#i still haven’t watched it through to this day

[hoe4hotchner]

Bakery owner reader x loyal customer hotch

Something with the team finding out about reader and seeing hotch all happy and smiling and whipped for her.

Later them finding out they’re actually dating and penny freaking out 😭😭

Love, Freshly Baked | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Bakery owner!reader

CW: Nothing but tooth rotting fluff

WC: 1k

A/N: Forgive me for having this drafted for ages!!! But here it is, and it's super duper cute!!!

           The smell of fresh pastries and brewing coffee filled the small bakery every morning, a cozy retreat nestled on a quiet corner of the bustling city. You had been running the shop for a couple of years now, getting to know every regular by name, but there was one customer who had quickly become your favorite.

           Aaron Hotchner.

           He’d been coming in almost every morning for months, ordering the same thing - a black coffee and a croissant - but it wasn’t just the simplicity of his order that caught your attention. It was the way he always seemed so calm and composed, even when the stress of his job was written all over his face. You weren’t sure what he did - all you knew was he had to wear a suit for the job - but you could tell it wore on him. Still, every time he walked through the door, his shoulders relaxed just a little, and a small smile would tug at his lips when he saw you.

           What you didn’t know was that Hotch’s team had noticed this change in him. It started small - an extra cup of coffee in the morning, a slightly brighter demeanor after breakfast - but it wasn’t long before the rest of the BAU picked up on it.

           “Anyone else notice how… happy Hotch has been lately?” Emily asked one morning as they gathered around their desks, waiting for the next case.

           Morgan leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. “You’re right. I haven’t seen Hotch smile this much in… well, ever.”

           "Maybe he’s just found a new way to deal with stress. Meditation, perhaps?” Spencer didn't look up from the book he was reading as he answered.

           Penelope scoffed, twirling a bright pink pen in her hand. “Please, Reid. Hotch isn’t meditating. Something - or rather someone - has got him smiling.”           

           The rest of the team exchanged looks, curiosity piqued.

           A few days later, their suspicions were confirmed.

           It was a slow day at the office, so Hotch decided to take a longer-than-usual lunch break. What he didn’t realize was that his team had quietly followed him to the bakery, determined to find out what - or who - was behind their boss’s newfound cheerfulness.

           “Look,” Penelope whispered excitedly from across the street, pointing toward the bakery window. “He’s smiling! He’s actually smiling!”

           Sure enough, through the glass, they could see Hotch leaning against the counter, his face lit up in a way they’d never seen before. And then there was you, standing behind the counter with that same soft smile you always gave him.

           “Oh my god,” JJ whispered, her eyes wide. “Is that the bakery he always talks about?”

           “Looks like it,” Derek said, grinning. “And it looks like our boy is whipped.”

           Inside the bakery, Hotch had no idea he was being watched. He was too focused on you - on the way your eyes sparkled when you talked about your latest recipe, the way your hands moved with such care as you worked on rolling out the dough. Every morning spent in your presence was like a small respite from the chaos of his job, and he found himself craving that peace more and more as time went by.

           You handed him his coffee, and for a moment, your fingers brushed his. The simple contact sent a warmth through him that no amount of caffeine ever could.

           “You know, Aaron,” you said softly, your voice carrying the warmth that always made his mornings a little brighter, “you’re going to start running out of excuses to come here if you keep this up.”

           Hotch chuckled, a rare sound that you loved hearing. “I’ll think of something.”

           As he turned to leave, he glanced back one more time, catching your eye and giving you a smile that was just for you.

           Meanwhile, across the street, Penelope was practically bouncing with excitement. “You guys! He’s totally into her! Did you see that smile? We have to find out more.”

           A week later, the team got more than they bargained for.

           It was a Friday afternoon, and Hotch had just returned to the office after lunch. He was in a good mood, his smile lingering longer than usual. That’s when Penelope burst into the room, holding up her phone like it was a trophy.

           “Guys, you are not going to believe this!” she exclaimed, her voice high with excitement.

           The team gathered around, eyes wide as Penelope pulled up a photo she’d found online. It was you and Hotch, taken outside the bakery on a sunny day. He had his arm around your waist, and you were looking up at him with a smile that could melt hearts.

           “They’re dating!” Penelope practically squealed. “Hotch is dating the owner of the bakery!”

           The rest of the team was equally stunned.

           “Okay, now it all makes sense,” Emily said, grinning. “The extra coffee, the smiling, the mysterious bakery trips.”

           Morgan shook his head, chuckling. “Never thought I’d see the day when Hotch would be this smitten again. It’s nice to see him happy.”

           Penelope, however, was still in full freak-out mode. “Oh my god, we have to do something! Maybe throw them a surprise party or - wait, no, that’s too much. But we have to celebrate this somehow!”

           As they brainstormed, Hotch walked back into the bullpen, completely unaware of the chaos his relationship had caused among his team. But when he saw the knowing smiles on their faces, he paused.

           “What’s going on?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

           Penelope couldn’t hold it in any longer. “We know about the bakery, Hotch! And about her!” she blurted out, practically glowing with excitement.

           For a moment, Hotch was silent, his eyes scanning the room before he finally let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “I should’ve known you’d find out eventually.”

           The team erupted into laughter, and for the first time in a long time, Aaron Hotchner didn’t mind being the center of attention - because, after all, it was all for a love that made him happier than he’d ever been.

[suguru-getos]

-> kinktober day 1: cockwarming

yandere neuvillette x f! reader (art cred: hagihino)

a/n: hello hello~ 👋 hope everyone is doing well, i haven’t really made a kinktober masterlist yet. i am still thinking about the prompts and will mind work through it i guess. 🤭 enjoy! it’s small :/ because i wrote an entire prompt about tartaglia as well but it couldn’t get saved in the drafts so i was done ://

-> “if you continue to move, you’d have proper consequences.” the chief justice of fontaine wasn’t playing around today, the way he held you down by your nape. watching you choke on his cock and salivating messily upon his thigh. you whimpered, voice sending reverberations through his shaft which makes the possessive hydro sovereign shudder.

“i just hoped this would possibly help you with knowing when to be quiet.” he hums, hands raking through your hair. you could feel the scent of his pre & the taste of it dribbling down the back of your throat. you see — neuvillette is the chief justice of fontaine, so when his significant other that he chose suddenly decides to say she isn’t allowed to go out of the house without neuvillette’s permission, in front of furina? you knew you have fucked up beyond repair.

neuvillette’s gaze was steel, scheming, perhaps contemplating what to do with you upon this. so? here you were, on your knees between his legs, in his office where the doors are closed & no one would suspect anything, no one would disturb neuvillette either. “mmf-“ you whined, soft struggles, your jaw aches from this. you want out. soft doe eyes batting at him with tears.

neuvillette’s gloved hand reaches out to wipe the stray tears from the apple of your cheek. “what is it? don’t like the taste of justice for the crimes you committed? or you think the punishment isn’t fair?”

you leaned back to be able to speak, but neuvillette’s hand quickly entangled against your hair, shoving you back to the hilt. deep throating his ridged, angry cock. “not yet, little one. be still and i might let you off.”

[peachesofteal]

Hi, I don’t know if you take requests, but I love your stuff and haven’t been able to read much of anything lately because of how busy I have been. Right now, I have pneumonia really bad and have been sick for almost two weeks. I need some comfort, and I was wondering if you could write about Simon taking care of a sick reader and just comforting her. If not I complete understand.

Simon/female reader

"I don't think you should come."

Your lungs scrape against bone, ragged breathing echoing through the speaker. "I feel like shit, don't wanna get you sick." There's a long pause on the other end.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, really. I look like shit too. Trust me, you don't want to be here."

"Of course I want to be there." His voice tips into that softer pitch, the one he uses when he's holding your hand in the grocery store, or tugging you into his arms on the couch.

"Really, Si. You're due to leave in two days." Tears stick to your lashes. You only got two weeks this time, two short weeks, and now you probably won't even be able to say goodbye, or see him off. You'll be here, in your bed, wallowing in self pity and snot.

"Alright, love. I'll call later to check in."

"Okay."

The light disappears behind the curtains between fitful bouts of sleep and moments where you're barely able to drag yourself from bed to get a glass of water. The only time you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you wince.

You feel like a zombie. You look like a zombie.

The last time you're up, you swallow an array of meds for your fever, and fall back in bed, pulling the covers over your eyes. Maybe you'll feel better the next time you wake up.

"Shhh," a warm palm presses to your forehead. Heat blazes against your back, an arm caging you in, holding you close. It's dark, too dark to see, but you feel him, know him, without even opening your eyes.

"Simon?"

"Go back to sleep."

"Y'shouldn't be here." He ignores you, tucking you closer, and you blink in and out, unable to focus on his response as sleep pulls you under.

"C'mon." You're being jostled, irritation swelling in your chest at being woken, alleviated when you open your eyes to find him leaning over you with a worried frown.

"Let me sleep."

"No," he grips your shoulder, fingers in flesh, and tries to slide you upright. "You need to eat. Brought some soup, want you to try to get some down."

"No." You croak, throat on fire.

"It's not optional love, c'mon." He lifts a spoon to your lips, and you swallow it done, one after another until you're turning away. "Good girl."

"You're bossy." You're delirious, tipping back and forth, one way and another, still too warm, too cold, sweating and shivering. The back of his hand moves across your forehead, and he sighs.

"Still have a fever." A water bottle tips into your mouth, and you drink greedily until he pulls away. "Not too much."

"'kay."

The next time you wake, your head doesn't hurt as much. The ache lingers, still wet and sticky from your stomach to your throat, but the burn of it all is gone, temperate down, fever regulated.

"Hey sleepy." He's on your side, sitting up, tv flickering on mute. He's not watching it, not even paying attention, too fixated on you, stroking fingers up and down your temple.

"Hi." Your voice is still scratchy, and he smiles.

"Welcome back. How are you feeling?"

"Better." You scoot back against the headboard, cheek finding his shoulder. "Shouldn't you be on a plane or something?"

"Got delayed." You exhale with deep relief, and curl into him, arm stretching over his stomach.

"Oh. Good."

"Mmm," he's rubbing an idle hand up and down your spine, and you sigh. "You're still a little warm." Your mouth is sour.

"I know." You're hesitant to close your eyes, not wanting to squander the time with him, and like he can read your mind, he brushes his lips against your forehead.

"Sleep, love. I'll be here when you wake up."

[theodorenmyth]

Reader doing a small prank where they don’t say their usual “good morning/evening/night” for a week towards Enzo and mattheo

Tiny Prank

Pairings ; Lorenzo Berkshire x GN!Reader x Mattheo Riddle

Summary ; You prank Lorenzo and Mattheo by stopping your usual morning and night greetings for a week. As they grow suspicious, they cling to you constantly, holding your hand and sticking close during cuddles. Frustrated, they demand an explanation, but when you refuse, they start smothering you with kisses. Eventually, overwhelmed by their affection, you give in, saying your usual greetings and promising not to prank them again. Even after you surrender, they continue pampering you, enjoying their victory.

A/N ; enjoy babyyy ❤️❤️

warnings ; None

word count ; 1.2k

It started innocently enough — just a small prank to see how Lorenzo Berkshire and Mattheo Riddle would react. For weeks now, you’d made a habit of greeting them at every turn with your usual warmth: a soft “good morning” over breakfast, a casual “good evening” when you crossed paths in the corridors after classes, and a quiet “good night” before bed when the three of you ended up cuddling in the common room or sneaking off to the Room of Requirement.

But one day, you decided to stop. No morning greetings. No “good night” kisses. No acknowledgment of their presence when it came to those endearing moments that usually made your bond so close-knit. You wanted to see if they would notice… and oh, they definitely noticed.

By day three, it was clear they were growing restless.

"Are you mad at us?" Lorenzo asked as he slid into the seat beside you in the Great Hall for breakfast, his eyes squinting in mild confusion.

You didn’t even glance up from your plate, merely taking a sip of pumpkin juice as if he hadn’t spoken at all. He stared at you, visibly unsettled by your indifference.

"Baby, what's going on?" Mattheo’s voice came from across the table. His dark curls were messy from sleep, his sharp eyes fixed on you, clearly waiting for an explanation.

You looked at him briefly, offering a slight shrug, then resumed eating without so much as a word.

Mattheo groaned audibly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "What’s wrong with you? You’ve been acting weird."

"I’m not acting weird," you responded simply, the first words you’d spoken directly to them in a while, but still lacking the usual affectionate tone they were used to.

Lorenzo leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "You’re definitely acting weird. You haven’t said ‘good morning’ in days, and I swear if you don’t tell me why, I’ll hex you right here."

Your lips twitched upward into a sly smile, but you quickly covered it with your hand, pretending to yawn. "Maybe I’m just tired."

That, of course, was not the reason, but you enjoyed watching them squirm. You got up from your seat after finishing your meal, leaving both of them to stare after you, clearly more confused than ever.

⋆.˚꩜ — ⋆.˚꩜ — ⋆.˚꩜ — ⋆.˚꩜ — ⋆.˚꩜ —

By the end of the week, things had escalated.

Mattheo and Lorenzo had taken to clinging to you at every possible moment. At first, it was subtle — Lorenzo holding your hand more often, Mattheo sitting a little too close during meals, their touches lingering longer than usual. But now? They were practically glued to you.

"Are you really going to ignore us all day?" Mattheo asked one afternoon, his voice carrying a hint of frustration. He was lounging beside you on the couch in the Slytherin common room, his arm firmly wrapped around your waist.

You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing.

Lorenzo, who was on your other side, let out a dramatic sigh. "This is torture, you know that?" His hand slipped down to your thigh, fingers drumming impatiently. "You haven’t said ‘good morning,’ ‘good night,’ or anything. We know something’s wrong."

"Yeah," Mattheo agreed, pulling you closer until you were practically sitting in his lap. "You’re not yourself, and we don’t like it."

You rolled your eyes, trying to stifle a grin. "I’m fine."

"Clearly, you’re not," Lorenzo countered, pressing his forehead against yours. "You’re holding out on us, and we’re not letting you get away with it."

Before you could respond, Mattheo's hand slid up your back, his lips pressing against your temple. “You’re really going to make us work for it, huh?” His voice was low, almost a whisper, and you could feel his breath warm against your skin.

You shivered slightly, but you kept up the act, determined to see this prank through. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Lorenzo scoffed, shifting so he could better face you. "You’re such a liar," he teased, though his tone was laced with affection. Then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed your cheek. Soft and deliberate.

You flinched, startled by the sudden affection. "What—?"

But you didn’t get to finish your sentence. Mattheo followed suit, pressing his lips against your other cheek, then your jawline. "We’re not letting you get away with this," he murmured between kisses.

Before you knew it, they had you pinned between them, Lorenzo's hands gently cradling your face as he planted kiss after kiss across your forehead and temples, while Mattheo trailed kisses down your neck and shoulders.

"Alright, alright!" you gasped, wriggling in their hold, but neither of them relented.

"Not until you say it," Mattheo demanded, his lips hovering just above yours, a smug grin playing on his face.

"Say what?" you asked, feigning ignorance, even though you knew exactly what he wanted.

Lorenzo smirked, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth. "You know what we want, love. You’re not getting out of this that easily."

You tried to suppress a laugh, but it bubbled up anyway. "Okay, okay! You win!"

Mattheo pulled back slightly, raising an eyebrow. "Say it."

Rolling your eyes, you let out a long sigh before finally giving in. "Good morning. Good night. Good evening. All of it. Happy now?"

Lorenzo grinned, his thumb brushing your cheek as he leaned in to kiss you properly, slow and sweet. "That’s more like it."

Mattheo, not wanting to be outdone, tilted your chin up and captured your lips in a kiss of his own, his hands slipping down to your waist as he pulled you even closer. "Took you long enough," he murmured against your lips.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation, thoroughly trapped between the two of them, both of them showering you with kisses until you were breathless.

"You guys are insufferable," you muttered, though there was no bite to your words.

"You love it," Mattheo shot back, a teasing glint in his eye as he kissed the tip of your nose.

Lorenzo chuckled, resting his head on your shoulder. "Maybe we’re just making up for lost time. After all, you did ignore us for a whole week."

"I didn’t ignore you," you corrected. "I just… withheld some things."

Mattheo snorted. "Same difference. But don’t think we’re done with you yet."

Lorenzo hummed in agreement. "We’ve still got a lot of kisses to make up for."

They were relentless, taking turns pampering you with affection, holding you tightly as if making up for the lost week in one single afternoon. And honestly? You didn’t mind one bit.

"Alright, alright!" you groaned, finally giving in to the onslaught of affection. "I get it. I won’t prank you again."

"Good," Mattheo said, leaning back just enough to look at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Because if you do, we’ll just do this all over again."

"And next time," Lorenzo added with a wicked grin, "we won’t let you off so easily."

You couldn’t help but laugh, thoroughly overwhelmed by their affection. "Alright, you win."

They both grinned, satisfied with your surrender, but neither of them moved away, still keeping you firmly tucked between them. You had a feeling they wouldn’t be letting you go any time soon — and honestly, you were perfectly fine with that.

[librababe99]

Incubus! Logan x Female Reader

Tags: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, Incubus!Logan, Female Reader, Fingering Summary: In the dead of night, an alluring Incubus named Logan slips from the shadows to awaken your deepest desires, drawing you into a dangerously seductive dance between pleasure and darkness. WC: 1.4K

A/N: In honor of spooky month I had a little something in my mind--Depending on how this is received maybe i'll make a part two? happy reading loves... <3

The night was unnaturally still, a suffocating kind of silence that weighed heavily on you as you tossed and turned under the sheets. The air in the room felt thick, almost humid, clinging to your skin as you lay there, restless. Your body ached for sleep that refused to come, your mind buzzing with an unsettling energy you couldn’t quite place. The moonlight filtered through the half-open curtains, casting eerie silver streaks across the bed. You should have been tired—exhausted, even—but your pulse raced, and a warmth had been building low in your belly for days.

Your heart pounded against your ribs, far too fast for someone lying still. A faint heat simmered just beneath your skin, and no matter how you shifted or wrapped yourself in the blankets, you couldn’t escape it. It had been this way for nights now. Hours dragged on, leaving you sleepless, drifting between a surreal wakefulness and half-forgotten dreams. You pulled the blanket tighter around your body, trying to smother the strange ache that lingered inside you.

Something was wrong.

You closed your eyes, willing sleep to take you, but the moment your lids fluttered shut, a bone-chilling sensation gripped your chest. Your breath hitched. You blinked, eyes snapping open, heart racing, only to find the room darker than before. The moon’s light seemed to have faded, swallowed by the shadows creeping into every corner. Your pulse spiked, fear and something else—something darker—curling through you.

And then you saw him.

He stood at the foot of your bed, tall and imposing, his form cloaked in the kind of darkness that seemed to devour the light around him. He was barely visible, but his presence pressed down on you, heavy, suffocating. Your throat tightened, but no scream came. You were frozen, your body locked in place. His gaze, however, was unmistakable—two glowing eyes that cut through the dark like fire, staring down at you with a hunger that made your skin prickle.

He smiled—a slow, dangerous curl of his lips, the kind that promised something wicked.

“You’ve been restless,” his voice, low and velvety, seemed to vibrate through you, deep and primal. A sound that awakened something inside you. “I’ve been watching.”

Your throat went dry. “Who—what are you?”

He didn’t answer. Not directly. Instead, he moved closer, his steps almost predatory, slow and deliberate. As he approached, the shadows that cloaked him seemed to melt away, revealing more of him—a striking, sharp-featured face, with skin that seemed to catch the faintest glow of the moon. His body was perfectly sculpted, like something out of a dream—too perfect to be real, muscles coiled beneath his skin, power radiating from him in waves. His eyes, though—those burning eyes held you captive, making it impossible to look away.

“I am Logan,” he said finally, his voice thick with intent. “An Incubus.”

Your breath caught, a tremor running through you. You’d heard the stories—the whispers of demons who preyed on desire, who slipped into dreams to claim their victims, to fill them with dark, sinful pleasures. But this wasn’t a dream. This was real, too real. The way his gaze traveled over you, the intensity of it, sent a pulse of heat between your legs that you couldn’t ignore.

“You’ve been calling for me,” Logan said, his tone dark and teasing, like he was mocking you. “Your body knows what it wants. You’ve felt it, haven’t you? The hunger inside you…”

A sharp inhale escaped your lips as his fingers traced lightly over your ankle, barely touching your skin but enough to make your body jolt in response. The touch sent an electric shock through you, and against your will, you found yourself arching toward it. You should’ve pulled away, but your body betrayed you, craving more. Needing more.

“Stop,” you whispered, though you could even hear the weakness in your voice, the lack of conviction.

“Stop?” His chuckle was low, dark, filled with amusement. He climbed onto the bed with a fluid, predatory grace, his body looming over yours now, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. His breath, hot and intoxicating, ghosted over your lips as he leaned in closer, his gaze searing into yours. “You don’t want me to stop.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but his hand slid up your leg, slowly, fingers grazing the inside of your thigh, moving higher, teasing with every inch. Your body trembled, the warmth between your legs now a steady throb of need, a need that only he could answer. Your heart pounded as his lips brushed the side of your neck, a barely-there kiss that sent a shiver through your entire body.

“You’ve been dreaming of me,” Logan whispered against your ear, his lips brushing your skin as he spoke. The sensation was maddening. “I can feel it. Every night, you called out for me, even if you didn’t know it.”

Your breath came in shallow, ragged gasps now, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you as he pressed his body against yours. He was solid, strong, his scent wrapping around you like a drug—spice and smoke, something dark and forbidden. The last remnants of your resistance crumbled. You couldn’t deny it anymore; you didn’t want to. The heat in your belly had built to a roaring flame, and every nerve in your body screamed for his touch.

“I can give you everything you need,” he purred, his voice dripping with seduction. His hand slid under the hem of your nightshirt, fingers splaying over your hip, burning hot against your skin. “Everything you crave.”

Before you could respond, his lips descended on your throat, kissing, biting, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you gasp, the sharpness sending a jolt of pleasure-pain through you. Your head tilted back instinctively, granting him more access as his tongue traced the line of your neck, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh just below your ear. You moaned, the sound escaping your lips before you could stop it.

His hands moved with expert precision, trailing over your body, fingers tracing patterns on your skin that set you aflame. Every touch was deliberate, calculated to drive you deeper into madness, to push you past the point of no return. His hand slid between your legs, fingers brushing against the damp heat there, teasing, never quite giving you what you needed, what you were desperate for.

“You’re so ready,” Logan murmured against your skin, his voice a low growl of approval. His fingers teased your entrance, slipping between your folds, but never fully touching you, always pulling back just when you thought he would give you relief. “You belong to me now. You’ve always belonged to me.”

His words wrapped around your mind like chains, and as his mouth claimed yours in a searing, possessive kiss, you surrendered. You gave in to the darkness, to the primal hunger that had been building inside you for what felt like eternity. His tongue danced with yours, the kiss bruising, demanding, leaving you breathless. His hand finally slid down, fingers pushing inside you, and you gasped into his mouth, the sensation sending you spiraling.

Every thrust of his fingers, every kiss, every touch drove you further into an abyss of pleasure. Your body moved against his, desperate, aching, lost to the rhythm he set. His name was a whisper on your lips, a prayer, a plea. He was everywhere, consuming you, devouring you whole, and you wanted it—needed it.

Logan’s hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him as he pressed you down into the mattress, his body heavy, solid over yours. The way he moved, the way he controlled you with every touch, made you feel like you were unraveling. You were falling apart, trembling beneath him, as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. His power surrounded you, dark and intoxicating, and you welcomed it, craved it.

And then, just when you thought you would break, he stopped.

Logan pulled back, his eyes still burning with that wicked glow, his lips curled into a satisfied smirk. He leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear, his voice a sultry whisper that sent a final shiver down your spine.

“Sweet dreams,” he purred.

And then, like a shadow, he vanished, swallowed by the darkness. The room was silent again, save for your ragged breathing, your body still trembling with the aftermath of his touch. The moonlight returned, casting soft shadows over the bed, as though nothing had happened at all.

You lay there, staring up at the ceiling, your body still buzzing with the memory of him. Sleep began to pull at you, heavy and inescapable, but before you gave in, one final thought echoed through your mind:

He’d be back.

[naughtyneganjdm]

The Palm of Your Hand

Summary: Handcuffing Negan to the bars of his cell leaves him open for you to do whatever you want with him.

Characters: Negan & the reader (OC, second person)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59417653

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, Smut, Prisoner Negan, female reader, etc.

Notes: This is a short one shot to go with this kinktober list. The two prompts I used were handjobs and breast worship. Someone also recently asked me for another touch starved prisoner Negan, so here you go!

“I don’t understand why you are still doing this with me,” Negan grumbled, turning away from you to put his hands through the bars of his cell. Hooking the handcuffs around his wrists had him grunting out and he looked back over his shoulder at you. “Have I ever tried something with you? With anyone?”

“I’m just following the rules,” you reminded Negan, entering his cell with him dramatically dropping back against the bars of his cell. “You know that.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Negan countered, his right eyebrow arching up in amusement with you grabbing his bedding so that you could change it for him. “You seem like the type of person that was a bit of a rule breaker here and there. Sometimes breaking the rules can be fun.”

“And face the wrath of the people here in Alexandria?” you snickered, tossing his bedding into the laundry basket you brought with you. “I don’t think so.”

“Boring,” Negan snorted and it made you smile. Every time you came down here, Negan was constantly hoping that you wouldn’t handcuff him when you came into his cell. Then again, you were pretty sure that he was begging that from everyone.

“I’m the furthest from boring,” you suggested putting the sheets on his cot, shooting a small smirk his way. “I just don’t want someone giving me shit every day. The people here tend to have a habit of not letting things go.”

“You don’t say,” Negan snorted, a dramatic expression flooding his features pretending to have some kind of shock from your comment. “The people of Alexandria hold grudges? I would have never known.”

“Smartass,” you snickered, finishing up with his bed and standing up. Giving him a quick glance, you thought things over before unhurriedly lowering yourself down on top of his cot. Stretching out your body, you folded your arms behind your head. All the while keeping your eyes locked on his.

Tipping his head to the side, Negan’s eyes narrowed with him gazing over you, “Well that’s just rude laying in a man’s bed without asking.”

“I made it for you, I figured you wouldn’t mind,” you suggested, lowering your hand to drag your fingers up and over your abdomen toward your midsection.

“Of course I don’t mind,” Negan countered with a shake of his head, sucking at his bottom lip. His long eyelashes fluttered and he let out a rumble of a growl. “It will give me plenty to think about tonight while I’m laying in it.”

“I’m sure,” you chuckled dragging your palm across your chest. Maybe you were testing the limits and playing with him. You just couldn’t help yourself with the way his hazel eyes ate you alive from where he was handcuffed. “You jerk off a lot?”

“Several times a day,” Negan confessed, an arrogant expression tugging at his features. Dragging his tongue out over his bottom lip, his face grew hot watching you touch yourself while you laid on his cot. “Someone has to touch me. I haven’t been touched in years.”

“That’s a shame Negan,” you hummed, palming across one of your breasts leaving him breathing unevenly. “I wish I could help, I really do.”

“You’ve been toying with me for weeks,” Negan hissed wanting to look away from you, but he couldn’t take his eyes off when you allowed your shirt to ride up just underneath your breasts. “Flirting with me, wearing tight shirts to bring attention to your beautiful breasts. And here I was thinking you weren’t doing it on purpose.”

“I’ve been doing no such thing,” you feigned innocence, sitting up for a moment to reach for the bottom of your shirt. Setting it aside on the cot had Negan’s lips parting, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat and his stare eating you alive. “Why would I do that to you?”

“To torture me, like you’re doing now,” Negan growled, tugging at his wrists causing the metal from his handcuffs to clank against the bars. Sucking in a sharp breath of air, Negan lowered his head and winced. “You’re not playing fair.”

“What would you do if you weren’t handcuffed?” you lowered back down onto his cot, tracing your fingertips over the length of your abdomen. With every move, Negan’s hazel eyes followed with his lips parted.

“I would give your breasts the attention they rightfully deserve,” Negan hummed, resting his head back again. That answer had a tiny smirk tugging at your lips. The muscle at the corner of Negan’s jaw flexed as you palmed over your breast again purring out. “I’d make you feel like a fucking queen with the way I’d worship them. Palming over them and teasing your nipples.”

“Tell me more,” you hummed, circling your index finger over your nipple through the material of your bra.

An amused rumble fell deep from within Negan, “I’d spend a very long time showing you just how talented my mouth is while I’d pamper your breasts. Kissing, sucking, licking…nipping…” Negan dragged his tongue out across his bottom lip when you tugged at the cup of your bra revealing one of your breasts to him. His eyelids grew heavy with you circling your nipple with your fingertip turning it to a hard bud. “Fuck me.”

Reaching around your back, you undid the clip in your bra letting the material pull loose. Hooking your fingers into the straps, you lazily pulled the material from your body leaving you completely naked from the waist up. Hopefully no one walked by the window or decided to drop in to check on Negan because then you’d have a lot of explaining to do. And you’d likely be in trouble.

Palming over your breasts, you kept your eyes locked on Negan finding yourself incredibly turned on with the way that he was watching you. Slowly pulling yourself up from the bed, you moved across the small cell. Nudging the wooden stepping stool that they had given Negan to use when he’d look outside, you nodded down toward it and had Negan breathing loudly.

“Prove how talented your mouth is,” you demanded getting a wicked smirk to tug at Negan’s lips. Looking down, Negan yanked on his arms around and shrugged his shoulders.

“Like this?” Negan was referring to the handcuffs and you nodded your head.

“Yes ma’am,” Negan slightly lowered to his knees with a rumble, carefully balancing his weight on the wood stepping stool so that he was about level with your breasts. Stepping forward allowed Negan to lift up just enough to start peppering hot, wet kisses at the side of your neck. Closing your eyes tightly, you enjoyed the way his short beard scratched at your skin.

Gradually, his kisses lowered down over your collarbone toward the center of your chest. Balancing his weight with his arms handcuffed to the cell door was going to be hard for him, but he was managing. Growling against your flesh, Negan nipped softly at it getting you to purr out. Teasing his kisses at the swell of your breast, Negan’s big, hazel eyes lifted to watch your reaction. When his mouth reached the nipple, you felt the teasing flick of his tongue out over it before sucking faintly.

“You have such beautiful breasts,” Negan hummed against your flesh, a wet sound filling the air with his wet kisses pampering your body. Between his kisses and the sucking that followed, it had your back arching forward toward Negan who appeared to be enjoying himself while he cherished your breasts just like he said he would. “They deserved to be worshipped, not hidden away.”

Moaning out, you hooked your fingers into Negan’s dark hair caressing at the scalp when he went back to circling your nipple with his tongue. Fuck, you didn’t know where you were headed with this, but you liked it.

With a wet popping sound, Negan’s mouth released your breast letting it bounce slightly when he went to focus on the other covering the flesh with same dedicated strokes of his tongue and meticulous kisses. The bad thing about this is that you were going to want more and you didn’t know if you’d be able to get away with it. Yet, you weren’t going to complain about this. It had been so long since someone had made you feel this special.

“So fucking perfect,” Negan nipped at your flesh, dragging his tongue out over the nipple in a lingering moment.

“Stand up,” you ordered with Negan’s wet lips glistening. Looking up at you with his hazel eyes, he didn’t seem to want to comply but as you grabbed the collar of his blue shirt, he didn’t seem to have much of a choice.

Stumbling to his feet, Negan seemed confused when you slammed him against the bars to his cell. Kicking the stepping stool away, you reached out to start pulling apart the buttons of Negan’s long sleeve shirt revealing his flesh beneath. Pushing at the sides of the shirt, you let out a tremoring breath finally getting a full look at his slender body. Gazing over the tattoo that covered his pectoral muscle, you felt a breath escape your lungs. God, he was beautiful.

Outstretching your hands, you went to touch Negan and you noticed that he was trembling before you, “Are you okay?”

“I just haven’t been touched in a very long time,” Negan explained, his lips agape and his eyelids heavy with lust for you. “Not kindly anyways…”

Hearing that just made you want to touch him more. Extending your fingers, you let the tips of them graze against his flesh. That alone had Negan tipping his head back, resting it against the bars. Flattening your palms over his chest completely had him whimpering sucking in a sharp breath of air. The vein at the side of his neck was bulging slightly and it made your heart skip a beat.

Caressing down over his chest, you teased your fingers through the dark curls of hair that covered his lean torso. Sucking at his bottom lip, Negan groaned out and you were shocked by the way that he was shaking with you touching him.

“You are so touched starved,” you noted, palming up toward his shoulders and then back down again. Stepping in closer to him, you slid your hands up stroking through the dark hair over his chest. Once you reached his shoulders, you caressed at the freckle covered flesh. Leaning in, you very faintly pressed a kiss at the center of his chest. A tremoring breath escaped his throat followed by a groan. “It’s so attractive.”

Stepping back had Negan releasing a panicked breath, “Please, don’t stop. Please.”

“Wow,” you were enamored with him now having him begging you to return to him. His long eyelashes fluttered with chills flooding your body. Starting at the top of his pants, you unhurriedly lowered your hands to palm up his abdomen, over his chest and toward his shoulders. Hooking your fingers loosely around his neck, you urged him down toward you. With the warmth of your breath lingering over his, it had Negan’s eyes closing firmly. A pathetic Negan was surprisingly exactly what you needed right now. Taking your time, you dragged your bottom lip against his. It had a loud exhale following from him before you dragged your tongue out over his lips. It elicited a moan to fall from him and he licked his lips in return after you did it. “Good boy.”

Palming in over his neck, you let your thumb caress over his chiseled jawline toward his lips. With broken breaths, Negan took your fingertip into his mouth nibbling at the pad before sucking at the flesh. You gave a big smile and tipped up on your toes, tugging him to you to claim his lips fully in a passionate kiss. At first he was careful, not wanting to upset you, but when you continued to pepper kiss after kiss against his lips, Negan hungrily kissed you back. Parting his mouth and allowing your tongue to brush against his. Returning the gesture had a warmth growing at your core.

Stepping forward, you allowed the heat of your breasts to press against his chest and the skin-to-skin contact felt amazing. If Negan was shaking before, he was a complete mess after your kisses and being able to be touched like this.

“Look at you,” you palmed over the side of his face with your left hand, your right tracing over his lips again having him softly kissing at the tips. “You’re so desperate.”

Looking down between the two of you, you noticed the bulge at the center of Negan’s jeans. Lowering your hand between the two of you had Negan’s eyes dropping. Grazing the back of your hand against the material of his jeans had his hips arching forward. You’d teased him long enough. Taking one step back, you stroked over Negan’s belt, unhooking it and then swiftly pulled apart his pants eager to get the zipper down. You were being rough and he was hissing with every strong movement you had.

Forcing his jeans down his hips, you got them to his knees. Kneeling before him, you looked up at him and had never seen Negan so vulnerable before. At least not when you were around him. Taking advantage, you started caressing up over the sides of his long legs. Squeezing at his calf muscles before raising higher up toward his thighs. Circling around the back of them, you tested the flesh in your grasp until you grabbed firmly at his small bottom through his navy-colored boxer briefs. Standing slowly, you hooked your fingers into the waistband of Negan’s boxer briefs, pushing just enough at the material in the front to get his cock to bounce free from the restrictive hold they had on him.

“Fuck,” Negan winced again looking down at his throbbing length. He was completely rigid standing before you tied up to these bars and, in that moment, you could do whatever it is you wanted with him. Dropping his boxers at his knees with his jeans, you licked your lips at the sight of Negan’s cock. It was straining. What you had done in just touching him had him aching. Prominent veins donned his flesh from the thick base all the way up to the swollen red tip. “Please.”

“Don’t be greedy,” you hushed him, stepping beside him. Palming up over his chest had him sucking in sharply again, his back arching forward as you lowered your caress. Teasing your fingers through the curls of hair that surrounded his cock, you finally allowed your traces to run along the length of his shaft. Groaning, Negan’s lips parted and his hazel eyes were locked on yours. “Good boy.”

Curling your fingers around his girthy length, you took your time testing his flesh in your grasp. Lowering them to the base before dragging up toward the tip. Looking down, you watched your movements loving the way that Negan shook with just your touch alone. Lifting your hand, you spit into it then went back to pumping Negan’s flesh, focusing on his reaction to every touch.

“I wish I had a better lube, but this will have to do,” you slurred leaning up on your toes to start pressing kisses at his jawline. Each caress of your hand over his cock had Negan eagerly meeting your touch with careful thrusts of his hips. “With a cock like that, you shouldn’t be the only one touching it. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Opening his eyes again, Negan locked stares with you. Lowering down told you that he wanted to kiss you and you met his mouth in a sloppy kiss that took your breath away. Negan’s moans vibrated against your flesh and you liked the way that it felt. You felt powerful being in control of Negan like this, having him a shuddering mess before you.

Using both hands, you pumped over Negan’s member, drawing attention to the red tip where precum was dripping from the slit. Licking his lips, Negan panted, never taking his eyes off you, “Are you going to come?”

Nodding, Negan could barely form words with you quickening the pace of your hand over his length. Dropping one of your hands, you cupped his testicles in your hand, gentle enough to have him bouncing into your touch. His throaty moans were growing more frequent and raspier.

His long eyelashes fluttered to a close, his chest rising and falling repeatedly, “Be a good boy and come for me.”

Working your caress over him harder had him hissing, burying his nose against the side of your neck. Winces were escaping his throat and you noticed his abdomen sinking in further. His thighs started to twitch with his breathing growing labored.

“That’s it, let it happen,” you urged him focusing now on the sensitive tip of his cock. At the side of your neck, Negan moaned out your name with his hips bouncing forward. Not wanting to miss, you looked between the two of you to watch the first line of Negan’s come cover your lower abdomen. Panting against your flesh, Negan continued to buck into your hand with his thick ropes of come covering both your abdomen and hand. By the time you milked him completely of his orgasm, Negan was a spent mess before you. His body was twitching, his legs weak with him being held up by the way that his hands were cuffed to the bars. With your free hand, you reached up to stroke your fingers through Negan’s damp hair kissing at the side of his face. “Good boy.”

Negan’s cum was dripping down your body onto the concrete floor of his cell, his breathing incredibly labored. Getting him to drop his head back, you gave him a tiny smile and traced your fingers over the sensitive tip of his softening cock. It was still twitching after his release with Negan’s eyelids heavy with awe for you.

“I think we can do this every time I visit, how about you?” you hummed against his flesh depositing a wet kiss at the center of his chest.

“Yes please,” Negan whimpered with a euphoric expression flooding his tired features. Hovering your lips over his had Negan whining and it made you smile. From this moment on, you’d have Negan eating out of the palm of your hand and that was an idea that you liked very much.

----

Tags: @slutlanna976​ @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @jennydehavilland @pixelb4rbie @ibelongtonegan

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[aplaceinme]

Tommy is in the shower, humming one of his favourite songs. Today has been great, and he can’t wipe the smile off his face. 

He and Evan had the entire day free to be together and it had been magical. 

Evan had spent the night, meaning Tommy woke up to him clinging to him like a koala. It was without a doubt Tommy’s favourite way to wake up. 

They had breakfast in bed, and then, after another round on the bed, they got ready to go out. 

It had been Evan’s turn to plan their date this time, so Tommy had been excited to see where they were going to end up. 

Evan took him to the Los Angeles Zoo and Tommy was sure that he had looked like a puppy following Evan around as he talked about every single animal, saying fact after fact after fact. 

They grabbed some dinner at a restaurant by the pier and then they had come back to Tommy’s place to watch a movie. 

Once the movie had ended, Tommy decided to take a shower, needing to take the smell off zoo of his body, while Evan rearranged the sofa and blankets they had used. 

As Tommy rinses off the conditioner, he thinks about how helplessly in love he is with Evan, and how he has never been happier in a relationship. 

They have only been going out for a couple of months but it all just feels right. 

Knocking on the door startles him from his mushy thoughts. 

“Yeah?”

“I just wanted to say goodnight,” Evan says through the door. 

“Now? I’m almost finished, just wait a minute so we can have a proper goodbye,” Tommy says, confused as to why Evan wants to go so suddenly. 

Evan works tomorrow morning, but it is still weird for him to decide to go like this.

“No, no, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. We will see each other tomorrow night, ok?”

“Are you sure?” Tommy asks, starting to get worried now. 

There is silence for a couple of seconds, but for Tommy feels like an eternity, his mind going a mile per hour trying to see what could be wrong. Did he miss something? He thinks. 

“I– yes, I’m sure”, Evan says hesitatingly. “I just wanted to tell you something, really.”

“Ok, I’m going out there,” Tommy replies, reaching to turn the shower off. 

“No, no, don’t!” Evan shouts. 

Tommy stops moving, letting the water fall on him. He is even holding his breath. 

“I– well, I’m–,” Evan sighs. “I just wanted to say that I…”

Other excruciating seconds of silence.

 “I love you, Tommy.”

Exhaling shakily, Tommy stays rooted to the spot, unable to process or even believe what he just heard. 

They haven’t said it yet, both of them probably afraid of it being too soon, or at least that is what Tommy said to himself whenever he thought about it. But, Evan just said it. Tommy feels his heart beating erratically, and it almost feels as if it’s going to come out of his chest. 

“Ok, well, I just wanted to say that. Goodnight then.”

Tommy hears Evan speak but it takes him seconds to comprehend it. 

Once he does, he freaks out. 

“Evan, no, wait!”

He quickly turns off the water and in his haste to get out of the shower, he ends up falling down. 

“That’s going to hurt tomorrow,” Tommy mutters as he stands up.

Grabbing a towel, he puts it around his waist and runs out of the bathroom to the front door. 

“Evan, wait, please!” Tommy shouts, firmly grabbing onto the towel. 

Tommy stops by the door to put on a jacket and then he books it out of the house barefoot.

“Evan!”

Spotting Evan by his truck, about to get in, Tommy screams his name once more and runs even faster.

Evan is startled by his scream and turns to look at him, letting out an oomph of surprise when Tommy runs up to him and gives him a huge hug. 

With his face tucked in Evan’s neck, Tommy mumbles, “You said it while I was in the shower.”

“I know,” Evan responds sheepishly.

Tommy removes his head from Evan’s neck and looks at him in the eyes, “I love you too, so much.”

“Yeah?” Evan asks breathlessly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

Sliding one hand around the back of Evan's neck, Tommy tells him sincerely, “I’m in love with you, Evan Buckley, and I love you quite a lot.” 

With that, they both lean in at the same time and they kiss. 

Standing by the side of the street with their arms wrapped around each other, they kiss tenderly and lovingly for a long while, until Tommy starts to shiver too much to keep on going.

Inspired by that scene of Heartstopper.

A little gift to @goforpilotkinard

Hope you like it! Sorry if it's not good and sorry for any mistakes (I wrote this really quickly)!

[tedwardremus]

Jilytober Day 2

Prompt: A: “If anyone does X I’m going to love them forever.” B: Does X.

Sirius leaned against the bar, flashing his most charming grin at Madam Rosmerta. “Come on, Rosmerta, just one Firewhiskey,” he coaxed, his voice dripping with flirtation. “I promise I won’t tell a soul. Think of it as doing your part to keep a poor, parched student from withering away.”

Rosmerta raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You know the rules, Black. Butterbeer or nothing.”

Beside him, James was only half paying attention, lounging casually with his elbow on the bar top. He was focused on a much more important task: flicking tiny wadded-up pieces of parchment toward an empty pint glass behind the bar. Each throw was carefully aimed, but even the best Chaser at Hogwarts had his limits.

“I swear, Pads,” James muttered, barely glancing over at Sirius, “if a girl can get one of these paper quaffles into that high glass over there”—he pointed to a particularly tall, slender glass perched on a high shelf—“I’ll love them forever. It’s the only one I haven’t managed yet.”

Sirius smirked, glancing at the glass in question. “I don’t know, Prongs,” he drawled, eyes twinkling. “If you, the top Chaser in our school, can’t manage it, I’m not sure anyone can.”

James rolled his eyes, flicking another piece of paper. It sailed just past the pint glass, falling short of the tall one. “You underestimate the power of sheer determination, Padfoot. One day, someone will do it.”

As if on cue, Lily walked up to the bar, glancing between the two boys before casually ordering a drink. Sirius’ grin widened the moment he saw her. “Hey, Evans,” he called, leaning in with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Reckon you can’t get a piece of paper into that glass over there.”

Lily didn’t even bother to answer. She simply rolled her eyes, grabbed the wadded-up piece of paper from Sirius' hand, and without a second thought, flicked it effortlessly across the bar. It sailed smoothly through the air and landed with a quiet plop into the tall glass. Dead center.

James' mouth dropped open in stunned silence as he watched her walk away, completely nonchalant, as if she hadn’t just accomplished the impossible.

Sirius broke the silence first, clapping James on the shoulder with a smug grin. “So, will that be a June wedding, then?”

James didn’t move, still staring after her. “Have I died? I feel like I just died.”

Sirius chuckled, shaking his head. “Easy there, mate.”

“I’m in heaven,” James continued, barely hearing Sirius. “And that was an angel.”

“Merlin, Prongs.” Sirius rolled his eyes, though he was clearly enjoying the moment. “You’re so embarrassing.”

[blackenedsnow]

Hey. Hope you're doing well. Could I req some Shadow comfort with a reader who doesn't really know how bad they are? Just this sort of disconnection from their self and their feelings. But they're not actually doing that well (depression, anxiety). No pressure ofc. Nope you have a good day/night.

untethered

WARNING: Depression, anxiety, emotional detachment, self-neglect, heavy introspection

PAIRING: Shadow the Hedgehog x Reader

NOTE: Thank you for your request, I am doing well! Also, no pressure at all! I hope you’re doing okay too. Please, take care of yourself, and remember that you’re not alone in feeling this way. I’m sending lots of love and good energy your way. 💜 You’ve got this.

SUMMARY: Shadow notices how you're slipping—detached from yourself, from your own pain—and decides it's time for you to confront what's been buried too long.

It’s late, and the world outside your window feels like it’s standing still. The sky is bruised purple with the weight of a fading day, casting long shadows across the room. You’ve been here for hours, but you haven’t noticed the time slipping through your fingers, like sand spilling from a cracked hourglass. There’s a hum in the air, low and steady, but it doesn’t reach you—not really. It’s just noise, like everything else these days.

You’re not doing anything, but you’re not exactly doing nothing either. It’s hard to explain, harder to pin down, this state of existing without really being present. Like you’re moving through molasses, slow and thick, but you don’t even feel the weight of it. Not yet.

You don’t know why Shadow is here. You hadn’t asked him to come, hadn’t told him anything was wrong—because nothing is wrong. Right? You’re just tired, maybe. A little worn out from…what, exactly? You don’t know. But when Shadow shows up, quiet and deliberate as always, you realize he’s been watching you for longer than you thought.

“I didn’t call you,” you say, your voice sounding distant even to yourself.

“You didn’t need to.” His answer is simple, but there’s something underneath it, like a ripple in the calm surface of water. He’s not looking at you, not yet, but you can feel the weight of his presence beside you. It’s grounding, like an anchor, but it’s also heavy. Maybe you don’t want to be grounded right now. Maybe you don’t even know how to be.

Shadow moves closer, his footsteps soft but deliberate, like every step means something. He’s never been one to waste time, but right now, there’s no urgency in his movements. It’s like he’s waiting for something. For you, maybe. Or maybe for the moment when you’ll finally realize what he already knows.

You look at him, finally, and he meets your eyes with that same intensity he always has. But it’s not the cold, sharp edge you’ve seen before. There’s something softer now, like he’s looking past you, through you, and seeing all the things you’ve been avoiding. The things you didn’t even know you were ignoring.

“What’s going on?” you ask, even though you’re not sure you want the answer.

Shadow doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he walks past you, his hand brushing against the edge of the table as he passes. It’s a small gesture, almost insignificant, but it’s deliberate. Everything he does is deliberate.

“You don’t see it,” he says, and his voice is quiet, almost too quiet. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not there.”

Your brow furrows, confusion settling in like a thick fog. “See what?”

Shadow stops near the window, his back to you as he looks out at the fading light. The sky is darker now, the purple bruises deepening into a shade of indigo that swallows the last traces of the sun. You feel a shiver run through you, but you’re not sure if it’s from the cold or something else.

“You’re not alright,” he says, and this time there’s no softness in his voice. It’s blunt, raw, like a blade cutting through the fog. “You’ve been pretending like everything’s fine because you don’t want to deal with what’s really going on.”

The words hit you harder than you expect. You blink, trying to process what he’s saying, but it’s like your brain can’t keep up. “I’m not… I’m not pretending. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

Shadow turns then, his eyes locking onto yours, and there’s something in his gaze that makes your chest tighten. “No,” he says, his voice low but firm. “You’re not just tired. You’ve disconnected from yourself, from everything, because you don’t know how to feel it anymore. You don’t even realize how deep you are in it.”

You open your mouth to protest, to say something—anything—but the words don’t come. Because part of you knows he’s right. There’s been this weight, this pressure you’ve been carrying for so long that you forgot what it feels like not to have it. But you hadn’t realized—hadn’t wanted to realize—just how much it’s been affecting you.

Shadow’s words hang in the air between you, heavy and unshakable, like the finality of a door closing. You feel a pang of something—maybe fear, maybe anger, maybe both—but it’s fleeting, slipping through your grasp before you can hold onto it. Like everything else.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, but your voice is weaker than before, like you’re not even convinced by your own denial.

Shadow takes a step closer, his movements slow, measured. “Yes, you do. You just don’t want to face it.”

The silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating, until you finally break. “I don’t know how,” you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

There it is. The truth you’ve been avoiding, the thing you didn’t even know you were running from. You don’t know how to feel it—any of it. You’ve been so numb for so long that the idea of actually facing your emotions feels impossible, terrifying even.

But Shadow doesn’t move, doesn’t pull away. He stands there, unwavering, and for the first time, you feel the weight of his presence not as a burden, but as a lifeline.

“You don’t have to know how right now,” he says, and his voice is softer now, but still steady. “But you can’t keep pretending it’s not there. You’re not going to get better by ignoring it.”

His words sink into you, slow and heavy, like raindrops falling into a still pond. And for the first time in a long time, you feel something stir inside you—something real, something raw.

“I don’t know where to start,” you admit, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Shadow’s eyes soften, just a little, but his gaze never wavers. “Start by acknowledging it. Start by letting yourself feel again. It’s going to hurt, and it’s not going to be easy. But you can’t keep living like this.”

You swallow hard, the weight of his words settling over you like a blanket, warm but suffocating all at once. But there’s a flicker of hope, too—a small, fragile thing, but it’s there.

Shadow doesn’t offer any empty promises, doesn’t say it’ll be okay, or that you’ll get through it without pain. He doesn’t sugarcoat the truth, because he knows what it’s like. He’s been there, in that place where everything feels too heavy and too distant all at once. And maybe that’s why his words hit you so hard—because you know he understands.

For the first time in what feels like forever, you take a breath that actually feels real. It’s shallow, shaky, but it’s there. And maybe that’s enough for now.

Shadow turns back toward the window, his gaze drifting toward the horizon where the last traces of light are fading into the dark. “You’re stronger than you think,” he says quietly. “But even the strongest of us need help sometimes.”

The words linger in the air, and for once, you don’t push them away. You let them settle, let them sink in, and for the first time, you start to believe them.

Maybe, you’ll be okay. Eventually. You will be okay.

[witchyvibes91]

Slytherin Boys Break Up Blurb

TW: A break up post with mentions of alcohol consumption and yelling. Please read with warning.

I'm sorry in advance for this post lol I'm a sucker for heartbreak so this one is for all my fellow sad theme lovers. I hope you enjoy it <3

Mattheo: Things have been different recently. He was more distant, not wanting to hang around you as much. You walked down to the Black Lake where he was smoking a cigarette. 

“Matty? There you are. I feel like I haven’t seen you all week!” You said with a soft giggle but he didn’t respond. At least not in the way you were used to. Instead, he turns to you with his dark eyes that were stained with a red hue. 

“Y/n, we need to talk.” His voice was stern, cold. It was unsettling. You feel your heart breaking already. 

“I can’t be with you anymore.” He says firmly. The tears are already on your waterline. You’re speechless. You wanted to yell, scream. You wanted to ask him why but you didn’t. You couldn’t. As you walk away, Matt watches you leave. He watches the one thing he loved most in this world leave him, knowing that he can never have it. All because of his father.

Theo: Life with Theo was fun. Keyword, was. Recently he had been so moody. The two of you were constantly bickering, something you weren’t used to. You were pacing around the common room having yet another argument. 

“What do you want me to do, Theo? You complain so much. What do you want me to do?” You shouted through frustration. He rolled his eyes as he waved his hand towards the common room entrance.

“Leave!” He shouted back at you. The words caught you by surprise. It wasn’t what you were expecting in the least. 

“What? You don’t mean that.” You muttered, your voice shaking as you spoke. Theo let out a loud sigh as he ran both hands through his hair. 

“I mean it! Just get out already!” He groaned out but before he could say another word you were gone. When Theo sat back straight, he half expected you to still be there. When he realized you were gone, he was instantly regretting the pain he just caused.

Lorenzo: Your back slid down the cold stone wall of the castle. Tears were running down your face. There wasn’t much else you could do. The image was seared into your mind. Enzo with another woman. Everyone warned you about this but he was different with you. He was attentive. He was sweet. Was. 

“Come on, Y/n. Don’t act like that.” He said through a soft tone. It was a tone that, combined with any other words, would come across as sweet. But with these, it was manipulative. 

“You were with another woman, Enzo!” You shouted at him. He stood right in front of you as he tucked his hands into his pockets. His eyes stared down at the mess he had created. A smirk teased on his lips as he looked at you. 

“You knew this day would come soon enough, Y/n. You had to.” He snarled at you. Your eyes stared up at the man who was now a stranger to you. He gave you one last look before walking away, his shoes carefully clicking against the stone floors. Your heart was broken. But hey, at least you were the top in his book. For now.

Draco: Draco Malfoy was by all means not the easiest person to date. But boy did he know how to shower you with affection. He wined and dined you. He bought endless gifts and flowers. He always had stocks of your favorite candy. But the one thing he wouldn’t do is open up. Even after months of dating. The conversations between the two of you always felt stale and shallow. 

“Come on, Dray. Just one thing! One little talk. That’s all.” You said one October afternoon as your head lay in his lap. His hand ran through your hair, the silver rings stroking your sun kissed strands. 

“Why are you always pushing me? Why do we need to talk at all?” He mumbled. You sat up as you looked at him. 

“Why do we need to talk at all? To communicate? To have healthy conversations and build trust?” You said through a shocked tone. Draco rolled his eyes. He was acting childish and it was pushing you with every second. 

“If you want all of that then you’re with the wrong person.” He said as his icy gray eyes met yours. You felt your heart sinking. He was being pretentious about this. 

“So you’re saying we shouldn’t be together?” You asked, hoping he’d defend you. Defend your relationship. 

“Yeah. Maybe I am.” They were words you never thought you’d hear. You jumped up and immediately stormed off. Draco watched you walk away before slamming his head against the tree he was leaning on. He cursed his upbringing for costing him yet another joy in life.

Blaise: Blaise was the life of the party no matter where you went. Everyone knew him. Students. Friends of friends. Even the shop workers knew his name. You felt as if you couldn’t ever truly get alone time with you. The two of you were in his room getting ready for yet another party. 

“I just don’t understand why we can’t do some one on one time?” You asked as you combed through your hair. Blaise was buttoning his shirt while staring in the mirror. 

“What’s gotten into you? You used to be so fun.” He said through a groan. You stopped the comb halfway through and immediately turned to him. 

“Used to be? Are you implying that I’m no longer fun?” You asked, pulling the comb through and tossing it onto the bed. Blaise looked at you through the mirror, his eyes meeting yours from over his shoulder. 

“I mean, yeah, Ma. You used to love going out. You’re not the same as when we first started dating.” His words stung. They were hurtful. Did he mean this? 

“So what, you want someone more fun than me?” You asked thinking he would just roll his eyes at your dumb question. Instead he turned around, his hands falling to his side as his half buttoned shirt stayed slightly open. 

“I guess I am.” He said sternly. The pain was too much. You stormed out of the room, leaving Blaise alone. He went to the party that night but no matter how much he drank, he couldn’t get you off his mind. He knew he messed up. And he would forever regret that night.

Regulus: You were sitting in your room, holding the letter in your hands. The tears were rolling from your cheek onto the parchment. You had read it over and over again, but the words didn’t change, no matter how much you wanted them to. 

“I can’t defeat the dark lord while with you. I can’t have him use you against me. I’m sorry, Y/n. This is the only way.” That line ran over your eyes over and over again. Regulus had left and there was a good chance he would never return again. 

Meanwhile, miles away, Regulus was making his way towards his battle. The pain he felt while writing that letter was practically unbearable, but it was needed. He knew he needed to break up with you to protect you. 

And that’s exactly what it did. It protected you. But it didn’t stop him from thinking about you. He would spend the rest of his life wondering if he made the right decision that night. You would forever be in his mind, a constant reminder of the life he could have had. The person who he wanted to spend forever with and yet never would, no matter how much he wanted to do just that.

[dashielldeveron]

soulmate trope | midoriya izuku, part two

Midoriya's route of soulmate trope. Part one here. “this doesn’t match the manga’s canonical ending!” correct. and isn’t that sexy? please read this route last, as it contains spoilers for all other routes. warnings: female reader. manga spoilers up to 411ish. angst. sexual content. moderate injury (not reader). indulgently meta on behalf of the author. a note: some meta elements in this route may lead you to think it’s the true route for this fic. not necessarily. the true route is whichever one is your favourite :) ~57k overall. ~17.5k for part two.

Life got better afterwards. Infinitely better to focus on the part of your life that sings rather than what you lack. You weren’t over it, of course, but you were growing. Choosing Izuku made little joys shine.

You finished jigsaw puzzles in the kitchen together. You went with him to the farmers’ market to get his brie. You sent him memes during long work days. On a late night, you caught him while he was sitting on a street lamp’s overhang to deliver a bento.

He’s beautiful. Izuku’s beautiful. When he’s playing as a paladin in DND in Tenko’s room, when he’s across the room at a press conference and you nearly walk into someone because you’re watching him, when you slide a cup of double-sweet tea across the kitchen table and he blinks blearily up at you with a throaty, “Yeah, baby?” Not beautiful just in his body, of course, but because his personality’s written all over his face, and who he is shines; he beams and shimmers, and you’ve discovered you need to see it.

Sunlight, after all, keeps you alive.

You still haven’t kissed him yet. The timing hasn’t felt right.

The closest you’ve come to it was when you were helping him transport snacks for his employees from his car inside his agency, and halfway up the ramp, he stopped pushing his cart. Ensuring your cart wouldn’t roll away, you doubled back to Izuku, muttering under his breath and pinching his lower lip.

“What’s up?”

“Oh, gracious,” he said, breaking from his stream of thought and gripping the cart’s handle again, “I was just thinking. The cobblestone façade for the building entrance is terrible design. It’s difficult for the wheels on the carts to roll up smoothly, so it’s got to be infinitely worse for wheelchair users and others who use wheels to get around. This needs to be smooth concrete to be more accessible. It’s strange,” he said, pushing the cart again, more slowly this time, to watch how the wheels engaged with the cobblestone façade, “I’m disappointed in myself for needing to live with a temporarily disabled body in our dream reality and a couple of snack carts to realise this.” He paused when you reached your cart, waiting for you before entering the building. “I think I should spend time thinking about how to make this agency more accessible. Consult some experts. At the very least, I should commission Cementoss to smooth out the front.”

As Izuku held the door to the elevator for you, you were overwhelmed with the realisation that the only reason this man wasn’t helping more people was that he literally did not know in what capacity he could be helping. So long as he was learning, so long as he was gathering information about new people and the ways they lived, he was going to put the information and his authority to use to make others’ lives easier. This was…an infuriatingly, aggravatingly, desperately needed, good man. And so shines a good deed in a weary world.

And you would’ve kissed him for it, but you couldn’t reach him across the elevator with two carts in between.

***

You were on set the day that Izuku filmed for the pilot of Uraraka’s miniseries, Ad Astra Per Aspera. You garnered that it was a space adventure-comedy sort of thing, and the first episode was supposed to be a subversion of expectations: Izuku’s character is set up to be the main character, playing into genre and gender expectations, but halfway through the episode, he dies so that Uraraka’s character can take over as the lead. It worked on several levels: one, reminding audiences that even in real life, Uraraka didn’t need anyone, particularly Izuku, to be capable, and two, ensuring Izuku would only need a one-episode contract.

Right now, they were filming an ensemble scene in a seedy, space bar, with the initial band of characters getting to know each other through all interrogating this one suspect simultaneously. For most of the scene, they had Izuku straddling a chair backwards, his character’s army insignia sash tied snugly around his waist to emphasise it, arms resting on the back of the chair while he looked down at the suspect with disdain.

At first, the script had had Izuku’s roguish, pseudo-Han Solo character smoking, but that morning, you’d walked into a conversation between the screenwriter and the director about how showing the number-one hero smoking might have negative effects on really young kids. Thus they changed it to Izuku sexily eating fruit, but even that had its problems: surely the same kind of fruit that grows on Earth wouldn’t be available in this shitty bar in a different galaxy entirely?

So, they had you peeling kiwis for each take, and without its characteristic brown skin, kiwis could pass as some sort of space fruit. You felt a little silly, with all the peelings piling up in your lap, but now you supposed you could put production assistant on your résumé.

“They have him biting into like an apple,” you said to Monoma, also involved in the production for his clothing collaboration with Uraraka to promote the series, “Why are they having him eat it like that? That can’t be any good.”

Monoma licked his finger and flicked the page of his magazine, crossing his ankle to rest on his opposite knee. “Defamiliarises the fruit from the audience because we’re not seeing it eaten in a typical way. Next question.”

“Oh, shut up,” you said, jabbing your kiwi-peeling knife his direction, “It’s going to ruin the scene if he bites down into the ring of seeds. That’s very recognisable.”

Raising a brow, Monoma looked up from his magazine. “Surely you’re accustomed to telling Midoriya how hard to bite down by now.”

You opened your mouth, closed it, and returned the knife to your lap, and you pulled your jacket more closely around you instead of answering, scanning the ceiling for what vent was the source of the cold.

“Oh, are you not prepared to be on a film set?” asked Monoma, indulgently settling into his puffy coat, “They keep the set cold so that the actors don’t overheat under the lights.” He closed his magazine and set it over the arm of his chair and strained for his messenger bag on the floor. “What’s up?”

“I’m not working the show—am I allowed to go to catering? My mouth is dry. Plus, there might be something better to peel,” you said, picking up your next kiwi, “I don’t really—hm.”

Your words caught in your throat, because across the room, Izuku was, in character, licking kiwi juice up the side of his arm, from mid-forearm to his palm. You didn’t realise Monoma was offering you a bottle of water and chapstick from his bag until he jostled you with it.

“Thank you,” you said, accepting it and unscrewing the lid, and after you’d drunk enough, you picked up the unopened chapstick, examining it. “Aren’t these supposed to be, I don’t know, less spherical?”

“I thought you’d appreciate that. It’s supposed to be one of the tie-in lip balms for the series. They’re doing flavours based on some of the characters.” Monoma pulled out a few more lip balms from his bag. “We’re still working on the packaging, so they’re not out yet. That one’s supposed to be Midoriya’s.”

“Explains why it’s green, then,” you said, popping off the spherical cap, “How original. Means they were thinking more of him and not the character he’s playing. Is it mint?”

“Matcha,” said Monoma, as you smeared some on your lips, feeling better almost instantly, in the dry cold of the set, “and lemon. Which wasn’t my first choice; originally I suggested matcha and vanilla, but what do I know. Do you like it?”

You nodded mid-drink from your water bottle.

“Does it taste like him?”

You choked, water going through your nose, nearly letting kiwis and peelings tumble from your lap while a grinning Monoma thumped your back. “Man, that wasn’t even clever. If you’re this easy to fluster,” he was saying, “I don’t even want to imagine how much fun Midoriya must have with you.”

“I need you to never open your mouth again,” you said, wiping your mouth with your sleeve, and you cleared your throat. “Now. I am invoking the no-judgments clause of our friendship.”

“What do you need?”

“I wanted your advice on video editing,” you said, pulling out your phone, “I’ve been putting together this, uh. Thing. And before I post it, I wanted you to check that it’s as good as it can be. It’ll be my first time posting in a fan community I’ve joined, and I want it to be good. Try not to make fun of me for it.”

Monoma only had to watch a few seconds of footage, the chorus of NCT’s “Baby, Don’t Stop” coming in softly through your phone’s speakers, before he looked back up at you in condescension. “This is a fancam for Midoriya’s nipples,” he said, frowning.

“See, I knew you’d make fun of me for it.” You scooted your chair closer to Monoma’s, and while you peeled kiwis, he critiqued your editing and helped you make it better. You were both so absorbed in the video that you didn’t notice that the film crew had taken a break until Izuku came up to talk.

“Hey,” he said with a wave, startling you and Monoma out of your skins (he hastily shoved your phone back to you before Izuku could see the screen). “What’s up?”

“Nothing much.” You held up your knife and latest kiwi. “Being on a film set is a bit different than I’d pictured, but it’s still neat to watch everyone work.”

“Ah,” said Izuku, mouth nearly a straight line as he took the peeled kiwi from you, “I started out the morning being quite fond of these. I’ll be content if I don’t see one for a while after this. Are you cold?” He nodded at how much you snuggled into your jacket. “I can go get my coat from the green room for you.”

“You’re not? It’s frigid in here.”

Izuku shook his head. “It’s the lights.”

“Yeah, Monoma mentioned something like that,” you said, glancing towards Monoma—and you could’ve sworn you caught Monoma staring at Izuku’s nipples through his shirt. “Is this your only costume, by the way?” You reached for your water again.

Midoriya smiled, teeth cutting into his lower lip. “More or less. I’m not wearing anything for my death scene.”

You stopped the bottle before it reached your mouth. “I’m sorry. What?” You cracked a grin. “Are you telling me you have a nude scene?”

“Nothing’s shown,” he said, smiling down at you, scooting out of the way of a crewman, and tossing the kiwi to himself.  “I don’t think I mind. Women have to be nude in movies a lot, so I’m fine with helping to balance it out. I’m told it’s supposed to be non-sexual nudity, anyway.”

You sat up in your seat, taking another drink before speaking. “How noble. What’d they say about it?”

“So, I was in costuming and makeup earlier because of an effects shot; it’s the last shot I’m in before I get killed. They were explaining that I have to be completely nude for it; it’s actually pivotal that the spaceship shard that kills me slices from here—” Izuku drew a line from his upper thigh to just below his nipple (Monoma’s eye twitched). “—to here, so I can’t be wearing anything. They want me levitating, horizontal to the ground, and I was describing to the costumer that the shot is actually really similar to this effects shot in an episode of Star Trek—Next Gen, season three, episode thirteen, ‘Deja Q,’ and I was asking the costumer and the head makeup artist if I should put some sort of makeup on my ass, because I only have freckles on the top curve of my asscheeks; the lower curve doesn’t exactly see the sun—but my character, with the UV light in his bedroom, where he gets killed—he’s getting proper sun on his full ass, but if makeup were to put fake freckles on my ass, it’d be extremely obvious that they’re fake, especially in contrast to the real ones. But we couldn’t get to a decision about it before call time, because we got so wrapped up in that none of the cock socks —because that’s what they’re called, apparently, those things that’re meant to protect your modesty—well. None of them fit. And I was just about to bring up that same episode of Star Trek, because John de Lancie had the same issue, but Uraraka came and got me so that we could start,” said Izuku, rubbing the back of his neck.

Dear God, you’re in love with him.

You’re in love with the biggest nerd on the planet, and something was deeply, deeply wrong with the universe, because you weren’t currently kissing him within an inch of his life.

“But I’m hoping we finish this scene soon, at least,” Izuku was saying, tongue rubbing the inside of his cheek, as if it weren’t a crime punishable by death that his mouth wasn’t on yours at the moment, “because my lips are all dry from how acidic the kiwis are; I may need to stop by makeup again to ask if they have any sort of moisturising sealant, or something.”

“I gave your girlfriend some lip balm earlier,” said Monoma, as quick on the uptake as you, zipping up his bag to hide the other flavours, and you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him for it.

“Yeah,” you said, mind blank except for you loved him you loved him you loved him, aggressively yanking off the chapstick’s cap and applying more to your own lips before you stood (kiwi peelings falling to the floor) and grabbed Izuku’s face to kiss him.

He floundered. Froze. Held his breath. Which, sure, at this point it was more of a smushing of faces rather than a kiss, but you heard the tiniest clearing of his throat before he kissed you back in earnest, and nothing else mattered; everything else was just white noise. It was as if you didn’t even have matcha or lemon or kiwi to consider but instead just Izuku, Izuku distilled, sunshine and warmth, and oh, his hand was gliding up the side of your neck, the span of his hand wider than that of your throat, to play with your earlobe, and he was opening his mouth, sucking your lower lip inward just slightly, and—and you had to break away to breathe, and you wished you didn’t have to.

Chest heaving, Izuku’s lips chased yours after the initial separation, and he settled for resting his forehead against yours. “To think that I was going to introduce you to Uraraka’s soulmate today, as a final nail in the coffin that I belong to you. Now,” he said with a heady rasp, nudging his nose against yours, “I’d think you know that already, and I’d rather smuggle you back home to have you all to myself.”

“You’ll have me later,” you said, giving him another short kiss and appreciating how dejected he looked when it didn’t last for more than a second. “How much time do we have? Why don’t you still introduce me to Spike? Is she here?”

Izuku took a deep breath before releasing you, and he nodded, taking your hand. “She’s over there with Uraraka. I wanted you to see how differently Uraraka treats me compared to Spike. It’s evident that’s she really in love now.”

“Lead the way,” you said, waving towards Monoma, who was determinedly reading his magazine.

Uraraka and Spike were in conversation with the director, and while the two of you waited to the side, you looked Spike over: tall and imposing with blue-black hair in a harsh bob, and huh, she’s really putting that scar around her neck on display, isn’t she? Looks like she’s been beheaded.

“Wait a minute,” you said, whispering to Izuku, “I know her.”

“True,” said Izuku, crossing his arms as he leant down to your height, “But I figured I should introduce you in this context.”

You shot him a look. “Wait, how would you know she’s a cashier I met in Alderside? Back when I was investigating your Jackrabbit stuff?”

“That’s what you were thinking of?” It was Izuku’s turn to look confused, and, laughing under his breath, he pulled you by the elbow away from everyone, until he was sure that no one would overhear. “Sweetheart, you know that Spike is just Toga Himiko transformed, right?”

“What?” you said so loudly that people looked over. Izuku rubbed his hands up and down your arms to quiet you, so you dropped your voice. “How would I know that? Where would I have gotten that information?”

“I thought I’d told you,” said Izuku, grinning and shaking his head, “Toga has been at a local rehab, Sakura Grove, and Uraraka had been visiting for a while before they found out they were soulmates. They, uh. Both have matching symbols on the underside of their tongues.”

“I’m assuming I shouldn’t ask how they found out.”

“Toga—sorry, we should say Spike since we’re in public—Spike still lives at Sakura Grove but has been given a lot of privileges for good behaviour for this long. One of her long-time handlers doesn’t leave campus much and has consented to let Spike use her appearance, within reason. And to be fair, they’ve mostly used the transformation to go on dates,” said Izuku, glancing over her shoulder at them, “It's good to see them both so happy.”

The director ended the break before you could speak to them, and, with a final kiss to Izuku’s cheek, you left the set, went home, crawled into Izuku’s bed for the first time, and tried not to fall asleep.

***

But you did fall asleep, inevitably, and you spent an annoyingly long time in the dream world listening to Tenko tell Granddaddy Slapkins that Touya loved him very much before Izuku’s body stirred in his bedroll.

You knelt at his side while he pushed himself upright. “What took you so long?”

“I apologise,” he said, rubbing his eye as he accepted the slice of toast you had ready for him, “It’s just that I finally had a particular woman in my bed, and I took a moment to admire how gorgeous she is when she sleeps.”

“You sap,” you said, and you held up a phial of the soulwalking potion. “We need to talk without eavesdroppers for a moment.”

You got to the spirit realm before Izuku did, since he had to finish his toast, and when his glowing, green-tinged soul materialised across from you in the campfire circle, you pounced on him, pushing him back down to lie on his mirrored bedroll, hands planted on either side of his head, and you kissed him, heat blossoming from his lips, the only source of warmth on this side of reality. You hummed into it and raised a hand to trace along his jaw, but Izuku gripped the hair at the nape of your neck and yanked your mouth off of his, holding you in place.

“I thought,” he said, eyes half-lidded, chest swelling underneath you, “that we were here to talk.”

“Oh, stop it. Like I could make out with you in front of our friends,” you said, leaning down towards him again, but Izuku tightened his grasp so that you couldn’t move more than an inch (at the pressure at the back of your neck, your eyes fluttered shut). “Oh? Have I done something wrong?”

Izuku raised his free hand, his index finger tracing along your cheekbone before tapping your lips. “Yes,” he said, dragging the syllable out, “You aren’t kissing me like you love me.”

“Tell me what to do, then.”

Izuku blinked slowly, eyes taking on a hint of the OFA glow. “All right.” He let his hand fall to the side. “I want you to stick your tongue in deeply, as if you’re desperate to keep me near. You need to tangle our tongues together,” said Izuku, tilting his head backward to expose the jut of his Adam’s apple, “and suck them towards you. If you can handle that, then we’ll graduate you to the next class.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding when he released your hair, but you weren’t going to give it to him immediately. You shifted your weight to one arm as you slated your lips against his, finger-combing through his hair with your other hand while your tongue swiped over his lower lip, replaced, after a moment, with teeth gently tugging. Izuku parted his lips and accepted your tongue into his mouth, lips moving with yours, while you slid your tongue against his, guiding them with the tip of your tongue towards your own mouth, and you gave a soft nip to his tongue that made him hiss.

“Now,” you said, panting, moving to sit upright, “Surely that was—”

Izuku jerked you down by your necklace to capture your lips again, pinning you against him and completely reversing the suggestion of who was in charge, and you daren’t pull away, lest the chain of your necklace break. Brow furrowed, Izuku groaned into the kiss as he shifted his hips underneath you, and, tongue feeling around the roof of your mouth, he raised a knee for you to straddle and guided your hip so firmly that you were forced to grind down on it.

He released your necklace, mouthed, “Sit back,” and moved your hand to steady yourself on his sturdy chest, clutching your hand to his pec before joining his other hand on your hips to make you rock them. After a moment, a hand trailed upwards towards your shirt, trying to get underneath it, but once he realised he’d have to undo layers of medieval clothing, Izuku huffed and simply pressed his wide palm down hard against your lower stomach, staring you down while you ground against his thigh, quick snaps of OFA lightning sparking around his forearms as you went a bit glassy-eyed and flushed, despite the layers of fabric between you.

Izuku drew you down again, shivering in the moment your lips connected with his, kissing you hard for a final, few seconds before pulling away. “Good Lord,” he said, and perhaps it’s because you’ve been kissing, but his voice sounded sweeter. “I have never kissed you before today. I haven’t seen you, completely bare, before today. Yet I’ve never so thoroughly devoted my heart to anyone besides you. I know I’ve never felt this close with anyone.”

“And you have eight people larking about inside you,” you said, tucking a loose curl behind his ear.

“And I have eight people larking about inside me,” said Izuku, nodding, “I don’t know how I’ve lived without you. I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while, but today’s been—yeah. I felt like I could say it today.”

“You don’t have to say it, exactly. It’s been…subtext.” You tapped your fingers in a ripple on his pec. “But I appreciate it very much.” You dragged your fingers down his chest, catching fabric, but before you could reach the ties of his trousers, Izuku caught your hand, flattening it against his abdomen.

“No,” he said, smiling, “Not yet. The first time you have me, I want us to be in our reality, in our own bodies. As real and true as it can be.”

“That’s fine. Have anything special in mind?”

“Yes, actually. All according to my ludicrously evil plan. Actually, I—” Izuku frowned and sat upright, helping you off of him. “Actually, we need to get out of the spirit realm first. I think I’ve put together the pieces for how we can make Shinsou a frappe, and I want to see if it works.”

You clicked your tongue. “Izuku, why the fuck are you thinking about that? You literally have a boner right now.”

“That’s not—ignore it,” said Izuku, bending his leg to conceal it from you, “But if we’re going to make lo—have sex in the real world, then we should get other stuff done while we’re here. I’m thinking that we can achieve the frappe taste from your tea ceremony, and we might be able to get the texture and temperature through experimentation with Todoroki’s ice magic—”

“You are bonkers,” you said, leaning back on your hands, “and I don’t wanna have to witness that conversation. I…you go back first. I’m going to chill here for a bit; I need to collect my thoughts about what I want to plan for when we sleep together. I won’t even be able to hear my own thoughts if everyone’s blabbering at once. Now, get.”

Izuku waved goodbye, fading into the grey as he climbed back into his body, and gosh, it really was so much colder without him here. Well, if you transformed back into a cat, you’d be a bit warmer…And then, surely it wouldn’t hurt if you curled up in a ball while you daydreamed…tucked your little head underneath the tip of your tail…started to plan about what you wanted to be wearing, what you wanted the bedroom to look like, but you didn’t get very far…

***

You blinked awake to Izuku’s defined bicep in your face, his bedsheet pulled up to your chin, and you breathed in the scent of his laundry detergent deeply.

“Oh!” Izuku removed his reading glass to set them and his book on his bedside table, and he flipped onto his side to look at you, one hand cradling your cheek. “Are you all right? Does anything feel strange?”

“Uh.” You assessed your body for, like, anything bleeding out. “No. Situation normal.”

“Good.” Izuku let out a breath, shoulders losing their tension. “I was worried, but I figured it’d be good to have someone monitor you in the real world in addition to our dream world. They’re still—”

“Hold up,” you said, starting to feel more awake, “What happened?”

Izuku sat up, blankets pooling around his waist, and you followed. “After I went back to the group, everything seemed fine for about half an hour, but then your—well, you know how our bodies seem like they’re sleeping when we’re soulwalking, and that’s all. But, uh.” He held up his hands, as if he were holding a basketball, and then dropped them. “Your body—you know All Might’s soul crystal? You—when we eventually get back to his body to return it, he’s—he looks like this stone dragon, with a spot for the soul crystal to fit. You shifted into something similar, I think. You turned into Dango, not fully cat-sized, y’know, but very—small, statue-ish. A cat curled up in a ball. I could’ve fit you in my pocket. Your soul crystal was visible, but there was no way to remove it. And we were, of course, concerned,” said Izuku, grabbing you by the shoulders, “So I’m immensely relieved to see you like this. What did you do?”

“Dude, don’t look at me. I didn’t do anything; I can’t remember. I was—” You caught yourself and grinned. “Izuku. I don’t remember anything, because I was asleep.”

Izuku tilted his head. “What?”

“I fell asleep in the spirit realm, and I think that’s why—” You broke off to laugh. “Izuku, I got a good night’s sleep for the first time in almost a year. I wasn’t awake here or in our dream world. My consciousness got to rest.”

Izuku’s eyes widened for a moment, and then he hunched over on himself to mutter furiously under his breath, pinching his bottom lip. You reached over him to grab his phone off the bedside table, checking the time and if anyone needed him this early in the morning.

When you glanced over at him, he was still going at it, so you thumped his chest. “Hey. Don’t think about it too hard. I’d given up on trying to achieve dreamless sleep a while ago, because I—like seeing you all the time. So, don’t stress about if we can recreate it. Your brain is always going a thousand miles a minute. You can relax, y’know.”

“Well, perhaps I’d need to rest in the spirit realm, then,” said Izuku, sliding out of bed and pressing his hands to his lower back as he stretched. “By the way,” he said, coming out of a groan, “I wanted to share the most pertinent piece of information regarding our Sex Plan.”

“Don’t call it—whatever, Izuku. Go ahead,” you said, scratching your forehead.

“Two weeks from now—”

“You’re gonna make me wait two weeks?”

“Hey, no, listen,” he said, grinning, holding his hands up in defence, “There’s an emotionally resonant anniversary in two weeks, and besides, look who’s saying that. The woman who’s been stringing me along for almost a year.”

You threw your hands above your head. “I didn’t know it was you for a good part of that! I didn’t know you were real,” you said, tongue in your cheek as you smiled, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, “Okay, gorgeous. Lay it on me.”

Izuku bit his lip, rubbing it with his index finger before replying. “One. In two weeks, there’s a fundraiser we’re slated to attend. It’s hosted by the one we were at together three—well, four years ago. It’s grander in scale now, since the charity’s grown, but I think we can have a similarly adequate time. Two,” he said, raising another finger, “Since it’s more grandiose, our friends will be there. If you’ll allow me to be selfish, I’d like to take this opportunity to brag about our immense happiness.”

You laughed and covered your mouth. “Not even considering proving it to the press, since we haven’t made a public statement about our relationship in ages? Just our friends?”

“I admit that competition is a contributing factor,” said Izuku, taking his phone from you to return it to his bedside table, “but it’s not everything. I’m simply tired of suppressing my love for you, in public or otherwise.” He took both of your hands in his, and he knelt before you, parting your legs to get closer, to share your body heat. “Three,” said Izuku, much more seriously, “I think we should get married.”

You blinked. Okay. Not what you were expecting. “Right.” Your grip slackened, but his didn’t, keeping your fingers laced together. “To quell your fears before we have this conversation, my answer’s yes. Yes, I do wanna get married. I think it’d be wonderful. But.” You managed to free a hand from his grasp to cup his cheek. “Aren’t you concerned that I’m only just started showing you affection? That I’ve only recently opened my heart to you? Anyone else would’ve fallen for you immediately; of fucking course they would, once they saw how you shine,” you were saying, determinedly looking away from him, “but I’ve got all of these—strangely metaphysical hangups about whom I’m permitted to love, and I’m only just now starting to really get over them, and I can’t guarantee that they’ll ever really go away, so what if I can’t ever show you more love than I have recently—”

“Ohhh, my dear girl,” said Izuku, and he tapped a finger under your chin to get you to look at him, but you wouldn’t look away from the ceiling. “If we have to kiss to show we’re in love, then we’re not in love.” He tapped your chin again, and this time you met his eyes. “And we are. Haven’t you noticed? You’ve been showing me affection for so long. You’ve been proving your love to me in thousands of tiny choices you make every day, thinking of me with good intentions. Kissing is just another way of showing it. I’ve known you’ve loved me for some time now, even though you’ve been reluctant to admit it to yourself.”

You opened your mouth, scrunched your brow, and closed it. Because when you thought back, oh, he’s right; you’ve been living and working together for so long now, learning more and more about each other, both eager to dig into the minutiae of each other’s characters. He’s become a part of who you are, without trying much at all, and you haven’t noticed until he put the words in your mouth, and the feeling fucking flooded you, making your chest feel stretched like a balloon and pin-pricked in the same moment.

Because you don’t think about loving the sun. It’s just something you do. It comes built into your soul. You don’t have to announce it.

“Huh,” you said, really intelligently, “Cool. Then, yeah. Let’s get married.”

“Sweet,” said Izuku, standing and going to riffle through a dresser drawer, “I have the forms already; I hope you’ll forgive that I don’t have rings yet, because I figured you’d like to choose. I wanted to submit the soulmate quirk incident form as a marriage registration, but I didn’t know if you wanted to commit back then, so I’ve waited until—and if we can get the registration forms in by the end of the day, we’ll be in their system by Wednesday…”

You sat back on your hands, sinking into the mattress, and, feeling like you were in a dream, you listened to your soulmate ramble.

***

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

Wish you were here

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

The DJ keeps running tests of songs I thought I left behind in middle school

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

They got the Crawler as keynote speaker. Do you think he’ll sign something if I ask?

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

I’ve never seen this many chairs in my life

You were smiling at your phone as you walked through the doors of your hero agency, sweaty and sore from patrol. Izuku had to be dragged away from his agency around noon; the Foundation wanted him at the fundraising site early for setup, something about adjusting the heritage building for modern security. You waved to the front desk workers and stepped into the elevator, smushing the button for the ninth floor. More texts pinged before you could type a reply to the previous one.

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

THEY’RE TELLING ME I NEED TO MAKE A SPEECH

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

I WAS PLANNING ON DRINKING

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

I’VE BEEN WATCHING THEM SET UP THE OPEN BAR! AND YEARNING!!!!!!

YOU

lololol did someone else drop out of giving a speech

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

YES

YOU

okay lol. listen i just got back from patrol and am omw to my office. give me a minute to cool down, and then we can brainstorm what you can say

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

Wait, have you been away from your agency for more than six hours?

YOU

…yes? ito and i got lunch while we were downtown

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

You should have something waiting for you.

MIDORIYA 👉👈🌱💚

I asked them to put it in your office instead of the mailroom.

YOU

???

You sent the last while rounding the corner to your office, and you opened the door on a white garment bag hanging from your coatrack, the silhouette of the dress backlit by the late afternoon sun behind it.

Oh, this idiot.

You stopped at your desk, tearing off your support gear and dropping it unceremoniously next to a flat box, also from Izuku, at which you raised an eyebrow. But first, you grabbed a water bottle from your minifridge, chugged the whole thing, and wiped off sweat with a towel you kept behind your desk.

You began to undress, unfastening the front of your hero costume to let the A/C hit your skin, and you unzipped the garment bag, laughing through your nose at the dress: gorgeous, of course, but just a bit too slinky for your tastes and made out a material that wouldn’t be comfortable for all the hours you had to spend at this fundraiser. He must’ve been thinking with his dick.

So, you turned to the flat box on your desk, and you unfolded the tissue paper hiding a fuckin’ lingerie set, intricately lacy and deadly verdant. Izuku, you absolute nerd. Don’t you know that you can’t wear something with this heavy a design under something so blatantly silky as that dress? The lines will show. Plus—now that you were looking at the dress again—the straps on the bra were thicker than the straps on the dress, so you absolutely were not going to wear them together.

“Looks like he wanted something easy to take off,” came Ito’s voice from your doorway.

Grinning, you waved her in as you bent to retrieve another water bottle from your fridge. “Tell me about it. That dress screams easy access.”

“Like a horny couple at prom.” Ito caught the bottle you tossed to her, and she sat on your desk, one leg crossed over the other. “It’s lovely,” she said, shrugging one shoulder.

“It’s not exactly black tie,” you said after a long gulp, “It’s more of a sexy, expensive loungewear sort of deal. I don’t think I could wear that in public without everyone seeing everything that’s going on with me.” You gestured down your front. “I’m not gonna wear it.”

Ito rushed to swallow and wiped the back of her mouth. “Why not?”

“Think about it. What kind of idiot would I be if I hadn’t prepared an outfit for tonight? It’s not like the fundraiser is a surprise,” you said, pulling off the top of your hero costume, leaving you in your undershirt, “I’ve got something already. Izuku is damn lucky, though, because I’ll be able to wear that—” You nodded towards the lingerie. “—under the dress I have planned. Are you coming?”

Ito blinked. “Not at the moment.”

“I meant to the fundraiser.”

“Yeah, actually,” she said, twirling a strand of thick, white hair around her finger, “One of your friends invited me as arm candy. Said there was something I’ll want to see.”

***

Your PR advised you to arrive around 45 minutes late to avoid the initial buzz outside of the venue (some turn-of-the-century architect’s manor house before she died), but since that’d be 45 minutes of Izuku searching for you, you sneaked in through a staff entrance. You managed to locate your assigned table (thankfully in a corner, unfortunately near the front), where you hid your clutch in the pocket underneath your chair’s floral cover and listened to the musicians tune their instruments.

Where’s Izuku? They can’t need him every minute. You scanned the ballroom for his face among the early attendees, but he wasn’t to be found; some of your graduating class was already trickling in, and so, Asui, Hagakure, Ojiro, and Iida stopped by your table for a while.

“We’re over there with Yaoyo and Jiro, ribbit,” said Asui, pointing towards a far table, “I’m glad! Yaoyorozu has been to black tie events more than I have, so she can tell us if we mess up.”

“Come off of it, Tsu; we’ve been to black tie stuff before,” you said, smiling up at her from your seat, “It gets easier.”

Asui stuck out the tip of her tongue. “Forgive my cliché, but I always feel like a frog out of water no matter how many I attend.”

“Worry not!” Iida gestured stiffly. “If you’ll recall, I also come from, as you put it, old money! I can assist you if Yaoyorozu is otherwise occupied. However, you needn’t concern yourself with—”

“Why have they put you near the front?” Hagakure crossed her arms, evident by her elbow-length gloves, and held her clutch underneath her armpit. “There aren’t any awards being given out tonight. It’s just dancing and that silent auction.”

“No, but Izuku’s giving a speech,” you said, “Probably for convenience.”

“Either way, sorry about that,” said Ojiro, placing a hand on Hagakure’s shoulder, “I know you’re not too comfortable with being in everyone’s line of sight.”

“Eh, it’ll be fine. Though I remember this being a much smaller event. Has it grown that much?” you asked, eyeing the main entrance nervously, with how many people swarmed inside, “It’s—shadowy over here. The lights aren’t on us. It’s fine.”

“Ooh, I think they’re opening the bar,” said Hagakure, playing with the pendant of her necklace, “Good luck, and all. See you later!”

Not having the fortitude to brave the crowds yet, you stayed at your table, yanking out your phone to shoot Izuku a text.

YOU

have arrived. where are you???

Hearing the ding of a phone behind you, you turned over your shoulder and beamed as your soulmate approached.

“Hey, Izuku,” you said, standing to hug him, and oh, as you slid your arms around his neck, you breathed in the scent of his cologne (something like cedar and maybe apple?)—and that, paired with the way that he wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you very slightly as he held you to his chest, the tips of your toes grazing the tile—made you just about black out. “Where have you been?”

“Back of house,” said Izuku, smushing his cheek to yours, savouring it, “They keep trying to give me more work. Something about how I’m too competent. But I can’t exactly say tonight is supposed to be some sort of psychosexual foreplay for my soulmate and me, can I?”

Your eyebrows shot upwards. “Oh, we’re getting right into it? I was hoping to have about half an hour in which I wasn’t horribly aroused.”

He laughed near your ear, the air puffing away some of your hair. “Relax. We’re not doing anything drastic, you know. Now,” he said, grip loosening, “let me look at you.”

You dropped your arms, but he held onto your waist at arms’ length while he looked you over, eyes half-lidded and warm. “Gorgeous,” said Izuku, wetting his lips, “Absolutely gorgeous. But. I believe I—” He cut himself off, and he stepped closer to you, speaking under his breath and looking for all the world like he was commenting on nothing more than the weather. “Aren’t you such a bad girl? Not wearing the dress I set out for you.”

Saliva weighed heavily on your tongue. He’s being pedantic, and clearly you’ve arranged for your dress to match his midnight black tux, with its subtle bottle-green embroidery, but the flowiness of your dress’s fabric contrasts how snugly tailored to Izuku’s body his suit is, particularly his thighs and shoulders, outlining every curve his muscles have. It’s as if his suit’s from a high-end version of Best Jeanist’s Moulded to Your Ass line, except he still manages to be a bit dorky, with his tiny lapel pin that read Suit Jacket.

It was messing with your head how dashing he looked, and he just called you bad girl, which you, unfortunately, were not immune to. Clearing your throat, you rubbed at your eye and resolved that you had to slow things down quickly, lest you walk around with soaked underwear the whole night.

Worse, that’s what your brain decided to bring up next. “I’m wearing what you told me to underneath it. Thought that’d be more important.”

“Oh,” said Izuku, sounding hoarse and bringing a fist to his mouth (was that a flash of OFA lightning?), “I didn’t—”

“Deku-san, sir,” came a voice from behind him, clapping a hand on his shoulder, and—a Kazama? That was Kazama, or one of him, at least; Hero Commission personnel must be working the event—appeared. “You’re needed backstage.”

“Of course,” said Izuku, recovering in a single second and pulling down his suit jacket, and he leant in to kiss you on the cheek. “I’ll be back, love.”

You were alone hardly a minute before Monoma eased into the seat next to you. “Greetings and salutations,” he said, voice heavy with sarcasm, as he held up a champagne flute in toast.

“You didn’t bring me one?”

Instead, he slid you a glass bottle of sparkling water that he’d been hiding behind his back. “I know you usually don’t drink at these things. Pity they don’t have pink lemonade.”

You unscrewed the cap, leaning back in your seat when he did. “Do they have regular lemonade?”

“Of course not. Since when do people care about the non-alcoholic drinking crowd?” Monoma shrugged, tilting his chair back on two legs. “The dress work out well?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you said, brushing down your front, “Thanks for getting it made on such short notice; it’s really—”

“It’s fascinating from a design standpoint, because there are purely no so-called dark elves to pull a look from, as you wanted, in Lord of the Rings,” said Monoma, clanking his chair forwards again to dramatically steeple his fingers together. “The Moriquendi elves, of course, come closest by definition, since they have never seen the light of the Two Trees of Valinor, but considering that category of elves splits into several subcategories that I don’t think truly fit the spirit of the design you requested—maybe the Falathrim—but regardless, I’m thinking it was the right idea for my design team and me to simply adjust the palette from our Vanyar line, even though it goes against the lore, and people usually cut me off by now; are you all right?”

Honestly, you were still processing bad girl and how it went straight to your cunt. But you swallowed the sparkling water you were holding in your mouth and shook your head. “I’m fine. I think I’m just a bit put off that it seems like Izuku’s going to be away from me for a good part of the night.”

“We’ll ensure you’re not lonely,” said Monoma, tracing the rim of his glass, “In the meantime, would you like me to distract you? I’ve been keeping an eye on your fancam since we posted it; it seems to be doing well.”

Monoma pulled out his phone to scroll through the comments with you, and it served as a delicious distraction as the ballroom grew packed and noisy.

[video description: a Deku fancam set to NCT’s “Baby, Don’t Stop.” Clips from social media, photo shoots, behind-the-scenes of Ad Astra Per Aspera, and interviews flash in time to the beat of the song’s bridge, focusing on Deku’s nipples, both when deliberately on display and when accidental.]

igneousbastard: everyone say thank you to the production crew for making the set cold af and putting deku in the thinnest shirt known to man 🫡

midori-world: he is literally slutting himself out. can he fucking chill. in unrelated news i’m going to bite my hand off

blueberrybakugou: mr. deku……….

chargenut: hello i am going to obliterate this man

sakuraraka: okay i’ll just say it, since no one else will: BARK BARK BARK WOOF BARK

kirishimashairdye: shredding him with my teeth. putting him in my mouf like a fucken fuit Gummi

mmmmmidoriya: SUCKABLE.

dickuprint: @assortedsoftcheeses hey OP where did you get that clip at 0:33?? seems like it’s the kind of thing you’d find on some pro’s private account. kinda personal 👀 have i missed something?? who posted that????

momo-closet: been watching this on loop for a few minutes before realising my jaw was clenched hard enough to eat through my own enamel. Good work everyone let’s hit the showers

You and Monoma jolted out of your skins when Todoroki Touya slammed his plate on the table and yanked out a chair, legs scraping the tile, nodding your way as he straddled his chair. Tenko followed closely behind, a bottle in one hand and a Nintendo switch in the other.

“Are you playing a game?” Tenko gestured towards Monoma’s phone.

You laughed through your nose as Monoma stowed his phone away. “Not really. I see you didn’t leave home without one.”

Tenko scrunched up his face. “I had to bring something. No one outside of our DND group is going to want to talk to me without morbid curiosity, and you’ll be too busy to be at my side the whole time.”

“That’s why I’m his plus-one,” said Touya, holding up a crostini and waving with his free fingers.

“I was wondering how you were here, Touya,” you said, mouthing thanks to Shinsou as he set a plate of hors d'oeuvres in front of you and moved to sit in the seat to your left, “Tenko, I get, since he’s working with Aizawa-sensei in the underground hero scene, but—”

“Didn’t I tell you not to call me that?” Aizawa pulled out the chair next to Shinsou and eased into it, bracing himself on its back to make it easier on his prosthetic leg.

“You did. Shouta, I apologise,” you said (with Shinsou’s eyebrows flashing upwards), and you turned back to Touya. “You’re Tenko’s date?”

“Don’t say it like that,” said Tenko, scowling as Touya nodded eagerly, “Since he wouldn’t be able to come otherwise, and I’ve been told I can’t just latch onto you for the whole night…” He trailed off, and your eyes darted across the table to catch the cause: Aizawa, shaking his head ever so slightly, as he lifted one of the event’s pre-made cocktails to his mouth.

Weird. But okay, you’ll pretend like you didn’t see it. “So, what’re you playing?”

Everything went smoothly for a while, with Shinsou and Aizawa sharing hors d’oeuvres while Tenko explained the mechanics of his game, with scathing commentary from Touya and probing lore questions from Monoma, but then, two, innocuous things happened in quick succession that changed the mood of the evening entirely.

First, Aizawa got a text. “It’s from Haimawari Koichi—the Crawler, I mean. He says he’s about to go on. He can see us from backstage.” Made you think about Izuku, that he wanted his autograph and was probably talking to him right now.

At the same time, Todoroki and Bakugou showed up, since their table was next to yours, and Bakugou thumped you in the back of your head. “Looking pretty bored without us, sweetheart.”

“Wow,” you said, rubbing your head, grinning, and you spoke without thinking: “That’s everyone except Izuku.”

In the moment, it seemed like a perfectly normal thing to say. At Shinsou’s sharp inhale, Aizawa’s cautious glance towards the opposite side of the table, and Todoroki’s bracing your shoulders, it occurred to you that perhaps you said something odd, but then oh my god they would only react like that if they knew that you were their soulmate in another timeline how the fuck did they find out where’s Izuku you need to leave now—

“I think we should dance. There’s dancing,” said Shinsou, scanning your face for distress and grabbing your wrist as you pushed yourself up from the table in a rush, Todoroki still at your back.

The room’s too hot. The room is too hot, and it’s spinning.

The orchestra swelled as the lights dimmed. It must be time for the keynote speech.

“I really,” you said, swallowing with effort, sweat running down your neck and between your shoulder blades, “I need to go.”

Shinsou’s hand around your wrist. Todoroki’s hand on the small of your back. Bakugou grabbing your forearm, Monoma staring up at you from your side, Tenko and Touya peering across the table at you, the most compliant you’ve ever seen them.

“Sit down,” Aizawa said, quietly, firmly, gesturing to your chair with his drink, and it’s like you’re hearing his voice underwater. You never wanted to have this conversation with them at all, but since they knew, why couldn’t it at least be one-on-one? Why did they all have to be here at once?

You need to be alone. You need to be with Izuku.

Feeling very, very hollow, you’re guided back down to your seat by both Todoroki and Monoma as the room finally darkens, with a spotlight on the podium onstage. The string section played a vaguely familiar song as Bakugou yanked his and Todoroki’s chairs from their table to sit behind you, and Shinsou uncapped your drink, holding the bottle out for you to take. The Crawler walks out onstage to thunderous applause, but you didn’t catch his opening words.

Shinsou gripped your hand, almost crushing your fingers. He kept his eyes on you, not the stage. But so was everyone else.

Eventually, you could speak, though you kept it down, since the Crawler was talking. “I’m so sorry.”

Most of the table started to protest, but Aizawa held up his hand to cut them off.

“My life is over,” you found yourself saying, blankly, far away, somewhere without strategic lighting or dress codes or crowds, “I—all of you aren’t going to be able to be the same around me. Our relationships are fucked, because you’re going to look at me and know, know that I’m the direct cause of your never getting a soulmate in this timeline, that I’ve ruined things for you. God, I love our friendships, and I really shouldn’t, because you deserve more. I’ve deprived you of a warmth that I get to chase until the ends of the earth. I,” you said, and you really hadn’t wanted to cry at this damn event, but whatever, man, “I can’t—fuck.” You buried your face in your hands. “I’m so, so sorry. I’m sorry. But I can’t get around it, and I don’t really want to. I love you guys so much. But I’m in love with Izuku.”

At the soft, muted sound of porcelain being slid across the tablecloth, you peeked through your fingers to glance down at a plate with three dumplings left on it. Touya tapped the edge of the plate, staring you down. “Eat this fucking thing.”

Taken aback, you sat up straight and, since no one else was reacting to that, obeyed. You hated that the dumplings made your stomach feel less like one, big knot. How annoyingly simple of a solution.

“All right,” said Bakugou, leaning forward in his chair so that he could speak in your ear while you chewed, “Have you noticed us act any different lately?”

You rushed to swallow. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve known you are our soulmate in other timelines since the day you threw up on Bakugou’s carpet,” said Todoroki.

“I’m sorry. What?”

Bakugou scowled and shook his head. “You were there for that conversation. In the infirmary, remember?”

“No,” you said, taking your drink from Shinsou again when prompted, “I—you’ll recall I’d hit my head. I didn’t…” You sighed. “Are you kidding? And we’re all—” You gestured around the table, trying to catch everyone’s eye. “—okay with this?”

The table remained silent.

“Jesus Christ,” you said, stomach turning but reaching for the next dumpling, anyway. “I’ve fucking destroyed your chances of happiness—”

“Can you not rub your brain cells together for once?” Bakugou tugged your chair backwards a few inches so that you could look him in the eye. “You and Izuku are exactly the same. Shut the fuck up. No one has lost any shred of happiness because of you and your choices.”

“Don’t think you have that much influence on our lives,” Aizawa was saying, smiling, “You don’t have to hold back on our account. You’re allowed to be happy.”

You couldn’t believe it.

You couldn’t.

But the sick feeling in your gut was fading.

Sniffing, you rubbed the back of your neck, tears running down your cheeks. “Hold on. I need a minute.”

Before you could compose yourself, the Crawler wrapped up his speech, with the crowd clapping as the lights rose and music picked back up.

Touya spoke under the applause, leaning towards you. “Plus, I know that some version of me out there gets have enormously fucknasty sex with you, so I’m good.” Tenko elbowed him in the chest, not bothering to be subtle.

“Thanks, Touya,” you said, cracking a weak smile, “You’re not…actually, you are helping. Thank you.”

Monoma took your free hand, dumpling-greasy as it were. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, suddenly aware of all the sweat draining down your back, “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I just thought—I thought I’d be keeping this to myself forever. Well, myself and Izuku.”

“And Ito,” said Bakugou, scoffing, “She won’t shut up about it. Says she didn’t mean for you to have a harem, but she’d be interested in seeing it play out. Claims she’s never seen one assigned from her quirk before.”

“Ito’s been talking to you about this?”

“She’s probably listening in somehow,” said Bakugou, jerking his thumb up to the second storey balcony, “Begged me to be my date for the night. Probably wanted a show.”

You followed his gesture to make out Ito on the second floor while she leant over the railing, her elbow-length, lace gloves recognisable even from this distance, and she was using opera glasses to look your way. Uraraka and Toga-as-Spike were laughing next to her.

“God,” you said, slumping in your seat, adrenaline draining completely, and you ran your hand back through your hair. “And everyone’s really okay with this,” you asked flatly, making a point to hold eye contact with everyone, and no one said anything. “Okay,” you said, setting your empty bottle on the table and moving to stand, “I’ll just be happy, then. Since you want me to. No take-backs.” You waited for any dissenting voices, but, again, they seemed content. “Cool. I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Agreed,” said Aizawa, and he batted at Shinsou’s arm. “Go with her. Make sure she doesn’t drown herself in the toilet.”

Taking a deep breath, you and Shinsou wove through crowds and away from the music, travelling down century-old, narrow corridors until you located one of the minute restrooms open to the event. Spotting a member of the kitchen crew exit it, you instead yanked Shinsou around a roped-off corner to shove him against the exposed brick.

“Hitoshi, you’ve got to tell me the truth,” you said, gripping his lapels, eyes bulging, “Are any of you actually okay with this?”

Shaken, Shinsou glanced down at your hands and patted one with his own. “You’re overthinking it. We’re fine. Spend less time thinking about us, and allow yourself to be selfish. You—” Shinsou shifted his jaw, and, keeping his eyes on the water-stained ceiling, he rolled his shoulders back. “I’m not supposed to tell you this. I am not supposed to tell you this.”

You released him to give him space to consider his phrasing, shoe scraping the wood when you took a step back.

“It’s good that you’re Midoriya’s soulmate in this timeline, instead of any of ours,” said Shinsou, covering his mouth with his hand, brow scrunched, “Because—I don’t wanna get into who loves you more, or anything, because who can measure—but Midoriya definitely loves you better than any of us. Because he’s the only one who loves you well enough to let you leave him. To let you choose who you want.” Shinsou swore under his breath and, running a hand back through his hair, he slid down the wall into a crouch, bunching up his suit jacket.

Leave him? He’s never…hm. You knelt next to him. “What do you mean?”

Shinsou fiddled with the button on his jacket before unbuttoning it. “Midoriya’s been tearing himself up. First, over that he was ruining your life, and he thought he had verification of that because of the constant soulmate pain he felt, but then—he said that you two figured out something about soulmates and timelines, so that brought on another layer of guilt: that you could find your happiness with someone else.”

Fuck. Fuck. Might explain why he hasn’t insisted on being alone with you. Why all the group hangouts. Lately, it must’ve been too painful—must be why he begged you to look only at him. “Why would he not say anything until recently—what’s wrong with him?”

“What’s wrong with him? What about what’s wrong with you?” Shinsou shot you a look out of the corner of his eye, laughing through a scoff. “Listen,” he said, and he, shifting to sit on his knees, took your hand to place it over his heart. “There’s nothing binding us together. You’re my best friend, yes, but that’s all. Feel that? Completely normal heartbeat.” Honestly, you couldn’t feel anything through the layers of fabric, but you let him continue. “I’m gonna be fine. We all will be. It should be a comfort that our lives don’t revolve around you. Not like we make up a solar system with you at the centre. You’ve also lost it if you think that romantic love is the only way we can lead a fulfilling—”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you said, pulling your hand back, “I don’t want to rehash all the bitter stuff we’d say when we were all soulmate-less and hanging out with our graduating class.”

“Then stop rehashing all these feelings of guilt, too,” said Shinsou, “Allow yourself to live in reality, not in some daydream of what could’ve been.”

Every heavy feeling stirring in your gut for almost a year finally, finally evaporated, dissolving into air and floating far, far away like gossamer in the night breeze.

It left you feeling rather light. Almost foamy.

Nodding, you said through a dry croak, “I need to find Izuku.”

Shinsou clapped your knee in encouragement, and, pushing himself to stand, he helped you do the same. “I think we’re missing his speech right now.”

You rushed back through the labyrinthine corridors, almost knocking into some press and definitely knocking into a retired hero, sorry, but when you managed to cut through the throng, you weren’t even rewarded with the sight of Izuku at your table—Touya, Tenko, and Aizawa remained, the two former invested in the switch, the latter in the book he’d brought (fucking nerd). They hadn’t seen Izuku.

“Bakugou dragged him off towards the second storey,” Todoroki chimed in from his table, having taken a moment to swallow his crudité.

You thanked him and hurried off, first having to find a staircase and then a way to the outside balcony, but you caught a flash of Bakugou’s moonlit hair before you slipped around the corner to the alcove overhanging the backyard, and, holding your breath, you darted back inside the shadow to press yourself flat against the wall, hoping to God that you hadn’t interrupted anything terrible.

“You don’t even like beer, so stop bitching about not getting to have any,” said Bakugou, tilting his own bottle back to take a gulp.

“Sorry, Kacchan. It’s—I’m nervous. I don’t want to mess this up. It’s all so new to me.”

“What is?”

“Being in love.”

The words are spoken so softly you could’ve missed them under the distant, hollow notes of bamboo windchimes in the gardens. You heard Bakugou’s beer glass clink against the balcony railing, paired with a sigh, instead of answering.

“Thanks for not laughing,” said Izuku, sounding like he’d shifted to face Bakugou; his voice didn’t reverberate back as clearly anymore. “I just like being around her. We don’t have to say anything at all—like I can be switched to off. Like I can just be me, instead of someone everybody needs. It���s good. Calming. Feels like she’s always been a part of me, even when I didn’t know it. I don’t know how else to explain it. When I’m with her, I just feel like—like me, instead of any conceits of me that people have in their heads. And sometimes, she doesn’t even like me.” Izuku let out a laugh. “It feels good to have someone not see me as perfect and still love me for it. Sensual, even.”

“Control your dick, Izuku.”

Izuku laughed, and it echoed through the night air. “I don’t think she knows how much I think about it—building a life together. Genuinely settling in. Settling down. We’re already in deep, but I want more. I want to cook her breakfast. I want her house slippers next to mine by the door. I want to fumble for her soap in the shower. I want the empty spaces in our lives to be filled with her laughter. God,” said Izuku, accompanied by a clump, as if he’d banged his head against something, “I want to stop fisting myself every night thinking of her perfect tits, the curve of her hips—”

“Can it. I don’t need to hear—.”

“—it’s the kind of stuff I used to dream about.”

You couldn’t take it. You and Izuku were finally on the same page, and all of this running and chasing and finding was useless; you needed to be near him right now.

Retracing your steps, you approached the alcove again, this time making your footsteps obvious, and so while they were both expecting someone as you drew nearer, Izuku’s face lit up like a firework when he saw it was you—and then, for some reason, he turned bright fucking red.

“Hey, Izuku. Bakugou,” you said, nodding towards him before focusing on Izuku, lifting a hand to his heated cheek, “Are you all right? The heat was getting to me, too, earlier.”

Izuku shook his head frantically, and after he shut his eyes to take a heady breath, he steeled himself, looking at you with something next door to adoration as he placed a hand on your waist, he said, “I’m fine. I can’t stop thinking about what’s under that fucking dress.”

“O-kay,” said Bakugou, clapping Izuku on the shoulder, “I’ll be downstairs. Not that you’ll need me. Try not to break anything.”

Izuku didn’t even wait for Bakugou to leave the balcony before kissing you (you did catch Bakugou’s thumbs-up that you weren’t supposed to see), mouth opening the second he grazed yours, and you had to grab his face, squeezing at his cheeks while his cheek scuffed your palm, to tear him away.

“Hey,” you said, tapping his cheek in a ripple, trying to ignore how he grabbed at your waist almost desperately, staring at your lips, “Not yet. I wanted to tell you that I’m over it, over everything that’s complicating our situation, and that I love you.”

Izuku froze, cogs almost visibly turning, and he pressed his forehead to yours. “They talked to you, didn’t they? I asked them not to.”

“I was being weird about it, and they said some very comforting things—”

“Are you sure you want me? I’m not—not sure I’m what you want—I haven’t known you forever, like Shinsou, and I could never be as gentle as Aizawa—”

“Izuku,” you said, squeezing his face as you pushed him backwards to look him in the eye, “What I want is you, Izuku. No one else.”

He searched your face for any shred of deceit, and he pushed through the hand still on his face to hold him at a distance to kiss you again, tongue swiping at your lower lip, the grunt at the back of his throat so soft that he was almost drowned out by the bamboo windchimes again. While you sucked his tongue into your mouth, Izuku let his hands drift upwards, cupping one of your boobs, and Izuku broke the kiss with a hum while he stared down at his hand, circling your nipple through the fabric.

“Can you feel much through your dress?”

“Not especially,” you said, trying to catch your breath.

Izuku pouted, pursing his lips in thought, but a smile soon replaced it. “That’s fine,” he said, reaching for the slit in your billowing skirt, “Let me touch you? I wanna feel where I’m gonna come later.”

He didn’t need to know your underwear dampened at his words. “Izuku, we are in public.”

He paused just short of touching your bare leg. “Should we stop? We can stop.”

Huffing, you bit the inside of your cheek and looked down from the alcove, where a group had started into the gardens, laughing through their drunkenness. “We can keep going, but I’d like to be able to walk out of here without anyone knowing what we’ve done.”

“Got it,” he said, and he kissed you, hard, close-mouthed, pressing himself against you as much as he could. “Right,” he said, cradling your face when he broke away and guiding you backwards into the shadow against the alcove’s wall, “Then all we have to worry about is how much noise you make, hm? Can we trust that clever mouth to be quiet?”

Throat running dry, you swallowed thickly as Izuku’s fingers slipped through the slit of your dress, brushing over your inner thigh. “So long as you keep kissing me, I don’t think we’ll have a problem.”

Izuku grinned. “I like the way you think.” He kissed you again, hot as your back hit the wall. “But you’ll recall I want to watch.”

Without removing it from around his neck, Izuku rolled the end of his tie, pried your mouth open, and shoved it inside, its silk drying out your tongue as Izuku hiked your leg over his hip. He shivered, beaming, when one of his fingers grazed your clit through the lace, and he circled it slowly but firmly. Your breath hitched, and as the adrenaline spread to tingle in your fingertips, your cunt tensed up, clenching around nothing.

“Oh?” Izuku trailed his lips across your cheek to just before your ear, breath hot against it. He traced his finger down the lace flower along the gusset, and you felt his smile against your skin when he reached the wet patch pressing coolly over your heated entrance. “Interesting.”

“Hey,” you said, inhaling sharply when he dipped underneath the fabric, trailing his fingers up and down your labia, “Izuku—”

“You’re okay,” he said, pressing the calloused pad of his thumb against your bare clit, “We’re fine. In fact, we’re great, because, as you reminded me, we’re in public. I’d be sucking at you through the lace if we weren’t.” At your shudder, he ran the backs of his fingers down to test the dampening fabric. “Ohhh, that’s it. That’s nice. It’s just what I wanted to see.” Izuku lifted the gusset from you, cool air swishing up your heat, and he released it, fabric snapping back onto your cunt. “Eager to please me, aren’t you? Sick of trying to push me away?”

Izuku pulled back from your ear as his index finger circled your entrance, right around the rim as it began to curve inside. “Think you can take my fingers yet?”

You nodded and bit farther down on his tie to close some of the distance between you.

“Thank you. I need to stretch you out for later, anyway,” said Izuku, and he kissed your cheek before burying his face in your neck, rolling his hips against yours as he pressed his first finger into you. Its width caught you off guard, and you yelped into your gag.

“Hey, easy. Easy,” said Izuku, rubbing your clit as he drew his finger inside and out, so slowly, so fucking slowly, “We’re in public.”

It’s hard to articulate you rat bastard while gagged, but you got the message across.

Blood surged through your veins; you struggled to keep your eyelids from fluttering. Izuku flooded your sense: he’s licking at your neck and smelling so, so good, covering you with his warmth and ever-tightening the coil in your gut through his careful touches, and hey, when did he add a second finger? You’ll kill him, and he’s muttering the most frustrating things against your skin, like he didn’t care that you still had to walk out of here.

“C’mon, then,” said Izuku, surfacing from your neck, breathing heavily, like he’s just woken up, “Claim me. Mark me.” He removed a hand from under your skirt (the other, still pressing two fingers inside you, stretched to rub at your clit) to tug his tie out of your mouth, and he let it drop, saliva-heavy against his shirt. “Let everyone know that I’m your soulmate,” he said, baring his throat, “That you alone own me.”

“Izuku,” you said, panting, “Don’t you still have to give your speech?”

Izuku sighed, his fingers stilling inside you. “Yeah, I do. You’re right. You’re goddamned right,” he said, grimacing, and he withdrew his hand from underneath your skirt.

“Whoa, what?” you asked as he took a step back, “I—I, um.”

“Is there a problem?” he asked, a touch of smugness to his voice. “You have to say it, if you want something.”

Wetting your lower lip, you glanced over your shoulder and back at him. “I didn’t come.”

“That’s true,” said Izuku, adjusting his lapels, “but we’re in public, and I have a speech to give. How indecent.” He winked at you, and you huffed. “What a shame you’ll have to wait.”

You stepped towards him with murderous intent and froze as arousal gushed through the lace and down your leg. “Oh, God. I don’t think I can go out there. I’m too—”

“On it,” said Izuku, unravelling his tie and whipping it from around his neck, and he fucking parted your legs to wipe you down with it, pressing more into your cunt than someone cleaning up really should have.

“How do you manage to think through that horny fog in your brain?” you asked, as Izuku stood upright, examining the freshly wet spot on his tie.

“You get used to it.” Izuku watched your moonlit arousal glisten for a moment, and then he stuck the fabric into his mouth, sucking audibly.

“Holy fuck,” you said, shaking your head, “I can’t take you anywhere.”

“Don’t worry too much about it,” Izuku was saying as he guided you by the small of your back off the balcony, stowing his tie in his inner suit pocket, and he took your hand to thread his fingers through yours when you reached the staircase. “But we should go home, where I know how sturdy everything is. There’s a reason why Bakugou told us not to break anything.”

Izuku led you through the dance floor back to your table, and you had to be normal. You had to sit down with your rotating coterie of friends coming to socialise, and you had to be normal. You had to watch Izuku unbutton his suit jacket as he sat next to you, flipping the jacket away from his hip as he stuck his hand in his pocket, and you had to be normal. His ankle bone poked through his thin sock as his trousers rode up, like a slut, and you had to be normal. Izuku held his bottle of sparkling water at his crotch, peeling at the condensation-beaded label, thumb rubbing up and down the bottle neck absently, and you had to be normal.

Monoma hissed and glared over his shoulder at the orchestra as they transitioned into a new song. “Aren’t we over ‘Air on the G String’ as a society yet?”

Touya cleared his throat, holding up his champagne flute to the light. “I’m not over anything in a g-string yet.”

Monoma propped his chin on his fist. “Touya, you are a paragon of modern society. Tell me about your plans to bolster the economy.”

Izuku caught your eye, his own glinting as they dropped to your lips, and you had to be fucking normal.

Later in the night, long after the orchestra had packed up and after most press had departed, the silent auction began. Since Izuku had no interest in it and you were vibrating out of this plane of existence, Izuku moved to one of the standing tables at the back of the ballroom. More openly drunk behaviour was exhibited here, and near your table, a caution sign had been erected where a recent spill had been mopped up.

You shivered as he sneaked up behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he set a plate of the latest round of finger foods in front of you on the tiny table, and he leant his head against yours, rubbing his cheek on yours like a cat before kissing it. You craned your neck away from him, trying to seem absorbed in the flavours of meringues he’d brought over, but when he blew cold air into your ear, you jolted, eliciting a quiet chuckle.

“You are insufferable, Izuku,” you said, sounding controlled despite every part of you buzzing and screaming like a sparkler.

“Don’t I deserve to be? I’ve been waiting for so long,” he said, and he pressed a kiss in front of your ear, below it, and then on your neck. “I’m gonna make it really good for you.”

Izuku grinned into your throat when you stiffened, but you shook it off, taking a small step to the side and popping a meringue into your mouth just to have something besides Izuku to stimulate your senses. “Don’t just say things like that; I can’t take it.”

“You will.”

You would’ve choked if Izuku hadn’t timed his comment perfectly.

“I think,” said Izuku, tilting his head with a smile creeping in, “that you’re embarrassed, that you’re ashamed of taking so long to come around to your feelings, when I’ve been waiting with open arms and an open mouth all this time. So, in that gorgeous brain of yours, you’ve decided that you’ll acquiesce, that you’ll take every single thing I give you, because you feel like you deserve to be used as I please. Now, I’m not saying you’re right—” Izuku pushed some of your hair behind your ear, not that it needed it, and trailed his fingers down the side of your throat. “—because how rude, how mean of me would it be to think so? But. I shan’t deny that I’ll enjoy watching the tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you struggle to take me inside.”

You grabbed his shirt, right where his tie should be, and as you jerked him towards you, you caught a glimmer of excitement (and you were reminded that any manhandling on your part was because he was letting you push him around). “If your cock isn’t in me within the next five minutes, I am going to shred you into confetti.”

“You’re doing this to yourself, you know,” said Izuku, grinning, holding his tongue between his teeth as he held his hands up in defence, “You can safeword out of it any time.”

This is part of it? Of fucking course it’d be part of it. “Fuck you, Izuku,” you said, also grinning, livid, “Lotus. Now, call our fucking car.”

Izuku was quite compliant after that, ever so polite to your friends as you ducked out and to the driver, even apologetic to you in the car as you shook him by the shoulders when he admitted he’d given his speech while you’d been talking with Shinsou. Courteous and kind even when you held his hand in a death grip on the ride home and pulled up a list of medieval torture methods for tomorrow.

“Okay, well,” you said, toeing off your shoes once you were inside the apartment, Izuku locking the door behind you, “I guess I’ll go wash up, or—”

“No, you’re fine,” said Izuku, and you found yourself being spun around by your thighs, Izuku kneeling on the hallway rug and staring up at you with big, ol’ wet eyes (that bitch). “You’re perfect.” He pressed his hand flat on your lower abdomen to back you against the wall, and he tapped the inside of your ankle to get you to shift your weight to your other foot; he tossed your leg over his shoulder and parted the slit in your dress. Izuku’s mouth found your clit and, through the lace, sucked hard.

“Jesus, fuck,” you said, hand flying to his hair, “You—you don’t even have to, fuck, Izuku—I’m wet; you don’t have to warm me up. I’m ready for you.”

Gathering saliva on his tongue, he licked up the length of your cunt, dampening the final scraps of the fabric not already soaked. He licked where your labia met your inner thigh, down the trail of arousal dripping down your leg. “Gracious,” he said once he’d surfaced, “Good Lord, you’re drenched.”

“Izuku,” you said with a whine, “Get up. Fucking—fucking stop. I—I’m going—I need to—”

“I know, baby,” said Izuku, so gentle as he stood and cradled your face in his hands, and he kissed you softly. “I know what you need. Seems like you’re close to being fucked-out brainless without even coming. You’re adorable. You can relax now, sweet girl. I’m going to take care of you.” He indulged you when you kissed him again, and he guided your jaw open a little wider so that he could slip his tongue inside. “Oh, that’s good. You’re so good for me,” said Izuku, flicking away the gauzy thread of saliva between you, “While don’t you get on the bed, hm?”

You nodded, almost drowsily, because relief swept over you to such a full extent that you’re a bit boneless, and you trudged into his bedroom and crawled onto the bed, flopping over to sink into his pillows.

Wait, was Dango in here? Your cat shouldn’t witness you having sex. She might claw at someone’s nipple. You dangled upside-down off of the side of the bed, peering underneath it for Dango, unable to discern if that far shadow were her.

When Izuku entered the room, suit jacket draped over his arm, you explained the situation. You paused the sexual encounter to locate the cat, who was inside Izuku’s closet in his sock drawer, and once you’d shut her out of the room and washed your hands, you reconvened on the mattress.

“Did that kill the mood?” you asked, hair splayed around you on the pillow as you arched your back to unzip your dress, “I think that may have killed the mood.”

“It didn’t; trust me.” Transfixed by your boobs, Izuku fumbled to unbutton his trousers, and when he stepped out of them, you halted in your shimmying off of your dress: shirt stays pinned his shirt down, their straps digging into the muscle of his upper thighs, and sock garters did the same around his calves. “It does it for me, actually, knowing that you’re so conscientious about this sort of thing.”

“Come closer,” you said, holding out your grabby hands, and he, bewildered, came to the edge of the bed, legs touching the blankets. You traced down a strap of his shirt stays, and you pulled one out to snap it back, the elastic cracking against his pale thigh. You covered your mouth with your hand, throat constricting slightly as heat curled in your lower stomach.

Izuku lifted his knee to press into the mattress, and you scooted backwards to accommodate his body as he climbed on. “Everything all right?”

“My mind is about to melt out of my ears,” you said, sitting back against the headboard. “Please, continue undressing.”

Cute how you could tell he was making mental notes in how he watched your reactions to him, how he unfastened his sock garters and stays and tossed his shirt across the room, leaving him in his briefs that honestly seemed a few sizes too small because Jesus fucking Christ, that’s a bulge.

But Izuku wouldn’t let you look at it, tapping your chin upwards, and pulling your dress down to your hips, and when he’d gotten it off, he left to hang it up. You buried your face in your hands, kicking your feet in the air, because what the fuck; what did you do to deserve someone so strangely endearing.

He kissed you upon his return, tilting your chin to follow him as he guided you to lie back. That hand then slid down your neck, applying a slight, massaging pressure, and his lips followed, reluctantly parting your tongue from his. Izuku nipped at the flesh where your neck met your shoulder, hand trailing down your arm, touching so lightly that the hair on the back of your arms stood up, and as he rolled his hips against yours, he pressed another kiss to your shoulder, another onto your upper arm, towards your elbow, each open-mouthed kiss wetter than the last. He mouthed at the inside of your forearm, holding your hand up towards the ceiling, and he licked a wide stripe up your palm before deep-throating your middle and ring fingers, groaning around them.

The thought occurred to you that this man is a fucking freak when you realised he’s kept his other hand behind his back this whole time, but he bit down around your ring finger, holding your hand still when you tried to jerk it away. Izuku pulled your fingers from his mouth, admiring the teeth marks at the base of your finger. “The rings finished getting resized today,” he said, showing you the velvet box he’d been concealing, and he popped it open, your white-gold wedding rings sitting inside. He kissed the pads of your wet fingers. “Let me put it on?”

“Fine, fine,” you said, wiggling your fingers in his grasp. Izuku beamed as he slid your ring onto your hand to sit directly over the bite mark, and honestly, some lightheadedness started to creep in. Before it got to you, you took Izuku’s ring to put it on his finger, though you didn’t bother lube it up first (?), as he had.

“Hey,” said Izuku, both hands cupping your cheeks, tapping his ring finger against you, “I love you, by the way. In case you didn’t know.” When his lips pressed against yours, scorching, your hands gripped his wrists to hold him closer, your hips rocking minutely of their own accord. He smiled into the kiss and hitched his knee under your thigh, drawing both upward so that he could grind more directly onto you, and dear God—

“Actually,” you said, gasping as you slid your hands up his arms to squeeze appreciatively at his biceps (he didn’t stop pressing kisses along your jawline), “I think I need to hear you say that again.”

“Of course,” said Izuku, breath fanning over your ear, “I love you. So much, my dear, dear wife. My soulma—”

“Oh, shit, are we married?” You pried him away from you for a second to see if he were joking.

Hair dishevelled with curls blown out, he shot you an incredulous look. “Don’t you check your email? Yes. Yes, we’ve—the notification came in late last night—”

“I don’t check my email; that’s where the emails are,” you said, grumbling and wrapping your arms around his neck. “Just wondering. You may proceed to fuck my brains out now.”

Izuku braced his weight on his forearms, each on either side of your head, dipping into the pillows. “You know, usually I’d say that this kind of behaviour is strange and off-putting, but since it’s you, I’m fucking hard as a rock. Congratulations. You do strange and off-putting things to me,” said Izuku, stretching down to kiss your cheek.

A compliment? An insult? Who knows! “Uh, I meant that you may proceed to fuck my brains out now, sir?”

Izuku slapped his hand over his eyes, biting his lip, and he inhaled sharply (his cock twitched against you). He had to take another deep breath before he could speak. “Okay,” he said, dragging his hand down his face, “Yeah, I’m in love with you, you maniac. We should have sex before we both just—explode from talking to each other. That sound okay? Cool. Thank you.” He shifted his weight to drag his finger under the strap of your bra, stopping just before he reached the cup. “Bra on or off? You look wonderful in it, of course; I didn’t think your boobs could get any prettier. But if the wire’s cutting into…”

Taking too long. You twisted to unhook the bra yourself, and you threw it somewhere. Since you knew he’d take his time about the underwear, you yanked them off, too, laughing through your nose at their weight from how wet they were. “They’re lovely, Izuku. Notice how I’m not letting you rip them, because I want to wear them again.”

“Appreciated,” said Izuku, staring down at your boobs, fingers grazing the delicate skin. “Do you think you could come just from my sucking your tits?”

“Stop stalling,” you said, fighting the urge to whack him with a pillow, “You can have me any way you want, as long as you want, for the rest of our lives. Get on with it.”

“Right,” said Izuku, snapping the waistband of his briefs to break his gaze away from your chest, and he leant down to kiss you again, licking over your bottom lip, tilting your head to the right, and waiting for you to open your mouth for him. When you did, the hand resting on your thigh dragged upwards to your labia, still dripping and swollen from the lace rubbing against it all night, thumbing between them to part you, thumb sliding up to your clit and two fingers slipping inside you, prompting a full-bodied shudder at the first graze to your g-spot.

Izuku breathed a fuck against your lips, and as he pulled away, you caught the fading scent of his cologne, sweet apple and cedar mixed with the beading sweat. “You have such a tiny cunt. I—hm,” he said, watching the way his fingers pumped in and out of you, and he pulled his other hand away from toying with your clit to tap his fingers, one by one, in your pubic hair. “Baby, I need you to answer me honestly. How many orgasms do you think you can handle tonight?”

Is this a test? “As…many as you’ll let me have?”

“No, I need a real number. I may legitimately be too big for you, and the more relaxed I can get you, the farther I can sink inside. To your benefit, you’re already very wet, but you’re still pretty tense in here,” he said, fingers curling against your g-spot, making you spasm a bit; he held you down at your hip.

Since you’ve been fucking edged all night, your greedy little mind didn’t supply a number, but you also knew that once you got that first orgasm, you’d probably chicken out quickly. “Probab—probably two.” You grasped his forearm, halting his fingers. “I want at least one of them around your cock.”

Izuku nodded, and he kissed the back of your hand before placing it on his chest (he flinched when your nail grazed his nipple). “Two. All right, then,” he said, pushing his fingers in you while grinding on your clit with the heel of his palm, but he’d hardly bent to wrap his lips around your nipple before you were gushing around his fingers, clamping your hand over your mouth to stifle any noise.

Izuku pulled away from your tit, brow furrowed as he extracted his fingers, strings of arousal connecting them. “Wha—that was—that was too easy.” Izuku crawled over you, searching for anything the matter in your expression. “I know I’m okay, but I’m not that good—”

“I don’t know either,” you said through a breathy sigh, eyelids heavy, “Guess I needed your permission. Guess I need you to fill me that badly.”

A line of white-green lightning sparked from his arousal-coated fingertips and scorched all the way up his arms, fizzling out in a hiss at his bicep. Adam’s apple bobbing, Izuku pushed himself off the bed. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” he said, stepping towards the bathroom, and he turned back, jabbing a finger in your direction. “Stay—stay horny, in the meantime.” He closed the bathroom door behind him.

A full minute passed.

He poked his head out of the bathroom. “Yes condom? No condom?”

You’re on another type of birth control, too, but let’s make him more flustered. “Why not forgo the condom? After all, it’s our wedding night.”

Eyes bulging, Izuku hurked and shut the door again.

When he came out, he had fresh determination in his eyes and water along his hairline. “Hey! Hello,” he said, returning to the bed, “Sorry about that. Thought I was gonna come in my underwear. Had to splash water on my face to calm down.”

“It’s fine. It’s cute. You know, usually I’d say that this kind of behaviour is strange and off-putting, but since it’s you, I’m drenched. Congratulations. You do—”

“Stop that,” said Izuku, kissing your forehead. His thumb hitched under the elastic of his briefs, and he sighed. “In all seriousness, we may have to restrict tonight to just the tip.”

“Yeah? And what if we restrict our breathing to once every five minutes?”

“You’re ridiculous,” muttered Izuku, and he yanked down his underwear, and you saw fucking red while he readied himself, grabbing lube from his nightstand and moving to kneel between your legs, because why hadn’t you really looked at his cock when he was naked and flirtatious at the waterfall? No way would it have not been burned into your brain, been the only thing you fantasised about for months, because who is this man, and who gave him permission to have that kind of cock, annoyingly, infuriatingly pretty (how loathsome), twin veins twisting around the thick shaft that were even vaguely green like his quirk, crooking upward, sporadically dotted with freckles (which, in conjunction with the freckles on his ass, brings into question how often this man must sunbathe naked), and fucking aching for you, pink head smeared with precum, but, most importantly, way too fucking big why is it coming up that high on your stomach when he rests it atop your mons pubis he is going to break you in half.

“Cool,” you said, normally, like a normal person, “I don’t need to see that.” You nodded towards how much of your lower abdomen his cock was lying across, and you grabbed his hips (thumbs pressing against his hipbones, that slut) to manhandle him away from you, and Izuku looked very pleased to let you.

“You’re gonna be fine.” Izuku guided his cock down your slit and nudged the head between your labia near your entrance. “Take a deep breath, okay?” he asked, leaning his forehead against yours and taking your hand in his. His cockhead spread you, stretching you in a sort of stinging pleasure, and he stifled a groan that vibrated through his chest.

Heat coiling inside you, you rolled your hips, but Izuku was quick to stop you, splaying a hand across your stomach. He cleared his throat. “Just wait. I’ll give it to you in a minute. You’ll be all right.”

But you couldn’t take it; you went about it more subtly this time, rocking your hips ever so slightly, working them back and forth (and if he actually wanted to stop you, he had the means), and even though it’s just his tip, your insides were boiling, clenching and fluttering around him; you’re really, truly, quite too small for him, but another gush of arousal allows another inch to slide in, and Izuku’s eyes snapped open.

“Doesn’t hurt,” you said, before he could ask, and you brought his lips to yours while you curled your fingers into the hair at the base of his neck, tilting your hips to encourage him to push just a little more, but as Izuku found a shallow rhythm, working more of his cock inside you bit by bit, you found your eyes watering—not hurting, no, but overwhelmed, realising that yes, this was Izuku; this was the rest of your life, and how lovely it will be to spend the rest of your life feeling so full. You were his, and he was yours. This is how it’s always been. From everyone’s soulmate, to simply Izuku’s soulmate. And from there, the beginning of a life unfolded.

He's thrusting hastily, shallowly, and he’s closed his eyes again, grinning with every thrust, because he can hear how sticky and wet it was as you opened up underneath him. He rolled his hips, groaning and hunching in on himself, and he squeezed one of your boobs, rolling your nipple under his thumb, bringing the buzz in your head to a clamour.

But both of you froze when his hips met your ass: he’s fully seated inside, pressing against a spot that’s making you dizzy.

“Fucking hell,” Izuku said under his breath, “You have all of me.” Running his tongue over his lower lip, he grinded into you, eliciting a choked gasp as you clutched as his back, and his hands were on you again, and everywhere he touched was singing.

Izuku’s rambling against your skin, but you’re so close that you can barely make out what he’s saying. “I’m so glad we found each other. I’m so glad it’s you. I’ve—I’ve loved you for so long, y’know? But I was shy back then, and so I studied and improved myself and became confident for you, to become to kind of man you could always feel safe around. The kind you could always come home to. When Uraraka found Toga, I dared to hope. Dreamed about it, about you, until the dreams shifted into waking up in the northern lands, frigid, waist-deep in snow, and dealing with dragons. And we found each other again. Got to be around you in my dreams when it felt like every waking force deliberately kept me from you. And then you hated being bound by fate, when I cried that first night with relief, and I bore the pain of rejection because it meant you were thinking of me in any way at all.” He pressed a wet kiss to your jaw. “I’m so glad we’re here. I’m so glad I love you. I’m so glad I’m supposed to love you. I want to spend the rest of my life learning about you, angel. So, please,” he said, rolling your clit between this thumb and index finger, “like I asked earlier tonight: mark me. Leave some sort of evidence on my that I’m yours. The rings, yes, always the rings, but I’ll always look at your ring and think about that bite mark, so please, mark me in some way, and I’ll wear it for the rest of my life like a fucking collar. Please—”

You’ve been holding off your orgasm to listen, but, unable to bear it, you let it wash through you, clenching your teeth, twitching and gushing around him with your heartbeat pulsing in your ears and, for some reason, the roof of your mouth. You wrapped your legs around him, drawing him in deeper in a motion that made him gasp.

“Oh, very funny,” Izuku sputtered, “You’re hilarious—” He managed to get in one more, jittery roll of his hips before he was coming, releasing the breathiest, most pathetic whines you’ve ever heard, and it only made you want him more.

But as both of you were coming down, the bedroom exploded in a cloud of shining, pink specks.

Neither you nor Izuku spoke, both trying to catch your breaths. Izuku grunted as he pushed himself upright, straining his muscles to support his weight, watching the glitter fall to the blankets and fade upon impact.

“The hell is this? The hell,” you winced, hissing as he pulled out of you, cum dribbling out (for a second, a filmy string of cum linked the two of you, but it broke when he sat back), “is it?” You tried to snatch a pink speck, as one snatches dust from the air, but you couldn’t grab hold. “Is this some One for All aspect I don’t know about?”

“No, I—” Izuku placed a hand on his chest, as if he could control how steadily it rose and fell in the process of regulating his breathing, “—it’s pink. Must be Ito’s quirk. Oh, gosh,” he said, frowning, moving to kneel (and inadvertently displaying his softening cock, glossy with cum), “I hope it all fades; I wouldn’t want Dango to get sick if she eats any. Pivoting—eating reminded me—dream Todoroki, mage Todoroki, said he thinks he can finally get the frappe consistency when we try tonight. He’s been practising with coconut milk and has achieve something close to a slush.”

Teeming with affection, you reached for Izuku, pushing a curl behind his ear. “It really is one thrill after another with you, isn’t it?”

Izuku snorted, covering his mouth in surprise that he could even make that noise, and he smiled with his eyes back at you, eyelashes dark against his cheeks. “We should clean up,” he said, dropping his hand, “Shower together?” He patted your thigh as he slid off the bed.

“Oof, ouch, my bones. My bone marrow,” you said flatly, holding the back of your hand to your forehead (eyes on his broad shoulders as he stretched, on the dip between his shoulder blades, the indent of his spine above the swell of his pretty, freckled ass—no, stop), “I can’t move.”

“I’ll get a washcloth,” said Izuku, and he started towards the bathroom. As he turned, you caught the beginning of a small, boyish smile meant just for himself—looking very much like sunlight.

Apt. You planned on basking in his warmth forever.

(Just being next to Izuku lit up your world in a colour you’ve never known. His love brought changes, changed you, in such tiny, indiscernible ways that you couldn’t notice until the light shined back on them.)

You were trying to make some sort of photosynthesis joke about it, but the pieces weren’t coming together. You shook yourself out of your thoughts to register Izuku, standing in the bathroom door, staring back at you, head tilted, eyes somewhat glazed over.

You cleared your throat, sitting up in bed. “Izuku? Is something wrong?”

Startled, Izuku snapped out of it. “Oh! No, I’m fine. Sorry about that,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, “I was just so taken with you. You’re lovely. So lovely.”

He shot you a small wave, and as he disappeared into the bathroom, it occurred to you that he may just look at you in the same way you look at him.

You heard his burst of laughter echo against the tile. “In regard to your aching bone marrow,” called Izuku, smile so evident in his voice, “does that mean you’re not up for a second round?”

Rolling your eyes, you collapsed back in the bed, snuggling into Izuku’s pillow, excited for when he comes back outside so that you can spend more time together. “Yeah,” you said, heart so full it may burst, “In your dreams, jackass.”

soulmate trope taglist: @bakugouspsycho, @pansexualproblemchild, @doonaandpjs, @sunsetevergreen, @the-coffee-is-on-fire, @liberace2, @ladymidnight77, @nonomesupposedto, @gooooomz, @kissmebakugou, @pachiibatt, @celestair, @tiredkittykat, @cheshireshiya, @90s-belladonna, @infjsnightmare @eunchaeluvr

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

Princess Treatment - Shiu Kong

Your partner helps you relax after a long day of work. ♥ Ft. fem!Reader, switch!Shiu, massage, sex in a bubble bath, drinking, dirty talk. // wc: 5.2k // [ao3] [masterlist]

“I’m home, princess,” Shiu called. He shrugged off his jacket and loosened his tie as he let himself in, looking for you. “You still awake?” It was already dark out, work having kept him out late like it often did. He’d missed you, but wasn’t about to wake you up if you’d drifted off without him.

“I’m in here,” you called back distractedly. Papers littered your desk and spilled into your lap, most of them already covered in scrawls of red ink. Your editing work tended to ebb and flow, but you were very much caught up in a flow. Shiu followed the sound of your voice and leaned against the doorframe of your office, smirking a little at your frazzled state. 

“Babydoll, you ever heard of work-life balance?” He folded his arms with a pointed glance at his watch. 

“Look who’s talking,” you grumbled. “You were supposed to be home hours ago.” His face softened as he crossed the room to you and draped his arms over your shoulders. 

“I know, you’re right. Pot, kettle, huh?” He rested his chin on your head and slid his hands down your sides, squeezing softly. “I missed you too.” You rolled your eyes, but let the quip pass. 

“Mhm.” You caught his wandering hands in your own and placed a soft kiss on his knuckles. His scent wrapped around you, taking you out of your work-induced haze. Shiu smelled like cheap cologne, expensive cigarettes, the leather of his car. He smelled like home. “I haven’t had time to make anything for dinner,” you murmured, lips still ghosting over his fingers as you apologized. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, I know you were working too.” He extricated one hand to pull up a delivery app on his phone. “What can I getcha?” He named a few of your favorite restaurants as he scrolled down the list, nodding like he’d guessed it already when you settled on a curry rice place. “Okay. Your usual, coming up.” He didn’t even need to ask, had memorized your go-to orders a long time ago. 

When the order went through, he set his phone down with a dramatic gesture. “No more work, okay? For either of us.” He gently coaxed you out of your desk chair into his arms. “Now. How can I relax my princess?” One hand splayed across the small of your back while the other rubbed soothing circles against your hip. You sighed and slumped into his embrace, more than willing to let him pamper you.

He smirked, loving the effect that a simple touch had on you. “How about a massage?” He leaned in to whisper against your ear. “I know you love my hands on you…” 

“That would be amazing.” 

“Say no more.” He scooped you easily into his arms and cradled you against his chest as he headed for your shared bedroom. You just had time to question the smirk on his face before he dropped you on to the bed, knocking the air from your lungs. He climbed up after you and settled his elbows on either side of your head, smiling down sweetly enough that you couldn’t stay mad. He nudged you to roll over, then straddled your hips and got to work kneading the knots in your neck. 

You hummed appreciatively, already melting as his strength was put to perfect use. He used just enough pressure as his skilled fingers massaged the places where you held all the tension of the long day. His hands were warm and rough, slipped under your collar like a secret. “My poor baby, you’re so stiff,” he chided softly, “need to take better care of yourself.” 

Limp and languid under the pleasurable ache of his attention, you couldn’t argue. He slid one hand up to massage the base of your scalp, sending tingles down your spine. His other hand patiently loosened your clenched jaw. “That’s it, love.” He praised you as you relaxed underneath him. Satisfied with your upper body, he shifted lower, the weight of him warm and solid against your thighs as he traced down your spine.

You felt like you were being deliciously uncoiled, your lover’s hands soothing every knot and ache. “Mmm, Shiu, you’re so good at this,” you moaned, muffled into a pillow as he leaned down to kiss your neck.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” he grinned, at your lower back now. His fingers fanned over your pelvis, only stilling when you let out a hiss of pain and pleasure. “Want me to be more gentle?” 

“No, this is perfect.” He nodded and continued more carefully, patient and focused on your body. You were very nearly asleep by the time he was satisfied, woken by a soft squeeze of your cheeks.

“Can’t fall asleep without dinner.” You blinked up at him.

“Is it here yet?” He checked his phone and shook his head, laughing at your tired pout. 

“I have an idea of how we can pass the time. You didn’t think I was done treating my girl yet, did you?” He swung himself off the bed and held out a hand. “Why don’t I run you a bath. Plenty of bubbles, maybe a little wine…”

“Will you join me?” The man laughed out loud, his eyes crinkling. 

“Princess, if I ever say no to that you can divorce me on the spot.” You couldn’t help joining in with his laughter.

“We’re not even married.”

“Damn, I haven’t asked you yet? Gotta get on that,” he teased as you followed him to the bathroom. 

Shiu’s place was luxurious in every way- that is, in his way, understated in places like the high-tech kitchen and ostentatious in a place like this- his dark wooden bathroom with a tub that you could swim laps in. It had ostentatious gold feet, flanked by the fluffiest towels you’d ever felt and a bamboo tray of what you were sure were stupidly fancy soaps and oils. One of the many unexpected perks of getting involved with someone in Shiu’s…particular line of work.

He deposited you on the cool marble countertop as he ran the bath and poured in something that filled the room with a sweet, heady steam. He lit a series of tall taper candles that cast a golden, flickering light on the walls. As the water rose, he returned to you and slid his hands underneath your shirt. You leaned back to let him in and shrugged off the top, obediently lifted your hips as he tugged off your sweats and left them both in a heap on the floor. 

No matter the circumstance, Shiu looked at you like you were a goddess. And here, now, shrouded in steam and perched like a sculpture on his counter- his heart skipped a beat and came back racing. He couldn’t help but bend to latch his lips to your neck, sucking softly enough to make you squirm without bruising. As much as he liked to remind you who you belonged to, he rarely left marks on your smooth skin, couldn’t justify marring something so sublime just for his own urges. 

He was making his way down to your breasts when you tugged at his hair, pointed back to the nearly-overflowing tub. He scowled and debated letting it run over before untangling from you with a sigh. “Got a little carried away, can you blame me?” His gaze ran hungrily over your form again as you made your way to the tub and eased into the hot water with a moan.

Shiu was right behind you, breathing a little harder at the sound you made. “You can’t make those sounds,” he pleaded as he stripped off his own clothes. You loved watching him undress, the slow reveal of the hard planes of his chest and his corded arms as he unbuttoned. You whistled as his slacks pooled at his ankles, and he blushed and looked away. The man who bullied assassins for a living was flustered by your desire.

You made room for him as he stepped in beside you, echoing your sigh as the warm water soothed his own aching muscles. Though there was plenty of room for the both of you, he pulled you into his lap. Fragrant bubbles reached all the way to your chin.

“Thank you, baby,” you said happily. “This is exactly what I needed.” He wrapped his arms around your waist in reply, letting you feel every ridge of muscle and valley of softness in his body. The vulnerability he offered you was something very few people got to see, and you never took it for granted.

He reached over to turn off the tap then held you tighter as the steaming water lapped against your chest. He pressed his lips to your shoulder and promised against your skin, “I’ll always give you what you need. Always.”

“You never let me doubt it,” you murmured back, letting your head fall against his shoulder. A wave of affection hit Shiu. He loved how much you trusted him, how you never doubted his devotion. That didn’t mean he’d ever stop proving it to you, though. He turned his head to kiss your temple, long fingers tracing lazy patterns against your skin. 

You kissed him back on every inch of skin you could reach, his jaw, his cheek, his lips. Shiu tightened his arms around your waist as he returned the kiss fervently. You covered his eager hands with your own, guiding them across your curves with gentle insistence. His breath hitched, his voice a low, soothing murmur as it followed his lips down your neck. “Just relax, princess. Lean back and let me worship you like you deserve.” 

You felt him grin against your skin and melted further, flushed and loose-limbed in the warm water. “You treat me too well, Shiu.”

“No such thing when it comes to you,” he muttered back, intent on lavishing every inch of your skin with ardent kisses. He could still feel tension in your shoulders, and wanted to do all he could to ease it. He began to massage you again, harder now, confident that he could balance any temporary discomfort with his mouth. His broad hands slid along your spine, lowered to your thighs. 

His body was pressed firmly against yours, his growing arousal evident against your back. But he made no move to escalate things further yet. Shiu was focused solely on soothing you. His hands sprawled over the fat of your thighs, squeezing deliciously. A moan slipped past your lips before you could stop it, and you felt his cock twitch against your ass. 

“I love hearing the sounds you make when I treat you right,” he chuckled roughly into your hair. He dragged you back against his lap, fighting the urge to roll his hips up into yours. “You’re so perfect, so beautiful, all mine…” 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you said dreamily.

Shiu laughed, shook his head in affectionate disbelief. “You didn’t have to do anything.” His lips were at your ear. “You just had to exist,” he kissed the corner of your mouth. “Just as you are. To deserve all my love.” 

You shifted to face him, starry-eyed. “I love you so damn much.”

His face crinkled in a genuine smile as he lifted a hand to gently cup your cheek. His thumb traced your contour of your cheekbone reverently. “And I love you just as damn much.” His lips captured yours in a tender kiss, all his emotion poured into the way his mouth fit against yours. He felt you smile against his lips, dizzy with affection or maybe the clouds of steam that haloed you both. He was drunk on the way you reciprocated every gesture, returned his love so wholeheartedly. He kissed you deeper, his tongue sliding into your mouth in a slow, sensual dance. He dragged his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck, needing you closer. 

“Shiu…” you murmured, eyes shut and lips parted underneath him.

“Yeah, angel?” His body thrummed with desire, his restraint fraying at the heat of your body against his. “You want something, baby?” He pressed his lips to your pulse point, felt the rapid thrum of your heartbeat against his mouth. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

You moan at the soft intensity of his words. “I want you to feel loved, Shiu. Want you to know how bad I need you, want you to feel as safe as you make me feel…”

He pressed his forehead to yours with a ragged sigh. “You have no idea how much I want you. How badly I need you. You- you make me feel things I didn’t even know were possible before I met you.” He pulled back to look into your eyes. “You make me feel loved, desired, safe…all at once. You make me feel invincible. Whole.”

You pressed him back against the wall of the tub, both hands on his cheeks as you kissed him fiercely. You swirled your tongue into his mouth and he met you eagerly, trembled  in your grasp. His hands danced over your skin, more possessive than he had allowed himself to be all night.

“God, you drive me insane,” he mumbled into your mouth, voice hoarse with desire. You could feel the insistent press of his stiff cock against your stomach now, impossible to ignore as you straddled his thick thighs. He rocked his hips against you once, twice, aching for friction in the wet slick of the bathwater. “Want to make you feel good, feel everything I feel for you…”

“You make me feel incredible. Always do. Always know just what I need.” 

He grinned at that, peppered kisses down your shoulder. “And I always will. I’m gonna spend the rest of my life making you feel like this. Like you’re the most precious, desired woman in the world.” Shiu was desperate for more of your taste, your touch, all of you. “Just tell me what you need, what you want,” he begged.

You smiled back breathlessly, happy and wildly turned on in the way he always managed to make you. But you wanted to work him up even more. You leaned in close, whispered into his ear. “I want…” you traced his inner thigh with your fingertips, sending sparks down his spine, “a drink.” 

He groaned as you sat back with a smirk, his heart racing. “Some wine, huh?” His voice was strained, but he tried to keep it smooth. “That can be arranged.” His pupils were blown wide with want as his eyes raked your figure hungrily. 

You nod, giddy as you tease him. “You did promise me wine and a bath, lover.” 

He laughed softly, a mix of amusement and desire. “That I did, sweet thing.” His grip tightened on your hips. “And I always keep my promises to you. Though I wouldn’t mind watching you get the drinks yourself…you’re quite the sight right now.” He let his gaze linger pointedly at the swell of your breasts just above the waterline. “Been missing my favorite view.” 

“Oh yeah?” You leaned forward as if to kiss him again, but ducked to lick a long stripe up his neck before quickly getting out of the bath. He gasped, the unexpected sensation sending a jolt of pleasure straight down his spine. He watched as you stood up, drinking in your body with unabashed lust. 

“You’re a tease, you know that? But I love it. I love how confident and sexy you are, princess. And I can’t wait to get my hands on you…among other things.” You giggled and slowly twirled for him. His heart raced as you showed off for him.

You reached for a towel and wrapped it low on your waist. “Try not to miss me too much while I get our drinks, okay?”

“Hurry back, baby, or I’ll have to come and find you,” he warned, voice thick with desire. 

You blew him a kiss and swayed your hips as you walked out of the bathroom. You made your way to the kitchen and poured a glass of wine for yourself, then mixed an Old Fashioned for Shiu. His eyes lit up as you came back, barely able to look away from your tits to see the drinks in your hand. 

“Aww, look at you, all domestic,” he teased with a smirk. Shiu emerged from the water like a Greek God, dark hair plastered to his forehead in curls, rivulets of water running down the lean muscles of his chest, his stomach, his thighs… your mouth went dry, and you took a long sip of the rich wine. He knew he looked good, winked at you as he stepped out and slung a towel around his waist. “Gimme that Old Fashioned, baby.”

“Is that what they’re calling it now?” You teased, and he rolled his eyes as you handed it over.

“Thank you, angel.” He closed his eyes as he tasted the cocktail, relishing the familiar burn of the whiskey. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer. “Cheers.”

You clinked your glass against his and echoed the toast. He savored another sip before setting the drink down on the edge of the tub. He gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his gaze soft and affectionate. As sweet as it was, you were impatient, pulled him closer until you were crowded back against the marble counter and flush against the heat of him. 

He dipped his head to your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive flesh as you trembled beneath him. One warm hand slid under the edge of your towel, his touch burning a path along your thigh. You clung to him, tilted your head to give him better access, fought to get the words out between gasps. “The bath is gonna go cold…” 

Shiu sighed and paused his assault on your neck, breath hot and ragged. “You’re right, but I’ll be damned if I don’t want to let you go right now.” 

“Who said you had to let go?”

“You’re a damn temptress, you know that?” He picked you up in a swift, fluid motion, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. With a few long strides he carried you back to the tub and lowered you both into the water with a splash. You laughed as you fell, clinging to his neck. The sound of it only filled him with more want, more desire- he pulled you against him with a swirl of still-steaming water, the bubbles long since dissolved into sweet foam. His hands roamed over your wet skin, claiming every inch for his own. 

“Mmm, you taste like whiskey,” you said against his lips. “Have some wine.” You slipped your tongue into his mouth, the taste of both drinks mingling as you devoured him. The room seemed to shrink as Shiu shuddered in your embrace, the world narrowing to your shadows in the candlelight, the heady movement of your lips against each other, his hands in your hair.

“You’re so sweet. Taste so damn good,” he rasped. He dropped his hand between your thighs, his touch rougher now, needy. “I can’t get enough of you.”

“You have all of me,” you whispered, sliding your hands across his back. You arched your hips up into his grasp, couldn’t help smirking when his body followed your lead instantly. You could feel the insistent twitch of his cock beneath you and wiggled your hips back just enough to make him swear under his breath. He tightened his grip on your waist, lifted you to straddle his lap. 

He swallowed your moans, shot through with desire. “Wanna take care of you, show you how much I adore you,” he dragged his lips across your collarbone, lower, nipped at your soapy tits. You knew he wouldn’t go further unless you asked, and god did you want him to go further. 

“Need you, need to feel you inside me,” you panted, arms thrown limply over his broad shoulders. His breath caught on the needy words, and he almost broke then and there.

“Yeah, you want me to fuck you, princess?” The words burned hot against your chest.

“Don’t wanna be able to walk after. Gonna need you to carry me everywhere,” you pleaded with a breathless laugh.

He knew you were mostly joking, but the idea still sent a possessive thrill through Shiu. “That so?” He held you down harder, so there was no mistaking the throb of his cock between your legs. “You want me to wreck you?”

“Ohhh, yes…” He rocked his hips up against you again, his swollen head at your core, teasing and tantalizing. He lifted you by the thighs, holding you open in the swirling water. 

“You ready for me?” 

“Please, baby…”

Shiu’s breath caught at the need in your voice. “Begging already? You know what that does to me.” His voice was raw. He braced one hand against the edge of the tub, the other holding your hips in place, thighs spread open. You dug your nails into his shoulders, your cunt already slick and clenching in anticipation. 

He moaned at the feeling of you, somehow wetter even than the water surrounding your bodies. You were radiating heat. “You want me that badly, princess?”

“Don’t be mean Shiu,” you whined, desperate, tired of the teasing though you had been the one to start it.

He couldn’t deny you what you wanted, not when you begged so prettily. “Yeah baby, I hear you,” he growled. “I’ll give you what you need.” With one swift motion, he pulled you down on his cock and bucked his hips up, a cry spilling from his lips at the sudden relief. The familiar stretch was delicious, the first few inches of his considerable length driving the last remnants of the day’s stress from your mind. He felt the shift in you, the way your eyes rolled back as he pushed past the first tight ring of muscle, and grinned fiercely. 

“Love fucking you dumb, angel,” he groaned, pulling back just enough to leave you gasping with the loss before slamming back up, filling you to the hilt. Or what you thought was the hilt- you were already grinding down against his pelvis when he rocked up harder, forcing himself in further from the new angle. It knocked the air from your lungs and you crumpled into him, moaning even louder. 

“Shh, I’ve got you,” he soothed, the gentle words a contrast to the insistent throb of his cock deep in your womb. He held you in place, not letting you move just yet, the need to take this slowly at war with the urge to claim you ruthlessly. You whined, tried to bounce against him, but he held you firm. “Just give me a moment,” he rasped, “don’t want to hurt you…”

You sighed and held tighter to him as you waited, until the burn had softened to a dull warmth. He noticed your softening, pulled your arms tighter around his chest. “Gonna start moving again,” he warned, ghosting his lips over the base of your neck like an apology for the harsh strokes he began to subject you to. 

His head fell back as he lost himself, enveloped in the tight, slick heat of you- the closest thing to the divine he’d ever felt. “God, you feel incredible,” he breathed, awed and needy and aching with every drag against your clinging walls. He was slow, controlled, deliberate, made you feel every pulse of his veins as you sucked him in. 

The water swirled around you as he lifted and dropped you on his cock, sheathing himself deeper and deeper each time. Fucked dumb, you raked your nails down his back. Shiu’s hips stuttered, rhythm lost as he shuddered under you. 

“Yeah, princess, scratch me up,” he groaned, “wanna feel you everywhere.”

You gripped him harder, left crescent-moon evidence behind of your manicured nails on his skin. He chuckled and palmed your ass under the water. “Want more, baby?”

“Anything you want,” you huffed. “I can take it.” You emphasized the point with a tug at his hair, fingers tangled in the close-cropped strands. He let his head fall back in your grip, still laughing, the rumble in his chest going straight to your needy hole. 

He loved this side of you, felt the want lick through him like fire at the sharp little tug of your hand in his hair. He sped up, caught his bottom lip between his teeth as he bucked into you harder, eyes locked on the way your flesh rippled at the force.

The heat in his eyes made you feral, made you beg shamelessly into his neck, made you reach a desperate hand to your throbbing clit. He shifted slightly to give you more access, sought out the places inside you that he knew would drive you crazy. “Want it rough, baby? Such a good girl, taking everything I give you.”

“God, yes, please, Shiu, fuck me,” you mewled into his mouth, eyes squeezed shut as you rubbed frantic circles on your twitching clit. 

“That’s what I wanna hear, angel. Gonna make you forget your own name.” His breath heaved, body drawn taut as a bowstring as he worked you over. His muscles would burn later, make him stiff in the morning, but he didn’t care. Nothing mattered but the way you felt around him. His fingers were locked on the soft fat of your hips, sure to bruise in the shape of his powerful grip. 

His confident voice was strangled now, his control slipping further as you clung to him and moaned. “Can’t get enough of the sounds you make, can’t get enough of your body, so perfect for me…” He suddenly flipped to press you against the side of the bathtub, held down and fucked breathless as he chased your contact, your friction. He angled his hips to slam into the spot that had you seeing stars, groaned at the way your cunt spasmed around him.

“Fuuckk Shiu, you’re so deep.” You curled your fingers around the edge of the tub, hung on for dear life as water slopped onto the spotless floor. 

“That’s the spot, huh baby? Feel your pretty pussy milking me, fuck.”

“Yes, yes, I’m all yours, baby, you own me,” you babbled. You rolled your hips back to meet each thrust, slick skin sticking deliciously to his torso as he rutted up into you. 

His precision gave way to urgency as you whispered filthy words into his ear, sweat and suds stuck to your cheeks, the curls of soft hair on his heaving chest. “You feel so goddamn good, like you were made for me, princess.”

“I was, was made for you, I’m your cocksleeve,” you murmured, the words spilling out without thought as you were lost in pleasure. 

His answer was a strangled laugh, a deep blush spilled across his cheeks. “You’re gonna kill me, talking like that,” he shivered, hips sloppy and reckless against you as he bullied his cock deeper. “Don’t fucking stop.”

How could you deny him? “I’m your good girl, your slut, your pretty little toy- mmmmphh…!” He cut you off with a fierce kiss, swallowed the rest of your filthy words. He squished your cheeks in one hand, held you tight against him as he devoured you, so deep that you felt him in your stomach. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, just needed more and more of this, falling up into your peak. 

He was right beside you, helplessly confessed it against your ear, “I can’t hold on much longer, angel, I’m so close, please…”

You eagerly took the power he offered up, tilted your head in a teasing little gesture like he didn’t just have your eyes rolling back. “Please what?”

He bit his lip, hung his head against your neck as he caught his breath. “Please, keep talking to me like that, please.”

“You like when your pretty baby talks dirty?” He shuddered, nodded, hid his face in your neck. Your own orgasm was imminent, coiled behind your navel and sparking down your spine. You couldn’t be mean to him, not when he’d been so sweet all night. You cupped the back of his head, held him even closer. “Mmm you’re so fucking deep, make me feel so good…want you to fill me up, make me yours...”

He whimpered something affirmative that slipped down your collarbone, settled between your legs. You pressed back against him, rode him harder, met every stuttered thrust with your own grinding arch.

You read each other instinctively, with the blind trust that had been part of your relationship since the beginning. Your bodies fit together perfectly, like they’d never meant to be apart. Shiu’s heart beat wildly at your back, matching the frantic fluttered pulse in your clit as you stroked yourself to your peak. Sharp teeth closed on your shoulder as you came, as the feeling of you clamped around his weeping cock undid him. 

“Come for me, angel,” you ordered through gritted teeth, and he obeyed, surged forward to cover your mouth with his, caught your silent scream between his teeth as he came hard, hot pulses of thick white cream filling the deepest parts of you. 

His body trembled, slumped against you. Shaky hands pulled you flush to his sweaty chest as he fought to catch his breath, your own body limp and spent. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, swollen lips caressing your jaw, your neck, your chest. “So goddamn perfect, I’m all yours…no one else could ever do this to me.”

You closed your eyes, leaned back to urge him lower, sleepy and beyond satisfied as the bath water slowly cooled. He slipped out of you with muffled apologies, brought soothing fingers to cup your well-used pussy. “We’re made for each other,” you sighed dreamily, reached for the glass of wine you’d left behind, passed Shiu his cocktail. 

“Damn right we are, princess. Couldn’t imagine my life with you.”

You grinned, clinked your glass against his. “Cheers to that, my love.”

“Cheers indeed.” He sipped the whiskey, savored the burn, eclipsed by the fire still smoldering through his limbs. “To us, to our life together.”

Across the room, still bathed in golden light from the melting candles, his phone pinged with your food delivery, but neither of you were in a hurry to disentangle from each other. You couldn’t remember that you’d ever been stressed at all. 

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

if you made it this far I love you, have a forehead kiss! This ended up being SO much longer than I planned!! Happy Kinktober Shiu Nation <3

[serickswrites]

Lonely Place of Longing IX

Master list link here (includes links to chapters, summary, and character bios)

Warnings: captivity, pending war, scars, restraints

Dylan still couldn’t believe that Halle loved him. This is too good to be true. You’ll realize I’m a monster and leave. And that’s ok. I don’t blame you. Sweetheart, you are my life. I feel alive because of you. I am alive because of you. You are my everything. I love you. I love you. I love you. But he couldn’t say anything to call it in to question because as time wore on, he wasn’t sure he could bear to not have Halle love him.

Dylan loved all the little moments in his day with Halle. Shared meals, evenings spent watching the stars, but most of all he cherished waking up next to her. He had been alone for so long and so to have someone, to really have someone, was everything beyond his wildest imaginings.

“What happened here?” Halle asked as she traced a thick scar from his sternum to his left shoulder. They had spent the morning laying in bed. Neither had been called off to an assignment and so they hadn’t gotten out of bed.

Someone tried to end me. I didn’t agree with the choices that person had made. And I wasn’t going to let the world burn. But it came at a great cost. “Mission went sideways years ago. I….I nearly didn’t make it that time either. Many people died on that mission.”

Halle frowned. “I don’t like thinking that you’ve nearly died as many times as you have, love.”

And I haven’t even scratched the surface yet. Don’t worry, I won’t leave you. I love you. I love you. I love you. “I’m still here.”

Halle kissed him softly. “And I’m so glad of that, love.”

***

“What do you think this briefing is about?” Halle asked as she came into Dylan’s room. Thomas had knocked on both of their doors half an hour ago requesting their presence for a briefing. Thomas even said that Halle could supervise Dylan on the walk over to mission control.

“Something stupid, I’m sure.” It has to be serious if they are letting me out of the room and telling me what it is. But why include you? You aren’t even allowed to see my powers. You have a very limited knowledge of what I do. Why would they bring you in on these meetings?

“It’s kind of exciting to be included. I know they usually just leave you in the dark until we get there.” Halle glanced at Dylan out of the corner of her eye. The two of them had maintained an appropriate distance from one another as they quickly marched through their quarters to mission control.

And that is exactly why I think it’s something they need my input on. It has to be something serious. “That will be a nice change.”

Dylan froze as they entered mission control and saw Owen’s face plastered on the giant TV screen. Well fuck. He knew he was expected to stand at attention next to Halle. Knew he was supposed to be respectful. But he didn’t need to hear this briefing. He knew what it was.

Halle tried to whisper to him, but Dylan brushed her off. He walked to the back of the room, choosing to stand beside Lysander. Lysander glared and walked off. That’s better. I’d rather be alone anyway.

He stared up at Owen’s face. It was an image taken years ago. I gave you a scar on your cheek eight years ago. This photo is older than that. He stared up at the face that held such painful memories for him. Stared up at the face he knew almost as well as he knew his own. Stared up at the face of the man he had fought against countless times. Stared up at Owen’s face and only felt sadness. We knew this day was coming. We knew we would face it each other when you made the choices you did. I warned you.

Dylan sighed. He watched Halle listen to Samuel and Thomas. Watched as Halle’s face filled with confusion. You’ll get another briefing after this. To explain what Owen really is. What I really am. And then you won’t love me anymore. I knew this would happen. It was bound to happen. I am a miserable, wretched monster. You could never love me for long.

Dylan didn’t need to listen to Samuel. Didn’t want to listen to Samuel. I’ve heard enough from you to last a lifetime. And you still haven’t learned what you needed to learn all those years ago.

But as Thomas stepped forward, chest puffed out with a sense of self importance, Dylan looked away. They’re going to make me hunt you. But you know that. You’re counting on that. You want me to hunt you. Because you can get your revenge on them, on me. But you won’t win. You’re too emotional. It made you a liability for Scutus. It makes you stupid. I don’t want to hurt you, kill you. But if you force my hand, I won’t hesitate.

Dylan wanted nothing more than to leave mission control. To be anywhere but there. He was waiting for Thomas or Samuel to reveal the truth he, and the Authority, had kept hidden for so long. The truth that would make Dylan even more hated than he was.

But neither Samuel or Thomas mentioned anything. Their instructions were clear: in two week’s time, Alpha team would infiltrate Owen’s hideaway and destroy him. Dylan would be deployed at exactly the right time to ensure Owen’s demise.

I am a wretched monster. I don’t want to do this. But I will. Because I have no choice.

Halle waited for Dylan at the door. They barely said anything as the two of them made their way back to Dylan’s rooms. I don’t think I can talk about this. You’re going to want to talk. I don’t think I can.

“What do you make of all that?” Halle asked as she shut the door behind herself.

Dylan didn’t say anything as he crossed the room and flung open the balcony door. He felt like he was suffocating. He leaned on the railing as he stared out over the moonlit grounds of Tectus. It is to be war between us, Owen. I don’t wish it to be, but you’re getting your wish.

“Dylan?” Halle asked.

Dylan still felt like he was being suffocated. He needed to walk, go somewhere, be anywhere but here. “I need to go.”

“What?” Halle froze as she stood next to Dylan on the balcony.

“Do you trust me?” Please. Please. Please, trust me. I need this. Please, sweetheart.

“Of course I do.”

“Then let me go.” I can’t leave unless I am escorted, these damned cuffs won’t allow it. But there are loopholes. I can’t open this door to leave, but if you do, I can. I can leave even if you open the door and its hours later.

“Dylan, I…I can’t do that. You know that.” Halle’s eyes filled with pity.

Don’t pity me. I don’t need your pity. I just need your help. “Please. I…I just need to breathe. It’s too stifling in here for me. Believe in me, set me free. I promise I will just walk the grounds and return before dawn.”

“Dylan—“ “Please,” Dylan begged, “please, just let me go.”

Halle shut her mouth. She thought about it for a moment before nodding. “Ok, I wish you would talk to me though.”

Thank you. Thank you. I love you. I love you. I love you. “I promise I will answer all your questions if you let me go now. Just open the door. I’ll wait until I know the hall is quiet. No one will know. And when I get back we can talk.”

Halle rose up on tiptoe to kiss him. “I love you, Dylan.”

Dylan returned her kiss. “I love you, sweetheart, more than anything.” Even though you won’t love me after your next meeting with Thomas. Not when you learn what I truly am.

Tags: @beomsstudio @mousepaw @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @eyehartart @corbytheking

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[theflagscene]

15 Day BL Challenge (part one)

Day 5 - Biggest Flop

I’m gonna make so many people mad. Hoooboy!

Ignoring all the DNFs that I’ve had over the last year due to issues that had nothing to do with the show itself, my biggest flop that I finished and had an actual visceral disappointment to was Last Twilight but only because of episodes 11 and 12, everything up until that point was damn near pitch perfect. And yes, I feel like I can be salty over the ‘only by being fixed can a person be truly happy’ ending because I literally have the same type of head injury that Day has, also brought on from a car accident that was caused by a drunk driver. I very much felt connected to him and loved the story of accepting your life as it changes, losing our eyesight doesn’t make us broken. I’ve learned to live with my dwindling eyesight and current partially blind state for the past 15 years and will live with my completely blind state in the future, so to watch (heh puns) Day go from learning to love himself and accept himself as well as Mhok’s love, to instantly ignoring everything the show had been teaching him and the audience in the span of two lousy episodes - including an unnecessary breakup and ridiculous time skip - was heartbreaking. The series was so so good! And then it just was bad.

Now, all that being said, I absolutely do think that the show deserves all the awards and accolades it is currently receiving. I also think JimmySea did fantastic in their roles and also deserve all the awards for the work they put into making such a beautiful love story, but that doesn’t mean that for me personally I can’t also consider it a flop in my books for the reasons stated above. I loved Last Twilight when it was airing, but then it was like being punched in the gut. It will not be something I rewatch unfortunately.

PSA: if you haven’t heard P’Aof talk about his original idea for the story being a thriller you really should track down the interview, I won’t spoil it for you, but if you wanna know the original plot ideas check under the cut, I’ll post what I remember ⬇️

Last Twilight was originally conceived as a thriller based on Mhok looking to get revenge for his sister’s murder, she was going to have been killed in a car accident - yep that accent that Night and Day were in. Day was going to have been a driver that hit his sister and killed her, instead of having her commit suicide. The story follows Mhok as he tracks down Day and after finding out that he was going blind and needed a caretaker, he weasels his way into the job. They would still end up falling in love, but the whole plan was for Mhok to kill Day to get his revenge. When they left for the wedding at the beach, finally free from Day’s mother and brother’s constant surveillance, Mhok was going to take Day out into the middle of the ocean at night under the guise of a romantic swim and leave him there to drown. He was going to leave but then cannot go through with it and rushes back to save Day - and that’s all they got to until the rest of the writing team was like: P’Aof, you are a romantic, you love romance, you can’t do a thriller, your heart won’t be in it. You know this!

He agreed and ended up changing it from a revenge thriller to a romantic drama because he just didn’t feel like he was the right person to pull off such a dark storyline.

[grayishgiggles]

Tickletober Day 2 — Chase

Lee!Grayson, Ler!Miguel

Prompt list by @tickletober / @/august-anon

“I don’t get it,” Grayson deadpanned, practically shadowed by his mentor’s figure. He played with one of his hoodie strings as he walked through one of the many cavernous hallways in HQ. And, of course, it wouldn’t be HQ without the fifty or so spider-men they had to weave through. In a way, Grayson looked like a duckling following his mother. His nearly seven foot tall scary looking mother. With claws. “Where are we going?”

“We’re gonna train.” Miguel glanced up from his watch down next to him, suddenly halting his gait. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a body bump against his back, turning sharply with a confused glare. 

“Sorry,” said Grayson, scrambling to walk parallel with him now. “Wait, is this cause of my last patrol?! I just had an off day, man, I-I didn’t think he’d be able to keep up with me.”

“Gray, chill out,” Miguel held a hand up, the smallest tinge of amusement in his voice. “You’re not in trouble. I just haven’t got my workout in today…”

“Oh, okay.”

Their footsteps filled the silence for a moment. Miguel shrugged, the glow of his suit catching Grayson’s eye. ”…and, I dunno, you make things less boring.” 

“Awww!” Grayson broke into a goofy smile, giving the bigger man an affectionate shove to the shoulder. Miguel rolled his eyes and swatted at his hand sheepishly.

 “We are gonna work on your agility, though.”

“Aw come on!”

“I don’t wanna hear your whining. I’ll make it fun, ok?” Miguel tilted his head harmlessly, eyes meeting his apprentice’s mismatched ones. 

How the hell did he get a purple eye anyway? He thought, Genetics-wise he’d have to have some sorta albinism… wait, what the hell are you talking about, O’Hara? You have red eyes. You got claws. Spider DNA does weird shit to you, too.

“What’re we gonna do then?” Grayson’s voice brought Miguel out of his head. He didn’t think that far, admittedly. He just said the “fun” thing to get the guy to stop complaining. His walking slowed with a hum, hand under chin in thought. There was the obstacle courses, robot drones, the laser field, hell, they could just patrol and practice on site.

”Bro, you’re not the thinker—“ Grayson prodded.

”Shut up.” 

Grayson let out a chuckle. Jeez, practically anything he did made the guy laugh. Really wasn’t helping his train of thought. That damn laugh… that… 

Oh.

OH!

He felt the corners of his mouth tug upwards. 

”How do you feel about a chase?” Miguel proposed, interrupting Grayson’s last chortle. “Oooh, sure! Like with one of those anomaly simulations?” 

There was a different air in his motion, suave, unalluring. Miguel stepped  in front of Grayson, effectively halting his pace. “With me.”

“Huh?!” Grayson blurted. “But that’s so unfair! I couldn’t catch you.”

“I’ll be chasing you.” Miguel corrected with a point.

A little wave of adrenaline ran through Grayson’s veins. “Uh, yeah, my point still stands.” 

“Hey, you never know till you try.” Miguel had tried  to come off as encouraging, leaning down to meet his level. “I’ll even add motivation, ok? Just don’t get caught for two minutes or else.”

The hooded spider’s face furrowed. “Or else what?” 

He could’ve just told him, honestly. Miguel could’ve, but he didn’t, because all he had to do was give him that look. A smirk, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. The classic formula. 

And as always, it worked. Grayson’s eyes expanded to the size of saucers. Little wave turned into big wave, his spider sense verifying it all. He knew the stakes. 

“You got a five second head start.” Miguel couldn’t hold back his smirk now.

“WHAT?”

“Four…”

That’s all Grayson needed to hear. The boots of his suit squeaked against the floor when he spun around, hauling it past a few concerned spider-men. Miguel watched the brown cowlick of his hair wave around like a flag, getting smaller. 

“Three… two… one…” he muttered to himself, then immediately broke into a sprint. 

“Shitshitshitshitshit!!” Grayson’s echoed expletives followed him down the hall and into the vast atrium of triangular walkways. His head spun left and right. Where now?! Does he hide out? No, that’s stupid! He can’t hide, this is for agility! 

“I see you!!”

Miguel’s voice boomed in the distance behind a crowd of spiders. No time for decision making. Grayson shot a web at a platform above, feet lifting off the ground as he swung upwards. His nimble yet steady frame wove past passerby swingers, apologizing when he nearly ran into 60’s spider-man. A futuristic THWIP caught his attention, followed by a dim red glow in the corner of his eye.

“Did you even give me five seconds?!” Grayson’s voice cracked. He yelped at the sudden thud of Miguel landing, and the thunder of his footsteps. “Oh SHIT SHIT SHIT-!”

“I gave you all five, so maybe you’re just too SLOW-!” Miguel yelled as he lunged to tackle him. Grayson ducked and rolled in time, scurrying past Miguel as he clawed the ground to change direction. He was too late, though. Grayson wasn’t on the platform anymore. 

”Dammit!”

“You ok, boss?” 

Miguel turned to see Ben Reilly, for once concerned about someone else and not his own angst. No, maybe he was just confused. Miguel didn’t care. His eyes flashed a sinister glare.

“Where did he go?”

Grayson’s gait became unsynchronized, panting all he could do. Once rounding the corner and checking behind him, he stumbled to a stop, hands on his knees. He should’ve spent more time at the gym on campus. Agility, yes, endurance, no. All the college kid could hear was his own panting. Hell, it echoed through the hall… wait, that’s weird. Where was everyone? When did a Spider Society hallway ever get quiet? 

Head turned up towards the rest of the hallway, not a single spider except him crawled through. He swallowed, taking in the ambient sound of late stage technology humming within the walls, that soft red glow accenting the trim. All he could think of was one of those hallways in Alien. 

Gingerly, he carried on with a jog. Despite no spider sense warning him, he had a bad feeling. This felt intentional. Miguel might’ve rigged this place as a trap. Who the hell knows what he could do just with the watches! The… watches. 

Grayson skidded to a stop, opening his portal watch frantically. He swiped to a hologram reading “LOCATION: ON.”

”Fuck,” he whispered, turning the feature off with a tap. His jog turned to a run. 

Careening past a few testing rooms and miscellaneous areas for hangouts, Grayson let out a chuckle of relief seeing the elevator door ahead. His light in the tunnel. Thank god!

Grayson’s gloved finger pressed the down button a few anxious times. He fidgeted in place, the humming descent of the platform growing louder by the second. He had to be passing two minutes by now. All he had to do was stay out of sight for a little longer. Easy win. 

The arrow above the door flashed with a modern ding. The platform settled to a halt, hissing out softly. The triangular doors slid open, and without question, Grayson dashed into the elevator.

Right into Miguel’s arms. 

Squeezed in a bear hug, Miguel lifted Grayson off the ground. “Gotcha!” 

“Wh-AHH! NO! No let me goho! It was two minutes! NO!”

“One minute and fifty seven seconds,” his captor corrected, the smile audible in his voice. Miguel moved with Grayson’s sudden squirming, but never budged but grabbed one of his wrists. “I don’t round up.”

“Y-You don’t gotta do this! W-We cohohould bet with food- AhAAAH!”

Grayson curled in on himself, failing to listen to his spider sense. Now there was a large hand gently pinching up and down his side. “NOHohoo!!”

“Should’ve been faster, mijo,” Miguel tutted. 

“IHIhihi DUHUhunno what that means!” He cried out with a snort, sinking in his arms. Miguel followed him, kneeling beside his victim and pinning his wrist above his head. He straddled one of his legs to keep Grayson down. 

Miguel curiously poked around his exposed side, delighted by the eruption of small giggles. He pushed his cropped hoodie up to show more of his suit. “Now, if I remember correctly… these ribs were a good spot.” He proved his claim a moment later, coaxing a laugh out of the spider-man with a light scribble to the side of his ribs. ”NOHOAhaha! Mihihiguel!!” Grayson snorted, his free arm weakly pushing against Miguel at an odd angle. “Gehet off! YohOHOu win!”

“Not yet, no,” he retorted, “you gotta get your fill of tickles, kay? It’s good for your immune system.” Grayson hated that he was right, a small blush on his cheeks followed by a stream of giggles. Miguel’s calloused fingers walked their way up to his armpit, the crop top hoodie’s sleeve doing nothing to protect him there. “EEhee!!”

“And there’s those squeaks,” Miguel recalled, like it was an old memory. His hand skipped over Grayson’s underarm, spidering right above on his bicep, eliciting a stream of bubbly giggles. “Oh, this is priceless.”

Grayson tugged at his trapped wrist with another snort. “IHIhIHi hahate you!!”

“Well that can’t be true.” Miguel sneered, clawing into his armpit. He chuckled upon Grayson’s burst of cackles. 

“NOhOHO not there! Ack!” Grayson’s legs flailed uselessly under Miguel. His cacophony paired with the elevator’s humming in descent made a delightful symphony in the leader’s head. “STAHAhaawp!!”

“Okay, okay, whatever,” Miguel replied, his fingers slowing to a few pokes. He relented his grip, kneeling over his apprentice to look at his smile. “You okay?”

“Jehesus…” Grayson chuckled as he fought to catch his breath. He took a deep breath in, letting out an extra giggle. “Y-Yeheheah…”

Miguel returned the smile, reaching a hand towards him. Grayson flinched with a funny noise. “Pfft, the shock was that?” He chuckled. The man’s hand finally reached Gray’s head of hair, ruffling it gently. 

Grayson scrunched his face and tried to fix the curl on his forehead. “You didn’t count to fihive…” he groaned. 

“I was gonna get you either way,” replied Miguel, “It was a matter of how long you wanted to delay the inevitable.”

Grayson shared a confused look. “Stop using big words.”

“Aren’t you an English major?” The sigh from Grayson made him blurt out a laugh. “I’m sorry, I’m a jerk.” He relented, standing up. He held a hand out to pull his apprentice up. Gray took the help and stood with a groan. The shift of gravity as the elevator slowed down caught their attention. 

“You did good, though.” Miguel said. “You outran me for a second.”

“I dunno how,” Grayson muttered with a shrug. A large hand lightly punched his shoulder. “Hey, no bad self-talk. We got anomaly files to organize back at the lab.” 

“Training’s over?”

“What, you wanna be tickled again?”

“N-No!”

[quietlyimplode]

ignite your bones

After the fall of General Dreykov, and the remnants of the Red Room still at large, Natasha first year at SHIELD is anything but healing. Labeled a traitor and a turncoat, Natasha tries to find her footing in a strange new world.

Whumptober 2024: Day 2 - Trust Issues

Warnings: food hoarding

Word Count: 1.5k (gif not mine)

Summary: Maria and Clint talk about Natasha. Clint realizes that bringing in a black widow may not be as easy as he thinks.

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

.

Clint yawns.

Maria throws a book at him and groans.

“I’m so bored,” he complains. “How do you do this?”

“That’s what you get, for bringing a stray home,” she rolls her eyes and throws her pen at him.

“They can’t keep me grounded forever right?”

Maria shrugs, “Ask Coulson.”

Clint throws them back at her and glances at the clock.

“I should probably go,” he sighs.

“Pick up time?”

He bows, “I am the chauffeur, am I not?”

“She’s not eating,” Maria tells him as Clint starts to walk away.

“What?”

He turns and eyes her closely.

“She doesn’t eat the food, haven’t you noticed? Not unless it’s packaged or clear liquid.”

She pauses.

“I don’t know what she does eat, have you been giving her food?”

Clint shakes his head.

“Only the occasional granola bar when I’ve eaten one?”

He pauses. “How do you know?”

Maria pauses.

“She’s been here two weeks, what has she been eating?”

“How do you know?”

Looking around, Maria opens the surveillance program on her computer, and rewinds to breakfast.

“Don’t tell Coulson I’m showing you this,” she growls.

Clint looks forward with interest, feeling voyeuristic at watching her.

He knew they’d be surveilling her, but had underestimated just how closely.

It seems stupid in hindsight.

The breakfast is delivered.

The blue tray pushed through a small opening on the floor, and Clint feels angry at how just like prison this must feel for her.

Natasha approaches it, and squats to look at the food.

She inspects the apple, and places it on the bed away from the other food. The scrambled eggs, she touches as though she’s looking for something; pressing them down; then looks at the juice box and places it next to the apple.

The tray gets pushed back, the rest of the cooked food untouched, and, after a moment, taken away.

“Breakfast she eats the most, or takes the most from, I guess.”

Clint keeps watching, but she doesn’t eat. The juice box gets drunk slowly, but the apple is placed inside the small side table drawer.

He glimpses one of the granola bars he’d given her, and he feels like an idiot for not noticing.

“Talk to her about it?”

He nods.

“Why’d you tell me? You don’t even like her?”

Maria looks at him, annoyed at the look.

“Just because I like her, doesn’t mean I want her dead.”

He looks away from the computer, Maria turning the program off.

“Clint, she’s not okay, traumatized black widows; don’t you think you’re out of your depth?”

He takes the criticism and thinks about Natasha’s face as he’d offered her a lifeline. The way she looked so sad and resigned to her fate, and the run and hide through Berlin.

“I’m all she’s got,” he shrugs.

Maria shakes her head, but says nothing.

“I’ve gotta go. I’ll chat to you later?”

He leaves without the response, mulling on her words, wondering just how hard this was going to be.

.

Clint waits, just as he promised as the door opens as Natasha steps out.

“I’ll see you in two days,” Olivia tells both the receptionist and Natasha at the door.

The receptionist nods, and gives Clint a smile, ignoring Natasha as she steps out and forward.

“Sorry,” Clint says ruefully, taking the handcuffs from Olivia.

Natasha holds her hands up, face blank, eyes glazed.

They step in line with each other, the walk back to the glass prison punctuated with Clint’s quiet words.

“I feel like you look when I walk out of therapy. Did it go okay?”

He pauses, “you don’t have to answer that.”

When there’s no words, he decides to continue talking.

He knows she doesn’t trust them; any of them. He really wants to know what she talks about in therapy. If she says anything at all or if Olivia just talks to her.

He wonders idly if he needs to talk to someone too.

Probably.

The last couple of months have been… intense, for lack of a better word and he wonders if, like Maria had said, he was out of his depth.

It was not the first time he thought it.

Natasha’s despondency was affecting him.

What did he know about defectors and a traumatised super spy?

He just didn’t want her to die.

Not by his hand, or her own.

“I like her though,” he continues.

“Give her a chance, if you can. She’s… not unlike you, in her background and maybe can help? She’s there to help.”

He mulls on his own words as he leads her a different way back. He’s right.

If anyone can help her; Olivia can.

Determined to show her a different part of the complex, they go through the kitchens, and Clint picks up two apples, throwing her one and then crunching onto the other.

It gives him time to think.

He’s going to need to touch base with Olivia, make sure that she is interacting, doing what was promised.

He could ask her what he should be doing too; for her, for himself.

Clint leads the way back with practiced ease, the silence allowing him to think.

As they enter the first round of checks, he smiles easily to the straight faced guards; then as they get deeper to the third and forth stations, it’s just Clint’s badge letting them in.

It seems to bolster Natasha, the less people around, she matches his steps and bites the apple. At the noise, Clint turns and smiles.

“You don’t eat much,” he observes.

Natasha shrugs and takes another bite.

He laughs at her sass.

“Do you not like the food?”

Natasha looks down.

He feels a little mean, talking about this after she’s just had 90 minutes of therapy.

He’s sure the sessions are not the easiest, and he can see the slight tremor in her hands, despite her trying to mask it by holding onto the apple.

They reach her cell and she steps inside the glass, holding her wrists out for him to release them.

He does.

Taking the cuffs away and pushing them into his pocket.

“Just think about it, okay? If there’s food you want or prefer, just tell me? I can help.”

Natasha looks at her feet and takes two steps back, the door closing and the glass sealing shut.

.

Despite her better judgement, Natasha continues to eat the apple. The constant hunger makes her feel on edge sometimes.

She’s so used to it, that until Clint had said something, she hadn’t given it much thought.

Sitting on the bed, legs crossed, she chews on it and thinks.

Therapy had been tough.

Though not for the first time, Olivia had called her out on things that she shouldn’t know.

Details about the Red Room that only the guards, the officers or widows knew, inner workings of the KGB and Red Room procedures like the trial of the silent knife and graduation.

And whilst Natasha hadn’t had another panic attack, it had been close.

The push to talk and baiting was tempting.

How did she know?

She knew she’d eventually have to talk, but for now, whilst she could hold onto her silence, she wanted to keep it.

It was the only control she had.

Her mind feels like a minefield.

Sometimes, she feels like once she starts talking, she’ll never stop; but the years of self preservation wouldn’t let her.

She sorts the known information, finishing the apple and swallowing slowly, closing her eyes on the onslaught of images and thoughts.

It takes her a moment to let the memory of the silent knife trial pass. The blood on her hands feeling so visceral and real she opens and closes her eyes just to check.

She breathes.

In.

Holds it.

And out.

It has become the easiest thing to do after therapy. To think and sort through all the things that were said, disclosed and asked of her.

After a day like today where she had had to do both debriefing and therapy, she knew that nightmares would be inevitable.

She just hoped that whoever was watching the cameras tonight was sleeping on the job.

Natasha breathes slowly again.

Starting with the image that comes first, she focuses as best she can on sorting real from not real. What they had said, what she had disclosed, information that still was secret and that which had become known.

They were still only on major players of the organisation; those that she knew had ties into the western world. People she had been sent after, political agendas. It was far easier to talk about than herself, though she had a feeling that was coming.

Her mind flashes to Dreykov and she bites the inside of her cheek, drawing blood.

Real or not real.

She tries to ground herself in this moment.

She didn’t trust them.

They knew too much.

She’d told them too much.

There was no going back now.

Natasha thinks of Maria again.

Always an ending thought.

The divulgence of knowing her birthdate.

Information known by a select few but, perhaps also could be found from intel files. It means that somewhere here there’s more intel on her; prior to her coming here.

What she wouldn’t give for that file.

Therapy conversations had given her pause.

It was difficult to think about without her mind flashing back; and she didn’t want to.

Not here.

Not now.

There’s a file on her.

And she wants it.

.

<3