiter. Gaia will not rise until long after that Percy's grandchildren are dead, and Zeus will not be quite so bullheaded when the proof of it is brought before him. That Second Gigantomachy is swift, well-coordinated, and fought without another Greek/Roman war brewing in the background.

And when they finally arrive at the day Apollo and Percy were originally sent back in time, Percy admits that while he is happy some version of him was better prepared for the war he was asked to fight in and allowed his peace afterward, he would change nothing about his own life, for it brought him to Apollo. The sunrise the next morning - on the first morning of the rest of their lives - is particularly spectacular.

Bonuses include:

Gaslighting Poseidon into believing that he's met Percy before the first time they're introduced. ("What do you mean you don't remember me, Father? You were present when I came of age! You gifted me this trident! Have I displeased you in some way?") It's an absolute masterclass that eventually manages to convince Poseidon that, yes, of course he knows Percy - and, maybe, he should check in on all his other demigod children to make sure he's not missed someone. (Two. He lost track of two of the others. Maybe he should be more careful about siring children in the future.) Apollo practically has to stuff his fist in his mouth to keep from laughing.

As much historical accuracy as can be crammed into the Percy trying to make sense of Ancient Greece chapters as possible. Think Of a Linear Circle - Part III by flamethrower levels of historical research. As much as can be shoehorned in without bogging down the plot.

Percy and Dionysus bonding over their mutual dislike of Theseus, though Percy generally gets along with his other half-siblings, especially the ones who come to camp young enough to keep from getting big heads over being the children of Poseidon.

Though Percy adores all the children in Cabin 7 (most of whom are born via blessing this time around), he and Apollo have at least one child of their own - maybe a demigod born before Percy's ascension to sell their fake relationship? Maybe a minor god who's later attributed a different parentage by mortals? Dealer's choice on details.

It never being made clear who, or what, or how, Percy and Apollo were sent into the past. All of Percy's oddities are attributed to him being foreign or formerly mortal, all of Apollo's to the fact that he's in love with someone who didn't die before their first anniversary, and no one ever guesses time travel is responsible for their eccentricities. Or that time travel was ever an option.

And that's all I have. As always, feel free to adopt, just link back if you ever decide to do anything with it.

More PJO Ideas | More Terrible Fic Ideas

[loverln]

i haven’t fed the bkdk nation in awhile hehe💚🧡

here’s a lil wip <3

[loveriotss]

APPLE CIDER ⸻ katsuki bakugo

INCLUDES — gn! reader, childhood friends to lovers, song lyric fic, fluff, slight angst WARNINGS — swearing, slight angst + implied spoilers, a bit suggestive WORD COUNT — over 3.6k

main masterlist — mha masterlist ༊*·˚

we both like apple cider

"katsuki, hurry up!" you yell at the 5-year-old blonde who was lazily trailing behind you, holding his basket like it were a piece of rag. "come onn, your mom said if we pick good apples she'll give us extra apple cider!" you whine, running over to him and grabbing his free hand to drag him towards a large tree. katsuki glared at you and your hand as he spoke, "i don't want to do stupid apple picking, it's so annoying!" he yelled, dropping your hand.

you turn back at him, your lips slightly agape as tears prick your eyes. ". . so you don't want to pick apples with me?" you say, lips now trembling as tears now rolled down your cheeks. katsuki's eyes soften slightly, replacing the anger with worry instead as he hurriedly speaks. "alright fine, i'll do it! just . . don't cry okay?"

you erupt in a wide smile as he wipes your tears away. "okay i won't! let's go!" you exclaimed excitedly, grabbing his hand once more and hurrying towards the tree.

you both set your baskets down, your eyes sparkling as you observe the big red apples on the branches of the tree. you rush over to the trunk, giving it a kick with all of your strength, hoping it will drop a few apples down. your plan was a success as you see one of the apples shaking and eventually dropping down! . . on your head.

katsuki burst out laughing, holding his stomach and pointing at you as you held your head, glaring at him. "stop it suki, it wasn't funny. and besides," you pause, placing the apple that just attacked you into your basket carefully, "i'm winning." "winning at what? being a dummy who gets apples dropped on their heads?" he snickers at you. "i have more apples in my basket than you kat-su-ki," you say with an evil grin, making sure to punctuate each part of his name. "i will be the one getting more cider than you."

katsuki's smile dropped at your words as his eyes flashed with a newfound determination. "not for long loser!" he yelled as he jumped up from the ground and marched towards the tree.

it had been half an hour since the two of you had left your parent's little picnic table to pick apples. mitsuki bakugo looked out into the distance to try and spot you and katsuki's little figures and sure enough, she saw you two walking side by side, arguing over something.

"kids! hurry up and come over here!" she called out, which caught both of your attentions. she sighed to herself as she watched you two attempting to race each other and try to get to the table first.

eventually, katsuki reached the table before you. he slammed his basket down and turned around to rub his victory in your face but instead found you on the ground. your basket was laid on its side, apples spilling out as your teary eyes stared at the small blood patch on your knee.

"mama i fell down!" you wailed to your mother as she caressed your hair and cleaned your scratch. "you should be more careful y/n" your mother said with a worried tone. mitsuki handed a bandage to her and looked at you. "it's okay y/n, you're a brave kid, right? i'll make you some extra cider okay?" she says which makes a soft smile appear on your face as you nod.

"is . . is your knee okay?" katsuki mumbles as he takes a sip from his glass of cider. "mhm!" you nod "it only hurt for a bit!" you say as you take a sip from your second cup of cider, to which katsuki only hums. "hey suki," you began, turning your body towards him "let's make a pinky promise!" he stares at you, confused. "about what?" "to get married in the future!" you say as if that were the most obvious thing in the world.

katsuki chokes on his drink, covering his mouth as he stares at you with a slightly flustered face. "w-what!? why would i do that?" he yells. you tilt your head in confusion, "so that we can pick apples together forever and ever?" you pause before continuing. "or . . do you want to pick apples with someone else?" you look down at your lap, your bottom lip quivering again. katsuki huffs and grabs your pinky, interlocking it with his as he looks away and mutters. "okay fine! i pinky promise i'll marry you . . crybaby."

but your hair be smelling like fruit punch

"fruit punch," you say, staring at the side of 6-year-old katsuki's face as he plays with the game he snuck into bed tonight. you and him were having yet another sleepover. it was always the same - eat dinner together, play in his room, take a bath, change into pjs, and then head into bed where he would pull out his hidden game control from under the pillow.

you two were under the blanket after katsuki's demands so that he doesn't get caught. he didn't even spare you a glance when you say that, just letting out a simple "what."

"your hair," you say, "it smells like fruit punch." "weirdo, why are you smelling my hair" he replies, heading onto the next level of the game. "because you smell nice," you reply bluntly, "i like it."

the red 'GAME OVER' screen illuminates katsuki's face as he finally turns his head to look at you. was it the screen making his face red or a blush? even after many years, you're not sure.

you snicker at him. "haha loser, you lost" you say, staring at his screen. "tch..whatever" he mumbles, shoving the game back under his pillow and releasing the two of you from the cage of the blanket, cool air hitting your faces.

"you smell nice too . . i guess" he mumbles under his breath, so quiet that you don't even hear it. "what?" you ask, turning to look at him once again. "NOTHING!" he whisper yells and hurriedly turns his back to you.

and i don't even like you that much

mumbles and whispers floated through the crowd as the provisional hero license exam had come to an end. you along with the other students, who had managed to come out without all three of their targets hit, stood together, anxiously waiting for the results to be revealed.

there was an uncomfortable knot in your stomach as you muttered to yourself, trying to calm yourself down. katsuki stood next to you, obviously confident that he would get his license.

"fuck, will you calm down?" katsuki whisper yelled at you as he tugged on the deathly tight grip you had on his arm unknowingly. "i'm so nervous kats! what if i messed up somewhere what if i forgot to save one of those civilians what if-" "what if you're just overthinking this shit?" he responds bluntly before turning his eyes back to the representative from the hero safety commission.

"okay . . maybe you're right. i should stay positive!" you whisper back before taking a few deep breaths and following his gaze towards the front.

"anyway, the names of those who've passed are listed here in alphabetical order." the voice through the mic spoke.

the screen flickered for a moment before revealing the names, all in perfect order. immediately you started scanning the rows, letting out a small smile as you saw familiar names flash pass before your eyes landed on your name.

wait . . . your name? that means you passed!

you couldn't help but let out an excited squeal, turning to katsuki and slightly jumping up and down as you pointed to where your name was in big bold letters.

"katsuki, look! i did it!" you yell as you wrap your arms around his neck and continue your little jumps.

now, katsuki had already realized that his name wasn't there and oh boy, was he pissed.

he had opened his mouth to tell you off when you kept rapidly pointing at the screen as if he hadn't already seen your name but when you had suddenly thrown your arms around his neck, he froze.

you were yapping in his ear about how happy and relieved you were and all he could focus on was to get you away before you felt his heart practically beating out of his chest.

however before he could pull you off, you beat him to it by pulling your head away yourself. he opened his mouth again but immediately froze when you planted a kiss on him.

okay, it was not a full on kiss on the lips. you meant to kiss his cheek but because of how giddy you were, it landed on the corner of his mouth.

he seemed to be the only one who had noticed this accident since you were now busy with searching for katsuki's name on the screen.

stupid you and your stupid face and your stupid scent that he had caught a whiff of when you viciously mauled him (gave him a hug) and your stupid soft lips and the stupid 'butterflies' you gave him.

katsuki couldn't understand why he felt like this. he didn't even like you . . . that much.

however, he did not have time to give it much thought because it had finally hit you that he had not passed the exam. you turned to him, your mouth agape as you stared at him with wide eyes.

"i know i didn't pass so don't fucking rub it in." he mumbled, turning his head away. "what!? but how?" you yell at him.

"probably because he didn't put any effort into saving people" piped in kirishima who backed away as he was given a glare by katsuki. "you should've been more careful with what you said. words are important you know!" said kaminari as he grinned at him. "SHUT YOUR MOUTH BEFORE I MURDER YOU!" katsuki growled back.

the class was now on the ride home. the whole bus was in a lively chatter except for the two students who had failed. you sat with the others, laughing with them but your eyes lingered towards the back where katsuki sat, earphones plugged in as he stared out the window with a small furrow in his eyebrows.

you excused yourself and made your way to him, plopping down beside katsuki as you nudged him slightly. he pulled out one of his earphones, a sign that he was listening, "hey . . you okay?" you asked softly, trying to scan his face for any emotions but it was hard since he refused to look anywhere but out the window.

"of course i'm okay" he mumbled, pausing for a second before continuing. "m'so ready to fucking crush the extra classes so don't get too cocky just because you got yours first."

a small smile erupted from your lips as you felt a wave of relief wash over you. you were worried he was giving himself a hard time because of this.

"well then dynamight, i'll be waiting for you!" you reply, grinning at him.

he finally turns his head to you, a smirk on his lips as he replies, "get ready to choke in my smoke," you cringe at his words but he ignores it and continues, "and it's great explosion murder god dumba-" "shut up kats" you interrupt, giggling as he gives you a small glare.

stupid you and your ability of always being able to cheer him up.

wait, i do, fuck

NUMBER ONE HERO DYNAMIGHT RUMORED TO BE IN A RELATIONSHIP? FIND OUT THE JUICY DETAILS NOW!

DYNAMIGHT SPOTTED WITH PRO HERO XXX AT X HOTEL!

XXX AND DYNAMIGHT CONFIRMED TO BE TOGETHER?

you sigh to yourself, scrolling through the endless theories and articles about the man that were spread throughout your entire twitter timeline. it's like wherever you were, the blonde would somehow be there too. ultimately, you toss your phone away, unable to escape all the dating rumor articles surrounding him and the way your heart clenched when you saw pictures of him and some other hero.

it's been 3 years since you graduated high school, you and all of your peers are now amazing pro heroes who have worked hard to be what they are today and climb the hero ranks impressively.

you too ended up ranking among the top five heroes in all of japan.

you were proud of yourself, happy to do the thing you'd been wanting to do since you were a little kid. you can't deny that sometimes, it was too exhausting.

so without any second thoughts, you emailed your manager this morning, requesting a leave for your mental health. being a good hero also means to remain in good shape and have a happy mind!

it was now evening, you had a fairly productive day. running a few errands while being hooded to avoid any media, binging some of your favorite shows while you munched on snacks, and overall just having a self-care day, you know?

you stepped out onto your balcony, leaning against the railings as you gazed at the setting sun which painted the sky into a mix of many beautiful colors, including orange.

you smile softly as it reminds you of a certain red-eyed man as your mind lingers off to thoughts of him. dynamight, the number one hero and also your best friend.

to say he was a workaholic at times was an understatement. he wouldn't clock out until his poor manager begged him to rest.

he was passionate about his job and you admired that about him. from a young age he was always eager to stand at number one and be the best version of himself.

your smile fades as flashbacks of what happened 6 years ago played in your mind. it was the day when that gruesome war had occurred. your eyes sting as you're painfully reminded of everything that had happened. the memories of heroes who had lost their lives fighting for peace clouded your mind. and of course, what had happened to katsuki had been the one thing that had almost completely broken you on the battlefield. you let your tears fall, keeping a straight face as they rolled down your cheeks. there was no point in holding them back, no one would see you. right?

you sniffle softly, taking deep breaths as you clear your head from your thoughts, now realizing the presence beside you.

there he was, the dynamight himself, standing next to you as he too gazed at the sunset. you weren't that surprised, he had done this many times before, simply swooping in and landing on your balcony if he saw you there.

he glanced at you, silently observing your tear-stained face as his fiery red eyes flickered with a hint of sadness. his heart painfully panged against his chest whenever he saw you cry.

you wipe your tears away, giving him a small smile before speaking. "i'm okay kats, don't worry." what a liar you were. his eyes shoot away as he mumbles, "i didn't say anything."

"you didn't have to." you reply, gaping at the sky which was turning dark now. "you clocked out early? that's unusual oh great explosion murder god." you tease. "swept this entire area today, and was gonna go check out shitty hair's district when i saw your ass crying." he said.

"aww, how thoughtful! but be careful, your supposed 'girlfriends' might call me a homewrecker." you jeer as he lets out a groan, resting his forehead on the railings. "fuck . . why do you read that shit? stupid media . . always makin up stuff."

you let out a giggle at his reaction, causing him to slightly lift his head and stare at you. his heart swelling up at the sound of your laughter.

you push your body away from the railings, sliding open the door as you step inside. "so you gonna come in or not?" you say, keeping the door open as katsuki silently accepts the invitation and gets inside, sliding the door shut behind him.

"i'll get your clothes-" "don't" he interrupted as you looked at him surprised. "i know where it is . . you don't have to get it." "okay then! i'll go get us something to drink, take a shower if you wanna." you reply, earning a hum from him as you make your way to the kitchen. katsuki taking a shower or you casually having a pair of his clothes at your home was nothing out of the ordinary, just bestie thingz. right?

katsuki stepped out of your shower, feeling a slight muscle ache from his villain fights today as sank into the couch and stared at the back of your head while you were seated on the carpet. you silently handed him a cold drink as you scrolled through the channels on tv.

he snapped open his drink, taking slow sips from it as he mentally prepared himself to ask you the thing he's been wanting to for the past hour. "so . . " he began, peering at you from the corner of his eyes as you hum. "why were you cryin earlier?"

you put on a weak smile, taking a sip before responding. "was just . . thinking about the war." you say. "i don't know why but i still get chills thinking about it now. it's been 6 years and i still haven't learned to handle my thoughts about it properly. i always feel so guilty, like i wasn't strong enough or i wasn't fast enough. maybe if i was better, i could've stopped what had happened to everyone, what happened to you-"

you were suddenly interrupted by katsuki who pulled himself off the couch and grabbed your face with both his hands firmly as he turned your face towards him.

it was completely silent for a minute, only a soft sizzling heard from your drink that had spilled over on the carpet and was now soaking into it.

"don't." he said, breaking the silence. "don't ever blame yourself for what happened. you were doin your best and i was too, i just had a small hiccup but look at me now, the number one hero" he said, a small smile on his face. "and look at you, an amazing hero who's so damn good at their job. don't be so hard on yourself dumbass, no one could've controlled what happened that day."

you give him a small shaky smile, your eyes slightly welled up with tears. "yeah . . you're right." you say as he softly wipes your tears away with the back of his finger. "crybaby." "shut up."

you both softly laugh, comfortably enjoying each other's presence. as your laughter ceases you realize how close the two of you are. you could see every scar and bump of katsuki's beautiful face and the dimple on his left cheek

katsuki too was silently admiring you. your beautiful eyes, your cheeks, your nose and eventually, your lips. the same soft lips for which he had been longing for ever since you two were just high school kids and you gave him that stupid little kiss on the corner of his mouth.

his actions don't go unnoticed by you as your lips turn into a small smirk. "pro hero dynamight caught shamelessly staring at pro hero H/N (your hero name), find out all the deets in this article" you joke, a blush creeping up from his neck to the tip of his ears.

"shut up . . " he mumbled, looking into your eyes before he spoke again. "pro hero dynamight was caught asking pro hero H/N if he could kiss them. what was H/N's response?" he whispered, now deathly close to your face as he waited for your answer.

your lips parted slightly as your cheeks flushed into a deep red, perhaps even rivaling kirishima's hair. you give him a small nod to which he immediately crashes his lips onto yours. his hand slithered to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as you tangled your fingers into his blonde hair.  

your heart felt warm and fluttery as your back hits the corner of your L-shaped couch. your lips molded with his perfectly, a slow and intimate rhythm between the two of you before you both pull away because humans need a stupid thing called oxygen.

katsuki rested his forehead against yours, panting slightly as you spoke. "woah there dynamight, we might just be the next big scandal. surely this will put an end to all your previous allegations?" you whisper, a stupidly large smile on your face. "they would never be true anyway. i like havin my pinky finger y'know?" he said which caused your eyebrows to raise. "what does your pinky finger have to do with this?" you asked as he gave you a dumb smirk. "did you forget already? what was it . . you want to pick apples with someone else?" he teases as you groan and cover your face with your palms. "shit . . how do you remember that?" "i'm someone who keeps his promises" he snickers, gently prying your hands away from your face as he puts up his pinky finger in front of your face.

you giggle at his childish antic but he doesn't seem to give a shit. "wanna renew our promise? just to make sure that we're stuck with each other." he says, wiggling his pinky around for yours. you smile, interlocking your pinky with his. "no taking back babygirl" you say, laughing as he gives you a revolted look at the nickname. "is it too late to change my mind?" he says, putting on a fake look of worry to which you grin evilly. "no escaping now my beautiful red-eyed princess" you yell, earning a sigh from him as you viciously maul him (give him a hug) and bury your face into his neck while giggling.

yeah . . he did like you that much.

NOTE — i dont know if apple cider (ITS NOT ALCOHOLIC RIGHT??IDK) tastes good or if his hair would smell like fruit punch but just pretend it does ok. ANYWAYS this idea had been lingering in my head for so long and i scrapped og ideas probabaly like 8934 times but hope you guys liked this final product!! (also guys did i eat with that line where he asked for consent before he kissed you guys i feel like that was so teehee)

©loveriotss — all rights reserved to me. please don’t try to copy/steal my work. please do not use any of my ideas/translate my work without my permission.

[the-modern-typewriter]

"You have to be nice to me. I'm drunk!"

"You're a heinous criminal."

The villain pouted. "But I'm pretty, right?"

The hero sighed. "Yes, you're very pretty."