#if run bts was dubbed

[littlemisskookie]

Crocodile Tears: Chapter 3

Crocodile Tears: Index  Ship: Stoner!Reader | Stoner!BTS  Description: You accidentally eat brownies with aphrodisiacs in them. Even worse one of your asshole friends catch you reading smut to cope, and decides to airdrop your collection of your dirtiest fantasies to the rest of the house. Just your luck. Warnings: Dub-Con, Degradation, Humiliation, Free Use Kink, Dom!Yoongi, Dom!Namjoon, Sub!Reader, Objectification Roleplay, Choking, Slapping, High Sex, Intercourse, Kinkshaming?, Overstimulation, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Oral, Fingering, Exhibition, Stranger visits!!! Who will it be? Edging, Bondage, Blindfolding, Threesome, Cum-play? I mean shit she’s slept with like four dudes at least ya gotta expect it, Really just PWP somehow? They’re all very mean, like, very sadistic, lots of pet names used a lot so if you don’t like that skip, Weed Word Count: 5,433 A/N: I’m very sorry it took this long to update this. But finally I can release what was once an unfinished draft!

Lucky for your shaking legs and exhausted body, Taehyung carried you back to the house from the woods. You didn't even have to ask him, simply accepting the kisses he peppered across your face adoringly. He pulled you up and into his arms, pulling the hoodie back onto you and carrying you back to shelter. You giggled, swinging your legs a little as you wrapped your arms around his neck, giving soft kisses to his neck as a tired thank you. Whether it was for carrying you, fucking you- no, fuck it, both- he seemed to understand. He turned his head to capture your lips once you were back on the porch. He gently put you down on the couch, brushing your hair now that you guys were in better light. "How're you feeling, pretty girl?"

"Wonderful," you replied honestly, a warm buzz going through your body at his words. Something about pretty men calling you pretty as well felt so satisfying. Almost as satisfying as having sex with them. 

He kissed you softly, his demeanor so sweet and endearing in comparison to how brutally he had fucked you just moments ago. You couldn't help but lean in further, wanting to deepen the kiss, to feel more of Taehyung. As though hearing your thoughts, Taehyung smiled into the kiss, slightly leaning back and forcing you to follow in desperation. "Careful," he murmured against your lips in warning. "You might get addicted."

To him or to sex, you weren't sure. Again, perhaps both. "I might be already," you whispered back, moaning softly as you feel his tongue pressing against yours sensually. "Could get used to this."

"You can come to me for this anytime, sweet girl," Taehyung grinned assuringly. "I don't think just a taste was enough."

You sputtered at that, eyes wide. "You consider that just a taste?"

Taehyung's devious smirk only deepened, confirming his words. From the corner of your eye you spot your discarded underwear being taken by Taehyung. You're suddenly embarrassingly aware of how naked you feel underneath just the oversized hoodie. You reached out towards Taehyung, but he calmly grabs your wrist to stop you. "Nah," he said smugly, grinning at your pathetic expression. "Want you to squirm all day with my cum inside of you- let the next guy find it. Besides, it means you've got to come see me again to get it back." 

You guffawed at him in disbelief, shaking your head and reaching for the bong from earlier. Unfortunately, most of the bowl was already spent, and you were only able to get in perhaps three hits with Taehyung before it was dead. 

"You want more?" Taehyung questioned.

"More what?" You question suspiciously. You were beginning to question if Taehyung had also eaten one of the sex brownies to keep up with your increased libido.

He laughed at that. "Weed. Go up to Namjoon's, I think he's got a bunch of his good shit in his room. He won't mind if it's you."

You felt a bit more confident about that. At worst you were going to run into Namjoon, and knowing him, he hasn't touched his phone all day. Namjoon was the type to go on about how phones were rotting people's attention spans and ruining connection- which is true, you feel as though you're an overgrown iPad kid at times- and so tries to spend as little time on it as possible. Most of the time he was on Do Not Disturb and would only bother to check a message if the person decides to notify him already. He was also notorious for being bad at responding. There was no way he was one of the people who had been dropped your secret blog. Though, with how the boys are reacting, you're not sure you'd mind. 

Knowing him, he was probably lounging on one of his sofa chairs in his room and smoking. Namjoon was a big reason you guys had so much weed to spare today, as one of his hobbies was growing plants, of all kinds. His most impressive had ended up being over six feet wide alone, his green thumb proving to be one your entire group could deeply appreciate. Namjoon doubled as a dealer for many of you, though you of course got the biggest discount. No one gave you shit for it- except Jimin.

Lucky for you, you didn't run into anyone on your way up to Namjoon's room, and true to theory he was sitting in his chair, reading a book and smoking out of a pipe. It was one of those old-timey fashioned ones, a gift you specifically had given him as a joke. Truth be told, it suited him.

He looked up at you with an unsuspecting and innocent smile, giving you a breath of relief. He didn't know.

"Y/N, what's up?" Namjoon questioned unassumingly, his voice deep and raspy from smoking. Super sexy. 

"Not much." Just praying you can't smell the cum I'm trying not to let dribble down my thighs. You motion to the pipe in his hand, a grin plastered on your face.. "Can I hit?"

"Of course," he responded, passing it over. Hopefully he didn't mean it for just the weed.

You gratefully took the pipe, lighting it and inhaling the smoke. God, Namjoon looked so good, with his meaty thighs spread before you like a platter. Before you knew it, dirty thoughts raced through your head as your gaze locked with the little amount of his thighs the shorts revealed. You were akin to a Victorian man seeing a woman's ankle for the first time, despite the fact that you had been fucked two ways to Sunday by two men already.

But... what will one more hurt? Who could resist sexy, charming, intellectual Kim Namjoon? He was so respectful and sweet, how could you not just suck his dick?

(How long did these fucking brownies last???)

You tried to recall your experiences with drugs before. Before your tolerance for weed had become as exceptional as it is now, you could still feel high through a "high hangover", as you and your friends called it, until the day after. When you did mushrooms it lasted for about six hours, and you couldn't sleep during the entirety of it. You wondered if the brownies would work the same way. Maybe it was the brownies dosage or your own insatiable need that left you restless for more.

"Whatcha reading?" you inquired, sitting down in the sofa chair next to his. You guys were only perhaps a foot apart, now, and when you crossed your legs and bounced your foot you could tap against him. The energy Taehyung had fucked out of you seemed to be returning.

"One of my philosophy books," he answered, taking the pipe from you to take another hit. "It's not the type you'd like."

"Mm, that's true, I'm more of a fantasy type of girl," you say. Your favorite books to read were romances in faraway lands filled with mythical beings- who you could fuck, of course. You let your foot run lightly over Namjoon's shin, hoping he'll catch on to your flirtation through the double entendre. Surely a smarty pants like him would get it. 

"Are you?" Namjoon asked.  "What are you into specifically?"

Just as you opened your mouth to reply, the door swung open to reveal none other than Min Yoongi. 

Unlike Namjoon, the look on his face when his gaze met yours did not read as friendly and oblivious. No, instead his eyes darkened and a small smirk formed on his face as he made a beeline to the two of you. You tensed, adrenaline rushing through you as though you had been caught in the act. Your heart raced and your mind wandered in absolute panic. In a sense you were caught in the act- you probably would've jumped Namjoon's bones if he gave you an opportunity. Yoongi's smile was so similar to the one Jungkook and Taehyung had worn right before devouring you. Excited, cruel, the smile of one who already won but wanted to rub it into someone's face. Sadistic. 

He knows.

"There you are, Y/N," Yoongi said with uncharacteristic cheer as he approached you. You gulped as you looked up at him, too nervous to get up from your seat. "What've you been up to?"

"O-Oh, I..." You had been so confident just second before, but now you were a stammering mess. You had lost the power play, and now you were already puddy in Yoongi's hands, and he knew it too. "I was outside."

"Is that so? That explains it. I've been looking all over for you." He slyly turned towards Namjoon. "Hey, Joon, have you seen it yet?"

You felt all the blood rush to your cheeks in embarrassment. You sat up straight to stop him, but Yoongi was too quick, lightly shoving you back at the shoulder to your seat. "No you're not, you're going to sit down and stay put."

There was no room for argument with his tone, and you almost helplessly watched as Yoongi handed Namjoon the incriminating evidence of your true nature. You looked away, not wanting to meet their accusatory stares, the humiliation causing you to squirm in your seat. You were cruelly reminded of the cum that Taehyung made you keep inside, and you realized his wishes about the next man finding his "present" may in fact come true.

"Is this yours?" Namjoon asked, and you feel shame overcome you as he directs his attention to you. There was that deep, sexy, post-smoking rasp that was now being used against you. You felt his gaze boring into the side of your head, urging you to meet his intense gaze. "Y/N?"

"Yes," you meekly answered. "It's mine."

Yoongi laughed, the snicker only further adding to your humiliation. "She airdropped this earlier. I've been scrolling through it- she's got more porn stored on her phone than a teenage boy. This must span years."

"It was-" You shot your gaze up at his, eyes wide. His eyes locked with yours, and he only smiled wider at your expression, further urging on Namjoon to explore your little blog of fantasies.

"Just look at all this degrading shit she's into, Joon. Can you believe she's into this freaky shit?" Yoongi interrupted, scrolling through the array of fanfictions you had stored on the page.

"Yoongi!" you whined almost patronizingly, immediately being cut off by Yoongi's sharp glare.

"No, no, don't you go acting so innocent. I've seen the depraved shit you've got on there. You're really into some dark shit, huh? You just want to be used like a toy, is that it?" He hooked his finger under your chin and forced you to lock your gaze with his. "Want us to do it for you?"

Your mouth suddenly went dry, leaving your mouth gaping open in surprise. Namjoon was looking at you too. He undoubtedly noticed the word us being included.

"Yes," you answered without doubt.

Yoongi and Namjoon exchanged glances, and you saw the flicker of arousal in Namjoon's eyes at your agreement. Yoongi's finger under your chin was replaced with a firm grip on your throat, and soon your back was met with the plush decorative pillows of Namjoon's neatly made bed. 

"Oh, what's this?"

You yelped as your legs were spread apart, the hem of the hoodie being lifted to expose your pussy to the two men who were now before you. Namjoon pried your legs apart with firm hands, keeping them flat on the mattress to ensure you couldn't hide from them. Yoongi reached out to gingerly touch your glistening folds, thumb passing over your clit with a jolt of your hips and down to your hole, smearing the white cum Taehyung had left behind. "Seems like we weren't the first ones to have found out. Tell me, who did you let use you?"

You bit your lip in hesitation, embarrassed to admit you've already fucked Tae and Jungkook. To Yoongi this just won't do it seemed, as he laid a harsh smack down on your pussy. You whimpered, your hips jumping up, only for Namjoon to pin them back down and force your legs open again. "Best to answer him, sweetheart," Namjoon said, his gaze never leaving your cunt. It was as though he were mesmerized.

"Jungkook and Taehyung," you admitted, getting another smack from Yoongi. Perhaps this time it was in reward.

"Together?" Yoongi questioned.

You shook your head. "Separately."

Yoongi's fingers ran through your folds, gently rubbing you as he watched you get wetter under his touch. He whistled lowly. "And you still can't get enough. You've been a good toy then, haven't you? Slutting yourself out to all of us. Wanna be a good toy for me and Joonie?"

You nodded desperately, quivering in sensitivity as Yoongi smeared Taehyung's cum all over your lower lips, circling on your clit with just the right amount of pressure. "Yes! I'll be good, I swear."

"Take off your hoodie, baby," Namjoon said, assisting you and pulling it off. It was the only piece of clothing you had on, so now you were left naked before them, hickeys exposed to their wandering eyes. "Mm, you must really like it rough, huh? You liked being used tonight?"

"So much," you admitted, sighing with glee as Namjoon leans in to softly kiss you, swallowing your moans as Yoongi presses his digits hard against you, watching you squirm at the overstimulation.

"How much are you planning to get fucked tonight, Y/N?" Yoongi questioned, enjoying the way you would flush with embarrassment. "Surely even a slut like you has her limits."

You broke away from Namjoon's lips, panting softly as you keen your core closer to Yoongi's fingers. "No, not enough. I need more."

"Yeah? Need what, toy?"

"Your fingers, your tongue, your cock, both of you! Need you to fuck me with them," you babbled, wanting Yoongi's fingers to penetrate you so badly. He was so close and yet kept choosing to tease you, sometimes circling around your hole or right over to collect the slick.

"Such a greedy toy, wanting me to touch this nasty pussy." Yoongi's voice feigned disgust, but much to your delight he slipped a finger in. "Fuck, look how much is coming out already. Taehyung really made you his little cumdump, didn't he? Want me and Joonie to fuck it out of you?"

You whimpered in confirmation, but that didn't seem to be enough for Yoongi. He added another finger, curling his fingers and moving his digits up to harshly slam against your g-spot repeatedly. Heat rose to your cheeks as he quickly got you worked up. "Ask him nicely. He's doing you a favor."

Your glassy eyes turned towards Namjoon, your lower lip quivering as you felt Yoongi bring you closer to the edge. "J-Joonie, will you p-please fuck me?"

He smiled warmly at that, giving a small kiss to your temple. "Of course, baby."

The warm fuzzy feeling in your chest is only allowed to remain for a moment before Yoongi grabbed your jaw and forced you to face him. "Now," he said, voice low and sinister. "Beg me."

You swallowed in anticipation, your voice shaky. "Please, please, please fuck me, Yoongi?"

He spit on your pussy with something that seemed like contempt. "Not good enough."

Your thighs quaked in response to his movements, your eyes rolling back as you tried to ignore the building pressure in your abdomen. "I'll be such a good toy, I promise! Please use me- oh fuck!"

In the midst of your tangent Namjoon's sneaky hand trailed down your body to circle around your clit, smearing the combination of Yoongi's saliva and your wetness. That along with his teeth nipping along the shell of your ear, and you were a goner, your walls spasming around Yoongi's punishing digits. You moaned unabashedly, your back arching until you cringed from over sensitivity. You weakly pushed their hands away from your core, desperately trying to catch your breath.

Yoongi stared at you with an accomplished expression, licking his fingers to savor the reward. "I don't recall either of us giving you permission to cum. So much for being a good toy."

He swatted at your swollen folds, causing your hips to jerk up in response. "I'm sorry!" you apologized eagerly, still overly sensitive. In reward he ran his fingers over your folds, gently caressing you. 

You reached down to touch him, to which he moved your hand away. "Didn't give you permission to touch me, either."

"Didn't think you were going to be such a bad girl," Namjoon crooned in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Seems like we've got a bit of a brat on our hands."

"Really pathetic that you came so easily, y'know," Yoongi taunted, now using his thumb to draw circles into your clit. "Makes me wonder how fast you'll cum on my tongue next."

He reached under your thighs to flip you on your back, with your hips raised up and knees pressed up to your chest, his hands firmly hooked under your knees. You're not given much time to interject, as soon enough Yoongi's entire mouth is enveloping your pussy. He gave tender kisses to your clit and folds, peppering a few to your inner thigh too. His tongue licked against you, going harder as he felt your thighs tense under his grip. You wanted so badly to reach down to touch him, and at the feeling of his tongue eagerly lapping at your cunt, you couldn't help it.

You regretted it the very moment you felt your hand tangle through the strands of his hair. Immediately the pleasurable feeling of his mouth on you ceased, and he's harshly slapping his hand against your pussy. "Are you fucking stupid, what did I just tell you?" He delivered a slap to your face, and Namjoon immediately reaches down to force you to turn back to Yoongi, unable to escape his angry stare. "Hold her wrists, Namjoon."

Namjoon obliged, gathering your wrists into his hand above your head, pinning them firmly against him. Yoongi immediately proceeded to return to eating you out, humming against your pussy and devouring you entirely. Your fingers curled, and you tugged against Namjoon's restraint on you. He didn't budge, though, only smirking as he saw you weakly attempt to pull your two hands out of his singular one.

Your legs clamped around Yoongi's head as you felt your second orgasm with them come embarrassingly fast. Namjoon was quick to pin one of your legs to the mattress to prevent your escape from Yoongi's tongue. "You're just determined to be a bad girl, huh?" Namjoon scoffed, shaking your head. "And we're over here being so nice to you."

Yoongi raised his head, the shine of your wetness smeared across the lower half of his face. "Seems like the toy still needs to be broken in. You got any ties in the closet, Joon?"

"Yeah, plenty. I have one that would make a good blindfold, too."

"Perfect."

Before you knew it, you were being manhandled to be tied spread eagle, one tie holding each of your limbs to one of Namjoon's four bedposts. You were robbed of your sight despite your promises of obedience, but Namjoon and Yoongi seemed to have had enough of your misbehavior. Suddenly you were impossibly more sensitive, two sets of hands roaming across your vulnerable and exposed body. You didn't know who was pinching your nipple or biting your inner thigh, and all you could do was moan and squirm. Nothing you said was going to deter them now, and based on your decision not to safe word with what Namjoon whispered to you earlier as you were being tied, they could infer you were enjoying it just as much as they were. 

Someone's fingers were petting against your wet folds, smearing the wetness around your lower lips as though to get you messy as possible. Another hand had pressed down on your tongue for you to suck on, cutting off your moans for you to focus on the sounds and sensations.

Your eyes picked up on the distinct sound of footsteps nearing, and unable to warn the guys, you heard the man enter the room.

A low whistle filled the room.

"Want a closer look?" You heard Yoongi offer.

The footsteps neared closer to the bed. You shook, embarrassed that you were completely exposed to who knows who. There were only five options, and each possibility was just as anxiety-inducing as the next.

"Go ahead, she loves it," Namjoon said.

You gasped as you felt the feeling of your pussy being spread open on display by two thumbs, exposing you to the rest of the room.

"She really is wet," the newcomer said in a low chuckle. You try to tune in and listen to his voice, but with your foggy brain and almost hypnotized trance, it was hard for you to place the voice. "Has she been good?"

"Not at all." You felt a harsh smack against your mound, causing you to jolt and whine. Yoongi continued berating you. "Don't listen to her when she promises she'll be good- her mouth would be put to better use just sucking cock."

"Why am I not surprised," the newcomer sighed, as though disappointed. You couldn't help but have your cunt twitch under what felt like his patronizing stare. 

"Had to tie her down just to get her to behave," Namjoon included. His voice came across as a patronizing teacher, as though he were being forced to discipline you. "After two orgasms and she's still bratty."

"Someone's gotta fix that," the stranger agreed, finally letting go of your spread pussy lips, leaving you untouched for the first time since Yoongi pounced earlier.

"Yeah. Wanna help?"

"I can help for a minute, sure."

You never dreamed you would've been able to experience six hands roaming over your body, but it was now your reality. You were overwhelmed in the most amazing way, helpless to their whims as you tugged against your restraints. One hand is pressing into your neck, choking you. Another has two fingers buried deep into you, curling up into you in tandem with the other hand cruelly pinching at your clit. Your nipples were being bitten, tugged, and roughly abused by the men using your body. At this moment you truly were just a toy for their amusement.

Yoongi laughed as he saw your eyes cross slightly, your orgasm approaching. By now he could recognize the signs. "Do you even know whose fingers are inside of you right now, Y/N? God, you really are a slut."

Your cheeks flushed under his words, whimpering as you felt your climax sneak up on you along with the shame. You didn't even know who was inside of you right now, as it could be any of the three men, one of which you still had yet to see! That only narrowed it down to... any of the seven men in the house! You wanted so badly for him to speak again so you could pick up on any clues of who he was. 

"Tell you what, if you can guess correctly, maybe we'll let you cum on our cocks when we actually fuck you," Yoongi bargains.

Your mouth dropped open, trying so hard to place whose nimble digits were currently driving you crazy. It doesn't feel like how Taehyung or Jungkook had done it earlier. It could be Namjoon. Then again, maybe Yoongi was changing his technique to throw you off. Every man here seemed especially keen on having you make a fool of yourself. It felt as though the answer was on the tip of your tongue, but with the oncoming orgasm and the multitude of sensations you were feeling from the pairs of hands on you, you were unable to answer.

"I-I-" you stammered.

"Any guesses?" Yoongi further prodded. "No?"

If they could see your eyes under your blindfold, they'd see your eyes watering. "I don't know," you sniffled, admitting defeat.

Yoongi clicked his tongue in disappointment. "Slut," he chastised. "You're about to cum on some stranger's fingers like some common toy."

The stranger let out a harsh laugh. "Pathetic," he hissed.

At that moment you felt your biggest orgasm yet wash over you, the answer to your question immediately consuming your senses as you figured out who it was. The hands pinned you down to the mattress as you rode out your orgasm, shaking in their hold. 

One hand was petting your hair softly in reward- no doubt Namjoon. He was pulling off your blindfold, letting you see the three men on the bed with you. You were met with a blurry sight, the light making you squint your eyes as you tried to open them. You were met with the dark and lustful gazes of Yoongi, Namjoon, and the one who had started this whole mess.

Jimin smirked, finally pulling his fingers out of your pussy, admiring the soaked and glistening digits. "Seems like you've been awfully busy, huh, Y/N? Having fun?"

You instinctively tugged onto your restraints, your struggle causing the man to laugh at you. He buried his fingers in your mouth, three digits pressing against your tongue to make you taste yourself. He forced you to nod, his eyes locked with yours.

"You're fucking loving this, huh? Like the attention?" You were allowed a gasp of air, panting as you stared into Jimin's eyes. He grins at your expression, the lust still apparent. "Always knew that was what you were really a slut for."

He pulled away to your surprise, adjusting his clothes as he walked towards the door. "You guys have your fun with her. Don't let her cum again though- I doubt she's actually listened."

With that he left the room, leaving you to your fate with the two other men before you.

Yoongi snickered, staring back at where Jimin left. "He really gets under your skin, huh? You look more flushed than ever." He sticks his thumb in your mouth, letting you suck. "Thought you two didn't get along. Why's this pussy so wet then, hm?"

"This is a-all his fault," you stammered when he pulled his thumb out.

"We should thank him then," Yoongi chuckled. "Might I suggest a tray of brownies?" 

"He did say to not let her cum," Namjoon reminded him. His fingers wander to your glistening pussy, lightly brushing over your folds, seeing you twitch in sensitivity. "She has been pretty bratty, too."

"Mm, can you take your punishment then like a big girl and not cum when we use you? Toys don't cum, y'know," Yoongi purrs in your ear. "Gonna make it up to us for being a bad girl?"

"Bu- Oh!" You wince and gasp in surprise as Namjoon delivers a swat to your pussy.

He tsked with derision. "You should be grateful we're even using you. We've made you cum so much already, and you're still a brat."

"He's right." Yoongi grabbed your jaw to face you to him, your noses just centimeters apart. "Are you finally gonna be good, cutie?"

He nodded your head in his grasp for you, his fingers digging into your cheeks to make your lips pucker. "I'll be good," you responded, the words coming out funny.

"Good toy." He gave you a peck on the cheek, giving Namjoon a nod.

Namjoon let his fingers wander over your sex once again, inserting a few digits to prepare you before he started rubbing the head at your entrance. He slid it up and down, rubbing your slick all over both of you, teasing you. You let out a hiss of impatience, earning a small smack to the cheek from Yoongi. Namjoon took the hint, slowly pushing himself into you until he was buried at the hilt. 

Controversial take: the first full slide in is always the most satisfying. Something about the sudden sensation of being full, really being joined, felt so perfect. It was like the first sip of a can of Coke. It's debatable which is better, though.

Namjoon started pumping into you, your body swaying with his rhythm. You tried not to think about how Namjoon's well endowed appendage was hitting that particular part of you easily. You also ignored the now familiar pressure in your gut.  You also chose to ignore Yoongi's now curious fingers, his twisting and tugging at your nipples only adding to your pleasure.

"You feel so good," Namjoon rasped, his breathing uneven as he kept shoving his cock into you at full speed. "Fuck, knew you would."

"Perfect toy," Yoongi added, praising you. "Being so good for us."

"Gonna let me cum in you, Y/N?" Namjoon requested, his sweat beginning to drop down on you in droplets. "Be a good toy, yeah?"

"Mhm," you nodded eagerly, grabbing onto Yoongi as you dug your nails in, trying not to meet your climax with Namjoon's pelvis continuously grinding against your clit. "Cum in me, need it!"

Namjoon's pelvis was suddenly glued to yours, his cockhead pressing right against that sweet spot of yours as it twitched inside of you, suddenly filling out. He moaned, hunching forward near you, connecting your lips in a deep kiss as he emptied himself inside of you. "Fuckkk," he moaned against your lips, fingers curling into your hair, a tight fist formed as he finished. "So good."

"Quit hogging her." Yoongi quickly shoved Namjoon off of you after a few moments, hand smearing the cum that was now dribbling out of you back on you. "Shit, you want it so bad, huh?" He noticed how you keen at his touches. "Think you can take a little more? You slutty enough for it?"

You nodded, hips bucking as you yanked at your restraints. "Yeah, I can take it. Wanna be a good toy for you two."

"Mmm, you're so cute," Yoongi smiled, pressing into you all at once with no fanfare. You gasp at that amazing feeling of being full once again, and grind your hips up, trying to feel him move inside of you.

"Please," you begged, a pout on your lips. "Use me."

A laugh of amusement escaped his lips. "No need to plead for it, sweetie. I'll give it to you."

He angled his hips a bit and starts thrusting into you, aiming precisely. On top of that, his hand reached up to your neck, giving you that intoxicating feeling of being chocked. The blood rush and endorphins flowing through you were bringing you dangerously close to climax, but you try to distract yourself. You bit down on your lip and closed your eyes, trying not to let them cross and have your mind melt into utter bliss.

“Such a good slut, should’ve asked for this cock earlier,” Yoongi panted, sweat forming at his temples. “Would’ve given it to you any time, actually.”

You just about fluster at the compliment, tugging at all of the restraints as though to escape his dirty compliment. You felt the same way about all of them, actually.

Yoongi saw how hard you tried. "Maybe we'll let her cum one more time..."

"Thought rules were rules?" Namjoon questioned. Yoongi may have initially came off as the most sadistic at first, but it was Namjoon you really had to watch out for. He was the more twisted of the two. "Let her learn a lesson."

"Yeah, but she's so cute, just look at her," Yoongi commented. You can't help but grin at that, and decidedly so, Namjoon's hand is coming up to your clit to rub at you and help you finish. Something about that just added to it, as though he couldn't help but agree that you were just too pretty to say no to. And hey, free orgasm, who are you to turn it down. 

Before you knew it, and with both of their permission, you were finishing. You were so caught up in it, especially after the somewhat brief edging curtesy of Namjoon and Jimin, you didn't even noticing Yoongi finishing as well. His moaned out as he drained every drop into you, pulling out with a satisfied expression on his face. He looked at yours, so dumbed out and breathless, as though you were finally satisfied.

The first thought that came to your head though as they untied you, (+ massaged your sore muscles, and showered you in kisses,) was that maybe you weren't just yet...

[cats-artbag]

SwapOut/Webcomic/Twitch PSA!

Hi everyone 👋🏻 Zk here >< or Cats, for older followers

So I've been getting back into doing SwapOut again, but I would like to appeal to everyone who reads and loves the comic. Much love to all of you who's still sticking around 🙏🏻💙 But something has also always been bothering me throughout this journey.

As many of us know, we artists do these comics for free (especially fan comics), starting them out of love and taking a LOT of time and energy out of our lives to continue making them.

And it's amazing how many of you come from translations or comic dubs on Youtube, which are also very well-done and take a lot of effort to make, much love to them too. There is a difference, however.

Monetization.

And I'm not asking for pity! I'm appealing for understanding.

Because some comic dubbers on Youtube are able to earn ad revenue from the videos they upload. From the beginning, we artists have given them the permission to dub our works. But we don't receive anything from it, nor do we usually charge them for using our art (against our better judgement).

We let them use our comic pages in their monetized videos for free. And occasionally these videos receive thousands and millions of views, which I imagine gives a decent amount of ad revenue, while the artists themselves don't usually earn anything from their own artwork, nor do we ever want to put it behind a paywall of any kind. (we like reading free comics too so don't worry x|)

... But doing full-colored comic pages for free eventually gets hard to sustain without any income from it, even more so when we need to give our time and energy to other jobs to earn money for a living instead. We legitimately keep going on our comics purely out of love. Truly, we would LOVE to do our own art for a living. There's things like Patreon but it's only feasible if we're also able to produce bonus content or show BTS, and only people willing to spend money for them can help us, and not readers who aren't able to.

And we understand that not everyone can afford to support us monetarily. And that's okay!

But if you love these comics and want to really help us to keep going, there ARE ways you can easily support us for free!

For example, affiliates on Twitch (like myself) are able to earn ad revenue very early on (they must have at least 50 followers, quite a requirement, but still easier to obtain than Youtube's 1000 subscribers).

(my Youtube, btw. not much rn but drop a subscribe?)

But simply put, if the vast majority of readers from the yt numbers visit and stay for ads on the artists' Twitch streams (remember to have adblocker disabled for the site, if any), they'll be making an actual, physical contribution to the artist themselves, at no cost whatsoever. We earn up to 55% from any ads that run on our stream, so the more viewers, the better!

(this is my twitch on average 8 viewers, with a 3 hour stream. again, the more the better!)

(ofc you can also buy subs to watch ad-free and supports me directly, but i'm typing all this to share the free ways people can support their fave creators ✨)

And even if that doesn't work out, I'd be happy enough to see most of you there 🙏🏻💙 I've been treating my streams as work, so I'm striving not to break the streak.

So drop a follow on my Twitch, and catch the streams when you can! They're great if you need company or background noise, and also great for co-working~

Currently streaming WEEKLY, Mondays, Wednesdays (SwapOut) and Saturdays, 10.30AM EST

(art by @cupcakepaints)

>> twitch.tv/zkcats <<

Anyway thanks for listening to my Ted talk, please share this around for others as well >< 🙏🏻 Artists, make this a reblog chain or something! Promo your stuff!

And apologies for the essay, I wasn't expecting to type this much sdghsgh this itself is not an ad for Twitch or whatev, I'm just a little frustrated with needing to juggle all this.

I was also considering hosting SwapOut somewhere that could get ad revenue, but I wasn't sure where until I realized I can probably earn that from my Tapas now (i think?? sdfhgh up to 70% ad revenue there but i haven't seen any yet) So maybe I'll post there a day earlier than here or something? We'll see. Go subscribe there! Check it out! Reread it! Help ME help YOU!

... Much appreciated ><

[dashielldeveron]

soulmate trope | aizawa, part one.

Aizawa's route of soulmate trope.

Part one bc tumblr formatting weird. Part two here.

Warnings: BTS mention. Reader is explicitly a kissless virgin to make Aizawa feel Worse. Part one: reader gets a mild hand injury. Threat of dub-con. Claustrophobia. Sexual content, with virgin-y themes. Part two: alcohol consumption (not by reader). Sexual content, with virgin-y themes. Fem reader.

Remember that U.A., for the purposes of this fic, is a university. Lore dropped carries over to previous and subsequent chapters.

~38k overall. ~20k for part one.

You didn’t have a soulmate, and that was just how you liked it.

Because instead of being hooked to one of your weird-ass classmates, you were free to continue to harbour your crush for your weird-ass homeroom teacher, and you nurtured your crush like a stray kitten brought out of the rain. A creature comfort, really, this affection for Aizawa Shouta—a creature no one knew you kept hidden in the back laundry room and sneaked scraps.

You’re not stupid. The man has to stay your homeroom teacher for the rest of the year, until graduation. Besides, you did have a sneaky little goal with your crush, though it will probably never come to fruition. It’s not an immediate plan in which you corner him after class to beg for sexual extra credit, no, but it’s a long, onerous, masochistic plot of delayed gratification: sometime down the road after graduation, you’ll casually run into him on a patrol, casually suggest you two share a drink to catch up, and then casually I-miss-you-terribly-sensei-you-deserve-to-sleep-more-oh-wow-your-hands-are-really-big-what-if-I-place-them-right-between-my-legs your way into his heart.

For now, the most you can do is be the best student you can. Yes, Yaoyorozu is most likely always going to beat you in chemistry and some maths, since her quirk relies on her knowledge of those subjects, but you’re positively gruntled and satisfied with your place at the top for humanities, along with trading top spots in other subjects with the same three or four people.

But mostly, you tried to be 1) resourceful and 2) not annoying, because Aizawa dealt with a lot of teacher bullshit, probably.

So, while you knew about stories in which students would seduce their teachers by favours (sexual or not), lingering innuendo, or flashing lacy underwear from their seats, you weren’t going to do that shit. 1) How dumb, 2) how embarrassing, and 3) you didn’t want your (hopefully future!) relationship founded on cliches for student/teacher relationships. How a relationship starts shouldn’t have to be a secret, either, or be something to be ashamed of.

(Because you could just picture your family’s faces at Christmas if you said something like, “Hey, this is my boyfriend, Aizawa; he used to be my teacher, and we started dating after I sucked him off under his desk while he was giving a lesson.”

Although, admittedly, there’s probably no good way to introduce a former teacher as your boyfriend.)

You figured, for now, it was enough to stand out in a quiet way, never outright begging for his attention, yet somehow landing in situations in which you got it. You liked to think that Aizawa appreciated that you read when you finished your classwork early instead of talking to your friends (guiltily activating your cringey not-like-other-girls complex that you tried to suppress), along with being attentive in class in general, and you landed an unexpected advantage in Midnight.

Since your first year’s sports festival, you’ve been her sidekick. Well, first you were her intern, and then you signed on the next school year. It was mostly academic work instead of hero work at this point in her career, but you found you liked it and her. You tagged along to record events and complete evals and rubrics, and running her errands allowed you into the staff room, where Aizawa was often curled up in his office chair or on the couch. And hopefully, Aizawa heard good things about you from Midnight.

Midnight’s current project when not teaching or on active missions was rehabbing female villains. She was easy to trust. They tended to let down their guards around her, eventually, and it fascinated you the way the system treated male and female villains differently—

“Hey,” whispered Mina, hunching forward in her desk to tap you on the shoulder, “You got back from Sakura Grove Rehab with Midnight really late last night. Did something happen with Tainted Love?”

You shot a look towards the front of the classroom, where Aizawa was gripping the podium intensely in an effort to stay standing, and once you garnered he wasn’t paying attention to you (big sigh), you turned slightly in your seat to whisper back. “False alarm,” you said, shaking your head, “She used her emergency buzzer because she heard that BTS released a music video, and she wanted to see it.”

Grinning, Mina nodded. “Normal BTS fan stuff. Is a member her soulmate, or something?”

“Don’t you think she’d be dead by now if she were? Ito said—sorry, Tainted Love said that they’re all simply very easy on the eyes and that she’s a connoisseur of human beauty. But her ass is in trouble right now, because the staff’s pissed they had to break out the emergency procedures for that.”

“I don’t know,” said Mina, fiddling with her earring, “I think that’s completely fair. It’s, uh—girlboss, gaslight, get-to-see-BTS.”

You snorted, covering your nose with the back of your hand. “That’s the wrong order, and you know it—”

“Since you have the energy to talk during a lesson—” Aizawa called towards you, his voice sharp, and your head snapped towards the front of the classroom. “—then I expect you’ll be capable of a higher calibre of effort and example for the class in your stealth presentation today.”

“Absolutely,” you said, recovering and folding your hands on your desk, “I’m ready when everyone else is.”

Aizawa gave a dismissive wave and allowed the class to leave the four minutes early to change and head towards ground beta. You’d already triple-checked that all of your support gear was ready, because it was your day in the rotation to serve as a combat example to the rest of your peers. Your focus for the past month had been on stealth, so you were presenting on your findings—presenting through whatever challenge was posed to you at the hands of one of the faculty.

 Giddy, you headed towards ground beta much more quickly than your friends, who were still getting dressed. Since you’d be presenting on stealth, you had a good idea of which teacher you’d be facing.

Aizawa was waiting at the entrance, himself clad in full gear. You shot him a cheerful wave, which he lazily returned, and you retreated to one of the benches nearby and opened the book you’d brought along.

(You don’t want to aggravate him, and what’s more, if you talk to him before your challenge, you’re going to be thinking about your conversation during it. Aizawa will be more impressed with your performance if you don’t fuck it up due to daydreaming about his cock.)

Making yourself comfortable, you lay down on the bench, holding the book above you to block out the sun.

Aizawa pushed his goggles back into his hair. “You have a book,” he said (asked?) flatly as he trailed towards you.

“You have a sleeping bag,” you said, jerking your head towards the yellow bundle wadded up by the door, “We must both be relaxed about this presentation.”

Crossing his arms, Aizawa carefully leant against the door and squinted down at you. “Do you not see me as a threat?”

You tore your gaze away from your book to look up at him, tilting your head backwards to smile into his scowl. “Should I?”

Kirishima and Tokoyami burst in and broke up the conversation before it turned into something that got you off for weeks.

Once the rest of the class clambered towards ground beta, Aizawa cleared his throat and addressed the class about the challenge; he spoke with his back to you (and a couple of others), since most of the class clumped in one spot.

“Sero’s melee close-combat presentation yesterday will be a tough act to follow, but today is our first presentation on stealth. Bakugou, Aoyama—your stealth presentations won’t be following the same format, but take inspiration from it.” Aizawa stowed his hands in the deep pockets of his jumpsuit and shifted his weight forward slightly, his broad shoulders lost under his capture weapon. “Hagakure and Tokoyami, I specifically want your critique of your peer’s performance today. Be ready to give her advice. I will be the faculty member she is up against, and—” Frowning, Aizawa cut himself off, did a quick head count, and spun in your direction, his hair whipping at the movement.

Seeing you reading over on the bench (which you were still doing in what was hopefully a sexy devil-may-care, fuck-the-police way), Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose before spreading his palm over both of his eyes, heaving a sigh, and dragging his hand down his face. He then held it out in from of him and curled his fingers to beckon you closer. “C’mon; I know you said you weren’t threatened, but now you’re pushing it.”

You were sunshine; you were ease, and you were pushing it, for some reason. But you were feeling it, so you cheerfully trotted up to Aizawa, in front of whom you halted expectantly and bounced on the balls of your feet, hands holding your book behind your back as you waited for further instruction.

He cleared his throat and snapped, holding out his hand farther to confiscate your book. You shunted it towards him, and when Aizawa took it, your fingers grazed his—your pinkie and ring fingers just barely brushing against his thumb.

And.

And it’s a rickety, staticky, lightning-type thing, this wave of thunder that rushes through you, branching from where you touched him—a two-second, core-shaking rumble that only you can feel.And there’s an electric jolt.

Vibrant pink blossomed from the points of contact, staining the skin like watery ink.

Two seconds. Two seconds compressing what must be years and years of salient moments yet to come, and they—they all had him, Aizawa, in flashes of memories (?) integrating him more and more into your life. And you knew, in that shock and subsequent ooze, how it felt to be pulled into his arms and held like you’re something precious—wrapping around you while he’s half-asleep and acting on instinct, hunching and curling over your back to shield you from a backdrop of  a battlefield—the feeling of you two lying together bare. You heard the crack of his voice in the morning as he nuzzled closer to you in bed, the rumbling vibration when he growled against your skin. Felt a ghost of his fingers digging into your hips as you arched beneath him (rocking, writhing), sucking a small spot on your neck, kissing down your shoulders, your back. A shiver as he trailed his hand down the inside of your thigh. A prolonged kiss to your collarbone. The passage of thunder left your body sore, like live-or-death level adrenaline had just faded. For a moment, your knees were in danger of buckling.

Aizawa must have seen—felt—the same phantom sensations, because once a noise from the class snapped him out of it, he grimaced, tucking your book and the pink-marked hand under his opposite arm.

Ducking your head to stare at your shoes, you took a step back, overheated and too aware that the class was watching.

“Recovery Girl’s office,” Aizawa said, his voice rasping, “Now.”

You bolted.

***

You slumped in the sky-blue plastic chair in the patient area of Recovery Girl’s office, unable to shake the sensation of his arms around you. You shuddered and hunkered over, a wave of misery washing over you as the last vestiges of his warmth (?) faded. Fucking figures that the only time in your life you’ve ever been in someone’s arms is in a goddamn vision and not reality.

On the other hand.

The pads of the two fingers that touched Aizawa were blemished with the same bright pink as that dust you’d inhaled the day Tainted Love’s team had invaded, and the colour wouldn’t rub off on your hero costume when you tried. An evil sort of smile spread across your face.

You jolted in your seat when the door slammed open, the knob banging into the wall, and Aizawa stormed in, shoving one of two clipboards into your lap.

“Quirk incident form,” he spat, a plastic chair scraping against the tile as he yanked it next to (but not too closely to) yours.

You slid the pen out from underneath the clip. “This says it’s a soulmate registry form.”

Aizawa glanced up at you, already a few strokes into writing his name in the first blank. “Tainted Love’s team had utilised her quirk enough before attacking U.A. that a specific form had to be made. Nevertheless,” he said, finishing the kanji for sho with so much pressure that the paper ripped slightly, “it’s a subset of the Quirk Incident Registrar.”

Huh. You supposed you should’ve known about the paperwork, since you’re working with her, but then, you’re dealing with personal rehabilitation, not the bureaucratical aftermath.

Following his lead, you quietly began to fill out your form. Basic stuff, really: name, home address, current address (dorms), quirk, soulmate’s name and quirk…

“How would you describe our inciting soulmate incident? Are you only putting first physical contact, or are you mentioning something about the, uh,” you said, leaning over to see his paper, but he flipped his clipboard up against his chest to hide it from view.

“I don’t know what you��re talking about,” said Aizawa, finally looking you in the eye. His tight grip on his pen didn’t dilute the saturation of the pink on his thumb. “And we’re not going to talk about it. You’re not going to tell anyone about this, and I’m not going to tell anyone.”

Oh, he’s repressed repressed. “Not even my mother?”

He shook his head. “Nothing important happened today, and nothing’s going to happen.”

“That’s a shame,” you said, moving onto the next section of the form, “I was already picking out China patterns.”

He flipped his clipboard out enough to continue writing. “Don’t even joke.”

“Hey, it says I need your phone number.”

“Leave that part blank. I’ll fill it out once before turning both of them in.”

That little sneak. “Wow. You really are intent on having nothing to do with me,” you said, sighing, which he echoed.

“Listen,” said Aizawa, running his hand back through his hair to sweep it out of his face, “if you genuinely require an explanation, you don’t deserve to be in school at U.A.”

You crossed your arms. “Try me, sensei.”

Aizawa winced, scrunching his eyes shut. “Don’t call me that. Listen. What I’m about to say does not apply only to me but to teachers in general. No one wants to fu—pursue a romantic relationship with a student because we are tired. Teaching is our job. No one wants to take work home when you don’t have to. You want to have a life outside teaching, and in addition to that, I have hero work.”

“There are lots of books and stuff about teacher-student relationships,” you said.

“Written by deranged maniacs who haven’t been teachers. Sometimes, it’s difficult to see your students as people, let alone the horrific romantic par—God.” Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose again, his fingers moving the press into his eyes, almost like he wanted to gouge them out. “The only reason a student may be brought up in conversation in a non-school setting would be if that student did something particularly moronic that day. At the end of the individual day, teachers are tired of their students and want to slip back into being an individual instead of an educator.”

You pursed your lips. “I have yet to hear that you personally are tired of specifically me.”

“Let me attempt another approach,” said Aizawa, hunching over to rest his elbows on his knees, steepling his fingers together, “As your teacher, I would have an unfair power over you in a relationship.”

“Hell, yeah, you would,” you said, grinning.

Aizawa turned his head away, pressing his mouth into his shoulder. “I’m not going to engage with you if you keep making comments like that.”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see you, aware you were getting yourself in deeper shit the more you opened your mouth. “I wouldn’t want you to propose in Recovery Girl’s office, anyway.”

It took him a moment, while you waited by scribbling a doodle of your cat onto the bottom margin of your form, but Aizawa genuinely let out a hiss as he snapped towards you, his teeth gritted as his eyes flashed scarlet, hair flying upwards in an instant.

“You can’t make those sorts of quips around anyone else—at all. Nothing is going to—” He seemed to notice that you’d shrunken in your seat, away from him, your hands held up while you let the clipboard fall to the ground, and he released his quirk, mildly startled that he’d activated it on impulse. He settled back into his own cold, plastic chair and sank his chin into his capture weapon.

“I’m sorry,” you said, quiet and subdued, “Joking about stuff is how I handle it.”

“No,” he said evenly, stooping to pick up your clipboard and pen, “I knew that already. That’s how you show you understand the material in class discussions. I should’ve taken that into account.”

He held out the clipboard, pinching it by the edge. You won’t touch each other, this way.

You took it and clicked your pen, scanning down the document to where you left off. “There’s this checkbox I wanted to ask you about.”

“What checkbox—oh,” Aizawa said, his voice faltering.

Near the bottom. A single, small line and box, for the weight it held: do you want this form to double as your marriage registration?

You crossed your legs to prop one ankle over your knee and tilted your clipboard away from his line of vision. You checked it before he even answered.

“Yeah,” you said, proceeding to shade in the entire box, “Do you—”

His scowl cut you off. “Leave that blank, too.”

“Of course,” you said, drawing a couple of hearts around the inked-in box before moving on.

You finished filling it out before he did, and when he set his pen aside, he pushed on his knees to stand with a soft grunt, taking your clipboard underneath his without caring to glance over it.

“All right. The rest of class has been joined the training session that All Might was monitoring for Class B, and given the circumstances—” His eyes fell to your stained fingers. “—you’ll have to make up your stealth presentation at a later date with a different faculty member. I’ll have someone else grade your work from now on, so you won’t have to worry about my grading you more harshly because of this.”

Aizawa waited for you to nod, and after, he took a step towards the door. He ducked his head for a moment before turning back to you, saying your name under his breath. “I’m serious when I say that you can neither tell anyone about our soulmate bond nor do anything about it.”

Swallowing, you slowly stood up from your seat. “I don’t know how well I can do that, Aizawa-sensei, but I can promise that I’ll do my best not to trouble you. I haven’t been troubling you for the past three years, have I?”

“Not exactly.” Aizawa narrowed his eyes, his shoulders tensing enough that his mouth disappeared underneath his capture weapon. “Why do you ask?”

Okay. You can do this. You’re fine. You’re normal about it. You held up your hands, as if gesturing that he should brace himself. “Because that’s, uh, how long I’ve—” Been in love with you—no! Stop that. “—had feelings for you.”

Grimacing, Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose. He’s done that more in the past hour than you’ve seen in the past semester. “Holy shit.”

“Please don’t—please don’t feel any fucking pressure whatsoever,” you said quickly, trying to backtrack, “I’ve been dealing with this by myself for so long that I’m good at it, so please don’t, uh. I mean, I—I live in my head; I live in my books and stories, so it’s fine and good and tolerable that I’ve never been in a relationship or kissed or anything; I’m used to it, so you don’t have to worry; I’ve been handling this by—”

Aizawa exhaled very carefully, his chest heaving in a controlled way as he dug his fist into his eye, rubbing it. “Are you telling me you’re a virgin?”

“Ah, ha. Ha,” you said, scratching the back of your neck, “Sorry if that’s too much information; that wasn’t the point—”

“You’re transferring to Class B,” said Aizawa, and he spun on his heel and sped out of Recovery Girl’s office.

Huffing, you seized the clipboards and ran after him. “Wait up,” you said, shoving the door to the stairs open after he nearly closed it on your face, “I was just trying to let you know I am open to a relationship if you want it, but I’m more than fine—” Liar, spat the voice in your head as you scrambled down the staircase after him, your footsteps reverberating against the grey-cinderblocked walls. “—if you don’t want anything to happen, but if you—”

Aizawa turned sharply to glare in your direction as you caught up to him, and when you skibbled to a stop on the same stair, he said under his breath, “Quiet.” His gaze followed how your hair fluttered with each of his harsh syllables, so he took another stair down to distance you. “Anyone on the stairs could hear you,” he said, resigned.

He crossed his arms, and you slanted the clipboards away from your chest for him to take them.

“You really didn’t know I’ve liked you?” you asked as he took them, “All this time?”

“It’s never crossed my mind,” he said, and he continued down the stairs at fast pace but one you could keep up with, “Like I said, students are a different category of person once you’re a teacher.”

Biting your lip, you followed closely enough to keep your voice down. “You never knew. That’s comforting,” you said, and after a few more stairs, you grinned. “Could that count as my stealth presentation?”

***

You would think that more was supposed to happen, now that you’re soulmates. More conversation, at least. Perhaps a conversation.

Instead, a lingering, bruising feeling branded your chest, as if you’d been kicked the night before, and often a stifling, smothering pressure weighed down on your shoulders until you could be in the same room as Aizawa again. Sometimes, it felt like steel marbles were playing pinball in your chest, the aches where they hit gnawing and settling into your bones.

(Your cat, your chocolate-point baby Dango, has been upset with the hours you’ve been sleeping away the pain instead of playing with her. Luckily, Kouda has been borrowing her some afternoons. You don’t know what he does with her, but you do appreciate very much being able to tell Dango, via Kouda, that you love her very much.

Kouda also has the advantage of being subtle when you lend him your cat, because cats aren’t allowed in the dorms. You’ve been secretly caring for Dango for over a year now, so it’s as if you, Kouda, and Shinsou, who brought Dango catnip treats, were partners in crime.)

In class, Aizawa interacted with you as little as possible, usually asking Present Mic to grade your assignments in his stead. He didn’t act any different towards you from the perspective of the rest of the class, you supposed, except you made fewer jokes and he fewer retorts. Instead, you kept your head down, reading or working on your Sakura Grove data for Midnight, and you were skimming by.

But sometimes you’d be doing Midnight’s paperwork after finishing an assignment early, hunched over your desk, when your skin prickles and the emptiness in your chest wavers for a moment, and you’d look towards Aizawa—either slumping over his desk with his chin on his palm or almost concealed inside his sleeping bag behind the podium—eyes half-lidded and boring into you.

When you look away, it’s as if he’s the one kicking you in the chest.

***

The Saturday after a particularly painful school day for you (aside from your fucking up in a combat exercise, Aizawa had been going down the line of those who’d participated to give individual feedback, and he skipped over you without hesitation), you’d planned to spend all day huddled underneath layers and layers of covers and throw blankets in bed as yet another snowstorm swept across Mustafu, but you jerked awake, completely fucking frigid, before the sun had truly risen. You blindly fumbled over the edge of the bed for any or all of your six billion blankets and felt none of them, and, making a miserable whimper as you cracked open an eye, you peered over the side of the bed.

No blankets on floor.

No…no little bedside rug.

Jesus, did you somehow kick your bed away from the wall during the night? Wait, where’s all the shit you have all over your walls this isn’t your room.

Something was pressed against your back.

Your life was over. You’re totally getting expelled from U.A. for sneaking into your teacher’s room. It’s got to be his—holding your breath, you slowly peeked over your shoulder before snapping back towards the bare wall. A flash of that yellow sleeping bag, even in bed—it’s Aizawa’s room, all right, and his back was pressed against yours, with only your sleepshirt and his sleeping bag keeping your skin from touching (unless he’s wearing a shirt, which, in that case, get sluttier, Aizawa).

In the case that somehow appearing in his bed overnight made him detest you, you elected to slither out of his living space without his ever knowing. You wouldn’t have any answers for him, even if he caught you, really, at least not this early in the morning.

In the vexingly slow process of getting out of bed without waking him up, you had the time to look around, not that there was that much to see; it was all greyish and sparse and didn’t really feel like a home at all or that he spent much time here, with the most significant pieces in his bedroom being the shoddily painted radiator (in heaven, everything is fine) and a desk with both a PC and a propped-up tablet on it, with some papers spread in front of them. But the layout of his flat appeared to mirror another part of the dormitory, so you bet the door to leave his area entirely was through the next room, and you’d be home-free.

What caught your attention, though, was a well-loved cat tower, with one of the dangling mice for the cat to bat at torn off the string and resting on the middle level. Aizawa must have a cat. Funny, since that’s illegal in the dorms. As you finally slinked off the bed entirely, you resolved to locate the cat to kiss its little forehead before slipping out of his room entirely. Cat detours are allowed.

Walking out of his bedroom, you first were hit by the pungent scent of brewing coffee and then by a cold wave of defeat. Across the kitchen counter, Aizawa’s back was towards you while he fossicked through different brands of sugar packets.

You could’ve punted that empty sleeping bag out the window.

You took one step towards the exit before he spoke, his voice gravelly from sleep: “Do you want to offer me an explanation before I write you up?”

Fucking stealth heroes. “I don’t have one,” you said, shoulders falling slack while trudging into his kitchenette—with an ulterior motive of seeing more of his place before being removed permanently. “I’m—I don’t know how I got here. You didn’t—?”

“Of course not,” said Aizawa, ripping open two differently branded packets and upturning them into his coffee. He turned to face you as he took the first sip, and you wished you could say that his eyes drank you in hungrily, or whatever, but you supposed that you have to get sluttier, too: you were just as completely and unalluringly covered as he was in his Purple Revolution sweatshirt and pants. “You don’t have any ideas from working at Sakura Grove?”

“Uh, no,” you said, “I’m not encouraged to talk to I—Tainted Love. It’s more like bringing her food and filling out paperwork for her craft requests. I am very much the middleman. I can—”

“Don’t.” Aizawa held out his free hand. “I’ll ask Nemuri.”

Nemuri. You’ve known, you supposed, that he was on a given-name basis with Midnight. You resolved to get him to call you by your first name, too. And then the thought came that you might be ruining something romantic between them? Based on every interaction you’ve had with either of them, you had no indication of romance, but Aizawa had said that teachers aim to have very private lives. Yikes. You elected to slough it off for now, because introducing feeling jealous of your mentor whom you admired very much would only complicate the situation more. You could linger on jealousy once you figured out what the hell was happening.

“Right,” you said, pulling at a hangnail, “What if this happens again?”

“We’ll put a stop to it. Simple as that.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “We’ll be able to prevent this once we have more information. Until then, just handle it maturely and without fuss.”

“And here I was hoping we could cuddle,” you said, heaving a huge, fake sigh as Aizawa narrowed his eyes, and you pushed yourself up to sit on the counter, swinging your legs. “This is the part where you offer me coffee.”

“Get out of my apartment.”

“C’mon, Aizawa. Or I’ll spread that you have an illegal cat in the dorms.”

Aizawa hesitated just as he brought the lip of his mug to his mouth. “I don’t have a cat,” he said before taking another drink.

“Come off of it; I saw the cat tower.”

“I don’t have—”

You nearly jumped out of your skin when something prodded your thigh; a lanky, tuxedo-patterned cat had sneaked up to headbutt you before you could notice, and it climbed onto your lap to loaf. It’d be nice if your own cat were this friendly.

“You need to be more aware of your surroundings,” grumbled Aizawa as he poured your coffee.

You flipped over the cat’s tag, the light catching on the rose-gold heart. “You named your cat Konpeito?”

“Eri named it.” Aizawa set the mug next to you instead of giving it to you directly—stubborn bastard, not wanting to touch you again. “Don’t make a scene when you return the mug.”

“You’re kicking me out before I even start drinking?” You tentatively gripped the handle and maneuvered the cat off your lap.

“You keep asking these questions that have obvious answers.” He gave a dismissive wave. “Don’t make too much noise on the way out; Eri’s in the next dorm over, and I don’t want you to wake her.”

***

You woke up in Aizawa’s bed again less than a week later. You’d had a dream that you’d been freezing, and the reason had been, once again, you were, since apparently Aizawa depended on his sleeping bag instead of blankets. You allowed yourself a moment of savouring the sensation of his back against yours (for real, this time, since the sleeping bag was snoring) before slipping out.

The third time, you left him a note to tell him to get a damn blanket, or else you’ll bring one of your own to keep there.

You idly took notes in Present Mic’s class, words coming slowly on paper while he prattled on. How come it was always you who was showing up in his bed? How come you always went to Aizawa, and he never came to you?

Your eyes flicked up to what Present Mic was writing on the board in skewed, thin handwriting. Had Aizawa told him the specifics? Present Mic had to know something, since he was grading your work, but Mic was also Aizawa’s friend—a luxury you didn’t have in this soulmate situation. Midnight would also be a strategic person to tell, from Aizawa’s perspective, but she hadn’t given any hint she was aware.

You drew a heart in the margins, and then you gave it legs. You made it walk off the page and onto the desk, colouring it in by crosshatching. If only you could get up and leave. Class without Aizawa dragged nowadays; where did he spend his time during school on break? Probably huddled in his sleeping bag in a slant of sunlight like a damn cat, maybe out on the grounds where he couldn’t be found. Or maybe he fucked off to a gym closet where the mats were; they’d be cosier than sleeping directly on the floor. And you could cosy up next to him, pressed up against each other in that snug—

You slammed into a wall of solid muscle, papers flying and tea spilling over the tile to seep into the rug in the teachers’ lounge, and you sprawled on your knees in the midst of it in your haste to get the fuck off of Aizawa before he could say anything, hissing as you tentatively raised your hand from the wet, broken cup. Despite the slivers of pottery in your palm, you one-handedly fumbled for the papers that had been dropped—third year evals, now crimped and tinted a yellow-green.

Aizawa took the papers, tapped the bottom to align them, and gave them a firm shake to flick off excess tea, and when you started to sweep the broken cup into your hands, he stopped you.

“Go to the faculty bathroom,” he said, pointing to the connecting lavatory, “I’ll be there in a minute with a first-aid kit.”

You had a moment to yourself in the clean, warmly-lit bathroom, so you pushed yourself up on the green marble by the farthest sink and crossed your legs, ensuring your shoes didn’t dirty anything. The pain’s setting in, but you won’t cry, not in front of him, and you’re crying, but just a bit, right? Fuck.

At the sound of the door, you hastily wiped your nose with your sleeve and did your best to look stoic, like pottery in your hand happened every day. But your eyes were too watery to even see the tweezers as he dug them out of the kit.

Standing in front of the sink, Aizawa clicked the tweezers twice (carcinisation, baby!) and held out his other hand.

You looked at it. “What do you want me to do with that?”

He said your name through a sort of scoff, which would’ve been way hotter if it had been your given name and also in bed. “Just give me your hand.”

Tears ran down your face in an overflow. “You wanna touch me?” you asked, sniffing.

“Fucking hell,” Aizawa said under his breath, “At least I know you’re all right if you’re still joking.” He shifted his jaw, scanning your palm. “If you’d rather have it at an uncomfortable angle over the sink—”

“No! No, I wanna—I wanna touch you,” you said, and you lifted your shaky, injured hand for Aizawa to hold steady. The instant his fingers cradled the back of your hand, everything fell into place: touching him was like breathing in cool, crisp air on a clear night or the smoky kindling of a fire that never goes out, like feeling sunshine on bare shoulders on a spring day with freshly cut grass, like walking into your childhood home’s kitchen when someone’s baked chocolate-chip cookies, like breathing in, like breathing, and—

You lifted your hand just a hair from his hand.

You have a stopped-up nose.

You glanced at Aizawa, whose lips were parted, his chest visibly heaving underneath his baggy jumpsuit. “Did you…?”

He ran his tongue over his lower lip. “I need to get the pottery out of your hand as soon as possible.”

Bracing yourself, you rested your hand in his again, and that irresistible warmth swept over you again. He’s got to be feeling it, too, so why isn’t he reacting? You’re embarrassing yourself, so why can’t he?

“Were you trying to teleport to me earlier?” he asked (distracting you from the sensation of each shard being plucked from your skin), head bent over the sink and your hand.

“No, I never—I don’t intend anything. But now that we’ve seen it, we at least know it’s not a gradual thing. Instantaneous and painless. Well,” you said, nodding towards your hand.

“Nor, I see, is it limited to my bed,” he said, shifting over when you uncrossed your legs, “What were you doing before the jump?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. I was in class.” You dangled your legs off the side to get closer to him (for medical purposes of course), and wow, Aizawa smelled incredible—probably; your stuffy nose wasn’t doing you any favours—what the hell kind of soap did he use?

 “Were you thinking of anything in particular? The bond?”

That’s got to be pine, and there’s something earthy mixed in. You really needed to blow your nose (Can you even name earthy scents? [Dirt?] You’re not up-to-date with masculine scents; you’ll have to find his deodorant next time you wake up in his room). “I was—” You cut yourself off with a hiss as he pulled the largest shard out. “I’m fine. It’s not that bad, really. Keep going. I don’t really remember the specifics of what I was thinking about, but I—” You cut yourself off again, this time with heavy realisation. “Goddammit. I was feeling the acute loneliness hollow out my chest again, and I was wanting to—be near you. Which explains why I’ve been teleporting to you instead of you coming to me.”

“It explains nothing,” said Aizawa, and he set the tweezers next to the shards on the edge of the sink and flipped on the faucet, guiding your hand under the water and reaching for the gauze.

“Yes, it does,” you said, openly wiping your nose on the back of your sleeve, because fuck it, this man didn’t care about you, so be gross around him. “If the teleporting is triggered by intense longing to be close to the other person, then it makes total sense that I’d be the only one teleporting, since I’m the only one who has feelings.”

“It explains nothing,” he said again, drying off your hand, “It’s only a possible contributing factor to the teleportation. Maybe it has to do with location, or timing, or action. It’s highly improbable that this physical action was caused by thought alone.” Aizawa ripped off a long strip of gauze and began to wrap it around your palm. “Don’t feel like this is a weakness on your part. I’ll probably teleport to you before the month is out.”

You let your fingers relax, your pinkie falling enough to graze his own hands as he bandaged yours. The more skin-to-skin contact you had, the more serene you felt—or maybe it was the injury adrenaline wearing off. Either way, you might fall asleep on the bathroom counter. “My bed isn’t big enough for two people.”

“That’s okay,” said Aizawa, and he slowed at the final wrap-around, holding it in place until he found the metal clips in the first aid box. “I’ve gotten very used to sleeping in odd places.”

When he stepped away to pack up the kit, you fucking whimpered on impulse at the loss of physical contact, and he froze, stuck in the motion of clicking the box shut.

“Sorry,” you said, sniffing.

His jaw tensing, Aizawa shook his head. “You should go to bed early tonight. Don’t overexert yourself.”

***

Yeah, except it’s Friday, and Jirou has been arranging this girls’ night for two weeks now.

Apparently, the karaoke bar you’re going to overheats really easily, since it’s in a refurbished building that used to be something-or-other; you’re not really listening to the explanation but were more concerned with having to wear summer clothes while it’s snowing out. The past two weeks have been strategic outfit layering plans from the lot of you, most of which have devolved into being silly and impractical (ranging from “I’ll just take off my skin and hang around in my bones when we get there” to “I will walk out of this dorm in a sleeping bag over my underwear” [the latter reminding you of Aizawa, in a pleasing, warm thought that you had to keep to yourself]).

Either way. Twisting over your shoulder, you strained to tuck in your bra so that it wouldn’t show from a mostly backless spaghetti-strap that you ended up borrowing from Uraraka, and once it was kind of hidden, you stuck your tongue into your cheek. It didn’t really sit right with you to be going out in this shit in this icy weather. You’d be a lot warmer and probably a lot more content if you peeled off these Best Jeanist jean shorts (from the Moulded to Your Ass line, unofficially titled) and crawled into your pyjamas and bed.

In the corner of your eye, your bed beckoned, with all of its blankets and stuffed animals (for when you just need to hold a little guy). What if you ditched the outing and—no. Stop that. You’ll be warm soon enough.

But with an abrupt lurch towards your bed, you found yourself spluttering into the scalding spray of a showerhead, water dribbling into your mouth between gasps and sloshing down your body. Blindly, you took a step backwards out of the cascade, but a flattened palm on the bare skin of your back stopped you before you could move farther.

“Don’t.”

The water still gushed and flowed over you, eyes scrunched tight and heart pounding. The hand on your back maximised the space between the two of you, but with the pathetic size of the shower stall, his body heat still seeped into your skin, complemented by rising steam. There’s a quiet grunt when he knocked against the frosted glass door; his shoulders must be wide enough for that to happen frequently (you swallow against a dry throat, because the man could hold all of you). If he wanted to, Aizawa, the way he has you now, could press his lips to the crown of your head, keeping his mouth there as his eyes flutter shut.

Instead, Aizawa was reaching up to tilt the showerhead away, giving you a good face-full of his bicep, and your eyes followed its movement (his jumpsuit did an excellent job of concealing a fucking powerfully built form), straining as he twisted the showerhead and relaxing as it fell back into place at his side—

“Eyes up,” said Aizawa, using his first two fingers to guide your chin back to face your front, where they lingered for a moment to tap against your jaw to ensure you’d stay there.

(With the shock of getting wet and the heat of his hand flat against your back [still there, still flooding you with an intoxicating headiness], you’d been entirely too overwhelmed to even consider catching a glimpse of his dick.)

“Aizawa-sensei—”

“Cut that out,” he said, huffing, “You’re doing this on purpose.”

For once, you’re out of the loop. But since you’re in his shower, you could take a moment to locate his soap to put a name to what he smells like and perhaps get a look at his cock along the way. Only his washcloth hung over the faucet in front of you, so you moved to turn slightly as you spoke, ducking your head to scan for shampoo bottles: “Earlier today you were saying it wasn’t my—”

Hissing, Aizawa slid two fingers through one of your belt loops and yanked, jerking you backwards into his hips for an instant before establishing that space between you again—pulling you by the belt loop blocked your view of his cock, and his hand on your back kept you from touching him in any meaningful way. But he was still as close as he could be without touching you otherwise, his breath as searing as the steam as he grumbled into your ear: “Bad girl.”

The water splashing at your feet wasn’t so hot anymore.

Aizawa tugged at your belt loop again (for a moment, when a swish of cool air washed down your ass, you worried that he’d look) and kept you in front of himself as he turned sideways to face the shower door, which he (fuck!) lifted his hand from your back to prod open.

Light flushed into the stall, and he scoffed. “I knew it,” Aizawa said, bitterness creeping into his voice, and he unlooped his finger from your belt loop to tap the fabric firmly, nudging you forward.

“Knew what?” you asked, spinning on your heel the moment you were out of the shower, water flying, and Aizawa ducked behind the frosted glass with a defeated expression. “Right,” you said, grabbing the thick towel on the toilet and tossing it to him.

“Check your fingertips.”

Tearing your gaze from his frosted-glass impression of wrapping the towel around his waist, you held up your hands. “They look fine. My bandages are soaked, though, so I’ll have to redo—oh, okay, fuck. My soulmark is gone.” You’re not going to cry in front of him, and definitely not twice in one day, because that’d be—

“Sensei,” you said, choking up and curling your shaky fingers into an even shakier fist, “Sensei, my soulmark is—I don’t want my soulmark to be gone, fucking, I—” On accident, you slammed your elbow into the glass door when you were trying to—please get closer (so goddammit, if your eyes water, it’s from hitting your funny bone). “I don’t want my soulmark to disappear; I adore you and want—”

“It hasn’t disappeared,” Aizawa said softly as he stepped out of the shower, gripping his towel in addition to the firm knot, and he pointed behind you towards the mirror.

While Aizawa eased down onto the closed toilet to towel-dry his hair, you took the four, wet steps to the sink and wiped off the clouded steam. No difference in your reflection.

When you shot a baffled look towards Aizawa, he gently raised his eyebrows and his finger to twirl it once. So, you turned around to look over your shoulder at your back, where his pink handprint put all body glitter to shame in how well it reflected the overhead light and in how quickly it was spreading (ink leaking outside of the handprint in watery bursts before slowing, never detracting from the shape of his hand, though the ink seemed to rise more than fall, especially near his middle and ring fingers between your shoulder blades).

He was holding up his newly pink palm, wiggling his fingers in your direction.

You returned to him (really to stand on the bathmat, since you’re drenching his floor) and raised your hand to touch him, first glancing at him for his approval. Aizawa looked at your hand and back at you, and after he wetted his lips, he nodded and got back to towel-drying his hair.

You hesitated. Is this really so nonchalant, so trivial to him? It’s everything to you.

You dropped your hand to your side, mouth twitching. “What shampoo do you fucking use.”

“Hm?” He didn’t even look at you.

“You smell fucking good all the time. What’s. What scent is your soap,” you were saying, in the same, flat tone you’d use to argue with your landlord about finally fixing your leaky roof after two years.

Aizawa squeezed water out of the last of his hair and spoke in that infuriatingly gravelly, just-woke-up voice of his. “It’s sandalwood.”

Sandalwood. That’s earthy, you guessed. “Then where’s the pine come from?”

“That would be the aftershave,” he said, folding the hair towel in half twice and setting it aside, “You were going to touch me, but now you’re upset. Care to explain?”

You plucked at your wet shirt before crossing your arms over it. “Does this matter to you? The soulmate thing.”

“You matter to me,” he said, standing with a quiet grunt, “Let’s get you reasonably dry before going back to your dorm.”

“Oh, shut up with that teacher bullshit,” you said, following him to a cabinet, “You care about me through the lens of a student, because everyone in this fucking dorm is your—fuck, I’m. You’re insufferable.”

“I can’t lend you clothes, but I should have enough large towels to keep you warm.” Aizawa reached for the top shelf, with beach towels. “However, I recommend against going out tonight with the rest of your friends.” He handed you a new-looking, blue-pineappled towel.

You angrily wrapped it around you, pissed that you instantly felt better. “Oh, is it because you’ve gotten me wet—” Aizawa draped another towel around your shoulders, tucking it in a little to secure it. “—and going out into this fucking ass iceberg weather would get me sick—” Another towel, this one with Present Mic’s radio show logo on it. “—and then I’d have to miss one of your precious days of class—”

“Is that what you want me to say?” He arranged two more towels around you at once, tying the outermost one in a knot. “Or are you waiting to hear that I want you to hide away while you bear my mark?” He tugged your drapery down a smidge so that you could use your arms a bit—at the least, use your key to your room. “When in reality,” he said, taking a step backward and appraising his handiwork, “I want you to be comfortable and content. And I don’t think you’d be either if you went out after this, even if you got ready again.”

Goddammit.

“And you’ve had a long day with strange revelations. You have a new injury. Going to bed for the night will facilitate healing. Your body will have more time to process the day.”

Groaning, you said, “Fuck you for being right.”

“Thanks.”

Since you hadn’t touched him earlier, you took the opportunity to clonk your forehead against his chest (dense muscle was evidently comfy). The soulmark warmth blossomed throughout your body from the spot, and you took your time to appreciate it, taking a couple of unhurried breaths against his skin, dry save for some stray running droplets.

Aizawa sighed, the planes of his chest rising and falling under your close and thirsty scrutiny. “This counts, y’know. As staying up late.” If you hadn’t seen him put his hand on your arm, you wouldn’t’ve known, due to the thickness of the towels. “I told you to go to bed.”

You blearily looked up at him. “Take me there, then.”

After a moment, Aizawa said, “I have to feed my cat,” and he opened the bathroom door to escape. Before he left, he spun back around, and you would’ve sworn he was fighting a smile, if you hadn’t known how he felt about you.

“But first,” he said, “let me fix that forehead situation of yours.”

***

Picking up the folders from the office mailbox, you flipped out the flag for read/empty and trailed back to the office space that you and Midnight shared at Sakura Grove, idly waving to some co-workers as you flipped through the files. Pushing the door open with your foot, you dropped the folders onto Midnight’s desk and hurried over to lift the shaking electric kettle from the heat, since Midnight was too absorbed into her patient evaluation at which she was typing away.

You poured the boiling water the round teabag, watched it rise to the top of Midnight’s teacup, and bit back a cry—you clutched the chilled windowsill to stay standing, struck by an overwhelming dizziness that blacked out the edges of your vision and crept to darken it entirely; a bowling ball has just hit your chest and dropped to your toes, the ache reverberating through your veins as you caved and doubled over, nausea settling into your gut.

Through the dots clouding your vision, you barely make out Midnight stretching her arms over her head.

These attacks have been happening more and more. If Aizawa can have a friend in the know, so can you.

“Kayama-sensei,” you managed to croak, but she didn’t hear you.

You tried again, and she turned, her expression drooping when she saw you. “Is the tea that bad?”

Eventually, Midnight helped you into your seat across from hers with your own cup of tea, the pain draining away in the process of vague explanation.

“So, you genuinely think you’re starting to die because your soulmate won’t acknowledge you romantically. Easy solution in sight,” she said, picking her teacup up by her fingertips to breathe in the steam, “Just pick out some nice lingerie—you can use my sponsor discount for Wacoal—and arch your back when you lie in his bed for him to find. I can give you some tips on how to suck—”

“Kayama-sensei,” you said, your vision finally back to normal, “You do not understand how much I can’t do that.”

Her tongue flicked into her cup, testing the heat. “I’ll bite. Why not?”

“My soulmate is, um.” You frowned into your tea. “I’ve liked my soulmate for a long, long time. Before the soulmate stuff existed.”

Midnight ran her tongue over her lips, the corners quirking upwards. “So? All the more reason to make your feelings known and emphasised, now that you have an excuse for a legitimate relationship. Since he already knows about how you feel, you should keep trying to seduce him. All men crack eventually.”

“He won’t accept a lousy attempt at seduction, because—aside from I have no clue how to do that, I don’t—he’s, uh…” You trailed off, took a swig of tea instead of finishing, and ended up choking a bit at the heat.

“Yes? What’s the juicy detail you’re reluctant to share? Is he married? Is he a public figure? Is he too much older or younger than you?”

Narrowing your eyes, you asked, “Do you already know? Are you just making me say it?”

Tight-lipped, Midnight made a loose, dismissive gesture and moved to get back to her patient file.

“Fine. Fine! If anyone can help me with this, it’s you, because it’s—goddamn,” you said, deflating and sinking down into your seat, “It’s fucking Aizawa-sensei, okay? My soulmate is my stupid homeroom teacher.”

“Congratulations,” said Midnight, saving the document and shutting down the computer, “You have earned the right to call me by my given name for being so honest.” She spun in her chair to give you her full attention. “So. Shouta.”

“Did you know already? Were you just—”

“I had my suspicions but no concrete evidence,” she said, holding up her hand, “Just some observations from watching you for the past three years.” Tilting her head, she adjusted her glasses before lifting her cup to her mouth again. “Now, the reason why you can’t just seduce him is crystal clear now. I submit that you could start going to bed in skimpier clothes in the event you teleport to his apartment again, but that’s only the tip of the iceberg. Shouta’s got a steel will. He’s not going to violate that student-teacher professional relationship.”

“I know,” you said, slumping so far down in your seat that your ass was falling off of it, your chin touching your chest, “but if I’m in pain from not being with him, he probably is, too. And if he won’t acknowledge me romantically, I wanna know if there’s something I can do to alleviate the pain that we’re both feeling. He shouldn’t be distracted from his work because of it.”

“That’s exactly what I want to hear.” Midnight jabbed a finger in your direction. “Starting today, you’re promoted. You’re going to be Tainted Love’s primary monitor.”

“What?” You shot up in your seat. “But I haven’t—I haven’t even had a proper conversation with her before—”

“But she’s used to having you around,” Midnight said evenly, opening her top desk drawer, “To her, you’re in a position of authority but not a threat. You’ve seen how she likes to talk, anyway, and you’re in a perfect position to find out more schematics of how her quirk works on the individual level.” Midnight smiled and handed you Ito’s folder. “Plus, she can’t do anything more to you, right? You’ve already got a hell of a soulmate.”

“Okay,” you said, hesitantly taking her file to clutch it to your chest, “So, you just want me to talk to her? Try to solve my problems?”

“Yeah. And anything you find out about her quirk that she hasn’t shared so far—because she hasn’t exactly shared much past the first interrogation—is welcome intelligence. Record anything new. Keep Ito happy. You’ll be golden. I know you’re more than capable.”

“Funny,” you said, flipping through the file and joining Midnight as she stood, “This feels planned. Got anything else motivating you?”

“Besides a perverse desire to see my friend and my sidekick get together?” Midnight grabbed her whip from the hook on the side of her desk. “I was going to assign you this, anyway. Ito isn’t a threat anymore, and I need to focus on preparing for Serendipity’s arrival next week from St. Philomena’s. Even the airline we finally convinced to transport her has backed out, so I’m scrambling to bribe another.”

That had slipped your mind—Serendipity was being transferred to Sakura Grove for rehabilitation, mostly because no one else wanted to house the most potently dangerous female villain in the Americas. “Understandable,” you said, holding open the door for Midnight to follow closely behind, “When do I start?”

***

Fifteen minutes later, you were setting a tray with tea and powdered thumbprint-cookies in front of Ito at her desk in her room. She raised a sharp, white eyebrow at how the dishes clattered at your shaky handling, but she nodded in thanks and turned back to her book. You guessed you were lingering awkwardly by the door a bit too obviously, so she rolled her eyes and set her book upside-down on the desk.

“You’re my new handler, right?” she asked, scratching under her eye.

“That’s me,” you said, hands folded tightly in front of you, “Midnight says you cleared stage five, so you’re safe to be delegated off to me. I have your stage six schedule printed out—”

“But why are you still here? Everyone usually leaves as soon as possible.”

“I’m the only staff member immune to your quirk,” you said, sliding her schedule out of her file.

“Immune.” Ito grinned and crossed her legs. “That’s interesting. How do you know that?”

Well, Midnight said to be honest in order to get honesty from Ito. You sucked in through your teeth. “I’m only immune because you’ve already given me a soulmate. I was the, uh, student you landed on when you attacked U.A.”

Scrunching up her face, Ito scanned you from head to foot, and when she finally stopped at your chest, she nodded. “Ah. I remember you. You’ve got good tits, kiddo,” she said, reaching for her tea, “Be proud of ‘em. You allowed to tell me how it’s going?”

You glanced behind you at the door, pretending to be considering the trouble of talking to her, and when you prodded it shut with your foot, Ito’s grin stretched all the way across her face, her teeth cutting into her lower lip.

“I’ve been desperate to talk to you,” you said, dragging the extra chair closer to hers, “My soulmate is being a little bitch.”

“I like you better than Doc Kim already,” said Ito, and she took a noisy slurp of her tea. “Spill it.”

“I need your advice on what to do about the pain.”

“You found your soulmate already? Then you shouldn’t be feeling any,” she said, shrugging.

“No, I need you to tell me about what to do about the pain. I don’t know if he’s feeling it, but it’s fucking killing me, and he won’t do anything about the soulmate stuff because he doesn’t like me—”

“Back up.” Ito slammed her cup on the tray, spilling tea. “You’re not making any sense. Start over. Tell me about your soulmate.”

Groaning, you buried your face in your hands, leaning back in your chair until your back popped. “He’s my professor, and I’ve liked him for years. Since I met him, pretty much.”

“Hot. He got a sensei kink?” She shoved two thumbprint cookies in her mouth at once, and she nudged the plate in your direction.

“Eh,” you said, weighing your options, “It’s possible. But he doesn’t—”

“Nice. So, he says he’s not gonna do anything while you’re his student, which means he’s burning with shame and sexy, sexy doubts about how good of a man he is. Always sexy to bring a man to his moral and literal knees. Are you wearing fun things to class?”

“We have a uniform.”

“Shame,” she said, gulping down more tea, and then she cocked her head. “Unless.”

“No.”

“Spoilsport,” said Ito, gesturing towards the cookies again. This time you took one, pinching it absentmindedly in your lap. “I think I want to go on my daily walk around the courtyard. Is there room for that in my new schedule?”

You checked it. “I’ll make it work.”

Minutes later, you and Ito were bundled up and strolling the perimeter of Sakura Grove’s courtyard, full of other in-patients in team recreation in the middle and in private conversation on some of the benches.

“I’m still not with you,” Ito was saying as she stared up into the bare limbs of a sakura tree, “I don’t understand why you’re feeling the soulmate pain. It shouldn’t be affecting you, since you know and have met your soulmate.”

You huffed, breath visible. “Well, if you don’t know, then I’m lost. But if he’s not going to complain about the pain, then I suppose I’ll just have to deal with it. I like him too much to bitch about it to him, I guess.”

Ito shoved more of her long, white hair underneath her pom-pom hat. “Then it’s probably the same for him, with him liking you too much to bother you about it.”

“Nah.” You stepped into one of her footprints, the snow crunching under your weight. “He doesn’t like me, and I don’t think he ever will, since once a student, always a stu—”

Ito’s head snapped towards you, cheeks rosy from the cold. “What did you say?”

“My soulmate doesn’t like me, because—”

“You said that earlier, too,” said Ito, and she looked around for other monitors before jerking her head for you to follow her. She guided you in a casual-but-not trail away from any doors or eavesdroppers, and she said in a hushed voice, “You do know that my quirk doesn’t assign soulmates randomly, right?”

“What the hell? Say more right now,” you said, taking smaller steps to stay closer to her.

“Oh, well, that’s news for me. I figured they’d captured my team’s notes on my quirk by now. Okay, well, report this, or not,” said Ito, jabbing a finger towards you, “How much do you know about probability? Yeah, yeah, more math—yes, soulmates usually to inhale the same cloud of my quirk to be considered soulmates, but there are other factors, too. See, you were making sense until you said your soulmate doesn’t like you back.”

“Okay, I’m not following—hey, let’s walk more towards the centre; I think those two by the door are watching us.” You steered the two of you back onto the typical path but stayed close to speak quietly.

“In addition to breathing from the same cloud, two people have to have had a moment of genuine, mutual attraction between each other. Not, like, you pass someone hot on the street and think you’d suck the soul out of their dick before dissuading yourself from the impulse, because they’d clearly ruin your life, but a moment of true, lingering affection for someone that you don’t talk yourself out of. A moment worth thinking about later. Hey, Rika,” Ito said loudly as you passed another patient on the path, “Good to see you today. How’s your cult? You don’t know? Great! Healthy! See you later!” Ito and you sped-walked past her, and once Rika was out of earshot, Ito lowered her voice again. “You don’t have to know the person, but maybe a stranger shared a moment of kindness with you. Maybe an old friend laughed in a new way. It’s a moment where you’re attracted to something past the surface level in a person, even for a brief second. I don’t give out soulmates with absolutely no attraction, even if it may seem that way.”

You, fuming, kicked snow out of your path. “That bitch likes me!”

Ito nodded. “And not just for your tits.”

“Shit,” you said, pushing hair out of your face and pulling your scarf to be snugger, “Nothing I do is gonna—”

“I can help,” said Ito, glancing over her shoulders again for eavesdroppers.

You stopped in your tracks. “But why would you do that? I’m just some weirdo.”

“Because when I have employed the help I’m about to offer you, it has been very, very funny to me,” she said, “and I don’t get outside news except through fucking letters.”

You joined her on the path again. “How many times have you done this?”

Ito looked up as she bit the pad of her thumb, trudging through the snow. “You’ll be the twelfth time. It’s like a part two to my quirk, but I usually don’t come across victims again to offer this sort of thing—and people usually don’t need it. Step one: we’ll need an airtight container.”

***

Cut to that evening in your dorm room, with you hunched over a ziploc bag sealed to the brim with her quirk’s pink dust.

Door locked. Lights down. Cosy pyjamas. Already under the covers in bed.

An increased probability of cliches, Ito had said.

You flipped on the flashlight on your phone to shine through the dust, pink light scattering on the ceiling like a home-planetarium.

Inhaling her quirk for the second time would still affect you, but it wouldn’t assign you another soulmate. Rather, it would dramatically increase your chances for romance tropes to occur in your real life. Stuff that only happens in rom-coms and fanfic could start to happen to you and your soulmate.

(“Like sharing a bed when there’s only one of them,” Ito had said, swirling her finger through the leftover powdered sugar and licking it.

“We’ve already got that covered with the teleporting,” you’d said.

“Shifting is what I’ve been calling the teleports, babe.” Ito had smacked her lips. “And maybe you’ll wake up grinding on his hard-on, now. Do you know how big his dick is?” she’d asked, and then she’d clicked her tongue. “Never mind; I wanna know about his thighs.”

“I can—”

“Or maybe he’ll spill coffee on your shirt and have to pat you dry, accidentally making your shirt see-through and getting flustered at your tits. Or maybe he’ll have to pick you up in the rain, and oh, no, the weather’s too bad for you to go home, and you have to wear his clothes, and—”

You’d snorted at the thought of wearing one of his jumpsuits. He didn’t seem to have much else.)

Either way, you had your ziploc bag of soulmate trope dust, and you had a soulmate reluctant to acknowledge you—even though you knew now that he liked you, that bitch. You’d prepared accordingly, already in bed, since Ito had said you’d likely pass out again. It sat a bit unpleasantly in your stomach that you were going to rely on cliches to jumpstart your relationship with Aizawa, since you hadn’t wanted to do that in the first place with teacher-student relationship cliches. But you could avoid that the best you could, you supposed.

You lay down in bed, adjusting your hair on your pillow, and with the bag on your chest, you popped it like bubble wrap, the dust surging into your face in a rosy burst.

***

Popping it Tuesday night led to a cruelly dull Wednesday, since, as seniors, Wednesdays were off-days for the hero course to spend more time in the field. You weren’t needed at Sakura Grove, as you remotely typed up your reports and sent them their way, and since all your friends were with their mentors, the hours crawled. You puttered around online for a while, before cracking open a book whose plot couldn’t hold you. Since no one was around to witness, you plodded downstairs to the kitchen in your pyjamas, stole one of Aoyama’s green tea popsicles for an early start to lunch, and booted up the console Kaminari kept in the commons.

While the screen loaded, you plopped onto the couch, licking the last of the tea off the wooden stick. What does Aizawa do on Wednesdays now that his class is loose? He frequents a cat café; the punch-card was poking out of his wallet on his bedside table last time you shifted to his room. But there are the mundanities—grocery shopping, catching up on sleep, grading, caring for Eri. And hell, how you’d like to share those moments with him—perhaps scrunching his nose at a change of ingredients of his favourite chip, stroking the neck of his cat in a beam of sunlight, braiding Eri’s hair with ribbon at the start of a school day.

Fuuuuuck, when will Aizawa let you in?

The next moment, you’re suffocating. Pitch black softness, swaddling and falling around you, sweltering within seconds, sweat beading at your hairline. You took a desperate, gasping breath—relieved in the slim moment a slant of light puckered in front you, until the hand shoved onto your face, palm feeling for your mouth and shutting your jaw for you. Within the cocoon, the frame on either side of you tensed, and—the hand fumbled, once you’d quieted, in the crack of light to clumsily cup your cheek, patting it abruptly before rubbing the thumb over your cheekbone.

From that touch and the peace it swept over you, you knew where you’d shifted: kneeling right between Aizawa’s legs in his sleeping bag. But he’s sitting upright in a chair and needed to silence you, so where was he right now?

You settled, leaning against the hard muscle of his calf and into his palm, nosing at it to signal you knew it’s him.

“You have twenty-seven minutes to finish your tests,” called Aizawa, and for the first time, you picked up on pens clicking, paper shuffling, and chairs scuffing against polished tile. “Don’t ask me when they’ll be graded; Kuranosuke-sensei isn’t set to return until Saturday.”

Bless him.

But okay. You’ve got about half an hour stuck between his legs under this desk in front of what’s likely a bunch of younger business students.

Huh, if you only inched your chin forward on his chair, you’d be perfectly positioned to nuzzle against his cock, maybe suck it if you maneuvered your arms out of the sleeping bag’s constrictions. But, you supposed, it would be very mean to tease him in that way in front of students who haven’t built that respect for him, and you’d prefer your first blowjob to be where Aizawa could throw his head back, face flushed, groaning loudly with a gentle, guiding hand on the back of your head—hey, now’s not the time.

You didn’t want him to feel the shame of having an erection in front of who were essentially strangers. It’d…you don’t want to humiliate your soulmate. You love that idiot.

But Aizawa was shifting his hips, to your horror, the thick fabric of his jumpsuit brushing your face in the moment his hand retracted, and the sleeping bag was shuffled down past the top of your head, which grazed the underside of a desk drawer.

You rested your chin towards the edge of his chair—yes, mere inches between your face and his clothed cock, but your breath probably wasn’t even hitting it. From this angle, you and Aizawa could share that suspicious glare he shot you, so you backed up the half-inch for your chin to rest of the very brink of the chair—he closed his eyes, his shoulders losing their stiffness—and you leant your head against his thigh, just on the inside of his knee. He heaved a silent sigh, giving a subtle roll of his eyes, and minutely nodded—an act so slight that if you hadn’t been looking for it, you would’ve missed it.

Aizawa’s hand came to rest atop your head, scratching his fingers gently against your scalp. Part of it’s the soulmate bond; part of it’s being touch-starved, but his gentle scratch was so fucking soothing that a hazy, relaxed sleepiness came over you. Your head sagged, nose pressing towards the underside of his thigh, while your eyes crossed. Maybe it’s the magic of his sleeping bag, but you’re so drowsy that the scratch of his short nails almost drowned out clicking footsteps approach the desk.

Aizawa froze, his hand stilling in your hair.

“What are we supposed to do with our tests?” came the whisper of a business student.

Aizawa made a grunt and moved as if he were stretching and reaching for something on the desk. “Whatever you normally do. Is there not a routine?”

“The basket we turn papers in to is missing.” The shadow of the student’s feet grew closer to the desk.

“Not my problem. Just leave them on the corner of the desk—” A tinny clink echoed through the teacher desk when Aizawa tapped it—his thumb swiping over your forehead to calm you.

“Gotcha,” said the business student, and you thought you were in the clear before she asked, “What—what are you doing under…?”

“Oh?” Aizawa jolted the chair forward to hide you, but with the jolt came his clothed cock pressed against your face; even through the thick fabric you could tell it’s his shaft pressed against the length of your nose and corner of mouth and balls nestled against your chin and cheek. “I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to text under my desk, the same as all of you do when you think I can’t see.” A metallic-sounding object scraped across the desktop, followed by an impulsively-large-sounding gulp.

“Your phone’s on your desk, sir,” said the business student.

His fingers now curled into your hair in a vain attempt to pull you away from his cock, but he couldn’t, with the scant room under the desk and bulk of his sleeping bag. Trying to be polite, you opted to avert your gaze from his crotch (even though it was right there), which shuddered so hard that you saw and felt it.

“It’s a common practise for pro-heroes to have secondary phones purely for work,” said Aizawa, taking another loud swallow of his drink. “You may want to invest in one.”

“Gotcha,” said the business student again, just as another shadow joined her at the desk and whispered for her to hurry up.

When they both retreated, Aizawa stealthily scooted back to gain some space in a move that looked like he was simply leaning back in his chair to drain the tea out of his cup—and you savoured the unshielded view of the tender skin of his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed—and hey, that’s—Aizawa relaxed enough to glance down at you, elbow on the arm of the chair, holding in the air the teacup you gifted him to replace the one you broke (nowhere nearly as nice as the pottery one you smashed presumably was, but its deep crimson glaze had reminded you of his quirk-activated eyes).

You were strangely moved that he was using your gift so quickly after he received it, in public, and not where you were supposed to see it being used.

Your eyes darted between the cup and his eyes until he noticed, and he raised the teacup just a hair in a toast. Nodding with a tired smile, you wormed your arm around to unwind his hand from its grip in your hair, unintentionally still tight, and held his gaze as you kissed the pad of each finger, starting with his little finger, the pink flashing from each tip until you pressed your lips against his thumb.

Aizawa never looked away, but he narrowed his eyes and cocked his head. You wondered for a moment if he liked the thumbprint bisecting the centre of your lips, the rounded edge aligning with the dip in your cupid’s bow. But his expression betrayed nothing, and instead, he raised the teacup to his own mouth, his hand returning to your hair for the rest of the period.

After the last student had petered out of the classroom and Aizawa had given an uncharacteristic little wave as the last one close the door behind her, Aizawa held out a groan as he kicked away from the desk, his hands flying to adjust his lower jumpsuit and then raking his fingers back through his own hair.

“How are you holding up?”

You balked. “How am I?” You shoved at his knees so that you had room to stand, and you sat on the desk.

Aizawa pointedly nudged your legs together (you hadn’t even thought of it that way). “Nice pyjamas.”

“You’re lucky I don’t sleep naked,” you said, plucking at your shirt.

“Am I?”

Was that…was he flirting?

Your surprise must have shown on your face, because he continued. “You shouldn’t walk back to the dorms like that. I don’t have anything at the school besides a spare jumpsuit, but Hizashi should have his jacket draped on his chair in the faculty lounge.”

“How romantic,” you said, flicking the side of his teacup for the hell of it.

“I don’t have another class to sub until the period after this one,” he said, pocketing his phone and other personals on the desk before handing the teacup to you, “Let’s go.”

Present Mic was gloriously absent from the faculty lounge, so there was no one to stop Aizawa from laying his stuff on his desk and swiping the jacket off the back of Mic’s chair. You set the teacup on the cat coaster and had just barely turned his way before he was sweeping the open jacket around your shoulders. Aizawa lifted the leather while you slipped your arms inside, and he zipped you up, stopping the zipper just above the curve of your boobs. You looked down, and he flicked the zipper up at you with a smirk.

“Are we married yet?”

His hand dropped from your zipper. “I saw what you did with the registration form. You’re not funny.”

“I happen to be hilarious,” you said, “I assume to want to adjust the mark?”

Nodding, Aizawa waited for you to tilt your head up and to the side. “I am not marrying you. You’re my student.” He grazed the usual spot behind your ear with his ring finger.

“And someday I won’t be.” You shivered as the frisson of his touch rolled through you. “You’d rather have even more paperwork, bureaucratical hoops, and possibly a ceremony at a later, inevitable date than one simple checkmark on a sheet? Not very logical, sensei.”

He frowned. “Stop that.”

A beat. “No otherwise rebuttal?” you asked, grinning, “You agree, then, that we’re going to end up together? That we’ll be—”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Funny,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek, eyeing Snipe in the far corner of the room, “Then, hey. Compromise. What if we just hang out with no romantic or sexual connotations whatsoever? I wanna get to know you better. You’re cool.”

Aizawa crossed his arms and followed your gaze to Snipe, who was bent over in his seat, cleaning one of his guns. “Think about it. Would you trust a teacher who spends time outside of school with a student?”

“How’s the training with Shinsou going?”

“You are not funny.”

“And everybody knows you’re training Shinsou, and they’re fine with it. You could say you’re training me,” you said, stepping closer to him, looking him in the eyes despise his hunkering down into his scarf, “Please say you’re training me. I want to spend time with you. Hell, actually train me. You could make me strong enough that you don’t have to worry about me, or any bullshit. C’mon, Aizawa. Please.”

“That,” he said, “I can easily deny you. Now, get back to the dorms. I’d like to—”

“What? Why,” you said with a whine, “How can you say that so quickly? You didn’t even think about it.”

“Yeah?” Aizawa turned to his desk to boot up the computer. “It’s because you’re already strong enough to take care of yourself. I don’t have to worry about you in a fight,” he said, just barely crinkling his eyes, so you figured that he’s smiling beneath his capture weapon, “Keeping you from being a fool—now, that’s something I’ll have to watch for.”

You groaned. Loudly. And for way too long. “Whatever. May I sit on your lap while you grade?”

“No,” said Aizawa, not missing a beat, “Go back to the dorm.”

“You want me to check on Eri?”

“Sure. That’d be—really nice. Let me know—”

“Yeah?” Grinning, you bounced on the balls of your feet. “How am I supposed to do that? Sounds like I might need a certain phone number.”

Aizawa collapsed in his cracked, leather lounge chair and spun it towards his cubicle desk. “No need. If you don’t shift to me in the next half hour, I’ll assume everything’s fine.”

“Oh, come on. I feel like I deserve some sort of treat for not mentioning your half-chub while it was in my face earlier.”

Aizawa rubbed at his temple, his eyes strained. “I’m busy grading and don’t have time to talk.”

He was staring into a blank screen.

“Fine, you big baby. I’ll concede to you this time,” you said, and before you could lose your nerve, you leant over to kiss the top of his head.

You’d bolted for the door before he could even turn around.

***

It was supposed to be a routine field exercise.

The hero course had been split into teams, each under the leadership of a faculty member, for a field assessment as twenty percent of your grade for your final semester. As an extension of the personal study starting with the student presentations from earlier, you were in the group focusing on stealth headed by Aizawa, along with Bakugou, Aoyama, and Todoroki (who swopped into your group last minute, since Midnight declared that he needed to get away from her group working on public relations). Bummed that no other girls were in the group, you resolved to make it work by being better than the boys. Not to mention that the three included would, hopefully, be dense enough to miss the subtler interactions between Aizawa and you that betrayed something else going on.

The four of you were to know as little as possible about the assignment as possible before going in, so you all spent the week leading up to it making contingency plans (you’d been told not to go out otherwise that week, so Midnight had to do her own work, for once, at Sakura Grove), with maps of the city and subway splayed out on the floor in the common room, along with bowls of trail mix Bakugou had thrown together, claiming that Aoyama’s stuff was bullshit (though you had enjoyed it very much when you ate it in secret that morning). All you’d been told was that you’d be making an escort in secret, without the target even knowing you were there.

No contingency plan could account for this.

A thunderstorm popped up on the radar out of nowhere, delaying the plane’s arrival, and the airport radio signal had been scrambled, fed into a different language, and back again. If you’d been allowed more details during preparation, you’d have more of the story, but all you could piece together now was excruciatingly obvious: the airport’s east wing exploded and caved before the plane even hit it, and now you were trapped underground under wet, crumbly tonnes of rubble, confined to a pocket of space barely tall enough to stand in, with the only structure keeping half of an airport bathroom’s mirrored wall from collapsing and crushing you being the charred, lower third of a column from the airport courtyard.

“You can’t blow our way out,” you hissed at Bakugou, who was climbing his way up the column to prod at the ceiling, “The column’s load-bearing.”

“I know that,” Bakugou said, contorting his upper body and neck as he gawped with his mouth open at the debris above him, “I’m just seein’ if there’s any light from the surface comin’ through, or if there’s anywhere rainwater’s drippin’ in.”

Hunching with his upper back grazing the rubble ceiling at the tallest point in the collapsed space, Aizawa frantically fussed with his work phone (which he genuinely had, after all) and his radio, unable to get a signal. “Be careful with your movements,” he said, mind barely in the conversation, “You could make the debris slip, or it could get weighed down with rain and further collapse. At worst, you want it to settle. Aoyama, are you getting anything?”

Tapping the AI filter on his sparkle shades away, Aoyama tore his gaze away from his handheld device’s screen. “Alas,” he said with a quivering frown. His ankle was being wrapped by Todoroki, who had been careful to refill the place in the concrete where Aoyama’s foot had been with ice, keeping the space intact.

“It’s fine; you’re doing well. Keep an eye on the signal. We want to know if we get one.” Aizawa handed his phone to you, giving you a short nod and the same job. “Todoroki, keep that cavity frozen. Keep an eye out for similar spot about to collapse and do the same.”

“I’m assuming this isn’t part of the assignment, since you’re taking charge,” you said under your breath to Aizawa, your back to the others as you stooped to stand yourself, arms crossed, “What relevant information can you share about the assignment that might get us out of here? Who were we escorting? If we know who they have for allies, then we can start to understand how the signals are scrambled and how to walk out of this situation.”

Aizawa stuck his tongue in his cheek. “None of it’s relevant. Our target has been isolated for well over four years and was being processed by professionals. She wouldn’t have had any opportunity to sabotage this procedure; St. Philomena’s has kept our target from having untracked outside communication.”

An uneasy stone dropped into the pit of your stomach. “St. Philomena’s,” you said slowly, biting your lip, “That’s a women’s penitentiary.”

Aizawa opened his mouth to answer but instead inhaled a mouthful of dust as the earth shook and clattered around you. Bakugou braced the column while you and Aizawa kept the bathroom wall steady, but the mirror shattered and fell with the wall, with Todoroki grabbing you out of the way of the sink from crushing your legs, icing the concrete shards into a makeshift support for the column, enough for Bakugou to twist out from underneath it. You gasped in deep breaths of powdery concrete yet dug into wet clods of silt and grime with the heels of your boots.

The ceiling had caved in by about two feet in height, and if Aoyama hadn’t skibbled away from his spot in the corner, he’d be buried under glass and tile. You experimentally knelt and stretched towards the ceiling—good for you, for having some room to move upwards, but Aizawa could only sit, now. Every heaving breath from your friends was too close for your liking, and the stone fell from your stomach right into your gut when you noticed the steady trickle of water between the rocks and down the column, cutting a clear, ivory path through the grey dust coating it. Bakugou scooted out of the ways of its dripping, letting it instead drain in a puddle next to him.

You and Bakugou nearly jumped out of your skins at the skrrrt of Aizawa’s radio, but nothing came through except static.

“We’re okay,” said Aizawa, once Aoyama started to show signs of hyperventilation, “The static is a good sign. Even if we can’t communicate specifics, they have a location on us. They know we’re down here, and if it seems like they’re taking too long, remember that civilians are the priority. We’ll be all right.”

Claustrophobia.

Not your favourite.

But Aoyama was clearly having a worse time handling it, so it’s better to set an example for him—see how calm you are? See how much you’re not being selfish, curling into Aizawa’s arms for him to pet your hair until it’s over, keeping him all to yourself, even though it’d be really easy to pretend like it’s the size of the cavern instead of your own selfish desires that’s making you touch him. See how mature you’re being, not even touching Aizawa, even though he’s right next to you. You’re being rational about the whole thing.

Todoroki stared off, his bright eyes narrowed and brow furrowed, and he parted his lips, wetting them slightly before speaking. “You should move closer to Aoyama,” he said to Bakugou, “Someone’s hurt.”

“The hell d’you mean?” When Todoroki gestured, Bakugou followed his gaze.

The water’s white path through the dust congealed and blushed deep vermillion as it coursed down the column, falling in thick, steady plops next to Bakugou, the upsplash ticking his exposed skin with red.

“Holy shit.” Bakugou scrambled away the best he could, kicking away from the water and practically into your lap, but he shot you a sort-of apologetic look and shuffled into more of Todoroki’s personal space. “Do you think—it’s not blood,” he said, smearing it on his arm, still running a dark red even spread thinly.

Aoyama cringed. “It’s not going to—it won’t fill up the—”

“No,” Bakugou said quickly, “It’s drainin’ through the cracks. We’re fine, Aoyama.” Bakugou made a point of dragging his hard glare from Todoroki to you, as if to say that keeping Aoyama calm was essential to getting out.

You checked Aizawa’s phone again for any signal, and, sighing, you stowed it to keep from scratching the screen.

“Nothing?”

Shaking your head at Aizawa, you resisted the heavy urge to rest your forehead on his shoulder. You know what? Maybe you could. He’s right there, and if you did it in this situation, it could be read as a simply act of comfort that you could have easily shared with anyone, perhaps. The two of you could stare romantically into the dripping, red goop, talk about your lives together, about teaching your psychotic friends, about sidekicking at Sakura Grove—

“Hey, don’t touch that,” you said, jolting in your seat, to Todoroki, who stopped, wide-eyed, in his odd stretch over Bakugou’s lap before he could prod with his outstretched finger the congealed mass accumulating in the puddle, “I think I know what that is.”

Beside you, Aizawa sucked in through his teeth. “Just once, I wish your deduction skills weren’t so good.”

Without averting your gaze, you moved to elbow him in the chest, hard, but he caught your arm and held it deathly still: he only touched you by your sleeve, though, so no soulmark would bleed through. Odds were that the mark was still furtively hidden behind your ear. Frowning, you tried to wrest your arm away from him, eyes on the falling droplet heavy enough to break the surface tension of the gathered, congealed mass, making the whole thing burst upwards in a dense, ruby smoke.

“Get down, as close to the ground as you can,” you said in a rush, cut off when Aizawa shoved your head to the ground with his hand on the back of your neck, his face inches from yours and only moving closer as he made room for the others to join you, cheek smushed against a patch of intact bathroom tile.

“It’s aerosolising,” said Aizawa, eyes darting over the ceiling, where the mist was rising through cracks in the rubble, “Follow where it’s escaping; we might be able to use—”

“No, you fucker,” you hissed (Aizawa squeezed the back of your neck), “Not all of it’s going to escape. It’s going to condense into liquid again on any surface that blocks it and then drop back on us.”

“Someone tell me what the hell is going on,” spat Bakugou, voice muffled from behind you but strangely reverberating back through the curved metal of Aoyama’s armour.

“We’re only going to be safe on the ground if it doesn’t condense, which is un-fucking-likely the way the thunderstorm’s moistened and lowered atmospheric pressure,” you said, the sound of water rinsing through crannies in the rocks growing from the far side of the cavern, “Aoyama, try to breath evenly but shallowly; you don’t wanna inhale this.”

The knuckles of Bakugou’s heavy glove struck the centre of your upper back. “Dumbass. Just tell him to hyperventilate, why don’t you?”

A drop of red water fell onto Todoroki’s pale cheek, sizzling with the impact as it was absorbed into his skin, a miniature puff of smoke emitting from the spot.

After a moment of heavy silence, Aizawa shifted his jaw, his eyes dark as they focused on you. “Academic protocols are over. Time to share what you know about Serendipity’s quirk.”

You dropped your jaw, even with the grit digging into your skin and jaw. “Who’s the insane person who assigned a bunch of students to escort fucking Serendipity—”

“I am,” said Aizawa, grip on your neck tightening and eyes flaring scarlet so briefly that you would’ve missed it if you hadn’t been inches away, “Considering your high level of academic success, I thought you capable enough to complete a more difficult mission than your—”

“Someone just fuckin’ say what her quirk does!” Bakugou’s hand curled into a fist with the fabric of your hero costume taut between its fingers, his fist lay, overheated, between your shoulder blades.

You jerked your shoulder away from him, but there wasn’t any room to go, so his hand stayed on your back, putting distance between the two of you, though his knees and hips still touched the back of yours. “Okay,” you said after settling, glaring directly into Aizawa’s eyes, “Serendipity is the third most dangerous villain in the western hemisphere, evidently being transferred today to the place Midnight and I work, because fucking no one else wants to handle her. C’mon, Aizawa, is that why I wasn’t allowed at work for the past week? So I wouldn’t know? Fucking—” You tried to give a half-hearted kick to Aizawa, but his thumb curled enough around your neck to locate your pulse point, which he pressed down on in warning. “But yeah, her quirk is so volatile and dangerous because—because yes, it’s a sex pollen quirk, but it’s fast, and you can’t solve it by touching yourself, like other sex quirks we’ve seen used for villainy; you have to orgasm at someone else’s hands. And no one can figure out why your internal organs shrivel and die within four hours—”

You inhaled sharply through your teeth as two droplets sizzled into your skin in quick succession, but the squeeze on your neck told you to continue. “Or the brain damage, or—because her quirk’s been studied, but no one can tell if it requires the feed of dopamine to the body, or not getting enough oxygenated blood cells, or capillary damage, or—” Bakugou thumped your back again. “—but no one is immune to it, and it’s fucking terrifying,” you finished, scrunching your eyes shut at the sensation of more droplets searing into your skin and into those around you, each person inhaling more with each individual puff of smoke from the viscous drops.

Tongue too big for your mouth, you trailed off, eyesight blurring as you zoned out for a just a bit, but you lurched back into reality when a hot ache stung the back of your neck and swept through your body. Aizawa retracted his hand faster than a viper striking, his eyes briefly holding the same dread yours did.

Shaken, you pushed yourself up to sit, and to your horror, an enormous gush of arousal pooled between your legs—you snapped your legs shut at the sight of the wet spot on your hero costume (and worse, the dribbling into the gravel), and Aizawa saw, holding a steady, neutral expression despite your visible panic.

“Fuck, baby—”

It hadn’t come from Aizawa but Bakugou, whose hips you’d inadvertently ground against when you sat up. His large hand came to grip your waist, fingers digging in and pulling your ass back against him, and his other hand clamped over his nose and mouth as he pushed himself up. “I’ve always known you smelled good, but this is somethin’ else—”

“Absolutely not.” Aizawa yoinked you away from Bakugou and put himself between the you and the rest, cramping you into the corner with pointed rocks digging into your back, and he held up his hand, Bakugou glaring a hole into his palm, vermillion streaking down his face. “You’re drugged. She’s drugged. Even if you both say you want it, it’s not a reflection of reality.”

Bakugou clicked his tongue, but Todoroki tilted to the side to keep his tense gaze on you.

“No,” said Aizawa, using the scant room and the end of his capture weapon to snap in Todoroki’s face, “You’d be ruining the professional relationship you have. You’d be violating her. There’s no way she’d actually want you.”

Bakugou scoffed over Todoroki’s quiet how do you know that, already palming himself through his costume. “I’d rather risk it all blasting out of here than suck Icy-Hot’s dick.” His other hand crackled with the beginnings of an explosion.

“You can’t,” you said with effort, mouth and throat coated with dust as heat rose to your skin, sweat breaking out at your hairline, “If you’re not a heteromorph, Serendipity’s quirk suppresses yours. It—it overwhelms your entire system—”

“You couldn’t mention that before I got hard?” Bakugou scowled, thumb playing with his belt buckle in consideration. “I would’ve blasted us out of here earlier.”

Aizawa shook his head. “It wouldn’t’ve worked—”

Todoroki made a sort of horting noise in the back of his throat, drawing everyone’s attention, before hacking a thick glob of red mucus right onto a spot of white bathroom tile, large trails of saliva trailing from his mouth.

“Holy shit,” you said softly, your eyebrows shooting up, and Aizawa held you back before you could even move.

“Mon Dieu,” said Aoyama, and he removed his sparkle shades to see it without a red filter.

Aizawa’s radio crackled static again, but nobody moved a muscle.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” said Aizawa, his hand still up but hardly deterring an increasingly twitchy Bakugou, who kept staring at you over Aizawa’s shoulder, “Aoyama, you’re probably going to hurt yourself and others if you stay in your armour. If you think you can handle being more vulnerable, take it off. Prop it up between the three of you and us.” The radio hissed again. “We’re going to camp out here until help arrives. Waiting is the heroic path to take sometimes,” he said in Bakugou’s direction, “If you find yourself succumbing to the quirk, that’s okay. It’s not shameful. No one is immune to it. If you can work it out among yourselves, that’s fine. No one here is going to share any details you don’t want out.” But here his voice darkened, and though you couldn’t see his face, you knew Aizawa was shooting a hard, unmerciful look towards them. “But you’re not going to hurt anyone here, and you’re especially not going to take advantage of her because she’s the only woman. To get her, you’ll have to go through me, and I do not intend to be kind.”

“Fucking hell,” said Bakugou, unbuckling his belt and sliding it off.

You were feeling a similar way, but Aizawa had you so backed into the corner that there wasn’t room to take anything off. So, instead of tearing off the increasingly abrasive and scratchy fabric of your hero uniform, you hugged your knees to your chest, thighs clenching, and bit down on your arm to keep from crying out. A choked sound still escaped you as a leather strap on your upper thigh rubbed closer to a more sensitive spot.

You couldn’t even lift a hand to fan your face—but with how heavy your limbs felt, even the promise of cool air couldn’t bring you to attempt it, and instead, you tried to find relief in the cold press of busted bathroom tile at the back of your neck—and you turned your head to feel it against your cheek, too.

Your hips rocked, knocking your legs against Aizawa’s back, and when he turned over his shoulder to spare you a glance, you jolted as far back as you could away from him. Not that you could go anyway but barely half an inch backwards. “Sorry,” you said quickly, shaking your head, “Didn’t mean to. Really. I—” Your heart flipped at his concerned face (himself looking a little red), and a sharp cramp curdled into your lower stomach. “Oh, fuck,” you said, a hand shooting to your stomach and doubling over—but your forehead grazed him before you could, and you let out a quiet yelp before jerking back into place, tears welling at the pain. “Sorry about that.”

Aizawa grimaced at your weak smile and turned back towards the others. You hadn’t even heard what they’re doing, since the blood pumping in your ears apparently deafened you to anything besides your own half-smothered sobs into your arm. 

They were growing louder at their frustration, but they were, for the most part, not directing any of it at you. Hey, is—? Over Aoyama’s armour-wall, it looked like Bakugou might have gotten his cock out to start stroking it; maybe you could get a better look—

“Hey,” said Aizawa, blocking your view when he turned over his shoulder, “Stop all that squirming.” Were you? You hadn’t even noticed. “Remember what I’ve taught you. I know you can do better.”

“Oh, don’t say professor-y things like that,” you said with a whine while, yes, squirming in place, “It goes straight to my cunt.”

 Aizawa closed his eyes for a moment, but he soon opened them and continued, unaffected. “Focus. I’m holding you to a higher calibre than your peers, because I know you can do it. What have you been taught about remaining calm in crisis? Ground yourself.”

“But I—”

“Do it.”

You huffed and tried to settle down into your body, counted, and exhaled slowly as you shut your eyes, waiting for your other sense to sharpen. Body scan—focusing on flowing energy, starting at your head, down to your toes, and back up again. But you had trouble on the return to the top of your head, since every cell in your body screamed to zoom in on the throbbing in your lower half—hard to say what’s tremoring more: you, or the walls of the cavern.

But there’s an infinitesimal sound that drowns every other maddening, oversensitive sensation: from the back of Aizawa’s throat comes a quiet, breathy whimper.

And—

“Oh, my fucking God,” you said, noticing all of the surreptitious ways Aizawa was trying to hide how affected he was: his hand clasped in a knuckle-whitening fist covering his lap, eyes watering with frustration, jaw tensed, neck and hand veins pulsating, sweating through his undershirt, and you?

Wetting your lips, you strained forward to brush his hair aside to kiss the back of his neck, and Aizawa fucking shuddered, the thing passing through his whole body. Though it hadn’t been your intention, your legs spread as you did so, parting on either side of him, and his hair flew into your face as he took in your legs surrounding him.

“Hey, no,” he said, and he pushed back on your legs, willing you to scrunch up to hug them to your chest again.

“I’m not doing anything—”

“You fucking are,” Aizawa hissed over his shoulder, “You’re being a goddamn brat.”

That shut you up immediately. Feeling slick drip out of you, you curled in on yourself, tucking your legs up to your chest like he wanted.

“That’s what I thought.” He turned back to keep guard.

His shoulders seemed wider than before.

 Maybe it’s the heady, prickling excitement swarming in your chest at the unspoken threat of a punishment turned sexual, or maybe it’s the incoming brain damage, but you rounded up every nerve not currently on fire to keep pushing your luck. “Aizawa,” you said, soft enough for only him to hear over the squelching from the far side of the cavern, “If we were alone right now, what would you do to me?”

He didn’t respond.

An easy grin stretched across your face.

“Because I know there’s got to be stuff you wanna do to me, not with me, for how I behave sometimes. But I only want your attention,” you said, feeling a bit dizzy as heat flushed all over your feverish skin, “I know you can’t give it to me, because you wanna be all noble and stuff, but—”

Another cramp had you gasping and hacking up red-tinged spit. Aizawa started to turn his head, but you told him, totally deflated, “Don’t bother. I’m sorry—” You coughed up more red mucus. “I know I’m gross; I know you can’t look at me that way; I’m sorry I’ve been—I’m sorry.”

How can he be so calm? It’s not fucking fair that he can just sit there, cross-legged and sweating, with the scent of sex permeating the smoke-hazy air, and yes, he’s hard, but that’s just the stupid fucking quirk.

You’re dripping and clenching but still so, so empty, and the tears finally overflowed as Aizawa looked over his shoulder at you again. “I’m sorry,” you said again, eyes glazing over and breathing irregularly (for all the talk about Aoyama hyperventilating, you might be the one to actually do it). “I’ll—I’ll stop bothering you; I can handle this. I’ll, uh—” You cut yourself off at another cramp, seizing up at a stray spasm, releasing your hold on your legs and yanking at the roots of your hair. “Don’t worry about me; I’ll get—get Shinsou to make me come—sorry I tried to—I’m sorry; I should’ve left you alone—”

“Stop apologising.” Aizawa twisted to brush away your tears with his thumb, the skin that vibrant pink when he pulled away. “Christ, you’re burning up.” He hand returned to your face, this time against your forehead, and he frowned—yeah, he was frowning before you were pathetically raising yourself off the ground to nuzzle into his hand, to mouth voraciously at his palm, which flushed pink with every pass of your lips, and—

“Fuck,” said Aizawa, withdrawing his hand to press the heels of his palms into his eyes. You made a questioning noise, and to answer, he let his gaze drop to where the soaked patch between your legs dribbled into the rubble. He dragged his hands down the rest of his face. “You’re drenched,” he said, rasping.

A vehement moan from the other side of the space made both of you flinch, with Aizawa making a quick check to ensure their attention wasn’t on you.

You grabbed his capture weapon, pulling him close. “Please,” you said, panting, “Please, ‘Zawa, I’m not as capable as you think I am; I’m not good; I can’t take it. Please—”

His teeth dug into his lower lip as a grumbled scoff came from the back of this throat, and he shook his head. “God, not like this. It’s not supposed to be like this.”

Another loud moan and the sounds of skin on skin from the others brought another wince from the two of you, and Aizawa squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, he’d steeled himself, determined and set. “I can’t have you corrupting my protégé,” he said (it was a joke, right? Why isn’t he smiling?), “but I can’t offer you anything more.”

“Wha—?”

Aizawa was nudging your knees open, his eyebrows raised, and when he turned to face the others, he scooted backwards to sit between your spread legs, pinning you between the rock and his back, crowding you in, and oh, oh, my God, you should’ve been embarrassed at how wet the back of his jumpsuit got as he pushed himself back to sit right in front of your crotch, but the first, pulsing wave of relief as your clit rubbed against him washed everything else away.

Did this count? Did this count as coming at someone else’s hands? You found the problem less compelling the more you thrashed against him, grinding your clit against his back so hard that your vision blacked out at the edges, breathing in that terribly awful frustrating sexy combination of pine and sandalwood, desperately huffing it in in gasping breaths and curling your fingers into the back of his jumpsuit to bring him closer: you needed to kiss the back of his neck again, to see that pink mark on his skin.

But it’s as if he knew what you were going to do, because instead of letting you pull his hair aside, he reached back to grab your hand, and he (mercifully) allowed the grab to relax into a hold, letting you lace your fingers through his as he guided your arm around his waist (an evil part of you was disappointed that he didn’t place your hand over his cock, instead of resting your entwined hands on his leg [cute]).

And you were quiet: you didn’t moan, so the others wouldn’t know, unless they could somehow make out your laboured breathing behind the hand you cupped over your mouth. You’re grappling for pressure against your clit, but it’s your shiver when he stroked the back of your hand with his thumb that triggered your orgasm—pounding, rushing, and all at once, the throbbing of your clit taking you somewhere distant and piney, with you slowly coming back to reality by an abrupt pulsing, for some reason, in the roof of your mouth.

And the quirk had passed through you.

It counted.

But it kept you bound in a tired haze, sultry and lethargic and red, and lost in the lingering high of both the scarlet saliva you kept hacking up and that Aizawa let you grind against him until you came, you closed in on yourself and did your best to stay awake. Your brain tried to worry about Aizawa, but the quirk shushed you and forced you into a cloudy exhaustion.

You were out of it when Aizawa’s radio crackled to life, when the rescue unit exhumed your team, when the EMT on duty looked you over. You were still foggy when you were put in a passenger seat of a government vehicle, but the fog dissipated when Aizawa climbed in the driver’s seat and told you to call Midnight.

“I don’t know the number for Sakura Grove,” he said, turning on the windshield wipers, “and I need to warn Midnight that I’m asking her to help me with this quirk.”

Thunder rumbled through the sky and into your bones as he turned into downtown traffic, headlights blurring in the rain. Blankly, you wrestled his phone out of your pocket and began to dial her work number. “Okay, traitor.”

Aizawa’s expression darkened, his face glistening with sweat. “You know that I can’t—”

“So I can’t do the same for you?” you asked, putting his phone on speaker and letting it ring (cranking up the volume to hear it over the rain pelting the windows), “I can’t just, like, hold out my hand for you to grind against, or, God forbid, give you an actual fucking handjob—”

“Stop it,” he said, and he snatched his phone from you, switching off speaker, and you crossed your arms to fume, staring out into the miserably grey morning.

You smushed your forehead against the cool of the window, watching the raindrops chase each other down the glass, and you tried to focus on car horns blaring instead of the conversation regarding Aizawa’s sexual release that he and Midnight were currently having.

When he hung up, you sat up from your slouch against the window. “Is that all you need me for, then? You’ve got the number. You might as well drop me off at the next light.”

Aizawa swore under his breath. “Stop being such a—” He cut himself off, his leg not working the pedals bouncing profusely. “I still need you to enter Sakura Grove.”

That was true. You had three number-codes to punch in for clearance, and there was a thumbprint scan at the building in which you and Midnight worked. Still, you scoffed. “Just get Nemuri to let you in. You evidently don’t need me.”

The hand on the steering wheel tensed, veins pulsing. “First name basis?”

“Some professors like me.”

“Forget I said anything,” he grumbled, and when you turned to the window again, he mashed on the car radio, volume loud over the rain.

After a babble of a drum solo and what sounded like shouting in English, you were able to translate the song in your head by the time it hit the chorus:

“Got it bad, so bad, I’m hot for teacher.”

Aizawa stared, baffled, at the radio instead of the road as the guitar picked up, and he changed stations.

Again, in English, but with a hypnotically alt-relaxed beat: “Can’t tell my friends, ‘cause they will laugh; I love a member of the staff.”

You sneaked a glance at the driver’s seat, where Aizawa was fighting traffic, his erection, and his incredulity at what he was hearing.

“I fight my way to the front of class to get the best view of her—”

Aizawa changed stations before the singer could finish the couplet, and he sank into his seat at the safe sounds of synth and guitar, but you sat up straight, eyes wide and biting back a laugh, because you knew what the fuck was coming:

“Don’t stand—don’t stand so, don’t stand so close to me—”

Aizawa smashed the radio’s off button, seething. He ran his fingers back through his hair, and after a deep breath, he opened his mouth. “What’d you do,” he asked flatly.

“Me?” you said, pointing at yourself, doing your fucking best not to smile, “What makes you think I’ve done something?”

Aizawa was panting. Chest heaving. Sweat visibly dripping down his face. Free hand darting between a superfluous position on the wheel, resting on the car door, and bunching up his jumpsuit to hide his erection, which only drew attention to it. “You didn’t—you and Nemuri didn’t orchestrate all this, did you?” he asked, teeming with nervous energy, “It’s a little—it’s a little too perfect for you, to get to see me dishevelled and desperate, to nearly get me to cave into what you want.”

Several feelings flooded you at once: revulsion at the suggestion you made a criminal use her quirk on you, anger that he’d even consider it to be in your character when he’s known you for years (and more anger that he thought you would want to lose your virginity with three other guys in the room), a wretched, clawing desperation to prove him wrong and beg for forgiveness—and a creeping disgust and shame towards yourself, for having been so vulnerable in his presence when he didn’t want it or you.

Time to shut down. “C’mon, Aizawa. That’s not very logical in the grand scheme of things,” you said, scathingly using his favourite word, propping your chin on your fist, and leaning against the window again, “And if I did, I sure as hell wouldn’t let it end with my fucking soulmate going to someone else to make him come, especially when I was similarly helpless.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you—”

“Thanks for your vote of confidence,” you said bitterly, “but I wouldn’t do that. To you or to me. I don’t do things that would humiliate or hurt you.” You scooted closer towards the car window, away from him and his stupid pine aftershave. “I guess I’m a brat, yeah, but I’m not mean.”

To have something to do instead of talk to him, you exhumed the car manual from the glove compartment and started to read it, and you read that dull fucking piece of crap until you were forced to punch in your clearance codes for Sakura Grove.

As soon as he was inside the main building and out of sight, you slammed the manual and the glove compartment shut, and you screamed. No one would’ve heard you over the thunderstorm, anyway. Comforting that the weather was as angry as you.

You unbuckled and cosied up in your seat, glaring at the curtain of mist blowing rain horizontal outside. Lightning illuminated a worker rushing from one building to another, and she had to double back to get her ballet flat, hopping slightly to put it back on.

You don’t have another work shift until Monday, but you kind of wanted to clock in, anyway. It’d be satisfying to bitch about the whole thing with Ito. She’d tear into Aizawa. He deserves it.

Slunking down into your seat, you were struck with new terror: what if Aizawa were right? What if you did, inadvertently, plan this out, by inhaling Ito’s quirk dust a second time? Sex pollen was…sex pollen was a trope. A pretty fucking common one.

Oh, my God.

You clamped a hand over your mouth and tried to work out the logistics. Serendipity was already scheduled to arrive in Japan regardless of you inhaling the dust again, and—fuck fuck fuck. You didn’t like this.

You swallowed thickly, turning it all over in your head, and as the variables overlapped and blurred in your mind, you started to cry.

“Goddammit,” you said aloud, sitting up and dabbing at your face with your sleeve. You’ve already cried a lot today, and it’s not even noon. You’re taking a nap when you get back to campus.

You know who else likes naps?

You fucking sobbed harder, even though you were laughing a bit, too. You decided that you were too worn out to make any sound judgments. Go to sleep once you get back, and think about it when you wake up.

You sniffed and looked towards the door to the main building. God, he’s taking a long time. You’d figure that he’d edged himself to oblivion and back during the car ride, but no—

The next instant, you tensed up, frazzled, because a half-dressed Aizawa’s straddling you, hips jerking, driving into your own and biting into his fist as he came on your shirt, cum spurting all the way up to your boobs.

The groan he released once the spill of his cum slowed to a slight dribble nearly wrecked your ears and stopped your breath. You’re hastily, desperately drinking up details, eyes flicking over them rapidly in case they’re snatched away before you could notice: the weeping, pink tip of his cock, the only part of his dick peeking out of his jumpsuit’s lower half—the trail of dark hair leading up to it from his naval, framed by an infuriating v on his lithely muscled abdomen—all of his exposed, corded muscles of his chest, tendons visibly stretching and contracting in his forearms—and when he wiped that final drop of cum off his cock, it was with the thumb stained with soulmark pink.

Of course, for how much relaxation coursed through his body, it all fled him the second he finally opened his eyes.

You expected that he’d scramble to cover himself up and off of you, but once that initial panic faded, all he was left with was resignation. He yanked up the elastic of his boxer-briefs to hide his cock, and, sighing, he said, “Please. Please don’t say anything. I can’t handle it right now.”

You nodded. His eyes travelled over your face, his expression cracking. “You’re crying,” he said, voice breaking.

“Not because of you,” you said, wiping at your tears, “It’s something I did.”

He wiped away the tear stains on your other cheek. “Let’s find something to clean you up.”

While he twisted to fossick through the console for tissues, you swiped two fingers through the stuff on your shirt. So, this was a man’s cum. Weird. Thick. (You’ve seen some before; you’re not an idiot, but this was your first time, uh, experiencing it. Honestly, it reminded you a bit of the congealed quirk stuff earlier.) You rubbed it between your fingers.

“Oh, what are you doing—no, stop that,” said Aizawa softly, swatting your hand away from your cum-stained shirt. When you eyed the bit on your fingers, Aizawa sighed again. “Don’t taste it.”

He took your hand and wiped it clean, pink ink seeping across skin with every brief touch. He gave you a tissue from the pack he found for your tears, and he used the rest to wipe off your shirt.

“Doesn’t look like there’s anything else for you to wear,” he said, checking the backseat.

“It’s okay,” you said, balling up the tissues and putting them in the centre console, “We’re going straight back to campus. I’ll just shower and go to bed.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Aizawa, and he lifted himself from your lap and moved to cross to the driver’s seat.

You grabbed his arm to stop him. “You should, too. Don’t run yourself dry.”

Aizawa froze, considering, and then he nodded, slowly sinking back onto your lap.

He braced his hands on his thighs. “I’ve been cruel to you.”

Too exhausted to argue, you shrugged. “You have your reasons.”

“I shouldn’t be so cold to you, though. It’s been wearing away at my conscience,” he said, patting his pockets on his thighs and moving down to his calves. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he said, “Give me your phone. You deserve my number, at least.”

You pulled yours out and opened a new contact before handing it over. “You’re sure you’re comfortable with that?”

“Yeah,” said Aizawa, tapping the screen, “So long as it doesn’t…lead to anything out of bounds. And…maybe you can stick around for a while next time you shift in your sleep.” He shot you a smirk as he returned your phone.

The contact name simply read Shouta. No surname or honorifics. Just Shouta.

Heat rose to your face, but it was much pleasanter than when it had earlier that day.

“Are you good to drive back to campus?”

Tilting your head, you pocketed your phone again. “Yeah, I’m up for it.”

“Good,” he said, climbing off of your lap and into the backseat, “I’m going the fuck to sleep.”

soulmate trope taglist: @bakugouspsycho, @pansexualproblemchild, @doonaandpjs, @sunsetevergreen, @the-coffee-is-on-fire, @liberace2, @ladymidnight77, @nonomesupposedto, @gooooomz, @kissmebakugou, @pachiibatt, @celestair

[eternaltae7]

Fan Favorite Hani & Namjoon Moments

Fox of BTS | BTS 8th Member

~Fans adore the intellectual energy between Namjoon and Hani, especially in their deep, late-night discussions. There’s a popular clip from In the SOOP where Hani and Namjoon are sitting outside, talking about philosophy and art. Hani shares a book recommendation, and Namjoon listens intently, even taking notes. ARMY loves seeing Hani keeping up with Namjoon’s intellectual curiosity, leading fans to call them “the brain duo” of BTS.

~Hani has a sixth sense for keeping track of Namjoon’s things. Fans find it hilarious and endearing to see her anticipating his next “lost item” and slipping his wallet or phone back to him without a word. In one Run BTS episode, Namjoon misplaces his bag, and, just when he’s about to get frustrated, Hani wordlessly hands it to him with a soft smile. ARMY goes wild over her stealthy attentiveness.

~In a behind-the-scenes clip, Namjoon and Hani are seen hiking together, both admiring the trees and taking photos. Namjoon points out different plants to Hani, and she listens with genuine curiosity. When they find a particularly scenic spot, Hani hands Namjoon her phone to snap a photo, and fans gush over the gentle moment of them enjoying the simplicity of nature.

~Once, during a V-Live, Hani mentioned how she and Namjoon often visit bookstores together and exchange book recommendations. When fans spotted them at a library in matching beanies and oversized sweaters, they went wild, dubbing it the “Library Date.” Fans love seeing Namjoon and Hani’s shared love for books and how it gives them a unique way to bond.

~Namjoon is often seen giving Hani pep talks before performances, knowing she sometimes feels extra pressure being in a male-dominated group. In a memorable clip, just before going on stage, he places a hand on her shoulder, tells her to “go out there and own it,” and reminds her she’s an essential part of BTS. Fans adore how he subtly supports her in a leader-like manner, giving her the confidence boost she needs.

~During events, Namjoon is often seen quietly checking in on Hani, like subtly guiding her through crowds or making sure she’s comfortable. At an awards show, a clip showed him gesturing to staff to give her some water. Fans love these small moments that show Namjoon’s caring, big-brother side.

During a behind-the-scenes segment, Namjoon was seen talking about Hani’s skills as a songwriter, telling the group and staff, “You have to listen to her lyrics; they’re powerful.” Fans love seeing how proud he is of her talent and how he’s always there to hype her up. His open support makes fans see how much respect he has for Hani as an artist.

~At a music show, Hani stumbled a little in her high heels, and Namjoon immediately reached out, steadying her with a gentle hand on her back. ARMY loved how instinctively he responded, watching over her without hesitation. This small yet sweet moment made fans melt, especially when Hani looked back to thank him, giving him a quick appreciative smile.

~Fans have noticed that when Namjoon and Hani are spotted together at creative meetings or brainstorming sessions, they often sit side by side and chat excitedly. In one clip, they were bouncing off lyrics and visual ideas, with Namjoon looking at her with genuine fascination. Fans cherish seeing how they inspire each other artistically, pushing each other to explore new ideas.

~At one point during a trip overseas, Hani was spotted wearing an oversized sweater that looked familiar to fans, who quickly pieced together that it was one of Namjoon’s favorites. Fans loved how she was quietly repping Namjoon, making it seem natural but also endearing. ARMY went into a frenzy, reposting pictures and making playful comments.

~At a concert rehearsal, Hani was feeling nervous about her solo, and fans caught a heartwarming moment on camera where Namjoon spoke softly, reassuring her that she would “blow everyone away.” His calm, grounding words helped ease her nerves, and the sweet interaction left fans swooning over Namjoon’s caring nature and how he always seems to know just what to say.

[blue2black]

HAZBIN HOTEL BLOOPERS:

BONUS (1 & 1/2)

—🎬—

Vivziepop: Don’t get me wrong; I love working with these people. Really, I do.

Vivziepop: But for the love of everything that is unholy if they make one more Snapcube, Sonic Dub reference…

*Vivziepop, sighing and pinching the bridge of her nose*

Vivziepop: I will go to hell for murder.

—————————

HAZBIN HOTEL X SNAPCUBE

—————————

(Husk and Alastor fight scene)

Alastor: *sighs dramatically*

Husk: 🫤? *thinks Alastor is improving*

Alastor: I miss my wife, Husker…

Husk: Oh—haHA! 😂 *tilts his head back*

Alastor: I miss her a lot 😭

—————————

(Lucifer punches Adam scene)

Lucifer, wired up in the air to appear like he’s flying: I have to contain you in here.

Adam, also wired up in the air to appear like he’s flying: What??

Lucifer: Your—*giggles*—your fart smells so bad… 😆

Adam: Wait, it wasn’t me!

Adam, being dropped: YOU SMELT IT THEREFORE YOU’RE THE ONE WHO DELT IIIITTTTTTT!!!!!

Lucifer, covering his smile: 🤣

—————————

(Vox calms down Valentino scene)

*Vox, coming up from the elevator*

*elevator dings and opens* Vox: 😏

Vox: My dusty bitch senses told me-

Valentino: SHUT THE FUCK YOUR MOUTH YOU PIECE OF SHIT- 😂 *throws drink*

Director: CUT! Both of you—WHAT THE HELL??

*Valentino and Vox laugh their asses off*

—————————

(Valentino hits Angel scene)

Director: (3…2…1) Marker.

🎬

Director: Action…!

Angel: Val, I didn’t-

*Valentino “hits” Angel* Angel: OW—Val—!

Valentino, holding Angel by his scruff: Shutthefuckup—SHUT THE FUCK UP! EVERYBODY’S FUCKED MY WIFE *laughs*

Angel: *laughing out of confusion* WHAT?!

—————————

(Lucifer in battle scene)

Lucifer, at the edge of the hotel’s roof: GOIN’ UUUUUUUUP!!!

Lucifer: *jumps off*

—————————

*Velvette and Carmella laughing*

Carmella: Wait—waitwaitwaitwaitwait. *smiling*

Velvette: *wheezes* 😆

Carmella: Okay—go ahead. *holding up the angel’s head (fake)*

Velvette: Hey! Give that, that looks really scrumptious! *trails off giggling*

Carmella: 🙂

Velvette: (ಡ 艸ಡ) *barely holding it together*

Carmella and Velvette: …

Carmella: No.

*Velvette and Carmella break out into wheezing laughter*

—————————

(Alastor breaking Vox’s spy camera scene)

Alastor: *picks up camera* HaHA…you’re going to have to do better than that.

Vox: Why are you on the same line as the VILLAIN LI- *Alastor breaks the camera*

*BTS crew bursts out laughing* Alastor: *walking out as if nothing happened*

—————————

(Alastor takes Charlie to Cannibal Town)

Alastor, while linking arms with Charlie: And here we are!

Charlie: Cannibal Town?

Alastor: No.

Alastor, in all seriousness: Welcome to tilted towers.

Charlie: *chuckling*🤦🏻‍♀️ I know you did not just mess up this whole scene on purpose to make that fucking joke. *Director: CUT!*

—🎬—

(Alastor introduces Charlie to Rosie scene)

Alastor: This is Rosie! One of the most darling, daring and dangerous overlord on this side of the Pentagram! *Rosie bows politely*

Rosie: *raises herself back up to face Alastor and Charlie*

Alastor: … :)

Charlie: …? •-•

Rosie: … “:)

Rosie, resiting what Alastor told her to say: We get so tilted at the towers-

*Alastor wheezes* Charlie: OH for fuck sa-

—————————

Vox *trying to fix Valentino’s coat for him before the start of a scene*

Valentino: I got it, Christian, geez! 😖

Vox: I’m just trying to help you, god damn!

Velvette: Hey, can you two stop having relationship issues while I’m on the phone with my nonexistent dentist. 😌

Vox: AhHA! Oh, funny that Lilli, yeah.

Vox: 😒🖕🏻

Velvette: Û🫦Û🖕🏾

—————————

(Pentious and Cherri at the club scene)

Cherri: Why would we have sex?

Pentious: Why-

Pentious: *laughs at his idea* Why are your tits one polygon— *breaks off wheezing*

Cherri: PFF—HAHA! 🤣💥💥 *bangs on the table*

—————————

Husk, running around behind the scenes: HAHA, HAH HAH--

Husk: *jumps up* ONE! ☝🏿😄

Vaggie, witnessing it all: ᵀʰᵉ ᶠᵘᶜᵏ ⁱˢ ʰᵉ ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ…? 😆

—————————

(Discussing theories with Alastor and Lucifer 😃)

Alastor: Do you think it's Lilith?...the one who leashes my character.

Lucifer: Ehh, I think it's possible at least.

Lucifer: It feels a little too obvious.

Alastor: Some of the fans add a little more spice to it.

Lucifer: Spice?

Alastor: 😗

Lucifer: 😐

Lucifer: Ew.

Lucifer: You stole my wife, Alastor?

Alastor: Haha! 😆

Alastor: How do you think Lucifer would feel if that happened?

Lucifer: Oh--I don't know Amir, how do you think he would feel being CUCKED BY A DEER?!

Alastor, laughing: I KNEW a reference was coming!-

—————————

(Angel calming Niffty in the club scene)

Niffty: Shut up shut up shut up shut up...

Niffty: Shut up.

Niffty: SHUT UP.

Niffty: SHUT UP!!

Angel, holding her up: Kimiko, no one's saying anything... 😭

Niffty: I'm improving, do me a favor and play along. *flaps her hand in Angel's face*

Angel: But you're just copying-

Niffty: SHUT UP!

[jinjinxedsoul]

CHAPTER 1. Here's to the mess we made.

WARNINGS: Smut. fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, dub con, incest (uncle-niece), drunk sex lmk if I'm missing anything.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:Listen when I started writting this chapter I started in a different direction and even tho I liked most of it I kept feeling the urge to write more of these two before starting any drama, that's when I did the poll for ask u what did you think about it, and when you agreed I started this. Now I really wanna keep on writing about this two a lil bit prior their family drama starts what do you think? I wanna know your thoughts. I also opened an insta account for my hotd related fics (i already have one for my bts works in spanish so why not?) if you want to go follow me feel free to do so I love interacting w my readers Anyways, enjoy this thing.

Word count: 4K+ (also lmk if you prefer long or short chapters)

Things between them were... complicated. Far too complicated. But within that great mess that was their relationship, there was a connection neither of them was willing to lose, one they had learned to guard jealously from the eyes and gossip of others. They didn't need anyone else to know, because what they had was specifically shaped and created by and for them.

For them to live. To cherish. To understand.

If someone were to ask what had sparked that strange relationship, they would surely blame everything on their exchange semester in Monaco. In reality, that had been the first domino to fall, and everything that happened afterward was merely a consequence of it.

Alyssane Velaryon and Aegon Targaryen came from an already complicated family. Aegon's mother, Alicent, used to be the best friend of Alyssane's mother, Rhaenyra. Up to that point, everything seemed relatively normal; things started to twist when Alicent had an affair with Rhaenyra's father and then married him, a union from which Aegon and two other siblings were born.

As surprising as this might seem, that wasn't the greatest scandal in the Targaryen family. But then again, dark secrets always seem to surround powerful families.

With growing tensions within the family, Aegon and Alyssane were raised in similar environments, but remained distant from one another, only crossing paths when strictly necessary. Of course, these situations weren't rare; within such a limited social circle, it was impossible for the families not to constantly run into each other. That turned out to be a good thing, as when they were teenagers, something almost magical happened, and suddenly, everyone was at peace again.

Perhaps their mothers were to blame.

When their mothers became inseparable once more, they wanted to do the same with their children. That was why they presented the idea of doing a semester abroad in Monaco to both of them.

Why Monaco? They didn’t know for sure, but they suspected it had something to do with their mothers' rekindled friendship. In the end, they both agreed, each for their own reasons: Aegon, drawn by the parties and excesses a wealthy country like Monaco could offer, and Alyssane, excited by the freedom it promised—especially a semester without having to constantly keep an eye on her three brothers, which sounded like a dream.

The first few weeks, however, they remained distant. Despite living in the same apartment, they barely saw each other due to their differing schedules. When they did run into each other at parties, their interactions lasted no more than a couple of minutes.

When they started missing home, they unconsciously decided to spend more time together. Then came what Alyssane always describes as one of the worst chapters of her life—when her boyfriend broke up with her, claiming that the distance had affected their relationship too much. It was a cheap excuse, considering the guy had a private jet and could have flown to the principality whenever he wanted, but as flimsy as his excuse was, it still managed to wound Alyssane's heart. They had been together since they were fifteen; she hadn’t known anything else and felt like her life had ended with that relationship.

Maybe Monaco was to blame.

If they hadn’t gone to Monaco, Alyssane’s heart wouldn’t have been broken, and she wouldn’t have had to seek refuge in the only person who could remind her, even a little, of home—Aegon.

Her mother was too busy with business matters, and although Alyssane knew that she would fly over immediately to be by her side, she didn’t want to bother her.

And Aegon, even though he wasn’t always attentive to the things happening around him, immediately noticed his niece's absence from school. He figured it was normal enough, given her recent breakup, but when he realized that her absence extended to the parties she used to love, he started to worry for real.

When he finally gathered the courage to barge into her room and found her in that horrible self-imposed isolation, he felt terrible—especially because he had been going from party to party, fueling rumors about himself while she, who deserved for people to care about her, was there, wasting away in her sadness.

At first, it seemed a bit exaggerated to him that Alyssane, at nineteen, was so heartbroken over a breakup. She had money, she was beautiful, and with her charming personality, the moment she announced she was single, messages would pour in. But then he understood that Alyssane and her ex-boyfriend had been together since they were fifteen; she hadn’t known anything else.

That’s when he knew he had to be there for her, because his father always said family needed to stick together and support each other when times seemed darkest. It had started as a purely brotherly and innocent act, but soon it began to turn into something different.

Maybe it had been his fault.

He should have kept his distance; of all the times he could’ve followed his father’s advice, he had chosen this one. If he hadn’t tried to lift his niece’s spirits with a motivational talk, then nothing would have happened.

"You still have so much left to experience. He was just one of many idiots," he told her at the end of his lengthy talk.

They were sitting on the floor of her room, backs against the bed, with a couple of empty wine bottles beside them. The glasses in their hands were still full.

"So, you're saying I should meet more idiots?" she asked.

"You should actually stay away from them," Aegon replied with a soft laugh. "It's just that, in this world, you'll come across plenty. In the end, what's important is learning to spot them before they hurt you."

"Maybe you're right," she said, taking a sip of wine. "But I can't help feeling a little lost. He was... everything. I don’t know anything more."

"Then get to know more," he shrugged. "I'm sure there are hundreds out there who would do anything to get your attention. We have the blessing—or curse, depending on how you see it—of being part of one of the most powerful families. That means many will do whatever it takes for a bit of our time."

"And that also means I’ll have to pay attention to their intentions," Alyssane said, frowning.

"That's the only way to learn how to spot the idiots," Aegon added.

Alyssane smiled bitterly and nodded, falling silent for a moment as she let his words settle in her mind. Aegon was right; his words felt insightful, and before that day, she wouldn’t have believed he could offer good advice.

"And what about you? Are you an idiot too?" the brunette asked after a while, blinking rapidly to ward off the tears threatening to surface.

"Haven't you read everything they say about me? Apparently, I'm the disgrace of House Targaryen," he replied with a smile, turning to look at her.

Alyssane’s gaze locked onto Aegon’s, and he became acutely aware of the strange weight pressing down on his chest. Before that night, he had never noticed how beautiful she was; sure, most of their family members were quite good-looking, but now, as he looked at her closely, he realized she was truly stunning.

"They don’t know what they’re talking about," she said simply, knowing that what the media portrayed rarely aligned perfectly with reality.

"Or maybe they do. Maybe I am a bit of a disaster."

Aegon wanted to look away, to stop staring at her because the weight in his chest grew heavier with each passing second, and he didn’t know how to handle it.

"Disasters are interesting," was her conclusion, which she sealed by gulping down the rest of her wine.

Maybe the wine was to blame.

Alyssane used to drink, but whenever she did, it was at a party, dancing and socializing so much that she barely noticed the effects of alcohol on her body. Now, sitting there without the frenzy, she could feel them clearly.

Her body felt numb, heavy; when she went out, the images would swirl around her like a colorful blur, but this time it felt like every second was etched carefully in her mind. Her lips tingled strangely, and she felt an overwhelming need to be held. She studied Aegon for a moment, wondering if it would be too weird if she just...

"What are you doing?" the silver-haired one asked as she straddled him.

It seemed the alcohol still gave her the ability to act on her impulses.

"A hug," she whispered, adjusting to find the best position. "Is it too weird?"

He had to say yes; one didn’t hug family members like that, and Aegon knew it. He had to admit that it made him uncomfortable because she was his niece, but Aegon couldn’t lie when he was drunk; he simply couldn’t.

"It’s not the weirdest thing anyone’s asked me, certainly," he said, unable to suppress a chuckle.

Alyssane wrapped her arms around Aegon’s neck, and he instinctively placed his arms around her back, settling into a comfortable embrace. The closeness felt strange and confusing, but neither of them made an effort to pull away.

The silence that followed was awkward at first, but the tension in the air lightened enough, and it was only broken by the heavy sigh that escaped Alyssane’s lips as she rested her head on Aegon’s shoulder.

"Sometimes I feel really lonely," she whispered.

Aegon felt, for a moment, that his niece's words pierced him like a dagger. He wasn't sure how to respond, but he understood that loneliness better than he wanted to admit; in a world like his, solitude was more common than one would expect and it lingered even when surrounded by people.

"You shouldn’t."

Unconsciously, his hands moved along her back, gently caressing her as a form of comfort. Alyssane's warm breath tickled pleasantly against his neck, and her weight on his lap did not go unnoticed; after all, he was still human, and alcohol never failed to make him more receptive to physical sensations.

Everything was mixing together, making it hard for him to keep his thoughts in the right place. He knew he shouldn't feel this way. But the combination of alcohol, silence, and the shared moment of vulnerability created an atmosphere that urged him to cross boundaries he knew shouldn’t be crossed.

"You’re not alone."

Due to their position, Aegon's lips brushed against Alyssane's temple, and his words ended up being whispered in her ear, sending a pleasant shiver through her that made her shift in place, directly causing friction against Aegon's groin. He quickly placed his hands on either side of her hips, keeping her still.

"Alyssane..." he murmured as a warning.

She finally lifted her head, looking into his eyes, and settled back onto him, smiling slyly as her movement drew a sigh from Aegon.

"We shouldn't," he said, his voice sounding much less firm than he had expected.

And his actions betrayed him too, because instead of pulling away, he leaned in closer to her, brushing his nose against Alyssane's, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. Aegon closed his eyes for a moment, trying to regain his composure, but the warmth radiating from Alyssane's body embraced him so comfortingly that it was impossible to think of anything but her and the closeness they were sharing.

"Why not?" Alyssane asked, her tone challenging common sense. There was a spark in her eyes that seemed to light up everything around them, and Aegon realized he didn't want to pull away.

Alyssane dared to press a careless kiss on Aegon's cheek, the warmth of her lips feeling better than any other display of affection he had ever received in his life. The contact made him open his eyes, looking at her with a mix of astonishment and desire.

His heart raced wildly, as if it wanted to leap out of his chest, and his hands tingled, eager to explore more of the girl on top of him, yet held back by that thin thread of morality that still remained.

Maybe they were to blame.

"Tell me you don't want this," Aegon whispered as a plea, though it was really a desperate attempt not to get caught up in that spiral of complications. "We still have time to—"

"What if I do want it?" she interrupted abruptly, a smile still painted on her face as she looked directly into his eyes.

Aegon smiled too, shaking his head slightly; sometimes he forgot that capriciousness was one of the greatest traits of the Targaryens. No one ever denied them anything simply for being who they were; they took what they wanted when they wanted, and no one could do anything about it.

And at that moment, all they wanted was each other, even if it felt forbidden. Who could tell them no? Who was there to stop them?

"Is it wrong?" Alyssane questioned, placing another kiss on Aegon’s face, this time on his jaw. "Is it a mistake?" She moved again, doing her best to be as suggestive as she could.

"Technically—" His gaze couldn't tear away from her, specifically from her lips, which were slightly parted, almost as if inviting him to taste them. Alyssane shifted again, and Aegon’s grip on her hips loosened, allowing her to take the lead.

"But it doesn’t feel wrong."

In truth, it did feel very wrong, but that only fueled their desires in an oddly lustful way that they probably wouldn’t be able to articulate if they had to.

"Then what does it matter?" she asked, inching even closer to him as if it were impossible to get any nearer.

And those words were enough to untie any knot that had been holding his very flexible morality in place. He tilted his face just a few millimeters, immediately reaching Alyssane's lips, barely brushing against them as if asking for permission to continue; she pulled him closer and finally pressed their lips together.

It wasn't a delicate kiss; it wasn't laden with emotions. It sought to express nothing more than the pure desire that had ignited between them that night. Though perhaps it wasn't entirely new—more like a flame that had been smoldering within them for some time. After all, during the time they had lived together, it was impossible to deny that, at least once, both had featured in each other's fantasies.

Aegon's hands felt liberated as they finally roamed Alyssane's body without restraint. The first place he touched was her legs; the fair skin of the young Velaryon was exposed by the light silk dress she wore that night. His fingers sank sweetly into her thighs, eliciting a gasp from her. Taking advantage of her parted lips, Aegon moved his own directly to Alyssane's neck.

He slowly trailed his lips across her neck, then dared to let his tongue trace a path from her left collarbone to her chin and back again. Aegon's grip intensified, and he bit his lip, restraining himself from marking her as he desired.

“Do it,” she said simply, burying her hands in the silver strands of his hair. Aegon looked at her, questioning her decision. “If we're breaking the rules, let’s make it worth it.”

Aegon's gaze darkened, and a mischievous smile curled on his lips before he returned to assaulting the curve of her neck, sucking hard in places, leaving faint red marks that would surely shine in the morning light and eliciting soft moans from Alyssane's lips.

Aegon was quick to silence his niece's sounds, drowning them out with his own lips as he played with his tongue inside Alyssane's mouth. His already painful erection was imprisoned by his own clothes and the girl's weight on top of him, but he didn't want to release it now because the friction was delicious. His hands got lost under her dress and he was quick to lustfully grab her ass, squeezing it while forcing her to rub herself against him even more, feeling her warm wetness begin to soak his lap.

A smile crept between the kisses and he brought his hand to the front. The sensation of the lace on his fingertips was annoying, so he was quick to push the fabric aside looking for direct contact with her skin, his eager touch snatched a moan from her and he exhaled heavily when he felt her.

“Soaking wet already?” he asked in a mocking whisper, pulling back just to observe her reaction.

Alyssane frowned and was about to respond with some clever comment, but her words died in her throat when one of Aegon's fingers ran through her folds, drawing a sigh from her that she tried to silence by biting her lip.

“No, baby, let me hear you” he said firmly, his finger tracing the same path as before and this time a light gasp escaped from Alyssane's lips that made him smile sideways. “That's it”

His fingers moved expertly in her center and when she least expected it, she felt the intrusion of one of them. A small cry of pleasure filled the room and joined in a symphony with Aegon's gasps as he felt Alyssane's insides tighten around his fingers as she moved on top of him.

The tightness of the young woman was clear and he felt a shiver run through him as he imagined how she would feel around him, his lips parted and a moan escaped.

"How long has it been since you...?" His answer was interrupted by a wet kiss from the brunette.

"Before coming to Monaco," she replied between gasps, Aegon seemed scandalized by the answer and she rolled her eyes. "Not all of us are as promiscuous as you."

“Experienced. The word is...” he was interrupted again, this time by Alyssane's cold hand sneaking mischievously inside his pants, making him sigh immediately “Fuck...”

Her hand wrapped around his member and gave it a light squeeze, the movements of Aegon's hand sped up as well and soon they were both trying to match each other's rhythm, filling the room with lust-filled sounds that sweetened her ears.

Alyssane closed her eyes for a second when the sensations suddenly overwhelmed her, the way Aegon continued to move his fingers in and out was taking her to the limit, although in reality it was the fact of knowing that what they were doing was too forbidden that excited her the most.

Aegon was breathless, unable to contain the gasps escaping his lips, feeling a familiar tingle spread throughout his body; only then did he dare to remove his fingers from inside Alyssane to stop her from moving her hand around him as well.

He didn't give her any explanations even when she was about to ask for them, he just hurriedly freed his member from the layers of clothing that now seemed too uncomfortable, he didn't have the time to stop and undress them both thoroughly, although he was tempted to do so if it meant discovering and conquering every part of Alyssane's body; however, the urgency of being inside her was greater than any other of his needs.

“I need... I...” he gasped, looking into her eyes, unable to articulate coherent phrases as desire overwhelmed his senses. “Come here” he muttered, grabbing her firmly by the waist and positioning her on top of him, doing everything he could to keep the annoying lace of her underwear out of the way.

A glimmer of reason seemed to shine in Aegon’s mind; what they were doing was already risky, and he didn’t want to increase those possibilities.

"Wait, I don't have a condom..."

His words hung in the air like an unimportant warning as Alyssane slid over him, making him enter her in one thrust. The sensation was overwhelming for both of them; a muffled moan escaped Aegon's lips while Alyssane let out a deep gasp, closing her eyes immediately as the sudden intrusion had caused a burning sensation that spread down her spine, which was to be expected as she had spent so much time without company other than his fingers that Aegon's well-endowed presence made her feel like she was being split right in half.

The intensity of the moment made Aegon tighten his hands around her waist, as if he wanted to make sure that this was real and not a dream fueled by his repressed desires; the warmth inside Alyssane felt unreal, perhaps it was his own lust speaking, but Aegon could assure that no other woman he had been with felt this good, it was as if she had been made specifically for him. That thought caused a shudder that Alyssane also felt as spasms in Aegon's member.

"It's okay," she whispered, pressing their foreheads together. "I'm still on the pill."

Aegon sighed and smirked. "Thank God."

Aegon was grateful that he didn't have to use protection, for now he couldn't imagine having any restrictions, even minimal, that would prevent him from fully enjoying what she was giving him. Alyssane giggled and rose up over him slowly, just enough to make most of his member slip out of her, only to lower herself back down again with a snap. They both moaned in unison, the brunette gripping the other's shoulders with shaking hands, playing with the thin fabric of his shirt.

The girl went up and down in a deliciously slow rocking motion, seeking to relieve the feeling of discomfort in her body, as she did so and Aegon dissolved into moaning noises an idea assaulted the silver-haired man's mind; according to his niece's own words, her now ex-boyfriend had not taken her to bed in a long time, the thought alone made him upset.

He had barely received a little from her, contrary to how much she had surely offered that idiot, and just that little had been enough to blow his mind, he was definitely eager to try much more of her.

How could he have left her unattended for so long? He wouldn't do it, he...

"I would travel however many miles it took to have you like this," he whispered against her lips. Something changed in Alyssane's smile, and although Aegon didn't recognize it immediately, he felt a sense of satisfaction. "And that's what you deserve."

“Miles?” she asked, her teasing smile returning, though her voice was breathless with the pleasure she felt in every movement.

“Hundreds of them...” Aegon growled, a similarly mischievous smile on his lips, his eyes shining with lust.

Alyssane let out a moan as she felt him take complete control, lifting his hips to meet hers, driving the rhythm faster, deeper. The thought that he needed her as much as she needed him made her body tremble.

“That’s what you deserve, what you should look for—someone who won’t leave you alone,” his breath came erratically, each movement filling him with an intense pleasure that made it hard to maintain control.

Alyssane shut her eyes tightly, surrendering to the sensation of being so close to him, so connected in body and desire. The possessive tone in Aegon’s voice sent shivers down her spine, and a part of her knew that, no matter how dangerous those words were, she craved more of that wild, unrestrained devotion that had sparked like a lustful flame and was now consuming them with intensity, enveloping them in the excessive heat of the flames that, far from harming them, provided comfort.

“Will you ever leave me alone?” she asked, gasping as she quickened her movements. “‘After tonight, will you leave me alone?’”

“Never...” he replied between breaths, but he paused for a moment, moving one hand to cradle her face with a tenderness that contrasted with the passion of the moment. “Not after this. Never.”

“Then I don’t have to look for anyone else,” she declared before capturing Aegon’s lips with hers.

And although the Velaryon’s words were decisive and carried a weight they would later have to confront, Aegon didn’t care in the slightest—or maybe he cared too much—but he decided he agreed with that sentiment, even if he didn’t fully understand why. He just knew that no matter how hard he searched, no one would be worthy enough to have her.

Caught in the heat of the moment and the suffocating yet sweet lust of knowing what they were doing was just for them, he resolved that he was worthy of it. He could care for her and please her; in recent days, he had proven he could provide for her, and now he was showing he could give her the pleasure that the fool who had her hadn’t wanted to offer.

“Don’t do it. Don’t look for anyone else.”

They were to blame for giving in and yielding so easily. But it felt good—not just physically; that night was the first in their lives when they didn’t feel completely empty. And that was enough for both of them.

Alyssane:

[candywife333]

Delulu is the Solulu

PART 1- Hairy Big Toe

AND PART 1 is finally out. Planning 2-3 parts for this.

Chubby OC (with PCOS) x simp idol Jungkook

No proofreading done

Summary: Our OC (Lee Ireum) loves Jungkook of BTS to pieces. She loves him through the distance of her screen and in fact is one of his avid fan club members. She is running for president of the ARMY fan club in her home town. But, she has a peculiarity about her, that even her fellow members in arms don't know about her. She never wants to meet them. She never wants to meet BTS, and she especially never wants to meet Jungkook. She believes in never meeting your heroes because they will end up disappointing you, eventually. To hold up this ideal, she has never been to their in person events. However, though she has never been to a fan meet ,she is supposed to attend one the coming week (at the blackmailing insistence of one of her friends). Yet, she had started to text a dude through a popular dating app around the same time all of this was happening.

It had started out as a prank, this dating profile. She would post sexy pics , have amusing chats with thirsty dudes, and then block them for the shits and giggles. Living the true online play girl life, something she would never do in real life cause of insecurities. The odd thing with the dude she is texting though is that the time stamps of the texts are not showing up in Korean time, it almost seemed like Eastern standard time. And the odder thing was that closer to her fan meet date, the time stamps changed back to korean standard time. The question was, who exactly was she chatting with?

Description : This fic will be written with chat messages in between (dilineated by bullets), alternating with the usual writing.

Disclaimer: The character of Jungkook in this fic is not a true representation of his real life actions or personality. Please treat this is fiction.

Triggers: voyeurism, dub-conish , body insecurity (chubby hairy OC incoming)

I opened up my phone to see the recent chats I had received from the new dating app I signed up for a week back. Damn, so many requests within a few hours from when I finished updating my blank profile with pics of myself (of course since it is just a thirst trap account without my face) which were just way too scandalous for real life. I opened up the first chat that I received.

bunnyboy7- Show me your tits🤤

The hell, guys were that straightforward? I thought I would at least get a little segue and introduction, luring me in, before being asked for my literal boobs in a pic.

strawcakes4- Excuse me? Sir this is a Wendy's drive through👵.

bunnyboy7- Then, at least show me your ass🍑

Damn, this dude was way too relentless. I didn't even show a hint of cleavage in my actual pics on the dating profile to signal that I might be open to showing anybody anything. How did this random guy, think he had the honor of seeing first my tits? and then my bare ass? I guess dude didn't yet know that I had a hairy ass. Even monkeys would be envious. I even had a few hairs on my tits. I grew chest hair before guys in my class did. Even had upper lip hair to match. Had to get that little bitch ripped off my face every Sunday with my handy dandy waxing pot, otherwise I would be sporting a rather impressive moustache most of the time. Dude, didn't know what he was even asking for.

strawcakes4- I think you have the wrong number Sir Bunny

bunnyboy7- Trust me baby, you won't regret me.

strawcakes4- What are you going to say next? champagne confetti? too predictable dude. You think you are JK or something🤨?

bunnyboy7- In fact yes I do, my fair lady. (5:00 AM EST)

strawcakes4- They say the world is made up of mostly sane poeple. I am beginning to doubt this claim. Delulu is not the solulu my friend. 😌No matter how much you and I both wish you were JK, that is not reality.

bunnyboy7- Ok, well how about you assume I am JK and why don't you show your favorite , cutest global pop-star your bellybutton then? Ask not what your JK can do for you, but what you can do for your JK. It is for a noble cause.

strawcakes4- Excuse me? how desperate are you dude? We progressed from ass, to tits, to belly button? You have a fetish or something? And now you claim to be JK---THE SHEER AUDACITY?! JK would be too busy earning millions ,performing at times square, eating noodles drenched in perilla oil, hanging out with calvin klein models. He would not be sitting here looking so pathetic.

bunnyboy7- Sometimes stars have needs too. Ok!? We don't have models gyrating 10 feet away from us all the time, contrary to popular opinion. And sometimes we do our own laundry. Is that so hard for you to fucking believe?!

What were the odds of this guy actually being jungkook? He was probably a troll or delusional fanboy who thought he was JK. He sure was putting in a lot of effort to convince me though. Rolling my eyes, I scrolled further down to reply:

strawcakes4- clutching my forehead in disbelief you need to get over yourself dude. If you are Jungkook, I am bloody britney spears. I am not sending nudes or sexting you. OFF to HORNY JAIL WITH YOU, YOUNG MAN!! 🔥If you were truly JK, you wouldn't be begging, you would already be receiving. bunnyboy7- Fine, fine fine, if you can't send me nudes or sext with me, let's play a game of 20 questions.

strawcakes4- Ok?

bunnyboy7- What does your pussy look like? describe it in no less than 20 words. Your timer starts now😉

This dude had balls of steel, he even wanted a pussy description. He would probably run for the hills if he actually saw my furry snatch in person. Chewing on my lip, deliberating my next response, I typed out:

strawcakes4- Ok, "JK", I think …………….I have contracted syphilis from my step father in Transylvania and I am about to die. So………….I am leaving the chat…………….to go get it treated.

bunnyboy7- Don't lie to me like that strawbaby!!! Don't you dare leave this chat.

------Strawcakes4 has left the chat

bunnyboy7- Goddamnit. Ok forget about pussy. At least show bobs.🤤 (5:10 AM EST)

bunnyboy7- Fuck, I came on to her way too hard I guess

Giggling and kicking my feet as I lay on my bed, I chuckled, sounding like a pig snorting in the process. At least he figured out, that he was coming on to me way too hard and way too inappropriately.

I sat there contemplating whether I should delete his chat log and block him. I usually did that after 2-3 interactions with particularly horny dudes, or even after 1 interaction with really annoying clingy guys. Here for a good time, not a long time fellas. I was literally baffled when some of them were using me for therapy sessions. Like, why should I do so much unpaid work?! Like hell I was wasting my time talking to these dudes constantly .

I didn't mind flirting, bantering and eventually sharing pics after building a rapport (not like I kept them for long in my dms either way). But the way this dude had come on so strong was perplexing and rather irritating. I had come across this type of behavior from many other dudes. But he was the first one to not even say Hi. Usually the other dudes had decency to atleast greet her and then start their lewd demands. Pathetic buffoon.

I flopped onto my back, sighing over the fact that I would have to attend that fan meet in a few days. I did not want to meet any of the members of BTS. The only idols I had an intention of meeting in my life were MAMAMOO. I loved their vibe and would feel comfortable in their presence. My main reason for wanting to meet was also so I could ask Hwasa to step on my face with her high heels. The lady was a divine goddess. Sometimes I just wished I was lesbian, because so many things would be easier. Finding men attractive, was a curse.

Running for president of our BTS fanclub in our hometown was a feat. You can only print out so many posters of Jimin's luscious lips, and Jin's windswept perfectly tousled hair, before you get tired of seeing them. Somedays I got so tired of doing BTS related activities, like chaperoning younger armys to attend their music shows and meets in Korea. It was fine when I was a younger teen in middle school, but as a college junior it felt taxing at times.

I had seen the members from afar but never went to actual fan meets where you could interact or talk to them. Convinced it would lead to disillusionment at their carefully manufactured images and heartache, I rejected attending those type of meets. My baby members always pushed me attend, wanting me as a chaperone so their parents would feel comfortable with them attending. I just couldn't though, and they would stare back at me with their puppy dog eyes disheartened at my refusal. But, something about my attitude as a fan had changed. I still loved them to the moon and back, but I guess it was getting tiring.

I had different priorities I guess, like getting a new job with the marketing degree I was to graduate with next year. I groaned at the prospect of finding a place to live next year. My dorm room would be gone and I would have to look for a flat since mom and dad lived in the countryside.

Two days later, I was met with another stream of texts from the same person, bunnyboy7. Why in the fucking hell was he bothering me now? Especially with the dreaded fan meet I had to attend in a few days. Armies looked out for each other, and the main reason for me to attend wasn't honestly even about running for president. It was the responsibility of looking after the young, impressionable minds that would be attending. Had to make sure they didn't get hurt in a crowd, or break down. You would be surprised how many people tended to cry a river and lose their bloody mind when seeing their favorite idols.

I opened the chat log:

bunnyboy7- you there angel? my beautiful goddess? temptress of my dreams, or shall I say tittytress of my fantasies😏😏

I scoffed as I stared at the screen, what the hell was he on? weed? nicotine? You would think one rejection would be enough to get my point across, to convey my distaste.

strawcake4- Ummmmm. Why are you still talking to me dude? I am not interested in sexting or nudes. Leave me alone, I am way too busy for this right now

bunnyboy7- I have been fisting myself everyday to the pic you posted of yourself in a see through black babydoll dress with your tits drooping down , perfect size for my hands to squeeze. I almost came as I could see your thick thighs, just the right size to have wrapped around my neck as I lick your juicy little pussy😜 Please at least take pity on a poor man and post a feet pic. (7:00 AM KST)

strawcake4- Ok dude, this convo has prolonged far enough. If you have a boner, I will deflate it in two seconds flat, that's all I need. My toes are hairy, my tummy is hairy, my legs are ......you guessed it hairy and so is the rest of my body. I look like a cross between a chubby baboon and a chimpanzee. Now , unless you are into bestiality, you won't want to engage further with me. Leave me the fuck alone.

I expected no response from him, confident in my abilities to turn off men. The dude would have deleted the chat by now. Checking out of sheer curiosity, I was shocked, gasping as sweat beaded on my hairline, at his reply:

bunnyboy7- It's ok baby, we can just shave it all off if it bothers you, no biggie. 😋But I like my pussies hairy , a whole jungle, so don't worry in the least. And I can tell just from your pics, that I would drown in your pussy and never come up for air. It would be a glorious way to go, don't you think darling 🤓

I was breathless as I stared at his text, what the hell did he mean? He didn't mind all the body hair and my fat little self?

strawcake4- stop messing around dude, you are just lying. Now let us just end the convo, you are fooling nobody.

bunnyboy7- Who said I was lying baby😏. Just send one pic of your choosing of your body. And I will prove it to you. (7: 05 AM KST)

I shouldn't be doing this. But my fingers moved to my photo gallery and I picked out one pic I had taken in dim light of my tits and tummy, intact with strawberry red lingerie that showed hints of fine downy hair here and there. He would probably be turned off and we could end this interaction. I paused several minutes, indecisive about sending the pic.

bunnyboy7- You still there babe? please babygirl, I am salivating at the thought of you. Send a pic, any pick. The mere thought of you is keeping me on the verge of cumming. (7: 10 AM KST )

I took a deep breath, not dragging the pic through my editing app, and clicked SEND, closing my eyes at the thought of what I had just done, wincing a little. I peeked at the screen with one eye open, he was typing. I almost jolted up towards the ceiling as I saw what he had written, my panties getting damp involuntarily.

bunnyboy7- OMG BABY🤤🤤I can't handle all your beauty. The perfect tits, tipped with chocolate brown areolas. I could just bite into them. And that gorgeous collection of pudge around your belly, your skin and flesh looks so soft. I can't believe I am saying this but........I would even lick your armpits and your asshole if you would let me. Totally my dream girl. I am cumming, oh ma god , I can't hold back anymore.

Before, I could reread his text, I received a pic. WTF!!!! My soul almost left my body, it was a pic of cum all squirted out , translucent and stringy onto his plain white sheets.

bunnyboy7- A tribute to you my luscious goddess. If only I could see you in motion, in 3D babe, to truly worship you. (7: 15 KST)

Something in my brain started tugging at me as I sat there on my bed stunned at all his proclamations of lust. Wait, when did his time zone change from EST to KST??? Didn't Jungkook just come back to Korea a few days back? It definitely couldn't be him , right ? We already had a joking convo about that. What type of reverse psychology was he using, if it was actually him?

I was about to dismiss the thought from my head when I saw his cum pic. Wait, I had seen that tattoo somewhere. His pic had part of his hand in the frame. If you weren't an army who had hung up his posters all of your school, you might not have a clue. But, the M on one of his knuckes, was a big give away. I still found it hard to believe even with the evidence. Why would Jungkook of BTS, the beloved, hot and happening global popstar, be texting me? And what had become of my vow never to interact with them?

Had I actually just now talked to Jungkook? And seen his cum sprayed all over his sheets? and had him simping over hairy little, big foot me? Since when did people like me talk with people like them?

[here2bbtstrash]

okay SO!

i have a long-running history of coming up with chaotic bangtan prompts to bother my friends with - once dubbed ~thot exercises~ ✨ - and i'm bored and one just popped into my head - so i figure maybe we can start doing them together 🥺

i shall present the prompt and my thoughts - feel free to comment, reblog, or even make a new post and share your own opinions if you feel differently! (just be sure to tag me hehe) there are no wrong answers - you're welcome to provide explanation for your choices, or absolutely no supporting evidence, just ~vibes~ 🤍

bts as iconic mall stores

namjoon: barnes & noble (or lowkey even borders, RIP queen) - dependable, cozy, and chock full of new things to learn and old favorites to revisit again and again. a respite from the overstimulation outside its doors - curl up with your latest find and stay for hours 📚

seokjin: if i say bass pro shops am i getting disowned 🧐 okok how about instead we go with hot topic (current era not the scary hot topic of my childhood lmao) - pop culture and anime references galore! adorable tchotchkes from all your favorite shows! you're definitely not leaving without at least one plushie! all in all, an underrated fave 🌸

yoongi: williams sonoma/sur la table - well-stocked, refined, and fancy enough that you lowkey wonder why you're allowed to be in here. what the fuck is a decanter? what purpose does molding ice into a sphere even serve? and why is that slotted spoon $45?! 🔪

hoseok: auntie anne's (or cinnabon, or jamba juice) - you spy it between the passing crowds and your whole face lights up. is that - could it be?! the stop that makes even the most chaotic of mall outings worthwhile. everyone loves it - and how could they not??? 🥨

jimin: tiffany's - elegant, stunning, timeless; you can't tear your eyes away whenever you pass by, it's all just too gorgeous, you have to stop and stare. (and wow, that model on the wall is stunning too 👀) of course it's far too expensive, but... can't a person dream?! 💍

taehyung: honestly? that new designer store that you swear wasn't here the last time you went shopping. when did we get a - gucci, burberry, LV?? whatever it is, it looks like a museum in there - and why is there a velvet rope and a bouncer outside? you don't even bother going in - everything is distinctly out of your league 👜

jungkook: hollister/abercrombie - it's dark as fuck, the aroma is certainly strong, and - hold up, why is everyone naked??? why is everything low rise AND cropped??? does that model have an EIGHT pack?? you're immediately overwhelmed - but the playlist is fire 🏝

[mrs-monaghan]

i saw you mention it briefly in a previous post and wondered if you happen to have any examples of jimin acting jealous related to jk

i can’t think of even one instance of it happening jimin has such a good poker face

Finally!! Getting to this ask. Sorry i kept you waiting my dear. Lets get to it.

Disclaimer: My word is not law. I can only point out what I picked up. Its up to you to form your own opinions. You don't have to see what I see 😘

To start us off would be the most recent.

Army: I'm Taehyung's wife

Jimin: Hello Taehyung's wife

Army: Hi, I'm Jhope's wife

Jimin: Hello Jhope's wife.

Army: Hi, I'm Jungkook's wife.

Jimin:

Mans really said "no the fuck you're not. You can call yourself JK's wife but I'm the one who knows what he's doing not you." 😂😂😂 No, but this was funny.

Next we're gonna talk about HOME. But before we do that. Let's understand something. Jikook have these exclusive things they do to/for eo and they prefer if it stays that way. A good example would be Jimin touching JK's chin. It's a Jikook thing or rather used to be, because sometimes in the past u would catch Jimin side eyeing another member when they did it. He's always done it from the beginning and other members started doing it too. But I think Jimin is over it now. Doesn't care anymore. But it did used to bother him. Another example would be the boxing. It's a Jikook thing and they (mostly JK) prefers it that way. We've seen him refuse to play box with V. I even touched on him debunking V here when V said they box together. It's a Jikook thing. Alright? Which brings us to HOME.

As we all know there is that one part where Jikook usually sing to each other during HOME.

My favourite is this one 🥺🥺

If you don't believe it's a Jikook thing, look at how JK reacted when Jimin sang to Army instead of singing to him. Here is an even better angle. He wasn't impressed. He was looking forward to it, only for Jimin to sing to Army 🤭

All duos have designated moments during songs. Here is angry Jin pulling Jimin away from a Taejin moment. (Sorry if u can't access tiktok. Tumblr only allows one video at a time) So this theory is not too far fetched.

Okay now let's get to the Jimin being annoyed part. Not jealous, annoyed. Its important we differentiate these 2 words. He wasn't jealous of V...he was just annoyed that it happened.

Okay. So first lets look at the Jikook moment. Which i love.

And then we look at the Taekook moment.

Why does V always look at members like they're a 5 course meal he's 2 seconds away from devouring? Damn. Anyway, I'd tell you to watch Jimin but that's not the best angle. You see his reaction better from the Jimin fancam.

Yeah... he wasn't impressed either.

Next we're gonna go back to Army proposing to JK. The infamous "Jungkook marry me" I bet JK regretted bringing that up the moment he started getting grilled. Mans really got the 3rd degree 😂😂 And you can see the exact moment Jimin was like; wtf I'm i doing?

Right before leaving to go off camera, looking all embarrassed. That shit was hysterical. Really 😂😂

Next we have JK calling RM sexy.

Jimin rubbing his face like that read to me like "this again?" And I wouldn't have thought anything of it but then he went and repeated the word "sexy" when JK said it which had me 🤔🤔🤔

Next we have this Run Bts episode. I will share Cameron's dubbed version because why not? 😂😂😂😂 JK even tried to make Jimin feel better. Yes, he was doing his mission but why not kill 2 birds with one stone?

Then we have the Busan concert. He wasn't jealous. He wasn't even annoyed. But he was watching them. He took notice. Jimin does it often when it comes to Tkk. He doesn't react, but he pays attention. Idk how to explain it. But he watches them, if that makes sense.

Next one is actually quite popular anon. I'm surprised you've never seen people talk about it. Again I will share the dubbed version because I play too much.

Aaah. Fine. Here is the original for the boring people 🙄 Watch Jimin's face when JK smiles at him. Then JK immediately lets go of V. Though he does it again, coz he can be a brat sometimes. But y'all get it.

These two Jinkook and Yoonkook moments are not even up for debate. It's pretty freaking clear. And yes. I will use the word jealousy for these ones.

This one is heartbreaking. I prefer when Jimin is angry. I do not like him sad. It's just... 😭😭😭

This one too. My heart breaks every single time.😪😪😪

You can watch this entire compilation if u feel like it. I find it mostly accurate. (Mostly. Not all) But watch this part. Jimin is watching Namkook on the viewfinder. Did you see him look away as soon as JK looked up? Why? Hmmm 🤭🤭

Now this one he was not just bothered but actually got angry. Like fucking pissed.

Thanks @astutejiminie for coming through. This video is absolute gold. They start reacting at 36:24. It's where it all starts unfolding.

(Keep an eye on Jimin touching his nose. That's usually a sign with him)

So we have V caressing JK's hair for a long ass time. And we have Jimin hating it. We hear him clear his throat abnoxiously at some point which is when JK notices and tries to like sit up and pull away from V. But as usual V doesn't get the memo and continues to touch. Eventually when they finish, Jimin stands up so aggressively that his chair flies back and then storms off before they have even wrapped up. Idk what it was about this day but Jimin got proper angry about the touching.

Another time Jimin didn't like V touching JK was during this live. He even banged his cup on the floor.

I recommend this analysis of that Dynamite BB hot 100 live/JK's birthday and what was really going on with JK staring at Jimin. Jimin had an issue with all the skinship on this day. That analysis does a good job of explaining why. Give it a go.

This here anon, is what I call the Holy grail. Jimin wanted to kill this army. Well, that's an exaggeration but still, if looks could kill, this Army would have gone up in smoke. So this girl goes to JK and calls his name in this cutesy tone. And watch Jimin. That, is some scary shit right there. 👀 I'd have ran and never come back 🙈

Damn this post got long and these aren't even all of them. I am too hungry to go get this link. So I will describe this moment and u see if it rings a bell or u can go search for it. Run BTS Canada. Jin sits next to JK and Jimin makes him move. He was like "That's my chair" and Jin immediately took off.

This cute winter package moment where Jimin slots himself between Jinkook. I don't think this is part of the list. I just like that moment 🤭🤭🤭

I gotta go eat. So this is all I have for now. Cheers! 🥂🥂

[kpopsexstories]

Request Week! NCT Ten, Yangyang, Mark and SKZ Felix

Yesterday you got the first solo story (Yeonjun) from my Most Memorable Sexual Experiences of TXT series. The next story in that series will be about Huening Kai and it will be up on Monday (September 30, 2024).

The last announced Quick Fix story of the current season, featuring Johnny, does not mean the rest of this week will be quiet. I'm extending the Quick Fix season with 3 additional stories, and I have several new one-shots to give you in the coming weeks. This is all thanks to the many requests you've sent in! 😁

In case you don't know, here are my currently active series:

Quick Fix Dirty Kpop Imagines

Very short scenes that focus exclusively on the sex. Kpop idol x the reader. Stories are posted weekly in "seasons" with 8 stories per season, but this week I'm extending Season 3 (which officially ended last week) with 3 additional stories!

Mixed One-shots

Longer stories with more fluff. Can be about any (male) celebrity and either the reader or a named character. Published irregularly with no fixed schedule.

Most Memorable Sexual Experiences of TXT

A new longer story every Monday, about each member of TXT.

Gay K-pop Smut

My only gay series. I'm currently running a sub-series about all 7 members of NCT Dream x the reader, dubbed the 'Dating Ban' series.

With that in mind, here's what's coming in the next three weeks:

This week (September 2024) – Three new requested Quick Fix stories (two NCT Ten and one NCT Mark):

Wednesday, September 25, 2024 – QUICK FIX: A romantic evening with WayV Ten in which you ride him intimately (requested).

Thursday, September 26, 2024 – QUICK FIX: You wake WayV Ten up with a birthday blowjob (requested).

Friday, September 27, 2024 – QUICK FIX: NCT Mark fucks and slaps you from behind (requested).

Next week (October 2024) –Two longer stories about TXT Huening Kai and WayV Yangyang respectively:

Monday, September 30, 2024 – MMSE: Most Memorable Sexual Experience of Huening Kai (TXT).

Thursday, October 3, 2024 – ONE-SHOT: Yangyang fucking his best friend's sister (requested).

The week after that (October 2024) – The most memorable sexual experience of TXT Taehyun, a gay Jeno story (NCT Dream 'Dating Ban' series), and a requested one-shot about SKZ Felix:

Monday, October 7, 2024 – MMSE: Most Memorable Sexual Experience of Taehyun (TXT).

Tuesday, October 8, 2024 – GAY: The 7th story in the gay "Dating Ban" mini series, this time about NCT Jeno.

Thursday, October 10, 2024 – ONE-SHOT: Backstage sex with SKZ Felix.

I hope you look forward to all this new content! 😊

Request a Story!

Requests are super motivating! Some inspire me so much they get a story within days, others lie on the back burner and suddenly appear many months later. (And yes, some never become a finished story, sorry! Though I genuinely do give all requests a fair shot.)

So please do send in your requests! I'm open to all male k-pop idols but primarily NCT, WayV, TXT or BTS.

[stormblessed95]

Hi! do you know where the line "You are me, I am you" came from? was it first mentioned in Serendipity? or were the guys mentioning it already and RM included in the song? thanks!

I could take this to a very in depth and deep place, but I'll try to keep it more contained. I'm still on vacation technically, but can't sleep amd im just enjoying streaming SMFpt2 so I'm trying to catch up on all I've ignored over here on tumblr. Sorry to keep you waiting for so long anon!

Basically, did RM make up the phrase "i am you, you are me" (or vice versa) and the first time we ever heard the phrase was in Serendipity? No. Lol it in fact has orgins in kpop previous to Serendipity in the song by Zico, "I am You, You are Me."

English lyrics here (just a lyric video)

"I am You. You are Me" is also actually an ancient Mayan phrase, Essentially meaning "I am another yourself." It's basically used to describe being so similar to another person, it brings your connection closer and their is an ease of interaction and closeness there. For Mayans it was used as a way of honoring each other, as a statement of unity and oneness. It is not necessarily romantic in nature as a phrase. But both Zico and Jimin made it a very romantic connotation in their songs.

Anyway, back to Zico... he released this song in January of 2016. And "I am you, you are me" is literally the title. Lol so Serendipity does not have first claim to the phrase in kpop at all either. We also know that BTS has been on friendly terms with Block B (Zicos group) and that they worked together for MAMA back in 2014 too.

During his MV, Zico basically matches by accident with this girl over and over again and says they are therefore destiny. One of the ways they match is through both ending up wearing bandaids on their fingers, the same finger.

A few months later, at a fansign on 160402, Jikook were sitting next to each other and fans noticed they were wearing matching bandaids on the same hand. When a fan first noticed it on Jimin and asked about it, he said JK gave it to him. When a fan asked JK about it, he said he wasn't hurt and was just wearing it just because. Lol, it's a mystery. Why did JK decide to give a matching bandaid to Jimin? Why did Jimin just go along with it? (I know this one actually because his precious maknae gave him something, and Jimin has been whipped from the get-go. Lol) is it related to the MV and their first moment of acknowledging (or at least JKs first moment, I would fully believe Jimin just wore it because JK gave it to him, no questions asked lmfao) you are me, I am you? Who knows. Or maybe it was just coincidence of timing and still JK being flirty in his own goofball odd way that no one but himself probably understood. Lol but regardless, there is that connection there. Maybe intentional, maybe not. We will never know.

Neither were hurt. So just a random little matching moment with cutesy bandaids courtesy of Jungkook. Just because. 😂 (also catch them in that black and white fit. For them to later on in the years get dubbed the black and white couple as a nickname lol).

ANYWAYS back to Serendipity, after it released and became the icon queen she is. Jikook fully adopted that song as their own and the first moment of them verbally going "I am you. You are me" happened in a run bts episode....

And has since therefore continued consistently over the years with them. They sing it from Serendipity to each other too, not just saying the phrase. That is THEIR SONG. Which is an inherently romantic song, and therefore gives the phrase that romantic connotation in the way that they are using it. In my opinion.

So were jikook using it before Serendipity, depends on what you think of the whole bandaid incident. Lol but not really. Were the rest of BTS saying it pre-Serendipity? Not really that we know of either. And while they may say it now, they say it differently then jikook do, who have made it a whole little thing with finger touches that they do silently to basically say it no verbally to each other or they sing the lyric to each other. Either way, making it fairly romantic lol but only after Serendipity was released. 🤷🏻‍♀️

So, your own thoughts will have to be formed about all of that and if there is any connection there on your own. Lol hope that helps though!

[ionozoned]

what mobile game does iono play

"Ummmmm mobile GAME? Like, singular? Are you dense??? Lesse here-" She started to count on her fingers, but gave up when she ran out of fingers to count on. It was definitely more than 10. No way was she counting that shit on her fingers.

"Okie, well I've been sponsored by Raid Shadow Legends, Genshin Impact, Honkai Star Rail, Love and Pies, June's Journey, Dislyte, Clash of Clans, Merge Mansion, War Thunder, Apex Legends, Best Fiends, Cookie Run Kingdom, AFK Journey- OH! Use my code AFKZone to get 10 Invite Letters, 300 diamonds, and 50K gold BT DUBS!

Aaand then there are the ones I play even WITHOUT being sponsored, like Love Live School Idol Festival, Wuthering Waves, Hatsune Miku: Colorful Stage, Merge Magic, BanG Dream Girls Band Party, Identity V, Tower of Fantasy, Sky COTL, Honkai Impact 3rd, Tears of Themis- TBH I'll play anything from Hoyo whether they sponsor me or not, for real for real. Cannot WAIT for Zenless Zone Zero. Probs gonna do an epic 24 hour stream for that one at launch-" // @picavecalyx

[wickedmoonlite]

KinnPorsche Rewatch 2023

Reminder: as we go into heavier topics in KP (dub-con/non-con, toxic behaviors, etc.), I will not be doing deep dives. I'm planning on taking this just below surface value as these are literally thoughts I have in the moment as I'm watching. Thank you.

Episode 6 Random Thoughts

FOREST EPISODE FOREST EPISODE FOREST EPISODE. Literally my favorite episode of the series. I like shows and movies where the relationship is the plot. So having an episode almost entirely dedicated to the blossoming relationship between Kinn and Porsche with little outside involvement is v good. Also, I really wish we could see the gentle, caring, silly, soft, carefree side of K more after this episode. We see glimpses later but nothing like this, when KP are well and truly alone together.

The super aggressive rock, paper, scissors is sending me.

And the fact that Kinn keeps bringing them back to the same spot and then Porsche does exactly the same thing before they just happen upon a little creek by sliding into it (though if it was really that close, how did they not see it 😬)

The betrayal after P spits on K lol

How far do they walk every day and back to get to the truck and creek though??

Kinn... Regular rocks do not start fires. Flint does though. Also lighters 👉👉

Porsche is such a shit.

Pete trying his darndest to stay hidden like Vegas definitely doesn't see him sitting in the car... The windows aren't even tinted dude (which I know is for filming purposes but come on).

The fucking smirk on Vegas's face when Pete finds the condoms then yells though.

K is trying so hard to catch a fish. Then P just pulls out some fruit like "lol I found this, keep trying for the fish tho."

The childlike wonder in K's expression and manner while P catches his fish and then he catches his own is so cute.

Apo looks so cold in the waterfall scene (I haven't watched the BTS for this episode but apparently he almost became hypothermic, the dedication ugh).

Porsche wants more kisses, Kinn. For the love of all that is holy, kiss your man.

I love that they get to know each other by sharing their dreams. It's such a nice little reflective moment where they get to know each other more and I appreciate it muchly.

The fact that Porsche really does "remember" the car crash just shows how suggestable our brains are as children. There are memories I have to this day where I'm not sure if it actually happened or was just a dream or something and my brain turned it into a memory.

They really should have tried to get a running start for that jump. Also, that was a pretty good distance they fell. Very surprised nothing was broken after that.

I really can't blame K for not wanting to go back, honestly. He must have so much on his shoulders as the heir (I mean, obviously).

"One strike, okay?" With... a pocket knife?? Yeah that's definitely gonna go through bone with one strike, P.

I like that K encourages P to leave... Because he knows it's best for P.

I LOVE how Apo acts this scene (honestly the whole sequence including after the bad guys show up) after Kinn tells him to get out of there... You can really see the man go, "Shit. I have to do this first." And then turns around and gives such a good feeling kiss. Ugh. K clenching his shirt because for him, it's the last time he'd see P and he doesn't want to let him go. Then the focus on the cuffs they'd just been wearing for who knows how many days as a symbol of them together and the journey they just went on and the falling in love. It's all so good.

P really said "you're not getting my man, fuck you." And then K gets shot 🙃

Then the look of, oh my god I really almost got away from here but now I'm trapped again, fuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

Another long one. So sorry, but not too sorry. I appreciate all of you who read these rambling text posts very much ❤

Rest day tomorrow, which I kind of need because adulting and work. I shall see you all on the 8th for episode 7. Thanks for reading, y'all.

[kth1]

Run BTS! Gif Series Mlist

☆ Kim Taehyung Focus

Below is a list of all Run Bts! episodes attached with the links to the KTH gifset I make for each episode. There is possibility in the future where I introduce other focuses.

For the sake of lists/characters -- I've put the seasons together with only the numbered episode. No titles or descriptions.

You may also find the most recently posted gifs (completely out of order) here at  *runbts!

Number of current Run BTS! episodes: 156 *key: bolded and underlined means there is a link!

☆ Season 1:

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6(1) - 6(2) - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10

☆ Season 2:

11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30 - 31 - 32 - 33 - 34 - 35 - 36 - 37 - 38 - 39 - 40 - 41 - 42 - 43 - 44 - 45 - 46 - 47 - 48 - 49 - 50 - 51 - 52 - 53 - 54 - 55 - 56

☆ Season 3:

57 - 58 - 59 - 60 - 61 - 62 - 63 - 64 - 65 - 66 - 67 - 68 - 69 - 70 - 71 - 72 - 73 - 74 - 75 - 76 - 77 - 78 - 79 - 80 - 81 - 82 - 83 - 84 - 85 - 86 - 87 - 88 - 89 - 90 - 91 - 92 - 93 - 94 - 95 - 96 - 97 - 98 - 99 - 100 - 101 - 102 - 103 - 104 - 105 - 106 - 107 - 108 - 109 - 110 - 111 - 112 - 113 - 114 - 115 - 116 - 117 - 118 - 119 - 120 - 121 - 122 - 123 - 124 - 125 - 126 - 127 - 128 - 129 - 130 - 131 - 132 - 133 - 134 - 135 - 136 - 137 - 138 - 139 - 140 - 141 - 142 - 143 - 144 - 145 - 146 - 147 - 148 - 149 - 150 - 151 - 152 - 153 - 154 - 155

☆ Specials:

1 - Telepathy Part 1 2 - Telepathy Part 2 3 - Fly BTS Fly Part 1 4 - Fly BTS Fly Part 2 5 - ‘RUN BTS TV’ On-air Part 1 6 - ‘RUN BTS TV’ On-air Part 1 7 - Next Top Genius Part 1 8 - Next Top Genius Part 2 9 - Mini Field Day Part 1 10 - Mini Field Day Part 2

☆ Special Live:

Run! BTS Live in Thailand

☆ Director’s Cut:

1 - Survival Director’s Cut (Episode 101) 2 - Dubbing Director’s Cut (Episode 109)

☆ The Game Caterers x Run BTS! (2021): 

1 -  The Game Caterers x Run BTS! 2 (Continues from Ep. 140) Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 2 -  The Game Caterers x Run BTS! 4 (Continues from Ep. 141) Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Last updated: 231113

[renewedmotionforjudgment]

hello! I saw you've watched legend of zhouhua. As a massive Minglan fan, I wanted to see that lead actor in something again... but when I started watching it left me cold. The performances felt flat. So I dropped it pretty early. What is your honest take? Should I try again? How good is the acting and writing on the whole?

I would say that if you really want to see FSF because you really liked Minglan, Zhuohua wouldn’t be the place the start. Prince of Lan Ling (made in 2013) would be a much better place to start. Or if you want to watch Guo Jingming’s take on LOTR, Ice Fantasy (made in 2016). Or my personal favorite, Jade Palace Lock Heart with Yang Mi, which I think came out in 2012.

So my honest evaluation, despite my many post dedicated to it during its run:

Cons: if your introduction to FSF was Minglan, the dubbing is hard to get used to in Zhuohua, although he’s also dubbed over in Prince of Lan Ling, Ice Fantasy, and Jade Palace Lock Heart. The much bigger con is the post production smoothing and filter team went extremely overboard, and I think to the detriment of the cast because it erased microexpressions, etc. I’ve seen BTS clips sans dubbing and filter and it was honestly better.

That said, I actually really ended up liking Zhuohua because it was very relaxing for me to watch and it helped that I had no expectations other than the fact that I’ve been watching FSF since 2011 and Jing Tian since 2015😂 The OTP dynamic (very grumpy-sunshine at the beginning and just in general one of those fairly functional OTPs) really worked well for me in particular (and I’m someone who enjoys older aka north of 30 year old characters and actors in cdramas), and there is something about this OTP that really hits the spot for me. I don’t know how much episodes you’ve watched, but for me episodes 4 and 5 are really where the OTP dynamic and plot picks up, and I did like the main leads’ chemistry. What I liked was that the characters are largely logical, intelligent people who (largely) did logical, intelligent things. That said, it’s not a top notch script — it’s clearly meant to be an idol drama that ended up going with an older cast and needed to age characters up. But it is aware of the limitations the script — it’s not a complicated dramas about social issues, and I find it at its best when it’s just the OTP interacting with each other.

So I think it’s worth a retry, despite the cons. But check out FSF’s older works first.

[theliterarywolf]

In all my years since first hearing about cookie run, I've not once heard a good thing about the game or the fandom. Literally, it's one of the maybe 2 IPs/fandoms, where I've not heard nor seen anyone talk actually positively about it. Just something wholly positive, not once. Anything vaguely "positive" is worded in such a way that it becomes a net-negative; people saying "That costume is cute... BUT it's a waste since another Cookie has something similar/deserved something/It's whitewashing."

When I first got into Cookie Run, I had nothing but praise for both the IP and the company that owns it.

Cookie Run: Ovenbreak was one of the most creative takes on the endless-runner genre of mobile games. It was a game that you could very well get more than your fill of content by being an F2P player. The community was great: Western fans were civil towards Eastern fans. And DevSis carried themselves with a modicum of grace and humility.

... And then the game got really popular here in the West.

Which fed into things like the costume contest fiasco. Then DevSis started making BANK. Which led into them letting the mask slip: the quality of Ovenbreak started to decline but it was still a decent game.

Then. Cookie Run: Kingdom.

The fact that the game was delayed a dozen times should have been a warning of things to come because, when CR: Kingdom was up and running, DevSis went full mask-off. The level of quality between Ovenbreak and Kingdom turned into night and day, DevSis prioritized things like dubs and music deals over making sure their fucking game can run on multiple phone models so the people who beta-tested the game can FUCKING PLAY IT, Western fans started becoming more entitled to an IP that wasn't even theirs to begin with, the NFT shenanigans,

THE FUCKING BTS COLLAB

DevSis announcing three new Cookie Run games when, again, Ovenbreak is a corpse and Kingdom still has performance issues, the constant English VA drama, CM Rose (seriously, what happened to this poor woman? Because the last time I heard about her was when she was harassed off-stream due to fans being angry about how DevSis has been consistently ruining the game and I haven't seen her in any update videos), DevSis essentially laying off 50-500 people due to cancelling a highly-anticipated side-company,

All this to say: there was that universal positivity in the beginning. It's just that, with both DevSis themselves and the extremely vocal subset of the community constantly shitting the bed, it's hard for people who still enjoy this IP to be able to celebrate anything without there being a shadow of negative over it.

...Wait, I should probably end this with a pun. Um... I would love to just enjoy my Cookies, but people keep spilling the milk.